Chapter 20: “I know you were looking at my dad.”…

Kong Ji didn’t drive away immediately. He lowered the passenger side window a crack and watched Tong Xilin’s back until it disappeared through the door of the tea restaurant. Only then did he look away, his gaze falling on the abandoned hand warmers.

Slanted rain streaked into the car, dampening the packaging. He looked down at them, studying them, then picked them up and squeezed them gently.

Jiang Lin’s call came at exactly that moment, asking if Kong Ji had finished dropping off the kid, and if he was free to grab a couple of drinks that evening.

“Where?” Kong Ji lowered his head to light a cigarette, the all-metal lighter producing a crisp sound.

“Silver Star, top floor.” Jiang Lin gave the name of their usual bar, his voice muffled slightly. “A few new faces. Little Fan’s here too.”

Kong Ji grunted an “Mm,” hung up, and spun the steering wheel, heading toward Silver Star.

The tea restaurant had two floors. The Class Monitor initiated a group payment collection—two hundred per person—to rent out the entire second floor.

A fair number of classmates came to the gathering. Of the sixty students in the class, thirty or forty had paid and signed up. Tong Xilin had thought he’d be among the earliest to arrive. He hadn’t expected that upon entering, the second floor was already buzzing with chatter—over a dozen people had already gathered.

He didn’t go straight upstairs. He found a sofa in a corner by the window on the first floor, sat down, waited a few minutes, then pulled out his phone and sent Zhou Qi a message: “Here yet?”

Speak of the devil. Zhou Qi’s message bubble had just shown “voice input” when Tong Xilin saw him push open the restaurant door and walk in, shaking water from his hair like a shaggy dog, speaking into his phone: “Here. Saw your uncle’s car.”

“At the intersection?” Tong Xilin asked him directly.

“Damn, you’re here already.” Zhou Qi came over and sat down next to him, pointing out the window. “Yeah, the intersection. Probably didn’t see me, though. He drove off right as I got out.”

This angle didn’t show the intersection. Tong Xilin calculated the time since he’d come in—at least five minutes had passed.

He didn’t say anything more, thinking about the look in Kong Ji’s eyes under the umbrella, idly picking at the edge of his phone case.

“What’d you choose for the first multiple-choice on the English exam?” Zhou Qi nudged him.

“You actually looked at the questions?” Tong Xilin couldn’t help laughing. During monthly and mock exams, Zhou Ji’s multiple-choice answers were almost entirely guesses.

“I only remember this one.” Zhou Qi flipped his hair with full confidence. “It’s A, right?”

“C,” Tong Xilin said.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Zhou Qi’s face darkened. He abandoned the meaningless exercise of comparing answers and dragged Tong Xilin upstairs.

The second floor was arranged with open booth seating and some board game facilities.

Though it was a graduation party, and the classmates attending were those who felt some nostalgia for high school life and wanted to get along harmoniously tonight, any group will inevitably have cliques. This was unavoidable.

Top students with top students, slackers with slackers. Everyone heading upstairs instinctively sought out their familiar friends. The forty people split into seven or eight small tables—no different from the layout during class group meetings.

Tong Xilin normally didn’t interact with anyone else. Upon reaching the second floor, he consciously chose the table in the far corner, leaned back into the sofa, tilted his head, and looked at the scenery outside the floor-to-ceiling windows.

People gradually filled the place. All the other tables were packed. The Class Monitor started running up and down the stairs, calling for the Shop Manager to serve the food. The high-achiever circles were putting their heads together comparing answers, while those not comparing answers started figuring out the board games.

The entire second floor buzzed like a marketplace—except for their table.

As a native of the class, Zhou Qi was reasonably familiar with a few of the guys from the back rows. A couple came over to greet him and called him over to play Werewolf with them.

“Just stay here. Their table’s comparing answers. What are you gonna do, crash it?” Zhou Qi squeezed closer to Tong Xilin, motioning for them to stay. “Honor of Kings. Your daddy’s gonna carry.”

“Man, you’re such a pain.” The few of them laughed and sat down.

Tong Xilin tilted his head to glance at Zhou Qi, understanding his good intentions—not wanting to let him seem too isolated.

“Log on.” Zhou Qi chewed gum and urged him.

The Class Monitor had ordered a BBQ platter for each table—plates half the size of the table itself—plus various snacks. The hot, fragrant smell of food built up the atmosphere. The monitor stood at the top of the stairs and yelled at the top of his lungs: “What are you all drinking?”

Everyone chimed in chaotically, ordering everything under the sun.

“No booze?” someone next to Zhou Qi shouted. “Our table’s having beer.”

The Class Monitor was totally overwhelmed by the noise. In the end, each table got one pitcher of juice and one pitcher of draft beer.

Orange juice made from food coloring and artificial flavoring. Tong Xilin took one sip and set it back on the table.

“You wanna drink a bit of this?” Zhou Qi pushed his own glass over.

Tong Xilin had never drunk alcohol before. Tong Yuzhi never drank. He only drank water.

Genes were truly powerful.

So powerful that the current Tong Xilin felt resistant and repulsed.

He swallowed the words “I’ll drink water,” didn’t use Zhou Qi’s glass, got a new one for himself, and poured half a glass of bubbling draft beer.

This rain would probably last until dawn.

Kong Ji sat by the floor-to-ceiling window on the top floor of Silver Star. His arm, draped over the edge of the sofa, hung naturally, his sleeve rolled up to the elbow. His forearm line was long and solid. He gently swirled the whiskey in his hand, feeling the soft clink of ice against the glass.

The rainwater from the evening stretched from threads into sheets, hanging on the thick glass, scraping down curtain after curtain of rain, blurring the city at night into a mosaic of cold and warm light.

“What time is it?” He tilted his head, asking Jiang Lin beside him.

Jiang Lin was in the middle of shooting the breeze with a few new models and minor celebrities who’d entered the circle. Hearing Kong Ji’s question, he instinctively raised his wrist to look at his watch. The bar’s dim lighting made the watch face unreadable. He pulled out his phone. “Just past ten.”

Kong Ji lifted his glass and took a sip. The rain curtain had turned the direction of the pedestrian street into chaotic light and shadow too.

Someone came over to exchange pleasantries. Kong Ji raised his glass to casually clink, then handed the socializing over to Jiang Lin, his eyelids drooping as he half-listened.

His phone vibrated. He set down his glass and picked it up. Not Tong Xilin. He tossed the phone back onto the table and stood up, bored.

“Leaving?” Jiang Lin was tracking his movements.

“Bathroom,” Kong Ji said.

While washing his hands at the sink, Little Fan pushed the door open from outside. He’d had quite a bit to drink tonight, and the intoxication was impossible to hide. His face flushed, he leaned against the counter and called out to him in a drawn-out voice: “Ge.”

Kong Ji glanced at him, unhurriedly adjusting his watch. “Drink less.”

“I really do like you.” Little Fan’s features were the dashing, spirited type, but they weren’t flying high now. Even his usually glittering eyebrow stud had gone dull like his expression.

“Is it because I went to that business dinner with Boss Chen before, so you don’t want to bother with me now?”

Kong Ji turned and looked at him for a moment. He had no impression whatsoever of any Boss Chen or Boss Ma, nor had he paid attention to Little Fan’s activities.

“Give me another chance.” Little Fan extended his face right in front of him. He was a model; he knew perfectly well which angle made him look best.

“Come to my place tonight?” He raised an eyebrow, extending an invitation to Kong Ji.

Kong Ji raised a hand and flicked Little Fan’s Adam’s apple, watching it tremble under the force of his touch. He smiled slightly. “I’m not interested in you.”

“Impossible.” Little Fan was confident and certain. “If your nephew hadn’t come back last time, the two of us would have sealed the deal.”

“Your clothes are still at my place.” He put on a somewhat pitiful expression, leaned close to Kong Ji’s ear, and whispered, “I always smell them.”

Kong Ji pressed the back of his head and patted, also leaning close to Little Fan’s ear, his voice even softer—so soft it sounded hoarse. He said, “Throw them away.”

Then, paying no mind to how Little Fan called after him, he pushed the door open and walked out.

Jiang Lin watched Kong Ji and Little Fan return one after the other, an expression of tacit understanding on his face. He asked deliberately: “Leaving for real this time, huh.”

“Mm.” Kong Ji picked up his phone. Tong Xilin’s WeChat interface was still completely empty. “Picking up the kid.”

“The life you lead…” Jiang Lin couldn’t be bothered with him anymore and waved his hand.

Tong Xilin pushed his beer glass in slow circles with his fingertip. The second floor had gone completely wild. Quite a few people had been drinking and were now discussing whether to go sing karaoke or head to an internet cafe afterward.

“…I’m asking you a question!” Zhou Qi kicked him in the shin, his voice ridiculously loud.

“Hm?” Tong Xilin turned his head sluggishly.

“Are you wasted?” Zhou Qi grabbed his face to examine. “You’re not even flushed. Looking all prim and proper.”

Tong Xilin didn’t know what being drunk felt like. He had no experience. Beer wasn’t as sweet as juice, and tonight’s dishes were way too salty. Before he knew it, he’d drunk four glasses. At the moment, his brain just felt wooden, like he’d been spacing out the whole time, but his consciousness was very clear.

“Did you say something to me just now?” He pulled his face out of Zhou Qi’s hand.

“Asking where you want to go later.” Zhou Qi said. “They’re deciding on the next stop.”

Tong Xilin didn’t want to go anywhere. He was a little tired.

“I’m going home to sleep.” He stood up, didn’t say goodbye to anyone else, and walked out in a straight line.

“You’ve really got no kick.” Zhou Qi watched him leave, walking fairly steadily, and clicked his tongue. “Need me to send you home?”

Tong Xilin didn’t look back. He made his way down the stairs, one step at a time, holding the railing.

It was still raining outside the tea restaurant. He stood at the doorway thinking for a moment, then pulled out his phone to call a car.

Before he could open the app, Kong Ji’s call came through.

“Uncle.” Tong Xilin answered.

“Is it over?” Kong Ji’s end had the faint sound of rain as well.

“No.” Tong Xilin answered honestly. “But I’m getting ready to head back.”

“Wait for me at the shop entrance.” The call ended.

Tong Xilin hadn’t brought an umbrella when he got out of the car. Kong Ji had parked only a few steps from the tea restaurant. He’d made a quick dash and gotten inside.

The umbrella holder at the entrance was now stuffed with quite a few umbrellas. He rummaged through them—none were his. He pulled back his hand and stood quietly.

He thought he’d have to wait quite a while. The next second, Kong Ji appeared before him, holding an umbrella.

“That fast.” Tong Xilin looked from the umbrella to him, confirming.

Kong Ji only took one look at him, then placed the back of his hand against Tong Xilin’s forehead, the corners of his mouth pressing together faintly. “Been drinking?”

“Beer.” Tong Xilin dodged his hand.

Kong Ji didn’t let him dodge. He pulled him directly under the umbrella, held him, and walked forward.

The car was parked at the intersection. Kong Ji got into the back seat with him. Tong Xilin stared at the unfamiliar head in the driver’s seat and voiced his question: “Who is he?”

“Designated Driver.” Kong Ji touched his right shoulder to confirm it hadn’t been soaked by the rain.

“Why get a designated driver?” Tong Xilin turned his head to look at him. “Did you drink too?”

Just now at the tea restaurant entrance, he’d still been dodging. But now, in this enclosed space, with the two of them sitting side by side, Tong Xilin seemed to have lost the concept of distance instead. His gaze and his breath fell directly onto Kong Ji’s face.

Kong Ji met his eyes. Suddenly, he leaned forward, pressing the distance even closer, almost touching noses with Tong Xilin.

Tong Xilin still didn’t dodge.

“Are you drunk or not?” Kong Ji laughed, leaning back and looking Tong Xilin over. He found him amusing.

“Not drunk.” Tong Xilin was completely calm, inside and out, from mind to heart.

As the car began to move forward, he beckoned to Kong Ji, signaling him to lean close again.

Kong Ji gazed into his eyes, paused for a moment, then pressed his forehead against Tong Xilin’s.

“Not drunk, Uncle.” Tong Xilin spoke as if confiding a secret, keeping his voice very, very low, cupping his hands around Kong Ji’s ear.

“I know you were looking at my dad.”

“At dusk. And just now, too.”