The Scorching Sun - 73
When Fang Zhuo got home, the first thing Yan Lie did was look at her hands. Seeing that she hadn't brought back a freshly slaughtered chicken, he was visibly relieved.
The two of them tidied up their things and made it back to A City before the rain came.
By Sunday evening, all the serving windows at A University's cafeterias were open again. Around four, Fang Zhuo went to the third cafeteria to change into her work clothes, then handed over her shift at six-thirty.
After dark, Yan Lie sent her a text to confirm that she'd made it back to the dormitory, then brought over the clothes he'd washed and dried, along with the few autumn outfits he'd bought for her earlier.
Fang Zhuo jogged downstairs and took the bags from him.
There were still quite a few students passing through the area, so Yan Lie didn't say much. He merely waved and turned to leave.
Worried that the clothes might not be completely dry, Fang Zhuo hung them up on the little balcony in her dorm room to air out. Once she was done, she leaned against the railing and drifted into a daze, her unfocused gaze wandering across the night.
The late-autumn wind was cold but crisp, without quite the oppressive chill of winter's approach.
Streetlamps divided the campus paths into patches of light and shadow. Pedestrians passed beneath the dim yellow glow, their long shadows trailing behind them. Their faces were impossible to make out, but their laughter and playful movements somehow stood out all the more clearly.
Fang Zhuo watched the light suspended high above, watching people emerge from the darkness and be illuminated, continuing on happily into the night.
Amid the streams of people crossing paths, a dark figure suddenly stopped in the brightest patch of light. He leaned back against the lamp post and lowered his head to tap at his phone.
Fang Zhuo stared at him in surprise. Then she heard Yu Qingjiang call from inside, "Fang Zhuo, your phone's vibrating!"
She hurried back into the room for her phone and saw the messages Yan Lie had sent.
They Call Me Lie: Are you secretly watching me?
They Call Me Lie: I'm standing under the streetlamp.
Little Sun: No.
They Call Me Lie: Then I'm secretly watching you.
They Call Me Lie: [Husky grinning stupidly]
They Call Me Lie: You're out on the balcony now, right?
Fang Zhuo carried her phone back to the balcony. Down below, the figure standing beneath the light raised a hand and waved. Maybe he didn't know exactly which direction Fang Zhuo's dorm room was in, because he obligingly turned in a half-circle, making sure every direction got an equal share of his attention.
Fang Zhuo aimed her phone toward him and took a picture, then sent it over. Almost at the same moment, Yan Lie sent her a photo of the brightly lit dormitory building.
Everything in the darkness was blurred except for the little pool of light where the camera had focused. Somehow, the world seemed especially bright wherever the other person was.
They Call Me Lie: Happy now. Going to sleep.
They Call Me Lie: [Cat with paws tucked]
After getting thoroughly drenched in a downpour during a season of drastic temperature changes, Yan Lie inevitably came down with a cold.
At first, he'd tried to fight it off with nothing but the human body's natural immune system. Two days passed with no improvement. Instead, his stuffy nose and sneezing had progressed into a cough and sore throat.
At the strong urging of his roommates, he finally dragged himself to the hospital and came back with some medicine.
When the two of them attended an elective class together, Yan Lie sat in a corner wearing a mask, repeatedly coughing into his throat.
Unfortunately, another sick student happened to be sitting right behind him. The two of them took turns with their muffled little coughs, drawing frequent glances from the lecturer, who was apparently moved by their dedication to attending class while ill. He kindly reminded them, "The cold air's been coming in lately, so make sure you all keep warm. Even if you're usually healthy, put on an extra couple of layers. Don't underestimate a cold."
"Put on more clothes" had practically become a psychological shadow for Yan Lie.
His conscience was guilty enough that he couldn't help feeling the remark had been directed specifically at him.
Over the weekend, Wei Xi, Shen Musi, and a few other friends heard that Yan Lie was sick and deliberately gave up their precious holiday to come visit him.
Since Yan Lie wasn't in any condition to eat in a public place and risk spreading his germs, Shen Musi packed several takeout meals, and they arranged to eat together in the little garden in the residential area.
They were all studying at A University. Although they were in different majors, they still had plenty of opportunities to run into one another. They weren't in the same class anymore, though, so they didn't talk nearly as often as before. Usually, when they crossed paths, they'd exchange a greeting and hurry on.
Yan Lie was involved with the student union, so he occasionally had business-related contact with them when club activities were being organized. As for Fang Zhuo, the only place they ever seemed to see her was the cafeteria.
Holding a box of fried noodles, Wei Xi asked curiously, "Fang Zhuo, what club did you end up joining?"
"She didn't join a club." Yan Lie rasped through his sore throat. "She joined the varsity team."
Wei Xi froze. "Huh?"
"The PE teacher invited me," Fang Zhuo explained. "During our first PE class of the semester, I came first in the eight-hundred-meter run. The teacher probably thought I had some talent, so he invited me to join the varsity team. He said the rewards were pretty good, and I wouldn't have to do the daily campus runs. I thought about it, and it did seem more suitable for me than joining a club, so I agreed."
A University's athletic program wasn't particularly strong, especially when it came to long-distance running and track. Besides the students specially recruited from sports schools, the varsity team also accepted some students who simply had an interest in athletics.
The coach knew perfectly well that Fang Zhuo wasn't going to make a career out of sports, so he didn't train her particularly hard. He treated it as a hobby and told her she could quit whenever she wanted.
This friend of theirs had a habit of taking paths that always caught them off guard. Wei Xi could only admire her. "As expected of you."
Fang Zhuo remained modest. "It's nothing special."
They chatted about how everyone had been doing lately.
Wei Xi had chosen an engineering major, while Shen Musi had gone into the humanities. The two of them took turns complaining bitterly.
One said there wasn't a single female friend in her class, only straight guys who were impossible to describe. The other said that simply because of his gender, he was expected to perform more physical labor than his body could possibly handle. It was all unbearably difficult.
Neither of them had yet developed an adequate understanding of their chosen majors.
Wei Xi suddenly remembered something and asked Yan Lie, "Is your class having a mixer before the Spring Festival?"
Freshmen were still enthusiastic about all kinds of activities. Once they reached their second year, they wouldn't have the same free time or inclination. Yan Lie nodded.
Wei Xi immediately understood. "I have reasonable grounds to suspect that you caught this cold just to get out of the mixer!"
She turned to Fang Zhuo. "Who are you having the mixer with? Is it people from your own major?"
Fang Zhuo hadn't paid much attention. She vaguely remembered that one of the class representatives had mentioned something in the group chat. "Probably the School of Accounting."
Wei Xi wiped the grease from her lips and declared with great seriousness, "There are already so few guys in your class, and you still chose to have a mixer with a major where men are treated like precious commodities. Tsk, tsk. Your class reps are clearly determined to keep you all single."
Yan Lie muffled a couple of laughs. His post-cold nasal voice was even deeper than usual, giving him a slightly goofy sound that did nothing to disguise how irritatingly smug he was. "Being single has nothing to do with Fang Zhuo anymore."
"That's enough out of you!" Wei Xi shouted. "My roommate's parents don't even know you, and they already know you've got a girlfriend!"
Yan Lie burst into helpless laughter.
After taking his medicine, Yan Lie's cold was more or less gone within two or three days. Yan Chengli didn't find out until more than half a month later, and even then, he heard it from another student's parent.
Several parents who had been close friends since high school had created a separate group chat. After New Year's Day, they happened to get onto the subject of the recent market situation.
Shen Musi's father suddenly asked whether Yan Lie's cold had gotten better. That was how Yan Chengli learned that Yan Lie had been sick recently.
For a moment, Yan Chengli felt defeated. He didn't even know how to respond. He mumbled his way through the conversation, but the matter continued to bother him.
He closed the messaging app, found Yan Lie's contact information, and stared blankly at the chat window on his screen.
The last time Yan Lie had texted him was on New Year's Day. Around noon, he'd sent him a simple holiday greeting, reminding him to take care of his health, drink less, and stay up less late.
The father and son exchanged a few stiff messages before the conversation eventually died on the subject of Yan Chengli's work.
Aside from the two words "Dad" at the beginning from Yan Lie, the entire conversation had been cold and detached. There was no trace of the warmth that should exist between family.
Yan Chengli could no longer remember when they'd become like this. In the limited memories he had, Yan Lie had been a stubborn child who didn't like talking to his parents. He was smart, but he also loved making a fuss. Then he went to high school and gradually matured, no longer needing their attention.
In those early years, Yan Chengli had actually been proud of it. He'd taken other people's praise of Yan Lie's "maturity" to heart, believing his son was a model child who never gave his parents anything to worry about. It wasn't until Yan Lie suddenly reached the age where he could live independently that Yan Chengli realized something about it had never felt quite right.
Yan Lie didn't need them to be part of his life. He was more like a part-time employee who showed up, clocked in, and made his presence known when something important happened. The number of appearances he made in a year never exceeded five.
After work that evening, Yan Chengli sat in his study. He looked at the time on his computer, calculated that Yan Lie should be free around now, and sent him a carefully considered text.
Yan Chengli: Lie Lie, when does your school go on holiday?
As expected, Yan Lie replied almost immediately.
Yan Lie: Early February.
Yan Chengli: Come to B City for the Spring Festival. Fly over and I'll pick you up at the airport. Buy your ticket early.
Yan Lie: No need. I want to stay in A City.
Yan Chengli: It's almost year-end, and the company's busy with the annual summary. I also have the annual reports to review. I can't get back to A City.
Yan Lie: You don't need to come back to A City. Everything's fine on my end.
His answer was considerate enough, but the more carefully Yan Chengli read it, the more hurt he felt.
He wanted to call him directly and ask what exactly he intended to do. But he couldn't imagine himself saying anything that would make Yan Lie happy in the course of an ordinary conversation, so he restrained himself and continued carefully weighing every word of his messages.
Yan Chengli: You don't want to spend the Spring Festival with Dad?
Yan Lie: You're busy with work. Don't worry about me.
His offhand reply conjured up a vivid image in Yan Chengli's mind, despite the distance of more than a thousand kilometers between them.
Yan Chengli raised a hand and ran it through his hair. He took a cigarette from the pack at the corner of his desk and lit it with a lighter, letting the red glow of the flame accompany him as he gathered his thoughts.
Yan Chengli: Dad's given it some serious thought lately. You're an adult now, and you should have more control over your own affairs, including the right to manage and use your own property.
Yan Chengli: See if you have time to get your driver's license. Consider it my coming-of-age gift to you. I couldn't make it back when you turned eighteen, so I'm making it up to you this time.
No man could resist the temptation of a car.
Yan Chengli felt he could consider himself an enlightened, freedom-minded parent.
The screen lit up with a notification sound.
Yan Chengli exhaled a plume of white smoke and leaned closer to read the message. As the haze dispersed, Yan Lie's reply appeared, calm to the point of cruelty.
Yan Lie: No need. There's nothing I need one for right now. At A University, I usually travel around with my classmates.
Smoke curled upward between Yan Chengli's fingers, its heavy scent creating an inexplicably restless atmosphere. His patience dwindled along with the ash falling from the cigarette.
He hooked a finger around the glass ashtray beside him and pressed the cigarette hard into its bottom until it went out.
Yan Chengli: Are you and your girlfriend still together? Are you spending the Spring Festival with her?
Yan Lie: ? Of course.
Yan Lie: I hope you don't have something you need from her.
Yan Chengli choked slightly. Even if he'd had his own ideas, he hadn't actually done anything, had he? At most, he'd asked a teacher to change their seats during the crucial final stretch of senior year. Nobody had listened to him anyway.
Hadn't he only been trying to do what was best for Yan Lie?
Yan Chengli pulled out the phone number he'd saved at the bottom of his contacts. His finger hovered near the input box, hesitating again and again.
After sitting there unable to make up his mind for quite some time, Yan Chengli looked troubled and pulled another cigarette from the box.
By the time the flame had burned halfway down, after all his tangled thoughts had run their course, Yan Chengli finally lowered his finger.
Yan Chengli: May I ask if your birthday is September 28?
Fang Zhuo hadn't saved Yan Chengli's name because she hadn't expected him to contact her again. Besides, every time this uncle spoke, his words seemed to land somewhere beyond the boundaries of what she could understand.
Fang Zhuo read the text several times and decided it was a remarkably ingenious opening.
Fang Zhuo: That is quite an abrupt yet tactful question.
Yan Chengli: "..."
Fang Zhuo entered the next question of the survey into a document on her computer and set the answer options. When she still received no response from him, she couldn't help wondering whether she'd somehow killed the conversation.
She went back and added another message.
Fang Zhuo: May I ask if there's something you need?
Yan Chengli was being awkwardly tentative.
Yan Chengli: Are you going home for the Spring Festival?
Fang Zhuo: Unless something unexpected happens, I should be. A University doesn't allow students to spend the Spring Festival on campus. The dorm staff need to take their holiday too.
Yan Chengli: Yan Lie isn't coming home.
Fang Zhuo: He can spend the Spring Festival with us. Please don't worry. There are also plenty of other students staying in the city.
Yan Chengli grew anxious.
Yan Chengli: That's not what I meant!
Yan Chengli: He's not spending the Spring Festival with his parents!
Fang Zhuo: ??
Fang Zhuo: I don't spend the Spring Festival with my father either.
Yan Chengli: You have a father?
Fang Zhuo: "..."
What a novel question.
Yan Chengli: I'm sorry. I thought you only had one relative because he's the only one I've ever seen.
Yan Chengli: What I mean is, are you and your father also on bad terms?
Fang Zhuo's brows refused to relax. She was even beginning to feel a little suffocated.
She answered cautiously: Given your situation, I don't think I'm an appropriate point of reference.
Yan Chengli seemed to perk up. He raised a hand and stubbed out his cigarette once more.
Yan Chengli: Lie Lie has mentioned me to you? What did he say? I won't be angry, and I don't mind. Please tell me honestly.
Fang Zhuo: The truth is, he basically never talks about you. I don't have much information I can give you.
Yan Chengli was deeply disheartened. Yan Lie hadn't even introduced himself to Fang Zhuo? They'd met several times already, hadn't they?
Fang Zhuo: May I ask what you'd like to know?
Yan Chengli: What I want to know.
Yan Chengli: There are too many things.
There was considerable weight behind those words, and Fang Zhuo immediately became wary.
The scales in her heart wavered for a while, the weights on either side threatening to exceed anything she knew how to measure.
Her weakness in dealing with interpersonal relationships, especially relationships with elders, was impossible to hide at a moment like this.
She felt that Yan Chengli's ability in this area was about on par with hers. Otherwise, he wouldn't have come looking to her for help.
Fang Zhuo replied with genuine caution.
Fang Zhuo: I suppose what I should ask is, what is it you want?
Fang Zhuo: I'm sorry. You may find what I'm saying offensive, and it may have nothing to do with what you're looking for. I'm only offering a little of my own perspective.
Fang Zhuo: Just as many parents can't control the favoritism they feel toward their children, children can't suddenly become affectionate toward their parents simply because they have equal information. Respect and understanding can be asked for, but closeness and dependence perhaps cannot demanded.
Fang Zhuo: So what is it you want?
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