After a well-executed glissando from Wang Xu, Jiang Cheng joined in on the piano once again. Another wave of applause and cheers rang out from the audience. Jiang Cheng smirked to himself. He could only guess how his mom would feel hearing the so-called elegant, graceful sound of the piano engulfed by undignified whooping. He felt much lighter now.
In this moment, the abhorrent striking of piano keys rang out with music he liked, written by the person he liked. The instrument that used to bring him such anguish and exhaustion was bringing him joy for the very first time.
Except…
Where’d you go, you asshole?
You’ve never heard me play the piano before.
I haven’t played it in ages, and I thought I’d never play it again.
This piece was for you, but you ran away!
The duet concluded as Wang Xu swept his fingers gently over the guitar strings one last time. Gently closing the keyboard lid, Jiang Cheng stood up and bowed to the audience.
“I LOVE YOU, JIANG CHENG!!” came a girl’s shriek from the crowd.
He turned and walked off the stage as waves of noise from the audience swelled even higher. Even the teachers and students backstage were clapping.
“BRAVO! THAT WAS AMAZING! THAT WAS THE BEST PERFORMANCE IN FOURTH HIGH HISTORY!” Lao-Lu boomed in his thunderous voice as he clapped just as loudly.
Lao-Xu didn’t say anything. He only nodded forcefully when Jiang Cheng glanced toward him. Tears glistened in his eyes.
Jiang Cheng sighed at the sight. “I…have to go to the bathroom.”
Behind him, Wang Xu excitedly greeted Yi Jing, who had followed them off stage. “So?! What did you think?!”
“It really was amazing,” said Yi Jing, grinning.
When Jiang Cheng came out of the stage door into the auditorium, it caused a small commotion among the students sitting near the exit. Several of them raised their phones at him. He bowed his head and walked briskly outside.
There were still quite a few students waiting for their turn to perform. When he stepped out, he was surrounded once again by a small crowd.
“Jiang Cheng,” someone called out to him. “Was it really composed by Gu Fei? That’s so dope!”
Jiang Cheng didn’t answer, nor did he look in the direction of the voice. Walking along the perimeter of the building, he quickly turned a corner and left the awestruck chatter behind. Those words threw his calmed emotions abruptly back into disarray.
Everything swirled back up and slowly spread through him: the panic and unease he had temporarily pushed down, the trace of incomprehension, and the anger repressed in the vague echoes of irritation.
He didn’t need to go to the bathroom, but he walked there anyway.
As he walked, he kept his hand stuffed in his pocket, clutching his phone without pulling it out. He didn’t see any students around. When he reached the bathroom, all he could see was a janitor walking past the edge of the field on the other side.
Once he’d stepped inside, Jiang Cheng took his hand out of his pocket and realized his palm was covered in sweat.
He stood in front of the urinal for a while, waiting quietly for the urge to pee.
It didn’t come.
All he felt was disorientation and unease, slowly transforming into anger.
He turned and walked out of the bathroom, glancing down at his phone again. Just as he expected, there was no message from Gu Fei. No unread texts and no missed calls. No sign of any notifications that could’ve come in earlier that he might’ve missed in all the commotion. Nothing.
In that instant, all the emotions he’d been feeling morphed into fury toward Gu Fei.
He sat down on a stone bench nearby, planning to give Gu Fei a call.
Fuck that dog-fucker a million times!
If there’s a problem, just let it out! We can argue or trade punches, but what the hell is with this disappearing act?!
He had only just pulled up Gu Fei’s number when he spotted someone approaching in his newly recovered peripheral vision. His finger trembled a little above the screen, then stopped.
It was Gu Fei.
He had been dead set on hashing out exactly what he’d done wrong with Gu Fei. Whatever Gu Fei was mad about, they could lay it all out in the open. At worst, there was nothing that couldn’t be solved with a fistfight.
But now that Gu Fei had suddenly appeared, another wave of nerves washed over him.
What should I say?
How should I say it?
Who’s going to speak first?
What’s wrong with Gu Fei?
All the questions that had been ripped to pieces by his irritation and anger settled back into place, clumping in his throat like a ball of tangled twine. He almost had to cough to clear his throat.
Gu Fei walked up and stopped beside him. “Cheng-ge?”
“Uh-huh.” Jiang Cheng spun the phone in his hand but didn’t move. He kept his eyes on the weeds growing out of the crack in the concrete in front of him.
“Shall we talk?”
“Whatever,” Jiang Cheng said. “If you want to talk, we’ll talk. If not, let’s just leave it.”
“Come on,” said Gu Fei. “Let’s take a walk.”
Jiang Cheng stashed his phone in his pocket and stood up. He didn’t look at Gu Fei as he made a beeline for the back gate of the school.
Gu Fei followed right behind him, and he stayed there the whole time. He didn’t catch up to walk beside Jiang Cheng like he usually did.
At this time of day, the food stalls behind the school weren’t at their busiest yet. Only a few stands had propped up their tarps, the owners lounging languidly on plastic chairs outside. Jiang Cheng walked absentmindedly down the street, not entirely sure where to go. But as his feet stepped along the sun-softened black asphalt, he found he couldn’t hear the footsteps behind him anymore.
He turned his head ever so slightly backward. Gu Fei quickly caught up to him and walked on his left.
They continued aimlessly all the way to the start of the bridge. Jiang Cheng hesitated for a second before turning onto the dirt path that led to the river. They walked for a while on the uneven, muddy ground with a view of the almost perpetually dried-up riverbed. Then Jiang Cheng stopped and leveled a look at Gu Fei.
“What the hell did I do to you?” he asked.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were going to play my song?” Gu Fei returned.
“Is that all?” Jiang Cheng knitted his brows into a knot. “Then I’m sorry. I didn’t think—”
“No,” Gu Fei interjected. “It’s not that. You can play it, change it, do whatever you want with it, just don’t…”
Jiang Cheng waited. He couldn’t detect any trace of emotion on Gu Fei’s face. He was always like this; no matter what they talked about, if he didn’t want to be forthcoming about something, it was almost impossible to tell anything from his expression or his eyes.
“Just don’t mention my name next time,” said Gu Fei.
“What the hell kind of next time is there going to be?” Jiang Cheng leaned back against a tree and immediately felt something sharp poke him in the back. It hurt. He straightened up right away, but the pain made it a little hard for him to rein in his temper. “When is ‘next time’? We’re in our last year of high school, dude. It was only ever going to be this once. You think I’ve got a lot of free time on my hands? You think I’m hurrying from show to show?!”
Gu Fei didn’t say anything; he only let out a soft sigh. Jiang Cheng glared at him for a long time before circling back and realizing Gu Fei’s point. He had an inkling when the emcee announced Gu Fei’s name, but even after hearing Gu Fei say it out loud himself, he still couldn’t understand.
“And what’s wrong with mentioning you? What, you didn’t just want to be left out of the show, they can’t even say your name?”
“It’s not that,” Gu Fei said. “And I didn’t mean—”
“First of all…” Jiang Cheng took a step forward and looked squarely into Gu Fei’s eyes. “I’m really sorry for using your music without telling you first. Second, I didn’t tell them to say the words ‘composition by Gu Fei.’ Only my name and Wang Xu’s are listed on the program. Third, it’s my fault that I didn’t stare Lao-Xu down and warn him to keep it to himself when he guessed that you were the composer.”
Gu Fei looked back at him without a word.
“I’m sorry. I don’t know why you’re like this. I’m sorry. I don’t know why you can’t be part of these things. I don’t know why you have to keep everybody at arm’s length. I don’t get why you always have to hang back at the fringes of a normal school life!” Jiang Cheng’s voice gradually grew louder as he rambled. All the confusion and distress he’d been bottling up over Gu Fei’s incomprehensible behavior was bubbling to the surface. “So I’m sorry! I shouldn’t have wanted to go on stage with you! I’m sorry! I shouldn’t have single-mindedly tried to give you a surprise when you didn’t even want it! I am sorry, okay? I’m sorry, Gu Fei! I’m too fucking stupid to know what you want!”
“Cheng-ge.” Gu Fei frowned as he reached out and grabbed hold of Jiang Cheng’s arm. “Hold on a second. Don’t get mad.”
“Don’t touch me!” Jiang Cheng shouted, flinging off his hand. “I told you already—if you have a problem with something, just fucking tell me! And if you don’t want to tell me, then don’t let me find out! Those are the only two options! If it doesn’t work for you, then just fuck right off!”
“Fine.” Gu Fei looked at him. “Do you think that I’m pretty awesome, that I’m pretty exceptional, that I’m better than most people around here?”
“Give me a break!” Jiang Cheng said. “A few words of flattery to your face and you fucking believed it! You have a prettier-than-average face and longer-than-average legs. That’s all!”