Chapter 3: The Past and the Present

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At the end of winter and the beginning of spring, frost and snow gradually melted, yet the lingering chill clung stubbornly to the air. The voices of the teacher lecturing and the students reciting were, to the youth in blue, no different from a dose of sedative. Rather than listen to that old man drone on, he would have much preferred to gaze forever at the youth in green seated beside him.

The youth in green wore a calm expression, quietly listening to the teacher’s words, occasionally jotting down a few notes for future review, his demeanor utterly unlike that of the boy in blue.

Growing restless, the blue-clad youth sprawled across his desk, turning his face toward the youth in green, and simply watched him in silence.

A faint blush crept up the green-clad boy’s cheeks, strikingly beautiful. The boy in blue was momentarily stunned.

A soft sigh drifted over. The youth in green, holding a book unrelated to the lesson, gently tapped the blue-clad boy on the head, “Brother, why do you keep staring at me?”

Without thinking, the blue-clad youth replied, “You’re good-looking!” His voice rang out loud and clear.

The entire class fell silent. What followed were snickers and the teacher’s furious scolding.

The blue-clad youth grinned foolishly, rubbed his nose in embarrassment, and was promptly sent to stand in the corridor as punishment.

Inside, charcoal braziers warmed the room, and both teacher and students had shed their outer robes. They felt no chill, but outside was a different matter altogether. A biting wind swept through, sharp and cold.

The green-clad youth cast a secret, amused glance at the punished boy, thinking to himself, “What a fool!”

Oblivious, the blue-clad youth let the fine rain brush his hands, the droplets icy cold. Mixed with the wind, the chill made him shiver uncontrollably. He unconsciously edged closer to the window near the green-clad youth, hugging himself tightly as he trembled—a real fool, indeed!

The green-clad youth’s smile faded, his brow furrowing. He picked up his robe and handed it over. As expected, he heard the teacher’s exasperated scolding, but he walked out, undaunted, to keep the fool company.

Seeing the green-clad youth come out, the blue-clad boy hurriedly took off the robe he’d just put on and draped it over his companion. “Why’d you come out too? And you didn’t bring another robe. What if you catch a cold?”

The youth in green shot him a fierce glare. “Let’s wear it together.”

Scratching his head, the blue-clad youth suddenly thought of an idea. He grinned, “Alright, together it is. You said it yourself.”

He hoisted the green-clad youth onto his back, draping the robe so it covered the other boy’s shoulders and tied around his own neck. Lifting the green-clad youth a little higher, he joked, “Let’s go home, carrying my bride just like Pigsy!”

The green-clad youth was caught between laughter and tears. Who insulted themselves by calling themselves a pig? He pinched the other’s cheek and scolded with a smile, “Bride? Who are you talking about?”

“Ow, easy, easy! You’re my bride. Even if you pinch me, you’re still my bride!”

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After their playful tussle, the youth in green wrapped his arms tightly around the blue-clad boy’s neck and asked softly, “Brother, what do you want to do when you grow up?”

The blue-clad youth replied, “Me? I want to go out and see the world, travel the length and breadth of the land, behold every river and mountain!”

The green-clad youth frowned, “And what about me?”

The blue-clad youth answered, “Of course, you’ll go with me. Are you silly? How could I ever leave you behind?”

The green-clad one pressed, “Who are you calling silly?”

The blue-clad boy stammered, “I—I—I meant myself!”

...

At that moment, Yin Hang watched the persistent Haishi, feeling thoroughly weary. He had thought that after last time, the man would be too embarrassed to return, but it seemed he had misjudged.

Haishi nervously held up the lunchbox in his hand. “I—I noticed you barely ate anything today, so I brought you some supper.”

Was this man a stalker? How did he know Yin Hang hadn’t eaten all day? A ridiculous notion flashed through Yin Hang’s mind—“Are you… a monster?”

“A monster? How could that be?” As is often the case with liars, Haishi’s gaze flickered and his hands fidgeted, twisting the hem of his shirt.

Yin Hang was amused by his own wild suspicion. A monster? Impossible. He opened the door and invited Haishi in, “Since you’re here, you might as well come in and sit for a while.”

But Haishi shoved the lunchbox into his arms and declined, “N-no, I have something else to do, so I’ll go now.”

Yin Hang found the whole exchange baffling. Haishi had been so persistent before, but now he was leaving so abruptly. Shaking his head, Yin Hang walked to the table, opened the lunchbox, and only then did he realize he was actually a little hungry.

Inside lay a purple-black, formless mush so unappetizing it seemed an insult to the senses. This must have been Haishi’s own handiwork. Yin Hang could almost picture the other man bumbling about in the kitchen. Smiling wryly, Yin Hang picked up his chopsticks and took a bite. To his surprise, it tasted rather good.

Not far from Yin Hang’s place, at the end of the corridor, Haishi sat slumped to the ground, cold sweat beading his brow. Alarmingly, his body was beginning to blur and fade.

With a bitter smile, Haishi took out a pill and swallowed it, his form gradually returning to normal. His time was running out.

Obsidian awoke with a start from his dream, the scenes and voices still vivid in his mind.

The two young men were unmistakably the same boys he had seen as children in that illusionary realm of the underworld. The blue-clad youth looked exactly like Haishi now.

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A thought sprang unbidden into Obsidian’s mind: perhaps he had stumbled into Haishi’s dream? The images in that dream were so warm and gentle, yet he couldn’t shake a sense of foreboding.

Just as Obsidian was about to seek out Haishi, he opened his door to find Haishi already standing before him in the early morning.

“Is there something you need?” Obsidian asked.

Haishi lowered his head sheepishly. “Could you teach me how to cook? The food I make is truly awful.”

“Cook? Is it for Mirage?” Obsidian asked.

Haishi nodded, and Obsidian signaled his understanding. Convenient, as he had questions of his own for Haishi.

On their way to the kitchen, they passed through the living room, where Yanluo was curled up asleep on the sofa. At nearly two meters tall, he looked utterly cramped, half his body hanging off the edge.

Obsidian felt a pang of guilt. “Haishi, go ahead and prepare the ingredients. I’ll join you in a moment.”

He hurried back to his room, grabbed a blanket, and tried to cover Yanluo quietly. Yet, as soon as he tucked the blanket over him, Yanluo’s eyes snapped open.

Startled, Obsidian instinctively tried to step back, but Yanluo caught his hand. “Morning,” Obsidian managed.

Yanluo rose and asked, “Are you going anywhere today?”

Obsidian shook his head. “I’ll stay home and teach Haishi some home cooking.”

Yanluo looked at him in mild surprise. Obsidian snapped, “What’s with that look? I’m just too lazy to cook, not that I don’t know how.” He would never admit his irritation was from embarrassment.

Yanluo draped the blanket over Obsidian’s shoulders. “You rest. I’ll do the teaching.”

Obsidian was about to protest, but remembering the disaster his own and Haishi’s cooking usually turned out to be, he quietly retreated to his little nook.

Haishi was washing vegetables, about to place them in a bowl, when his hand suddenly shook and the produce scattered across the floor. He squatted down to gather them, only to see a pair of shoes before him. Looking up, he was startled to find Yanluo, who knelt down to help.

As they both stood, Haishi looked flustered, while Yanluo’s face was impassive. “How much time do you have left?” Yanluo asked.

Haishi managed a wry smile, his eyes full of reluctant longing, but in an instant they resolved into determination. “It’s enough—it’s been long enough. I have already lived more than enough.” Yes, it had been so long he could no longer recall what it had been like, the last time they met.