Ah Heng got up and yawned softly—"You should get some rest too."
She turned to leave, but someone grabbed the hem of her clothes from behind.
"Aheng, I'll sleep with you tonight."
Ah Heng frowned—"Why?"
Yan hope pointed out the window, his expression a mix of sorrow and seriousness—"It's raining."
She turned around, patted the boy's head, and said gently, "You're a boy, and I'm a girl, understand?"
Yan hope said righteously, "It's okay, it's the same if you become my son. I don't mind that you're a woman."
Ah Heng smiled slightly and slapped the boy's hand away—"Sorry, I look down on you because you're a man."
Turn around and go upstairs.
When she turned on the radio, her favorite channel had just started playing.
The time before last, the person who called the hotline was a mother troubled by her daughter's early romantic relationship; the last time, it was a white-collar man under a lot of work pressure; this time, it's a wife whose husband is having an affair.
She wasn't particularly interested in other people's family affairs; she just wanted to hear the hopeful tone in the voices of helpless people as they dialed the phone—the last piece of driftwood they clung to when drowning was nothing more than that.
It was the instant a slow electric current struck my eardrums, and the uncontrollable tears of emotion welled up in my eyes, simply because I finally had the desire to confide in someone amidst loneliness and sorrow, regardless of whether the confidante sister or brother truly understood me.
"You believe this?" Yan hope stood at the door, hugging a pillow, looking at the radio, her voice a little dry.
Ah Heng looked up and saw the boy, dressed in soft pajamas, his face quiet and desolate.
She pursed her lips and smiled—listening to this was just a habit. Besides, whether I believe it or not doesn't matter, does it?
The important thing is whether the person confiding still has the instinct and impulse to believe others.
"But if human suffering could be resolved with just a few words, would this world still be any better?" he said calmly, with a hint of indifference.
"What is a decent world?" Aheng squinted.
"The way the strong prey on the weak, the way traps are everywhere..." Yan hope smiled faintly, the skin on his palm wrinkling up - "It brings you a lot of warmth, and then uses reality that is a hundred times crueler than warmth to ruthlessly and instantly destroy it; it allows you to resist when fate bullies you, but brings more humiliation when you resist; it makes you look like a monster when you want to live well for a warm reason."
Ah Heng frowned, remaining silent as she pondered something.
He stepped forward, gently knelt on the bed, and smiled as he looked her in the eye—Aheng, more than the way this world looks, I'm afraid of you like this, of the way you think. It's as if I'm about to see right through you.
Aheng stared at him, her delicate and clear gaze softening as she frowned—Yanxi, you're not afraid of me, you're afraid of yourself… I was just thinking about why you suddenly appeared in my room.
He held a tub of milk biscuits in his right hand and handed it over somewhat awkwardly—asking if you wanted some biscuits.
Ah Heng sighed, smiled, and gently shifted to the right in the blankets—come in, it's cold outside.
What a lame excuse.
"I really just wanted to ask if you wanted some cookies." He turned his face to the side, blushed a little, and slipped inside, carefully closing his eyes without touching Ah Heng's clothes.
"I know." Ah Heng pulled the blanket up and covered him with it, then turned on the lamp cord.
"Do you want to listen to this again?" In the darkness, Yan hope's finger rested on the stop button on the radio.
A warm, magnetic male voice slowly drifted from the radio, announcing the end of a hotline call and that he was playing some popular music.
“These songs will keep me awake at night,” Yan hope said, her head sinking into the soft pillow.
"Where do you get so many heartbroken people who are half-dead and have nothing better to do than come out and sing love songs?"
Ah Heng chuckled lightly, used to it. He reached out his arm past Yan hope to turn off the radio, but touched clear, delicate finger bones.
She paused, paused to breathe, withdrew her hand, and said calmly, "Turn it off."
Then, I closed my eyes, and the fingertips of my left hand felt a little numb.
"Aheng, are there any nice fishermen's songs in Wushui?" He murmured, turned over, and faced away from Aheng.
Ah Heng smiled and said, "I guess... I guess so."
She asked him, "Do you want to hear it?"
Yan hope reached out, gently took her hand, enveloped it in his palm, and gently shook it up and down, nodding in the gesture.
Her voice was soft and sweet, not really suitable for singing clear fishermen's songs, but even if she was off-key and sounded terrible, she only let him listen to her.
"Oh, in the dark mountains, oh, in the dark waters, oh, the dark girls, let's sing! Let's reunite on the stage and be joyful! Fish from all directions have come! Let's sing fishermen's songs, let's plant flowers in rows!"
"The thrush is not without luster, for singing a folk song brightens the heart..."
Yan hope chuckled – “Hey, sure enough, I’m more suited to listening to rock music.”
Ah Heng paused, opened her eyes, her gaze bright yet filled with pain—"Yan hope, do you want to hear the rest?"
Yan hope held her hand; every knuckle of her hand was almost burning hot. He gently shook her fingers, as if shaking his head.
Ah Heng remained silent. She turned her gaze slightly; the boy's features were serene, as if he were about to fall into a deep sleep.
Suddenly, a crazy thought occurred to me, and the thought kept echoing in my mind: Is this the only chance in my life that I can sing for him?
She opened her mouth, seemingly to begin with a melodious and clear tune, but her throat remained hoarse; she lip-synced, but remained silent. She wanted to finish the fisherman's song in silence, solely for the sake of the young man beside her.
He was forever etched in her heart; such a beautiful time, how rare.
“Black ink clear, oh.”
Fish swim in clear water.
The brother asked the sister, "Hey, who sings better?"
The twin blossoms on the tree are half-bloomed, and the wind chimes sound most beautiful when they are sung.
The lotus root breaks but the water lily remains; the oar pushes the waves with the crisp sound.
My sister is lovesick, she truly cares for me, and I know it too.
Spiders weave webs in the black water, but the water can't break them—they're made of real silk!
My love is deep, my sister knows how much I care for you.
At the crossroads, they sell lotus roots; the knife can't cut them, the fibers are still attached, so attached!
Brother knows, sister knows, even the fish know, let's gather together!
Flowers, if they knew, would bloom in pairs.
Birds know to fly in pairs.
If people had knowledge...
"A hundred years to go"
She thought of him, knowing she would never know the second half of the song, no matter how poignant it might be. Then, she fell into a deep sleep.
I slept very soundly that night.
However, after an unknown amount of time, as if the clock itself had slowed down, he quietly sat up and gently released her hand from his grasp.
He curled up his legs, his long, slender fingers completely covering her sleeping face, and smiled beautifully—"Aheng, I'll tell you a story, and you'll listen obediently, okay?"
He said, "Aheng, do you know what the fastest way to destroy a man's dignity is? Aheng, let me tell you, it's very simple. Just find a group of people, and while he's still conscious and can struggle, take turns raping him until he can't struggle anymore. When he loses consciousness, splash him with cold water to wake him up, so that he can clearly see himself being raped by a group of... men."
He said, Ah Heng, especially the person who instructed you on all this is the person you trust and love the most.
He smiled faintly, his lips slightly upturned, his expression utterly innocent.
He said, "Aheng, I lied. I told Grandpa that someone did it. Grandpa asked me what that person looked like, and then, my head hurt so much. There were so many people, which one should I say? Was it the one with the long beard, or the one with the hooked nose, the one whose wart on his left eye turned red during orgasm, or the one who broke my ribs? I saw it so clearly, so clearly that I could draw it stroke by stroke, but I couldn't describe it to Grandpa. Isn't that strange..."
He said, "Ah Heng, Si Wan knows too. I lied to him too. I said it was a woman who did it, and then I said I was drugged. But, Ah Heng, actually, I wasn't drugged. I was perfectly sober..."
He said, "Aheng, my Aheng, will you also look at me with pity while trying to hold back your vomit, like Lin Wanwan did when she learned the truth from Siwan? Will you...?"
He said, "Ah Heng, what if, if I didn't lie to you in the same way, you'd also think I'm dirty? What if..."
He pressed his right palm against the pillow, supporting his entire body, his bare ankles exposed, quietly watching Ah Heng. It was a quietness that seemed to freeze time, his gaze fixed on her, a look of sorrow and despair like that of a trapped beast.
Ah Heng, Ah Heng, trusting people leads to heartbreak, but if I don't trust people, will I avoid heartbreak?
Ah Heng, if it were you, I would rather not believe it.
Chapter 42
Ah Heng opened the window and looked at the icicles forming under the eaves, a strange and unknowable feeling stirring in her heart.
Before she knew it, it was already her second winter in City B.
In the first year, I always felt that time didn't pass fast enough; in the second year, however, I felt that it passed too quickly.
Yan hope received an email on the eve of winter vacation.
That was the first time Ah Heng heard Lu Liu's name from Yan hope.
Siwan said that he was their childhood friend; Dayi said that he was a boy whose eyes could see many stars; Sier said that he was her fairy brother; Grandpa said that he was a good child that even Siwan, Sier and Aheng combined could not compare to.
However, she had never heard Yan Xi mention it. Even when others mentioned it, he would simply pretend not to hear it.
It was a card with an iron-gray hue tinged with blue, noble yet understated. Yan hope's fingers, reflecting that color, appeared strangely elegant yet alluring.
The text above simply reads, "No snow at home, but Vienna is covered in snow this year. A gentle smile and a touch of melancholy, let us enjoy it together."
There was a plane ticket sandwiched in the middle.
Ah Heng smiled and asked him who he was.
Yan hope kept coughing, and then he caught a cold when winter came.
He coughed, his face not flushed, but still pale—Lu Liu.
Ah Heng placed a glass of hot water into his hand and sighed, "Drink some water before you talk."
He bit the cup, thought for a moment, and murmured, with a nasal tone, "My good friend."
"What?" Ah Heng asked, confused.
Yan hope smiled and nodded, confirming his statement—I said Lu Liu is my good friend.
oh.
Ah Heng held the plane ticket, looking at it over and over again—it just so happened to be the day our winter vacation started.
Yan hope's eyes were smiling, but his lips held a coldness.