Gu Fei sighed and turned around. He pulled out a cigarette, put it in his mouth, then squatted down facing the riverbed.
Jiang Cheng glared at his back for a long time. Eventually, he said, “Yes. I think you’re very exceptional, talented, and smart. It’s not just me. Lao-Xu thinks so too.”
“So what?” Gu Fei asked around the cigarette in his mouth.
“What do you mean ‘so what’? So what?” Jiang Cheng asked impatiently.
“I’m exceptional, talented, and smart.” Gu Fei looked back at him. “So what?”
“FUCK YOUR ‘SO WHAT’!” Jiang Cheng exploded. “All I wanted was for people to see that you’re more than what you seem! That you’re different from the lowlifes in the steelworks! I just wanted you to see it! You’re different from anyone I’ve met since I came here! You’re a million times better than them!”
“AND THEN WHAT?!” Gu Fei erupted. He stood and walked up to Jiang Cheng until they were staring at each other face-to-face. “And then what, Cheng-ge? And then what? Do you know what kind of life I’ve been living? Do you know the kind of life I’ve been living ever since I can remember? Do you?!”
Jiang Cheng was a little shaken by the sheer volume of Gu Fei’s voice. He was pretty sure this was the first time Gu Fei had lost control like this. The first time Gu Fei had yelled at him, and at such close range, too. He was almost a little dazed from the impact of the blast.
“What exactly did you want me to see? How great I am, how exceptional? Let everyone know how smart and talented I am? And then what?” Gu Fei’s voice dropped. “Cheng-ge, you know how it feels to be out of place here, don’t you?”
Jiang Cheng only stared.
“If I’m asleep, then I don’t have to know anything,” Gu Fei said, his voice ever so slightly quivering. “Why do you have to wake me up? You can leave—you have to leave. But what about me?”
Jiang Cheng suddenly found it difficult to breathe. He wanted to say something, anything, but he couldn’t get a word out.
You know how it feels to be out of place here.
He had felt it the moment he stepped out of the train station. That sense of hopelessness, the bleak gloom that filled his vision. He remembered it even now.
It was the reason why he was fighting so hard to leave.
“What about me, Cheng-ge?” Gu Fei asked quietly. “I’ll still be here. I’m chained here. Who knows when I can take those shackles off—maybe never. Do I have to stay awake the whole time and watch with my eyes open? I’ll feel like I deserve more than this, and it’ll hurt. Do you understand?”
Jiang Cheng kept staring at him.
“I know I could have a different life from those people, but right now, this is all I can do.” Gu Fei returned to his squatting position by the riverbank as he lit another cigarette. “I didn’t want to tell you all this. I figured since we’re going out, I just want you to be happy. I decided to keep it simple. There’s no need to talk about all these things we can’t change and then sit here and be depressed about it together.”
Jiang Cheng didn’t say anything. He reached in his pocket, but didn’t find a cigarette. He was going on stage today, so he hadn’t kept any cigarettes on him.
Gu Fei reached back and handed him a lighter and a pack.
Jiang Cheng hesitated for a moment, then walked over and took it. He lit one and put it in his mouth, watching the smoke drift up before his eyes. A few tendrils rose into the air, dancing left and right in the wind before quickly fading from a faint blue into the invisible color of the air.
These were things he’d never considered.
He’d always thought Gu Fei was like an eagle tied to a thin chain, but he never considered that Gu Fei saw himself that way as well. So that was why he decided to close his eyes, bury his head, and throw away any thought aside from what was necessary to keep the balance.
Jiang Cheng didn’t know how to make sense of what he was feeling. He only felt his chest tighten, and a sudden sense of regret washing over him.
Although… Now that he heard these words from Gu Fei, he finally realized he had an answer to the confusion he’d been feeling. That sense of something not being quite right as they discussed the possibility of a long-distance relationship the other day.
Gu Fei didn’t seem to have the will to fight.
“It’s Gu Miao, right?” Jiang Cheng crouched down behind Gu Fei. “And your mom… No, it’s mainly Gu Miao, isn’t it?”
“Mm.”
“Have you tried?” Jiang Cheng bit his lip. He wasn’t exactly sure how to put it. “To have her gradually accept some changes. Just a little bit at a time. Isn’t she already going to those sessions? Maybe you can try… Maybe she can’t accept changes to her things, but…”
“Cheng-ge.” Gu Fei put out his cigarette and stood up. “Let’s go.”
“Hm?” Jiang Cheng blinked, but he got up with him just the same. Gu Fei didn’t say anything else, so he stayed quiet, too.
Gu Fei led him back home. It wasn’t until the door opened that Jiang Cheng snapped out of his gloomy haze and squeezed out a smile for Gu Miao, who was sitting on the living room sofa, drawing. “Er-Miao.”
Gu Miao seemed very happy to see him. She held up the drawing in her hand and waved it at him.
“Let me see.” Jiang Cheng walked over and sat down beside her, looking at the paper in her hand. “Bunnies, huh?”
She’d been drawing bunnies. A lot of bunnies. It filled up almost the entire page. Every single one of them was green, just like Gu Fei’s display icon. Gu Miao grabbed another piece of paper and continued drawing. She insisted on using green, drawing the exact same bunny over and over again. It was clear that she was very practiced at it—she lined the bunnies up one by one on the paper, soon filling the page again.
Watching her expression of concentration, Jiang Cheng didn’t know what to say.
“Er-Miao.” Gu Fei walked over and crouched down in front of her. “Gege wants to discuss something with you.”
Still holding the crayon, Gu Miao glanced at him once as she kept drawing, quickly returning her gaze to the paper.
“Er-Miao, look at me. There’s something I want to talk to you about.” Gu Miao paused, stilled her hand, then turned to look at him. “Would it be all right,” Gu Fei said very slowly, “for you to sleep in Mommy’s bed tonight?”
Gu Miao didn’t react.
“You won’t sleep in your own bed tonight, or the sofa in my room,” Gu Fei continued. “You’ll sleep in the bed in Mommy’s room instead.”
Gu Miao still didn’t react. But just when Jiang Cheng started to think she didn’t understand what Gu Fei was saying, she began to scream. The shrill cry pierced through the silence, cutting through Jiang Cheng’s eardrums like the edge of a knife.
Jiang Cheng’s chest tightened, stifling his breath. The waves of enormous yet formless pressure from Gu Miao’s screaming made him want to cover her mouth with his hand.
Gu Fei watched Gu Miao quietly. After a while, he finally drew a deep breath and started speaking softly to her. Jiang Cheng could hardly hear what Gu Fei was saying. He only felt like he was suffocating, feeling the pressure in his heart, his head, and even his ears.
When Gu Miao finally stopped screaming, Jiang Cheng had a strong urge to let out a few screams himself.
“I’ve tried it before, Cheng-ge.” Gu Fei took Jiang Cheng’s hand, his voice so low it was barely audible. “But it’s been years, and nothing’s changed. She was born and raised here. Her accepted range of activity only extends to the train station. That’s how far she’ll go on her skateboard. Her sleeping range is right here. Her bed and the recliner in my room. That’s it. You can narrow her range of movement, but you can’t expand it.”
Jiang Cheng looked at him quietly, without a single word.
“That therapy center doesn’t come cheap. I can’t afford to take her there long-term, so I don’t know how much longer it will be before we can see some improvement. If it’ll be a couple of years or a couple of decades.” Gu Fei’s hand started shaking almost imperceptibly. “Or a lifetime. I don’t dare to think about it. I can’t think about it. All I can do is put my head down and keep going. I don’t know how much further there is until I can see the light at the end of the tunnel.”
Jiang Cheng wrapped his arms around Gu Fei and closed his eyes. “I’m sorry, Gu Fei. I’m so sorry.”
Gu Fei held on to Jiang Cheng’s waist and pressed his cheek against his chest. In the still air, against the scratching sound from Gu Miao’s crayon on the paper, Jiang Cheng heard a very low, muffled sob.