“Qin Zui!” Qin Shuman was still staring blankly at Qin Zui’s retreating back when Jiang Chu furrowed his brow hard and chased after him, shouting his name.
Qin Zui didn’t stop, didn’t even look back. His long legs ate up the distance to the elevator in just a few strides. Without pausing, he jabbed the button and stepped straight inside.
“I thought you’d just take the stairs,” Jiang Chu said, catching up and wedging his foot into the elevator door with a grin. “If the elevator hadn’t come yet, you’d have to stand around waiting. How embarrassing would that be?”
Qin Zui shifted sideways, trying to slip past him, but Jiang Chu grabbed his elbow tight.
“Wait for me in the car.” Jiang Chu pulled out his keys and pressed them into Qin Zui’s palm. “I left my phone on the table.”
Qin Zui glared back at him, his face dark and hard.
“Listen to me.” Jiang Chu held his gaze, then turned and walked back.
The elevator doors slid shut, descending from the 21st floor. Qin Zui clenched Jiang Chu’s car keys, leaning against the wall of the car, and squeezed his eyes shut.
A flood of memories—sights and sounds from the past—surged and swirled violently in his mind.
“Qin Zui.”
“Qin Zui…”
“Qin Zui!”
“Qin Zui.”
“Why are you called Qin Zui? Did your parents get drunk when they named you?”
“Aiyo, little Qin Zui, come here, let Auntie smell if you’ve got booze on you today!”
“Qin Zui, where’s your mom?”
“Qin Youyi’s wife is something else, isn’t she? The two of them can’t get enough of drinking all day. They’re gonna raise their son to be a drunkard too.”
“Qin Zui… Qin Zui!”
“Where’s your mom, Qin Zui?”
“Qin Zui, come on, have a drink with your dad, haha! Starting today, you don’t have a mom anymore! Study hard, grow up and buy your dad some booze, and I’ll find you a better mom.”
“…Qin Zui, do you know how you were born, son? Your father and you have ruined my whole life! Do you understand?!”
“Qin Zui!”
Qin Zui stepped out of the elevator and kicked over a trash can in the garage with savage force.
A young couple passing by jumped in fright. The guy frowned, about to say something, but the girl glanced at Qin Zui and quickly tugged her boyfriend’s arm, dragging him away.
Qin Zui braced his hands on his knees and exhaled. He pulled open Jiang Chu’s car door and dropped into the driver’s seat.
The car was stuffy, hot. He didn’t want to turn on the AC. He pressed the back of his hand over his eyes and took a few deep breaths.
When he grabbed his pack of smokes and bit one out, he felt a faint sting in his palm. He realized he’d been gripping the keys so hard they’d somehow cut into his skin.
Jiang Chu had shoved the car keys into Qin Zui’s hand and then went back to Jiang Liantian’s place. Jiang Liantian was already at the door, pulling on his shoes to go find them.
“Where’s Qin Zui?” he asked, craning his neck to look behind Jiang Chu.
“I told him to wait for me in the car.” Jiang Chu stopped him and stepped back inside, only to find Qin Shuman still sitting at the dinner table, staring blankly. Her eyes were a little red, but otherwise, she showed no reaction.
Either there was a huge secret behind this, or her feelings toward Qin Zui were impossibly complicated.
Jiang Liantian stood nearby, his face dark. Neither of them seemed inclined to say anything.
“You guys finish eating. We’re heading back.” Jiang Chu wasn’t in the mood to ask anymore. He grabbed his phone off the table, stuffed it into his back pocket, and tossed the metal card Qin Zui had slammed down into the trash.
“Wait, take this lamb with you.” Jiang Liantian went to the kitchen and came back with two plastic bags.
That finally got a reaction out of Qin Shuman. She stood up and helped pack the whole plate of cumin lamb into the bags.
Jiang Chu took the bags and walked to the entryway to change his shoes.
“Little Chu…” Qin Shuman called out hesitantly.
Jiang Chu turned back, one hand on the doorframe, and tapped the toe of his shoe.
“You can explain it to him for me,” Qin Shuman said, pressing her lips together. “I really just… didn’t react in time.”
Jiang Chu’s mouth twisted. He honestly couldn’t understand how anyone needed time to react to their own son’s name.
Jiang Liantian had been such a bad father that Jiang Chu’s mom had kicked him out of the house, but at least he still remembered which dishes Jiang Chu liked.
“Fine.” He nodded at Qin Shuman, took a couple steps, then turned back. “Your son’s allergic to seafood. If you want to invite him to dinner next time, just make some regular home-cooked food.”
The words hit Qin Shuman like a slap across the face. She froze, staring at Jiang Chu, forgetting to even blink.
“Jiang Chu.” Jiang Liantian frowned from the side. Jiang Chu guessed correctly—he hadn’t planned on telling Qin Shuman.
Jiang Chu didn’t look at them again. He just waved a hand, closed the door behind him, and left.
Carrying the cumin lamb out of the elevator, Jiang Chu almost tripped over the trash can that was lying in front of the door.
He glanced toward where his car was parked, righted the can, and pushed it back against the wall.
He opened the driver’s side door and immediately coughed, turning his head away from the cloud of smoke filling the car. He blew the haze away from Qin Zui’s head, then leaned his arms on the roof of the car and grinned. “What’s the deal? You driving? Got a license?”
Qin Zui pushed past Jiang Chu, got out, and walked around to the passenger side.
He still had a freshly lit cigarette in his hand. Jiang Chu reached over, took it, and stuck it in his own mouth.
Qin Zui stared at him for a long moment, then rasped, “I’ve already smoked that.”
“I don’t mind.” Jiang Chu hung the cumin lamb on the rearview mirror, cranked the AC to max, and rolled down all the windows before driving Qin Zui home.
Qin Zui didn’t say a word the whole way. When they got home, Zhou Teng came over to sniff his leg. He crouched down, rubbed the cat’s head, and said to Jiang Chu, “I’m going to sleep.”
“Oh, sure, sleep.” Jiang Chu was pulling his shirt off over his head when he heard Qin Zui’s comment and paused, surprised.
The kid actually said something today. Usually, he just went straight to his room and shut the door.
Thinking Qin Zui might be struggling, Jiang Chu’s head still tangled in his shirt, Qin Zui walked past him and casually helped yank it the rest of the way off.
Jiang Chu, now shirtless, went out to the balcony and fiddled with his phone for a while. He called Da Ben. “Ben’er, time to repay that favor. Get your wife and come with me for a bit.”
Qin Zui slept until ten-fifteen that night.
It wasn’t really sleep. His consciousness was hazy, and memories he’d buried deep in his mind for years kept bubbling up, one after another.
He didn’t want to think about them, but once the floodgates opened, he couldn’t hold them back.
In the gaps between fragmented dreams, he’d feel a flicker of awareness. But it wasn’t really awareness. He didn’t want to open his eyes, didn’t want to move. A weight pressed down on his chest, dragging him deeper into the dream, making it hard to even turn over.
Finally, someone touched his forehead, his face, and called his name twice: “Qin Zui.” He opened his eyes, exhausted, pulled from a nightmare-like state.
The bedroom was dark, no lights on. Soft light from the living room bled through the doorway, casting a hazy glow, along with the blaring noise of some TV show.
Jiang Chu was bent over the bed, studying him. His face was a little too close. In the dim light, Qin Zui could somehow make out his eyes clearly.
His eyelashes were thick.
Jiang Chu stared back at Qin Zui for a moment, thinking he still seemed out of it.
He was practically going cross-eyed. How was there no reaction, even with his eyes open?
“Qin Zui?” He called again, cautiously raising his hand and slapping Qin Zui’s face.
As he did, he straightened up, just in case Qin Zui reflexively threw a punch.
Qin Zui frowned, turned his head, and batted Jiang Chu’s hand away.
“What.” As soon as he spoke, even he was startled by his own voice. It sounded like it had been scraped with sandpaper, rough and burned.
“If you hadn’t woken up soon, I would’ve called an exorcist.” Jiang Chu turned and walked out, flicking the bedroom light on as he passed. “Get up and eat.”
Qin Zui squinted and sat up. Zhou Teng tumbled off his chest with a grumble, arching his back and shaking out his fur.
No wonder his chest felt so heavy.
Qin Zui swung his legs over the side of the bed. His knees were a little weak, his brain felt like sludge.
He caught a whiff of the smoke that had soaked into his clothes all afternoon, grabbed some clean clothes, and went to shower.
Jiang Chu poked his head out of the kitchen, saw Qin Zui heading for the bathroom, leaned against the counter to think for a moment, then put the cake back in the fridge.
He tidied up the other things, then dug out the gift he’d bought for Qin Zui that afternoon. He went to Qin Zui’s room, scooped up Zhou Teng, and carried him to the bathroom door. He fed him a few treats and tucked the gift box under his paw, letting him play with it.
Zhou Teng had no interest in a random box. He swiped at it a couple of times and tried to run off.
Jiang Chu clicked his tongue. He hooked an arm around Zhou Teng’s belly, tucked him under his arm, and rummaged through cabinets, looking for the catnip he’d bought with the last bag of cat food.
While Qin Zui was showering, he heard a cacophony of clattering and rustling from outside.
When he finally opened the bathroom door, steam billowing out, Zhou Teng was sitting there like a roadblock, batting around a rectangular box. The plastic wrapping was already punctured in several places by his claws.
Qin Zui bent down and picked up the box. A single glance at the picture on the packaging made his eye twitch.
“Pretty thoughtful, huh? Feeling moved?” Jiang Chu was sprawled on the sofa, playing a game on the TV. The action was intense, and he didn’t even turn his head, just laughed.
Qin Zui folded his arms and leaned against the doorframe, looking at Jiang Chu, then back at the box in his hand. He was truly at a loss for words, and a little amused.
It was a masturbation cup.
