Xiang Xi had said before that he had no friends. In Cheng Boyan’s view, this was an utterly believable, plain-and-simple truth. In all the time he had known Xiang Xi, he had only ever seen his friends once—when Xiang Xi was pulling a scam—or, more precisely, his accomplices. After that, he had always been alone.

Although those so-called friends from the past were gone and wouldn’t be coming back, Cheng Boyan still felt that Xiang Xi must get lonely.

As for his own friends, Xiang Xi probably wouldn’t be interested. Cheng Boyan just thought that since Xiang Xi’s mood hadn’t been very good lately, maybe if he could get him to join a group gathering—have a meal, drink a little—it might help.

Even though there were far too many things in the world one was powerless to change, he would still reach out where he could. Xiang Xi had never accepted his own former identity as a street thug and had always longed to change. Because Cheng Boyan could feel that, he was willing to give him a pull up.

Of course… whether there was any other reason, he hadn’t yet taken the time to think too deeply about it.

However, he only told Xiang Xi there would be a gathering—he didn’t tell him it was his own birthday party, because he was afraid Xiang Xi would fret over buying a gift or something like that.

“Ah?” Xiang Xi froze for a moment. After a brief silence, he said, “You and your friends having a meal, me going along… wouldn’t that be inappropriate? I don’t know anyone, and the gap between us is… way too big. I wouldn’t even be able to join in the conversation.”

“What gap?” Cheng Boyan asked.

“The gap is the gap,” Xiang Xi clicked his tongue. “Like the gap between you and me—a proper doctor at a top-tier hospital, and a guy… working at a Sha County snack shop.”

“Oh, that gap. Put that way, it is pretty big.” Cheng Boyan smiled.

“Exactly, so—” Xiang Xi’s words were cut off by Cheng Boyan.

“So haven’t we been talking all along?” Cheng Boyan said with a smile. “We’ve talked from winter all the way into summer.”

“…That’s different,” Xiang Xi laughed. “If we hadn’t bumped into each other a few times before, and I hadn’t shamelessly pestered you into saving me—if you’d just seen me out of the blue, the fact that you’d even glance at me would mean you were really bored that day.”

“Just come if you’ve got time. It’s only a meal—it’ll be a bit of a distraction.” Cheng Boyan hadn’t expected Xiang Xi to care so much about this point.

“I’ll… think about it,” Xiang Xi said hesitantly. “I’m busy, so I’ll have to see how my schedule looks.”

“Then once you’ve got it sorted, give me a call,” Cheng Boyan insisted.

From the time Xiang Xi had gone to bed yesterday until this noon when Cheng Boyan called, he had been sleeping. He was still sitting on the bed holding his phone for a long while before he snapped out of it.

Cheng Boyan really was a good person—he actually thought to invite him along to a friends’ gathering.

Xiang Xi sighed. He really did want to go—meet Cheng Boyan’s friends, experience how people completely different from him lived, what they talked about, what they did for fun…

But he didn’t dare go. Not only because the gap was too great, but because he was afraid he’d embarrass Cheng Boyan.

He sat on the edge of the bed, turning his phone over and over in his hand for a long time, still unable to decide whether he should go. In the end, he tossed the phone aside—better to wash his face first.

Just as he was about to open the door and go out, he heard messy footsteps outside. His heart instantly tightened, and he stood still behind the door.

There was a knock—loud, too—making Xiang Xi’s heart pound.

“Anyone home?” The person outside knocked again. “Police.”

Police? Xiang Xi instantly leaned back against the wall. Pull your mother’s egg out! (NT: vulgar expression meaning Yçu’re f*cking kidding me)

The knocking came again. Xiang Xi suddenly felt uncertain—if it were Uncle Ping’s men, they would never use the identity of police to trick him into opening the door. People who came out of Zhao Jiayao—how many of them would dare open the door after hearing it was the police?

“Not at home?” the person who had spoken before said.

“Maybe he went out, I didn’t notice,” someone replied.

Xiang Xi recognized the voice—it was the landlord’s. Just yesterday, when the bathroom light wasn’t working, Xiang Xi had gone to him and they had chatted a bit.

They really were police.

For a moment, Xiang Xi was stunned.

Whether to open the door or not suddenly became an even harder decision than whether to go to Cheng Boyan’s dinner.

Why would the police be looking for him? Was it because of the incident at the clay-pot rice shop?

From Xiang Xi’s experience, that was unlikely. This kind of small-time thugs making trouble—police probably ran into cases like that several times a day. No one got hurt, so they wouldn’t chase all the way here. And besides, his ID was fake—they couldn’t track him down.

Then why? Had something happened to Mantou?

Li Hui?

That didn’t make sense either—both of them had ties to Uncle Ping. If things had gotten to the point where the police could find him here, Uncle Ping wouldn’t have dared send people to the clay-pot rice shop to look for him.

…

What the hell is this about?!

“What kind of person lives here?” the police asked outside the door.

“A kid, not very old—probably a student,” the landlord answered.

When Xiang Xi heard that, he suddenly relaxed. The police weren’t here specifically for him.

He reached out, opened the door, rubbed his eyes, and leaned against the doorway. There really were three police officers outside. He glanced at them, then replaced his sleepy look with surprise: “What’s going on?”

“We’d like to ask you a few questions,” one officer said, showing him his badge.

Xiang Xi let them in. They glanced around the room, then opened the window and looked up and down outside.

“What’s going on?” Xiang Xi asked the landlord quietly.

The landlord frowned, and after a long moment finally said, “Someone died downstairs.”

“Ah?” This time Xiang Xi’s surprise wasn’t an act—he was genuinely shocked.

After looking around the room, the police asked Xiang Xi a few questions—did he know the young man downstairs, had he ever run into him, ever spoken to him, had he noticed anything unusual about him.

Xiang Xi kept shaking his head—he had no idea who lived downstairs; he hadn’t even fully figured out who lived next door yet.

Once the police finished their questions, they left, and the landlord went downstairs looking troubled.

Xiang Xi went out and stood on the stairs with a few people from the same floor, looking down. Right below his own room, the doorway was cordoned off with striped tape. On the ground, there was already-dried blood. Several police officers were standing outside, and inside someone was carrying out something in a bag.

“Ugh…” The woman next door, who was always making noodles for her boyfriend, couldn’t handle the sight—she turned and ran back inside.

All the girls on the floor left. Xiang Xi stayed with a few other guys, watching. After the scene downstairs began to clear, they stayed in the corridor chatting for a while.

From them, Xiang Xi got the gist of it.

The dead man downstairs was a young man in his twenties who had been living there for almost a year. His health, apparently, hadn’t been good. He was alone; no one had ever seen friends or relatives visit.

He’d never had a steady job—just odd jobs here and there: handing out flyers, promoting drinks—paid by the day. Life was hard for him.

That morning, someone noticed his door open. They went over and found him already stiff, blood all over the floor, a knife still in his hand.

It wasn’t clear yet whether it was suicide or homicide.

The guys were still talking with a kind of relish, their voices tinged with excitement.

After finishing a cigarette, Xiang Xi went back to his own room, shut the door, and sat on the bed, unmoving for a long time.

A stranger he’d never met had died. The man had lived alone, had it rough, lived a miserable life—and in the end, even his death was unclear.

The conversation outside continued. Nobody cared what had actually happened to him. He was just fresh material for gossip, something to spice up their otherwise uneventful lives.

Xiang Xi suddenly felt a chill.

Just like me, he thought. A person, struggling to stay alive.

One day, if he got sick, got hurt, got chased down and beaten… and was half-dead or dead—who would know? Who would care?

Maybe Fang Yin’s camera would still be pointed at him, and in the end people would look at his photo, sigh with a bit of pity… and then turn the page.

No.

There was still someone.

There had to be someone.

Cheng Boyan.

Xiang Xi jumped up, paced around twice, grabbed his phone from the table, and dialed Cheng Boyan.

“Mm?” Cheng answered—it sounded like he was walking.

“Saturday night?” Xiang Xi asked.

“Yes,” Cheng said. “It’s fine if you come a bit late.”

“I can go,” Xiang Xi said.

“Then I’ll come pick you up. Sha County?” Cheng chuckled.

“No, no,” Xiang Xi said quickly. “Don’t pick me up, I can get there myself.”

“Afraid you’ll get lost,” Cheng said. “How about I come to where you live?”

“…Okay then,” Xiang Xi hesitated. “I’ll wait for you at the intersection.”

After hanging up, Xiang Xi went into the bathroom, looked at himself in the cracked mirror on the wall, and tried a few different expressions—smiling, not smiling, serious, well-behaved, friendly…

His face would do—more or less.

But his clothes—he wasn’t satisfied. The weather had already started to warm up, so he couldn’t wear the thick clothes Cheng had bought him before. He’d just bought some cheap stuff from the nearby night market—together, the whole outfit hadn’t even cost a hundred yuan.

It was fine for working odd jobs, but for eating with Cheng Boyan’s friends, it looked shabby. Cheap clothes are easy to spot.

The roll of cash in his bag was still there. He’d been strict about spending, and since Fang Yin had covered the rent, his money hadn’t gone down much—in fact, he had another month’s worth saved up.

After thinking a bit, he took out 500 yuan, counted it twice in his hands, took out two more bills, and counted again. That should be enough—for a pair of pants, a T-shirt, maybe a light jacket at most.

And shoes… The last pair he’d worn had fake-brand logos. Later he’d switched to a pair of old-man cloth shoes—light and comfortable, but ugly.

He did the math in his head, and in the end couldn’t bring himself to take out more cash. It was enough.

“Damn,” he muttered at the bills in his hand, “this is bleeding me dry.”

When Fang Yin showed up uninvited, he saw the tape downstairs and immediately rushed up. In his excitement coming in, he almost tripped.

“Look at you—didn’t I say not to come here the next couple of days?” Xiang Xi sat cross-legged on the bed. “You’re really damn dedicated. Might as well bow twice for good measure.”

“I wasn’t coming here on purpose, I was just passing by. Thought I’d check in… What happened downstairs?” Fang Yin held up his camera. “I saw blood.”

“Some poor bastard died,” Xiang Xi said. “The cops came and left.”

“How’d he die?” Fang Yin asked.

“Who knows,” Xiang Xi sighed. “Who cares? Only you ‘life photographers’ would be interested. You take a picture, people will want to see. If you don’t, no one will ever know. Living quietly, suffering quietly, dying quietly.”

Fang Yin didn’t answer. He sat beside him, and after a while, glanced at him. “Going out?”

“Mm. Don’t follow me. I’m just going to buy some clothes,” Xiang Xi said.

“I’ll just take pictures of you going downstairs,” Fang Yin said, pulling out his wallet. “Here’s today’s pay. You’re going to have to look for work soon, right?”

“In a while. Don’t have the energy now.” Xiang Xi lowered his head.

“It’ll pass, whatever it is,” Fang Yin patted his shoulder. “Everything passes.”

“That guy downstairs didn’t get past it,” Xiang Xi said, glancing at him.

Fang Yin opened his mouth but didn’t say anything. In the end, he just sighed.

Xiang Xi figured that 700 yuan wasn’t enough to buy something on par with what Cheng Boyan usually wore, but maybe enough to match the style of nearby university students—and maybe even level up a bit.

He didn’t go to any high-end mall. There were lots of students renting around here, and just a short walk away were two universities. The street outside their gates was full of little clothing shops—that would do.

Xiang Xi picked shoes first—that was the big expense. He needed to get those before figuring out how to budget the rest.

After going in and out of several stores selling running shoes seven or eight times, Xiang Xi finally picked out a discounted pair at an Anta store.

“Want to change into them?” the young female sales clerk asked after helping him try on the shoes, glancing at the old-man canvas shoes he had placed to the side.

“No, pack them up for me.” Xiang Xi took off the new shoes and put his old ones back on.

Next came the clothes and pants. Clothes were easy — just buy a short-sleeve T-shirt, plus a jacket; when it gets warmer later, he wouldn’t need to buy more.

Xiang Xi was actually quite picky about clothes. Before, aside from secretly saving a little money, he would pick the best he could afford with whatever was left. He never felt bad about spending on hair styling or clothes — after all, once the money was spent, he could always earn it back.

Now it was different — money came far too hard.

All the short-sleeve T-shirts still had “new summer collection” tags on them, none of them cheap. Holding this small amount of cash in his hand, he tried one piece after another, going back and forth so many times that the shop owner’s face had gone as long as a mule’s. Finally, he picked out clothes for himself.

At the end, he wanted the boss to throw in a pair of socks, but the boss didn’t even look at him and just said, “In your dreams!”

For pants, Xiang Xi decided on jeans — durable and resistant to dirt, wearable all year round.

But when he asked the price, he was startled: “A hundred seventy?”

“These are all export-quality jeans, can’t compare to the cheap dozens-of-yuan ones,” the boss looked him over. “You could buy ten pairs of cheap ones, but none would look as good as this one.”

Xiang Xi didn’t reply, just turned and walked out. He went around a few other stores nearby — there were cheaper ones, even thirty-five yuan a pair — but when he tried them on, he felt like he could start working in a factory right away.

He went back to that store and tried the jeans on again — they did look good, made his legs look longer. Without waiting for the boss to speak, he took them off again and left.

After a full round of trying, he ended up back at that same store.

“Oh my,” the boss, a middle-aged woman, sighed when she saw him again. “Done comparing yet? Didn’t I say I’d give it to you for 150? Still too expensive?”

“Two pairs for 150 and I might think about it.” Xiang Xi looked down at the pants.

“Let me tell you, young man, if I hadn’t had zero sales so far today, I’d have kicked you out already — believe it?” the woman said.

“Knock a bit more off, sis,” Xiang Xi said.

“Calling me sis won’t help. 140. If you keep bargaining, you can turn around and march right out.” She frowned.

“Auntie, 130.” Xiang Xi gritted his teeth.

“March out!” the woman shouted.

“135,” Xiang Xi looked at her. “Leave me five yuan for a meal, sis — big fortune, prosperity, surplus year after year…”

“Oh my God!” the woman shouted again, glaring at him for a long while before waving her hand. “Take it, take it, you’re driving me crazy.”

After paying, Xiang Xi was leaving with his bag when he saw several belts hanging at the doorway. He pulled down a wide canvas one. “Sis, throw in a belt for me too.”

“No freebies! Fifteen yuan each — I’ll give you one for ten,” she said.

“Five — I don’t have meal money left,” Xiang Xi said quietly, taking out five yuan from his pocket. “I still have to walk back later — no bus fare either.”

“Oh my God!” the woman yelled again.

Hugging several shopping bags, Xiang Xi walked all the way back to his place.

He still had money on him — he hadn’t spent all the 700 yuan — but he really didn’t want to waste any more on bus fare. He decided to follow through on what he told the woman: no eating, no bus.

Back in his room, he took a shower, changed into the new clothes, pants, and shoes, and looked at himself in the bathroom mirror — instantly feeling much more spirited.

But the mirror was too small, showing only his upper body. He lifted one leg against the wall so he could see his pants in the mirror, but the pose really didn’t show the effect well.

Thinking for a moment, he left his room and wandered twice past the doorway of the young couple next door. They never closed the door when cooking, and inside they had a full-length mirror facing the entrance.

Xiang Xi took a look — the outfit looked pretty good, only his hair wasn’t stylish enough. After his Mohican was shaved off, he’d never grown his hair out again; when it got long, he’d just pay ten yuan at a small barbershop to have it buzzed short.

Now, like this, he looked pretty similar to the college students in the building — he was quite satisfied.

Still, after returning to his room and taking off the clothes, he felt a twinge of pain for the few hundred yuan he had spent.

*

For the next two days, Fang Yin didn’t come over, and Xiang Xi found it quite peaceful. He didn’t even open the door — just stayed curled up in the small room, listening to the occasional chatter outside about the dead man.

Actually, Fang Yin following him every day to take photos didn’t really bother him — as long as he didn’t keep asking interview-style questions endlessly. What bothered him was that this trapped-beast-like life of his was being recorded bit by bit, then examined with a kind of morbid curiosity — it hurt his pride.

But when Fang Yin didn’t come, he couldn’t help thinking about the fifty yuan a day — three days was enough for a pair of pants.

On Saturday at noon, Cheng Boyan called to set the meeting time for the afternoon. Xiang Xi really wanted to chat a bit more, but from the sound of it Cheng was at home, so he had to hang up.

He couldn’t be bothered to eat lunch — better to save his stomach for the evening. Anyway, if he couldn’t get into the conversation with Cheng Boyan’s friends, he could at least keep eating.

He lay in bed, half-asleep, until the afternoon. When it was almost time, he got up, showered, put on his new outfit, fussed around in the room for a while, and finally left.

The downstairs room had already been cleaned out. The two rooms next door seemed to have moved away — all their doors were shut. You couldn’t tell that just a few days ago, someone had died there with blood all over the floor. Probably in a couple of days, someone else would move in.

Xiang Xi lingered on that floor for a few seconds, then skipped lightly down the stairs.

Cheng Boyan arrived about ten minutes earlier than planned, parking his car by the roadside to wait.

A few minutes later, he saw Xiang Xi coming out along the path. After just a few days, Xiang Xi’s face seemed thinner, but the new clothes he wore made him look a lot more energetic.

Xiang Xi was fairly good-looking — not exactly stunning, but still someone you’d notice at a glance in a crowd. Apart from a maturity beyond his peers, he also carried a bit of sensitivity, cautiousness, and slight inferiority. What occasionally softened Cheng Boyan’s heart, however, was the loneliness in him — the kind that comes from having seen through too much while alone.

Like now, as he walked over, behind him were a jumble of self-built small buildings; at his feet were a few chickens someone had let roam; there were kids chasing each other with swinging schoolbags; and a three-wheeled mini-truck roaring into the alley like a boy racer chasing the wind.

He avoided the chickens, sidestepped the kids, let the truck pass — yet it was as if he hadn’t seen any of them at all.

Cheng Boyan honked the horn, opened the car door, and got out. Xiang Xi looked up, saw him, jumped with a smile, and ran over.

Cheng Boyan watched the expression on his face change and smiled as well.

“I thought I was early,” Xiang Xi said, rubbing his nose with a laugh. “How long have you been waiting?”

“Just got here,” Cheng Boyan said as he got into the car. “Come on, it’ll take almost an hour to get there.”

“Why did you think of having a gathering today?” Xiang Xi asked as he got in, buckling his seatbelt in the passenger seat. “Do you guys usually hang out like this?”

“Not often, we’re all busy,” Cheng Boyan started the car, made a U-turn, and drove off. “Today is… my birthday.”

“Oh, no wonder…” Xiang Xi began, then suddenly stopped, spun his head around, and shouted, “What?”

“It’s my birthday,” Cheng Boyan said.

“What the hell?” Xiang Xi was stunned, then began banging on the car window and shouting, “Stop! Stop! Stop!”

 

Translator : DarNan