Chapter 25

Is That All There Is?

Qi Yang was still processing Mu Yicong’s earlier admission that he’d once had a crush on him when the next sentence hit him like a dream where you step off a cliff—then got yanked back to earth by those words: “Is that all there is?”

A strange emotion he couldn’t put into words rose in his chest.

He had a gut feeling his priorities were off, but the sting of being dismissed, of having everything completely denied and overturned, overwhelmed his initial awkwardness at receiving a same-sex confession. It sparked an inexplicable fury.

Mu Yicong really hadn’t changed a bit. He was still just as annoying.

Every word, every expression radiated that arrogance Qi Yang knew all too well.

What a pain in the ass.

“What the hell does that mean?”

He heard himself almost laugh from sheer irritation, the question slipping out before he could stop it.

“Is it the person I am that’s just ‘okay,’ or the level of your so-called liking that’s only ‘okay’?”

Saying the words “Liked me” out loud, under Mu Yicong’s gaze, made Qi Yang feel even more awkward.

On impulse, he pushed at the car door, wanting to get out—like he always did when he got annoyed. Put distance between himself and the source of irritation first.

Halfway through pushing it open, he remembered it was his own car. He yanked the door shut again, lowered his head, and bit down on another cigarette. “We’re here. Get out.”

Mu Yicong shot him a long, searching look but didn’t say anything more.

As he stepped out, he reached over and plucked the unlit cigarette from between Qi Yang’s lips.

Qi Yang blinked, about to frown and snap at him.

“You’re smoking too much,” Mu Yicong said.

With that, the passenger door clicked shut, and Mu Yicong walked away without looking back.

Sitting in his car with a tangled mess of emotions, Qi Yang watched Mu Yicong’s silhouette disappear among the residential buildings through the snow-speckled window. Only then did he turn the car around and head home.

The class reunion had been scheduled for just past seven, but after all that back-and-forth, by the time Qi Yang pushed open his front door, it was already past nine-thirty.

Zou Meizhu had actually listened to her son for once and stayed in instead of going out to play cards.

But she wasn’t doing anything productive either. She was sprawled on the sofa, phone in hand, playing Fight the Landlord. When she heard Qi Yang come in, she didn’t even lift her head. “Yangyang, you’re back.”

Qi Xing emerged from the bedroom and pressed herself against the wall.

Qi Yang changed his shoes, washed his hands, and walked over to ruffle Qi Xing’s hair. Only then did Zou Meizhu finish her hand, sit up, and eye Qi Yang’s empty hands. “Didn’t bring any food back?”

“You haven’t cooked yet?” Qi Yang turned to look at her.

“We weren’t hungry,” Zou Meizhu said, a little sheepish as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I figured since you were eating out, you might bring back some takeout. No point in firing up the stove.”

Qi Yang glanced at Qi Xing’s thin, hollowed-out cheeks, pressed his lips together, and his expression darkened.

“Mom’ll go cook now.” Zou Meizhu gave a guilty smile and started to get up.

“I’ll do it.” Qi Yang pushed her aside, shrugged off his jacket, and headed for the kitchen.

This was his real life.

Standing in the worn-out kitchen, skillfully tossing a handful of dried noodles into the boiling pot, Qi Yang felt his tumultuous emotions from the whole night slowly settle.

This rundown home had a strange kind of magic—something Qi Yang had discovered over the years as he struggled to make a living.

No matter what happened outside, no matter what emotions boiled up inside him, as soon as he walked through that door and faced the two women who needed him, everything quickly went numb.

The Qi Yang he was now was supposed to be a far cry from the privileged, aggressive kid he used to be.

All his sharp edges had been ground down by the monotony of daily life. He no longer had the energy to deal with anything or anyone extra.

Whether Mu Yicong had come back or not, whether he’d attended the reunion, whether those words in the car were true or just said to piss him off—none of it really mattered to him anymore.

All of a sudden, Qi Yang understood what Mu Yicong meant by “liked you once” and “that’s all there is.”

Even if it had been real affection, it was for the old Qi Yang.

That thought made Qi Yang freeze. In a daze, he felt a wave of absurdity—how had his life ended up like this?

It wasn’t until Zou Meizhu muttered, “It’s burning,” and reached over with chopsticks to stir the pot that he snapped out of it. He lowered his head and continued adding seasoning to the noodles.

Nothing to dwell on, Qi Yang, he told himself.

All of that was in the past.

He watched Qi Xing finish half a bowl of noodles, eating like a bird, while Zou Meizhu freshened up excitedly and prepared to head out for mahjong again.

Qi Yang wiped Qi Xing’s mouth and couldn’t be bothered to stop her.

Later that night, unable to sleep, Qi Yang grabbed his phone and scrolled through Moments. He saw a few posts from Ren Wei and some high school classmates.

Mostly group photos from after the dinner. Liu Dameng and Cui Wu had made it into a few shots, grinning like idiots with their arms slung around each other just like in their high school graduation photo.

Ren Wei’s post was the most embarrassing.

He’d arranged a nine-grid photo layout. Since Mu Yicong hadn’t been in the final group picture, Ren Wei had specially placed an old photo of himself and Mu Yicong in the very center—he couldn’t remember when it was taken.

The caption read: “Time flies, but thankfully none of us have changed.”

Qi Yang clicked on the photo with a sneer, then opened the class group chat and found Mu Yicong’s avatar.

It was probably set to private for strangers—Mu Yicong’s Moments was completely blank, just a single line.

The conversation from the car floated back into his mind. Qi Yang locked his phone irritably and turned off the light to sleep.

He barely had his eyes closed for twenty seconds before he opened them again in the darkness.

When had it even started?

Was it the kind of “liking” he was thinking of? Between men?

The strange sensation of being pinned down by Mu Yicong back in the day, chair and all, with some hard object pressing against him, came back with eerie clarity.

Was it back then?

What a shameless bastard, that Mu Yicong.

Was that what he’d meant by “liking”?

Qi Yang felt an odd urge to laugh. He turned over in bed, restlessly mulling things over, when his phone vibrated under the pillow.

A friend request.

From Mu Yicong.

Staring at the screen for a moment, Qi Yang felt something unclog in his chest—a sudden surge of warmth that tugged the corners of his mouth upward.

The half-dead, apathetic mood from when he was cooking noodles shattered, replaced by a competitive edge.

And he’d won—Mu Yicong had been the one to add him first.

Qi Yang clutched his phone and sat up against the headboard. He checked the time: 11:17 PM. He deliberately lit a cigarette and smoked it down to the butt before finally tapping the Accept button.

Another five minutes passed. The other side didn’t send a single word.

Qi Yang: ?

Finally, the “typing…” indicator appeared. Mu Yicong calmly replied with three characters: “Still awake.”

Qi Yang: You need something?

Qi Yang clicked into Mu Yicong’s Moments. The guy really never posted anything.

He scrolled around for a while longer, getting impatient, until Mu Yicong finally sent another message.

Mu Yicong: Just added you while I was at it.

What the hell does “at it” mean?

Qi Yang was genuinely annoyed by this guy.

He couldn’t be bothered to reply anymore. He tossed the phone aside. Talking to this person was just asking for a headache.

Ignoring Mu Yicong’s message gave Qi Yang a small sense of satisfaction. He slept straight through till morning.

His dreams had been a chaotic mess of childhood memories. When he woke up the next day, he grabbed his phone. Mu Yicong hadn’t sent any more messages. But seeing that the last line in their chat was from the other side made him feel vindicated.

That weird state of adding each other but not talking was pretty irritating, but over the next few days, Qi Yang’s overall mood was still better than before the reunion.

He didn’t have time to wonder why Mu Yicong had added him. The Spring Festival was coming, and there were too many people renting cars for the holiday. Everyone at Che Li was running around like headless chickens.

On one especially busy afternoon, Liu Dameng showed up carrying a stack of stationery items.

“Busy, Yangzi?” He blustered as he came in. “I’m going with the wife to her parents’ place for New Year’s in a couple days, so I thought I’d drop by early with some new stuff for our Xing’er.”

Qi Yang had a thick pile of paperwork in his hands and didn’t have time to deal with him. He told Liu Dameng to find a cool spot and wait.

When he finally finished his work, he went back to the office, grabbed a bottle of water, twisted off the cap, and downed half of it in one go.

“Man, that’s what I call single-guy vitality.” Liu Dameng grinned lecherously. “I can’t drink cold water straight from the bottle in this weather anymore. Freezes my teeth.”

“Can’t you do anything useful?” Qi Yang tossed him a bottle too.

“I don’t need your hospitality.” Liu Dameng caught it and waved the already-opened bottle on the table.

Once Qi Yang finished drinking and could finally sit down for a proper chat, Liu Dameng leaned onto the table and lowered his voice. “Did you see the photos Ren Wei posted in our class group?”

“Why would I look at him?” Qi Yang had zero interest in that crowd. After Mu Yicong added him as a friend, he’d straight up collapsed the group chat.

Liu Dameng had guessed Qi Yang hadn’t seen them.

He pulled out his phone, scrolled, and handed it over. “I was bored today and clicked in. Saw he posted a bunch of photos yesterday—the group shots from the reunion, plus some individual pics with a few people.”

Qi Yang took a glance, then handed the phone back to Liu Dameng.

“Did he get one with you?” he asked deliberately.

“Fuck. Me and Cui Wu? He didn’t even bother with us. Only took pictures with the ones who’re doing alright.” Liu Dameng laughed just talking about it. “What’s wrong with that guy…”

Liu Dameng recounted everything Ren Wei did after Qi Yang had left that day—mocking and badmouthing him, not a single kind word.

Qi Yang kept a faint smile on his face as he organized a spreadsheet on the computer, half-listening.

“And Mu Yicong,” Liu Dameng said after finishing his report on Ren Wei. He took a sip of water, then cautiously asked Qi Yang, “Nothing happened between you two that day, right?”

“Huh?” Qi Yang finished entering the table before looking up at Liu Dameng. “Nothing.”

“Good. Cui’er and I were worried you two might go at it again like before, one wrong word and you’re at each other’s throats…”

Qi Yang had been so busy these past few days he hadn’t even had time to think about food, deliberately pushing the name Mu Yicong to the back of his mind. But Liu Dameng brought it up, and he was reminded of their conversation in the car.

“Let me ask you something, Dameng.” Qi Yang slowed down his typing and tossed the cigarette pack to Liu Dameng.

“Go ahead.” Liu Dameng looked at the brand, then pulled out his own fancy cigarettes from his pocket and stuffed them into Qi Yang’s drawer.

“You and your wife—how did you…”

Qi Yang wanted to ask how Liu Dameng had fallen for his wife.

Because over the years, whether real or fake, long or short, Qi Yang had been through a few relationships. But those so-called girlfriends never really gave him that special feeling.

At least not once had he ever felt like he genuinely wanted to be with someone for the long haul, to live together and get married.

Sometimes he thought he was a bit of a jerk, but at least in those relationships, from start to finish, he’d never wasted a girl’s time. When it felt like time to part ways, he never dragged things out.

Before he could finish the question, his phone rang on the table, cutting him off.

Liu Dameng and Qi Yang both looked at the screen. It was a WeChat voice call from Ren Wei.

“Fuck, speak of the devil,” Liu Dameng said, surprised. “He just appears the moment you mention him.”

Qi Yang didn’t want to answer. He planned to pretend he hadn’t seen it and wait for the call to time out.

But after a moment’s thought, he swiped to answer. He didn’t even pick up the phone, just put it on speaker.

“Qi Yang?” Ren Wei’s voice was loud, carrying that self-assured familiarity. “You busy today?”

“Not really.” Qi Yang grunted, pulling the keyboard closer and continuing to type up the spreadsheet.

“Here’s the thing. Last time I mentioned my company needs to rent a fleet of cars. We just had a meeting to discuss a few rental agencies. I figured since you’re at Che Li, and Che Li has a good reputation, I might as well look out for an old classmate and just book with you directly.”

Ren Wei’s tone carried a misplaced sense of superiority that made Liu Dameng scowl across the table.

Qi Yang remembered Ren Wei’s post about “none of us have changed” and found it almost funny. This bastard had changed the most—for the worse.

“Fine,” Qi Yang said. He didn’t care about the guy, but he wasn’t about to turn down business. “Come by tomorrow and we’ll talk.”

“Don’t make it tomorrow.” Ren Wei made the suggestion as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “I’m actually handling some business nearby. Since you’re driving for the ride-hailing service after work anyway, you can just pick me up from the Municipal Office, and we’ll grab a meal and talk.”

Qi Yang’s fingers stopped typing. His eyelids drooped as he turned to look at the phone screen.

Liu Dameng had already had enough. Before Qi Yang could say anything, he shouted at the phone, “Who the hell do you think you are talking to?”

There was a pause on Ren Wei’s end. He wasn’t sure if he was being cursed at, but he recognized Liu Dameng’s voice. “Dameng? What a coincidence, you two are together?”

“Coincidence my—” Liu Dameng was about to keep cursing, but Qi Yang raised a hand to press down on his shoulder. He picked up the phone, switched off the speaker, and walked outside to take the call.

Through the floor-to-ceiling glass wall, Liu Dameng was still frantically mouthing at him: “Curse him out!”

Qi Yang didn’t curse. He also didn’t agree to Ren Wei’s request.

Back in the day, he would have been even angrier than Liu Dameng, more aggressive and obnoxious. He might have pretended to agree to meet Ren Wei just so he could beat him up.

But the Qi Yang of now could suppress all his temper when it came to irrelevant people.

“If you want to rent a car, come to Che Li and talk in person. It’s easier to check out the vehicles.” He informed Ren Wei in a strictly businesslike tone. “I don’t have time at any other time.”

Ren Wei had enough sense to back off. He made some “oh, oh” sounds, softened his attitude a bit, and said he’d come by when he had time.

After hanging up, Qi Yang didn’t head straight back to the office.

He stood in the corridor staring at his phone for a moment, then dialed Mu Yicong’s number.

Mu Yicong answered just as slowly as he replied to messages. It rang several times before he picked up.

“Your company wants to rent cars?” Qi Yang asked coldly, not waiting for Mu Yicong to speak.

“Yeah.” Mu Yicong’s reply was equally concise. “That’s the plan.”

“Whatever your plan is.” Qi Yang couldn’t keep the edge out of his voice when talking to him. “Either switch agencies, or send someone else to negotiate.”

There was a two-second silence on Mu Yicong’s end. When he spoke again, there was a faint hint of a smile in his voice—not quite there, but almost.

“Don’t want to see Ren Wei?” he asked Qi Yang. “Then do you want to see me?”