Chapter 2: Sounds So Sweet Part 2

Lin Jianxi had made it big once. He knew the real elite, the ones at the pyramid’s peak. Poised and polished, they shunned overt violence. Sure, they had their shadows, but they unleashed them in the dark, wielding money and influence. Insiders kept mum; outsiders had no proof.

Gu Heng was no such man.

He couldn’t even rein in his rage around a child. He would never rise that high—just end up backstabbed, his downfall inevitable.

Lin Jianxi’s fingers drummed a steady rhythm on the tabletop.

The wind howled outside, whipping up a storm. Lightning cracked the sky amid thunderous booms. Footsteps approached from behind—the youth’s.

Lin Jianxi stared out the window. “Go on. There’s a bank card on the table. PIN’s six sevens. It’ll cover your college tuition.”

“I’m not going.”

“Hm?”

Lin Jianxi didn’t turn around, but he sensed Song Cheng’an drawing near.

Song Cheng’an: “He and I have unfinished business. I’ll sort it out. I’m staying.”

“…”

Song Cheng’an pressed on. “I know you don’t like me. No big deal—it’s his issue and mine. I’ll steer clear of you.”

“…” Lin Jianxi quirked a brow, eyeing the boy’s baby-faced innocence.

After a pause, Song Cheng’an added icily, “Lin Jianxi, I don’t like you either. We can’t stand each other.”

Song Cheng’an was just a kid, after all—his tone so earnestly blunt that Lin Jianxi half-believed the boy truly loathed him. But on second thought, what reason did he have? It was teenage fire, lumping them all as vipers in a pit, rotten to the core.

Lin Jianxi fiddled with a cigarette, amused. He slipped the tobacco into his mouth and closed his eyes for a moment.

“Kid, grudges that deep aren’t always a virtue. What goes to extremes comes back around.”

“What do you know?” Song Cheng’an’s eyes rimmed red, brimming with tears. “Easy for you to spout that nonsense.”

“You’ve seen quite a bit of the world already, haven’t you?” Lin Jianxi gazed into Song Cheng’an’s eyes and said softly. “Which of those big-shot uncles and aunties would wear their desires on their sleeves? But their ambitions run deeper than most people’s—otherwise, they wouldn’t have climbed so high, right? You’re smart. You get what I mean.”

“…”

Song Cheng’an forgot to even blink. The tears pooling in his eyes spilled over, sliding down his chin and splattering on the floor.

The kid’s dazed expression was oddly endearing. Lin Jianxi couldn’t help but chuckle as he pulled him close. He wiped the tears from the corner of Song Cheng’an’s eye with his fingertip, then grabbed the baseball cap he often used to shield his face while napping in the sun and tugged it down over Song Cheng’an’s head, hiding most of his face.

“Shh. Don’t let him see you crying,” Lin Jianxi said, looking up at him. “Unless you want him to know you’ve failed—that you’re sad, hurt, breaking down, ready to give up.”

~~~

From that day on, Lin Jianxi never saw Gu Heng lay a hand on Song Cheng’an again. On the contrary, whenever they were around him, Gu Heng and Song Cheng’an acted just like any normal elder and kid. Song Cheng’an would greet Gu Heng politely, and Gu Heng would serve him food. It all seemed harmonious enough, but Lin Jianxi knew better. This was just the show they wanted him to see.

Time flew by. The boy shot up like a weed, and before long, he was all grown up—taller than Lin Jianxi, even.

Lin Jianxi mourned the discovery that he might be the shortest one in the family.

One day at the dinner table, he teased, “You two get along so well now. Makes me feel like the outsider.”

Song Cheng’an propped his chin on his hand and grinned at him. “Lin Jianxi, you’ve never been an outsider.”

Song Cheng’an had a habit of smiling at him like that, and Lin Jianxi found it pretty cute. He still thought the kid was like a little dog.

Gu Heng snapped a french fry in two. The atmosphere at the table turned strange, but Lin Jianxi pretended not to notice and kept joking. “Oh, really? Then call me Daddy.”

He didn’t get a “Daddy” out of it. Bored sometimes, Lin Jianxi would occasionally pick Song Cheng’an up from school—not often, maybe once a month. In front of his classmates, Song Cheng’an always called him “brother.”

The school was full of rich kids. Anyone who knew Gu Heng knew Lin Jianxi too. Lin Jianxi didn’t go out much, but whenever he tagged along with Gu Heng to meet clients, he left a lasting impression. Word got around, and when he showed up to pick up Song Cheng’an, plenty of guys would strike up conversations.

They’d chat back and forth. One guy offered him a cigarette. Lin Jianxi glanced up at him and curved his lips into a smile. “Thanks.”

“…” The man froze.

Song Cheng’an came out of the school with his backpack slung over one shoulder and caught sight of them. His smile froze on his face for a moment before snapping back to normal. He walked over and said, “Brother, what are we having for dinner tonight?” Then he turned to the man. “Wanna join?”

The man laughed and waved him off.

The next time Lin Jianxi came to pick him up, that same guy spotted him. Something flickered in his eyes as he approached. “That kid of yours—Mr. Lin, you might want to keep an eye on him. A week ago, he broke into my car with a knife and threatened me to stay away from you.”

“…Really?” Lin Jianxi said thoughtfully. “Thanks for the heads-up. I’ll have a talk with him.”

No sooner had the words left his mouth than Lin Jianxi felt eyes boring into his back. He turned and saw Song Cheng’an standing there, fear in his eyes. The kid didn’t dare come closer or even meet his gaze.

Neither of them spoke the whole way home. Lin Jianxi noticed a sheen of sweat on Song Cheng’an’s forehead, so he stopped at a nearby convenience store and bought him an ice cream cone.

Song Cheng’an took it but barely ate any before the tears started flowing. The kid was good-looking, and the way he cried silently drew stares—his pale face looked heartbreakingly pitiful. Lin Jianxi didn’t say much. He just tugged the baseball cap down over Song Cheng’an’s head.

He gently scraped the tip of Song Cheng’an’s chin with his index finger and smiled. “Just polite talk. Between him and you, I believe you more.”

Song Cheng’an stared at him for a moment, then suddenly threw his arms around Lin Jianxi, hugging him tight. The clean, fresh scent of the teenager filled his nose. Song Cheng’an sniffled but didn’t admit or deny anything, didn’t say if he’d done it or been wrong. He just murmured, “Lin Jianxi.”

Lin Jianxi responded.

“Lin Jianxi,” Song Cheng’an said again.

Lin Jianxi answered once more, amusement coloring his voice.

Song Cheng’an’s hot breath tickled his neck.

“Lin Jianxi, the ice cream’s melting.”

“Then we’ll get another one.”

Lin Jianxi headed back to the store, and Song Cheng’an trailed behind him. After a moment, he said softly, “Lin Jianxi, you can hit me if you want… but don’t ignore me.”

Lin Jianxi wanted to laugh, but he didn’t say anything else. He just replied once more.

“Good.”

~~~

Because of the upheaval at home, Song Cheng’an had taken a year off from school and was still a senior at eighteen.

The grown-up Song Cheng’an didn’t cry as much anymore. Lin Jianxi kind of missed the way the kid used to bawl—pitiful and adorable, great fun to tease. But now Song Cheng’an hardly came home at all. Most of the time, Lin Jianxi didn’t even catch a glimpse of him. When they did cross paths, the moment their eyes met, Song Cheng’an would look away, his movements slow and stiff.

Then he’d vanish again, as if forcing himself to suppress something, to endure, to change.

Gu Heng was busy with work, so Lin Jianxi was stuck playing guardian to Song Cheng’an—though it didn’t amount to much.

The most recent—and probably only—time he really needed to step in was for graduation. The teacher had contacted him directly, skipping Song Cheng’an altogether, and her tone had been odd. Lin Jianxi was wondering if one of Song Cheng’an’s quirks had finally come out to his classmates when Gu Heng suddenly hugged him from behind and started undoing his clothes.

Lin Jianxi lit a cigarette. “I don’t want to.”

Gu Heng had just gotten home from work, still in his suit, which carried the chill of the outside air. “I know. I just want to hold you.”

When he didn’t want to, he didn’t. Lin Jianxi wouldn’t bend just to please someone. He wriggled free of Gu Heng’s arms, turned to face him, and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips. “You’ve had a rough day. Work wearing you out?”

Lin Jianxi had a pretty good idea why Gu Heng was exhausted. He wasn’t an idiot; he could feel how the atmosphere at home had shifted since Song Cheng’an moved in. But he didn’t pry. He just said, “I’ll tag along and help you out tomorrow.”

Gu Heng rested his head on Lin Jianxi’s shoulder. “Okay… In the will, I plan to put your name on it.”

“Don’t jinx it,” Lin Jianxi said, brushing Gu Heng’s bangs aside to reveal his forehead. “Something happen?”

“Nothing. Just because I love you.”

“Is that so?” Lin Jianxi replied. “Then… look behind you.”

Lin Jianxi didn’t like turning on the lights at home. The room was always shrouded in darkness, and Gu Heng respected his preference, never saying a word about it.

So when Gu Heng turned around and caught sight of the cake concealed by the shadows on the table, he froze. Lin Jianxi walked over to it, bent down, and lit the candles.

One by one, the candles ignited, casting light over a small patch of space. Lin Jianxi’s long lashes drooped low, great swaths of his skin exposed and glowing with the pink flush of alcohol. His movements were slow but flawless, each candle positioned perfectly. The odd number of them formed an impeccable arrangement, as if he’d measured it with precision instruments.

“Happy birthday. No matter how busy you get, don’t forget to eat. You’ve gotten so thin.”

“…”

Lin Jianxi smiled faintly.

“Hatred is a curse. It’s also a driving force. If you can’t control it, it becomes a double-edged sword that destroys yourself and everyone around you.”

Gu Heng watched him, silent for a few seconds. “What do you mean?”

Lin Jianxi replied, “Nothing special, husband. Have some cake—Song Cheng’an—”

Lin Jianxi looked up as if suddenly realizing something, his eyes landing on the figure standing a short distance away: a shadow with a backpack slung over one shoulder. As the young man approached, the eyes beneath his messy bangs grew clearer.

There was emotion in the way Song Cheng’an looked at Gu Heng.

A scrutinizing gaze tinged with a cold smile, his eyes settling on the arm Gu Heng had wrapped around him just moments before.

Something had gone down between these two—a mutual wounding, by the looks of it, and Song Cheng’an was seriously pissed.

Lin Jianxi pretended not to notice. He sat down in a chair, crossing his legs, a cigarette pinched between the knuckles of his right hand while his left sliced into the cake.

“Kid, sing a birthday song for me.”

Song Cheng’an tugged at his backpack strap. “I don’t know it. Teach me.”

Lin Jianxi said, “My singing isn’t good.”

“…”

“…………”

Darkness and silence intertwined like a web, everyone nursing their hidden motives. Malice leaked out through every crack, impossible to contain, and in this atmosphere, it seemed almost commonplace.

“How could it not be?”

Song Cheng’an slipped his earphones on with one hand, the corners of his mouth curving upward.

“Lin Jianxi, your voice is especially nice. We all love it.”

~~~