Chapter 24: There’s a place in Inner Mongolia called Xilin Gol…

Kong Ji offered no further comments on Tong Xilin’s summer job.

It was as if he’d tacitly approved, or as if he’d accepted Tong Xilin’s point of view about “we don’t really have a relationship.” The next day at lunch, the two sat across from each other at the dining table, and neither brought up the previous night’s conversation.

Tong Xilin observed his demeanor—still as composed as ever, appearing completely unfazed and self-assured.

“Uncle,” he scooped some rice into his mouth, thinking, “how did you know my birthday?”

“ID card.” Kong Ji glanced at him, thinking Tong Xilin’s question was a bit silly.

“Ah.” Tong Xilin figured that made sense, then asked, “What about yours?”

“What’s this?” Kong Ji had finished eating. He put down his chopsticks but didn’t leave, leaning back in his chair to chat with him. “You’re not just repaying money—gonna throw in an extra birthday gift on top of that?”

Tong Xilin couldn’t out-talk him. He suddenly felt that Kong Ji was the type to hold a grudge.

“I was just asking.” He put down his chopsticks too, lifted his water glass, and took a sip. “I’ve never seen your ID.”

“November 19th,” Kong Ji said.

That was still a long way off.

Tong Xilin nodded, remembering the birthday on Tong Yuzhi’s ID was in March.

Both of them had gone to bed late the night before. This lunch was also eaten late. As usual, they ordered takeout.

After clearing the food containers and bowls from the table, Tong Xilin checked the time. There was nothing to do at home, so he planned to head straight to the internet cafe.

“I’m off to work, Uncle.” He let Kong Ji know.

“I’ll give you a ride,” Kong Ji said.

“It’s not far,” Tong Xilin already had his shoes on. “I can walk.”

Kong Ji ignored him, grabbed the back of Tong Xilin’s collar to make him wait, went to the walk-in closet to change, got his car keys, and went out the door together.

As nice as the internet cafe was, in Kong Ji’s eyes, it was still some sleazy, grimy establishment.

He parked the car at the entrance and didn’t follow Tong Xilin inside. Tong Xilin didn’t say much to him either, waved his hand, pushed the door open, and got out.

When his shift handover time arrived in the evening, the moment Tong Xilin and Zhou Qi stepped outside, they saw Kong Ji’s car parked by the roadside again. Two bright headlights beamed directly at him, and a horn honked.

“Now he’s picking you up and dropping you off for your shift too?” Zhou Qi, even after graduating, still found seeing a parent figure aggravating.

He’d originally been planning to grab food with Tong Xilin, but now that the guy’s uncle was waiting right at the shop entrance, he didn’t want to go say hello and just slipped away.

Tong Xilin didn’t know what to say. He stood still at the internet cafe entrance for a long while, gazing through the car window at Kong Ji in a silent standoff.

Kong Ji’s forearm rested on the edge of the open car window. His long fingers flicked the cigarette ash. He tilted his chin toward Tong Xilin, motioning him to get in.

“Afraid I’d go eat BBQ again?” Tong Xilin opened the car door and asked.

“It’s too late. Not safe,” Kong Ji answered as if it were perfectly justified. “Whatever you want to eat, I’ll take you.”

Tong Xilin got into the passenger seat and buckled his seatbelt. His fingers traced the buckle. “I don’t feel like eating anything.”

This kind of chauffeur-like, kid-watching pick-up and drop-off continued until the end of June.

Once, getting out of the car, he happened to run right into Brother Chen. Brother Chen was squatting by the shop entrance smoking. He stared as Tong Xilin walked over, choked on his cigarette, and joked with him: “Coming to work at an internet cafe in a Maybach, huh? Young Master.”

Tong Xilin pursed his lips in a small smile and earnestly explained: “It’s not mine. It’s my uncle’s car.”

Brother Chen, who just happened to have candy in his pocket, casually tossed one to Tong Xilin. “Well then, I’d better treat you extra nice.”

The candy hit his chest, and Tong Xilin couldn’t just not catch it. He glanced at it—lychee flavor. He took it into the shop but didn’t eat it. When Zhou Qi came over later, he tossed it to him.

That evening, Kong Ji came to pick him up again. As soon as Tong Xilin sat in the car, Kong Ji dropped a paper bag onto his lap.

A whole bag of candy, bought from a specialty store, wrapped up with cellophane and a ribbon bow like a gift.

“I don’t like sweets, Uncle.” Tong Xilin pinched the candy wrapper and turned his face to look at him. “Thinking about my dad again?”

Kong Ji steered the car with one hand, looking straight ahead, and lazily raised one corner of his mouth. He neither explained nor seemed he could be bothered to respond.

At the end of June, the College Entrance Exam scores came out.

Tong Xilin was at the internet cafe at the time. He’d recently been so focused on his part-time job and self-improvement, his schedule so inverted, that he’d completely forgotten about this. It was Zhou Qi who reminded him to check his score.

“Did you check?” Tong Xilin asked him while searching for the score-checking website.

“360.” Zhou Qi raised an eyebrow smugly.

A regular in the main hall was getting water for his instant noodles nearby. Hearing Zhou Qi’s score, he laughed. “Nice one, kid. Scored yourself an antivirus software.”

The class group chat kept flashing with messages. Tong Xilin glanced at it before entering his exam number to check his score and could roughly guess that this year’s scores were generally on the high side.

The Head Teacher’s message popped up, asking for Tong Xilin’s score.

He stared at the spinning cursor on the screen. Before he could even brace himself, the score box popped up.

696.

One point higher than the second mock exam.

Tong Xilin let out a shallow breath of relief. It was around what he’d estimated.

He acted far too calm. Zhou Qi and the instant-noodle guy were more excited than he was. The two simultaneously blurted out a “Holy shit,” making several people in the front rows of computers look up and ask what was going on.

“This little net admin scored 700!” Instant-noodle guy went ahead and rounded it up.

A wave of “Damn!” and “Respect” rippled through the internet cafe.

Tong Xilin screenshotted his score and sent it to the Head Teacher. She sent back three “Good”s in a row and told Tong Xilin to come to the school to discuss with her before filling out his college preferences.

Zhou Qi, this 360 ambassador, wasn’t worried about himself. Beside him, he was genuinely happy for Tong Xilin, locking him in a headlock and shouting, “That’s my soldier!”

Tong Xilin patted his arm, a little shy, and sent his score to Kong Ji as well.

A few minutes later, Kong Ji replied with a voice message. He didn’t sound surprised either, asking Tong Xilin what reward he wanted.

Tong Xilin heard background noise that sounded like another business dinner. He set his phone down and didn’t reply.

That night, the late-night shift net admin was about ten minutes late. The moment he walked in, he apologized to Tong Xilin.

Tong Xilin said it was no problem, finished his handover, tidied up, and got ready to leave.

Zhou Qi, after Kong Ji started coming every night to pick him up, no longer accompanied him after work. Tong Xilin walked to the entrance and looked toward the roadside. He didn’t see Kong Ji’s car.

He took out his phone, hesitating—didn’t know whether he should walk himself, or ask Kong Ji first.

Just as he was typing, the familiar black car pulled up, accompanied by the sound of a horn.

Tong Xilin walked up to the car. There was someone sitting in the passenger seat.

He paused mid-step.

Not Little Fan. Not either of those two he’d seen before. A brand-new face. The similarity to the previous three was the same trendy clothing and refined looks.

This person seemed a little drunk. He leaned against the seat looking at Tong Xilin, cheekbones flushed, eyes bleary, sizing each other up. He turned his head and laughed toward Kong Ji, asking him, “Who’s this, Ge?”

Tong Xilin felt he should just go straight to the back seat. The old him definitely would have. He would’ve waited until they got home, then pretended not to care while subtly probing Kong Ji about who this person was.

But today he didn’t move. He pulled the passenger door open and stood outside the car, not speaking, not greeting, just staring at this person.

Kong Ji had one arm propped against the steering wheel, his face resting against the back of his hand. The streetlights streaming through the window shone on his wrist, reflecting a point of light.

He didn’t speak either, sizing up Tong Xilin with a half-smile.

“What’s this mean? Should I go to the back?” The passenger guy pointed at himself.

Kong Ji wasn’t looking at him. His gaze had been fixed on Tong Xilin’s face the whole time. Hearing the passenger guy’s question, he tilted his chin slightly toward the back seat.

“Fine, fine.” The passenger guy, like a drunk, unbuckled his seatbelt, scrambled out, and went to open the back door.

Tong Xilin got in without hesitation, pulled the seatbelt over and clicked it in, then squirmed—disliking how the seat had been warmed—and adjusted his back.

The car did a loop over the bridge, dropping the drunk guy off first at the entrance of his residential compound.

After getting out, the drunk guy was reluctant to leave. He knocked on Kong Ji’s window again, inviting him brazenly: “You really not gonna come up and sit for a bit, Ge?”

Kong Ji ignored him, left him with a “Go rest,” rolled up the window, and drove off.

Throughout the whole ride, Tong Xilin had worn headphones listening to music, searching online for this year’s score cutoffs and those preferred universities.

In silence the whole way home. Tong Xilin changed his shoes and headed toward the bedroom. Kong Ji called from behind: “Tong Xilin.”

“Mm?” Tong Xilin turned his face to look.

“Business partner,” Kong Ji said.

Four very simple words. Introduced the drunk guy’s information, and his relationship to Kong Ji.

Tong Xilin hadn’t been about to ask. He blinked. “Who are you explaining to?”

Kong Ji stepped forward. He hadn’t been drinking tonight, but his eyes held the kind of loose, pleased quality that came after alcohol. He held the back of Tong Xilin’s head and pressed their foreheads together.

“Not happy?” he asked softly.

Tong Xilin shook his head roughly, pulling free of Kong Ji’s hand.

“Before, maybe.” He stood up very straight, frank and sincere, answering Kong Ji. “Now I just think of you as my uncle.”

“I just feel that, even compared to those boyfriends of yours, I, as a nephew, have more reason to sit in the front.”

“We’re family, aren’t we, Uncle?”

Kong Ji’s pupils were truly beautiful. Unlike most people’s brown irises, his were pure black. When he fixed his gaze on someone, there was a magnetism like falling into a black whirlpool.

—Again, that was for the old Tong Xilin.

“Was my dad really into this kind of thing from you before?”

Tong Xilin earnestly looked into Kong Ji’s eyes, then proactively leaned closer again, lifting his bangs to let him see clearly.

“But I’m Tong Xilin, Uncle. You’ve mistaken me for him again.”

After saying this, he dropped his hair, turned around, and continued heading back to the bedroom.

Kong Ji hooked an arm around him from behind and caught his waist.

Tong Xilin’s waist, like the roots of his hair, was ticklish. Being suddenly caught like this, with no preparation, he practically bounced upward.

“Don’t move.” Kong Ji’s voice was deep. He wrapped Tong Xilin into his arms, pressing his forehead against the crook of his neck.

The seventeenth-floor apartment was very quiet. Tong Xilin stood still, feeling the rhythm of Kong Ji’s breathing and the strength of the arm locked around his waist.

In a fleeting, numb, detached moment, he felt that this Kong Ji was actually a little pitiful.

Between someone who could only treat others as substitutes, and the person treated as a substitute—who was actually more pitiful? It was a pretty difficult question to solve.

“You really miss him, huh.” Tong Xilin reached back and patted Kong Ji’s hair, his tone carrying a trace of pity.

The person being used as a substitute at least still had a chance to walk away.

Thinking this, Tong Xilin pulled the hand off his waist, turned back around, and looked at Kong Ji again.

“I miss my dad a lot too.” He thought for a moment. “I can go back with you to visit him.”

Kong Ji didn’t veto this suggestion. He looked at Tong Xilin for a long while, then raised his hand again—this time, scraping it along the kid’s nose bridge.

“Too skinny, Tong Xilin,” he said.

The plan to return to the small town was arranged for after Tong Xilin received his admission letter.

This year’s scores were high, and the cutoffs for the major universities had risen accordingly. Tong Xilin spent an entire afternoon carefully discussing with his Head Teacher and chose to apply for Oral Medicine at Nankai.

“It suits you,” the Head Teacher was very pleased with this choice. “Double First-Class key university, directly administered municipality. Don’t have to worry about job opportunities. You’re suited to be a dentist—steady temperament, neither arrogant nor impatient.”

Tong Xilin was also very satisfied. He looked at Nankai’s department brochure, his gaze lingering on the five-year program length.

In five years, he’d be twenty-four. Kong Ji would never again encounter a twenty-one-year-old Tong Yuzhi.

Once September arrived and school started, the distance between him and Kong Ji would span 1,200 kilometers.

He didn’t discuss it with Kong Ji. He filled in his preferences right there in the Head Teacher’s office.

The day the admission letter arrived, Tong Xilin ended his two-month summer job and received the first paycheck of his life.

A mere four thousand yuan. Not even enough for tuition. Far too little to repay Kong Ji’s money.

But he was very happy. Looking at the numbers in his Alipay account, he felt grounded in his heart, planning to continue finding part-time jobs and work-study programs once he entered university.

He used this money to buy two plane tickets—one for himself and one for Kong Ji to go back to the small town.

Before setting off, Tong Xilin went and got a color copy of his admission letter, planning to burn it for Tong Yuzhi.

“Nankai.” On the plane, Kong Ji calculated the distance. “Not too far.”

“Have you been there?” Tong Xilin asked him.

“I went to college in Beijing. Went to Tianjin to play a few times,” Kong Ji said.

This, Tong Xilin truly had not imagined.

“What school?” He paused before asking.

“Academy of Fine Arts.” Kong Ji answered lightly, completely at odds with his previous claim of being a bad student.

“Then you said your grades were bad before.” Tong Xilin rubbed his forehead, finding this man just full of lies.

Even without studying art, he knew—of the two fine arts academies in Beijing, one was Tsinghua, the other Central Academy.

“What about my dad?” He asked again.

Kong Ji didn’t answer directly. He looked at Tong Xilin, his eyes clearly slipping back into reminiscence.

Tong Xilin waited for a moment, then turned his face to look at the clouds outside the plane window.

“Your dad wasn’t as good a student as you.” Kong Ji lowered his eyes and pulled the slipping blanket back over him. Thinking of something, his voice was very soft. “His university was just average. In Inner Mongolia.”

“That far.” Tong Xilin pictured the map of China in his mind. Thousands of miles away from the small town where he’d grown up.

The feeling of being able to reminisce about Tong Yuzhi together with Kong Ji was very strange. Back during that past year when he’d been infatuated with Kong Ji, he could never have been this composed.

“Then you and my dad…”

He wanted to ask how Kong Ji, then in Beijing, could have met Tong Yuzhi, far away in Inner Mongolia. But the words stopped at his lips. A place name, along with his impression of Inner Mongolia, jumped into his mind.

All of Tong Xilin’s words halted at his throat, as if strangled. He stared blankly at Kong Ji.

“Hm?” Kong Ji looked at him as well.

The invisible hand at his throat moved down his neck and clenched his heart, like gripping a rotten peach, flooding his entire chest with suffocating acid.

There’s a place in Inner Mongolia called Xilin Gol.

Endless skies, vast wilderness, wind-swept grass revealing grazing cattle and sheep. That poem had appeared on a geography exam. The Chilaichuan Grassland is located in the northeastern part of the Xilin Gol League, Inner Mongolia.

Just like his name. Tong Xilin remembered it very clearly.

“You and my dad… met when he was a junior,” Tong Xilin said, as if in a dream, a part of his soul detached, hearing his own voice ask the question. “In Inner Mongolia.”

“Your throat bothering you?” Kong Ji laid his finger sideways against his neck, hearing the choked quality in Tong Xilin’s voice.

“Xilin Gol,” Tong Xilin woodenly confirmed. “Wasn’t it?”

Kong Ji watched a tear suddenly roll from his eye. The corners of his mouth slowly, slowly pressed together, as if feeling a bit of heartache. He pressed the back of Tong Xilin’s head and pushed his face into his chest.