WBAI Chapter 42

Xie An’yu’s blanket was filled with his scent. Yu Feng closed his eyes, feeling as if Xie An’yu was right there in his arms.

Yu Feng lifted the blanket covering his face. Without his glasses, he couldn’t quite make out Xie An’yu’s features. He squinted at Xie An’yu, his voice a little hoarse. “What’s the meaning of this? Feels like you’re about to dress me in burial clothes any second.”

Xie An’yu froze for a long moment. It wasn’t until Yu Feng spoke that he snapped out of it.

Xie An’yu swallowed. “I was worried you’d catch a cold…”

Yu Feng picked up his glasses from the coffee table and put them on. “The way you tuck someone in, it’s like you’re sending them off.”

Xie An’yu awkwardly changed the subject. “You’re back so early.”

“Staying there would’ve just meant more socializing. Might as well come back early. That hotel bed was awful—I wanted to come back last night, but couldn’t get a flight.” Yu Feng walked up to Xie An’yu. “How’d your clothes get so soaked? From running?”

Xie An’yu nodded.

“Exercising too much every day isn’t good either. Take it easy—don’t push yourself to the point of injury.” With that, Yu Feng headed to the bathroom for a shower.

Xie An’yu remained standing there, dazed. Before long, the sound of running water came from the bathroom. He lifted his head, glancing toward the bathroom, his mind still hazy.

There were two bathrooms in the house. Xie An’yu took a quick shower in the one near the living room. Afterward, he carried the blanket from the sofa back to his room. Even though Yu Feng had only used it briefly, it seemed to have absorbed his scent—not the scent of a cologne Xie An’yu wasn’t familiar with, but the shared laundry detergent they both used.

Xie An’yu sat by the bay window, lost in thought, when he suddenly heard the doorbell ring. Since Yu Feng was still showering, he went to answer it himself.

“Hello, I’m here from the dry cleaners to pick up some clothes,” said the woman at the door.

Xie An’yu looked at her blankly.

“It’s a dry cleaning service booked by Mr. Yu Feng. Is he not home?”

“Just a moment,” Xie An’yu said.

Xie An’yu walked to the bathroom and knocked on the door. “Brother.”

The sound of water stopped, and Yu Feng’s voice came from inside. “What’s up?”

“Someone from the dry cleaners is here for the clothes.”

“Could you grab them for me? They’re in the suitcase in the living room—a black suit.”

“Mm, got it.”

Xie An’yu opened the suitcase in the living room. With limited space, the suit had been folded and placed in a dedicated storage bag. As he pulled it out, his eyes accidentally caught sight of the underwear tucked beneath it.

Yu Feng’s underwear was also packed in a semi-transparent storage bag, buried at the very bottom. The suitcase didn’t hold much—once the bulky suit was removed, everything else was plainly visible.

For a moment, as if his mind had short-circuited, Xie An’yu stared at the underwear in the storage bag for a few seconds, even noting odd details like the letters along the waistband.

Pursing his lips, Xie An’yu silently stood up with the suit in hand.

He handed the suit to the dry cleaning service employee.

“Okay!” The employee took the suit and opened the bag to check it. “Pants and tie are in here too… Alright, I’ll be on my way then.”

With a smile, she bid Xie An’yu goodbye.

Xie An’yu walked back to the living room and glanced at the open suitcase lying on the floor, feeling an indescribable subtlety in his mood.

Yu Feng had already finished showering and emerged from the bathroom with damp hair just as Xie An’yu was about to close the suitcase. Xie An’yu turned his head at the sound of movement.

“Did you get your clothes—” Yu Feng’s gaze flickered, catching sight of the underwear in the suitcase. His steps faltered, and an inexplicable awkwardness settled in.

“Leave the suitcase there. I’ll take care of it,” Yu Feng said as he walked over.

Xie An’yu paused. Yu Feng had already reached the suitcase. He glanced at the private belongings, which were so brazenly exposed. It was cringe-worthy.

Xie An’yu paused mid-motion. By the time Yu Feng approached and peeked into the suitcase, his personal items were blatantly exposed to an outsider’s eyes—it was almost unbearable to look at.

Yu Feng had never imagined he’d one day have to deal with the pressure of having an idol-like image. As he closed the suitcase, he suddenly explained, “Those pants are clean.”

Xie An’yu glanced at Yu Feng, whose wet hair dripped a few droplets onto the suitcase as he bent down to close it.

“Mm?” Xie An’yu didn’t quite catch the meaning.

“The underwear,” Yu Feng clarified while zipping up the suitcase.

The explanation only made the atmosphere more awkward. Xie An’yu had already glanced at the underwear a few times earlier, and now that Yu Feng brought it up, he couldn’t help feeling a little guilty.

After a brief silence, Xie An’yu mumbled an acknowledgment and quickly changed the subject. “Brother, I have something for you.”

Yu Feng looked at him.

“Wait a second.”

Xie An’yu went to his room and returned with a kraft paper gift box.

Xie An’yu handed the gift box to Yu Feng. Yu Feng took it and opened it—inside was a wooden carving of a vintage Rolleiflex twin-lens reflex camera[mfn]Rolleiflex牌的立式相機 (Rolleiflex pái de lì shì xiàng jī): Rolleiflex is a long-running and diverse line of high-end cameras originally made by the German company Franke & Heidecke, and later Rollei-Werke. The “Rolleiflex” name is most commonly used to refer to Rollei’s premier line of medium format twin lens reflex (TLR) cameras. (A companion line intended for amateur photographers, Rolleicord, existed for several decades.) However, a variety of TLRs and SLRs in medium format, and zone focus, and SLR 35 mm, as well as digital formats have also been produced under the Rolleiflex label.
[/mfn]. The palm-sized sculpture was incredibly realistic and intricate, even replicating the weathered texture of an antique. It had a substantial, high-quality feel in his hand.

Yu Feng looked up at Xie An’yu.

“It’s a congratulatory gift,” Xie An’yu said. “Congratulations on winning the award.”

Yu Feng had a ridiculous premonition. “Don’t tell me you carved this?”

“I did.”

Xie An’yu had recently enrolled in a woodcarving class. Now that his debts were settled, he had spare money to pursue his own interests. He’d been attending the woodcarving class daily, and this camera was his project there.

Back on Shuangye Isle, Xie An’yu had learned handicrafts from a master artisan who was skilled in all kinds of handiwork. Of all the skills he learned from him, woodcarving was what Xie An’yu had mastered most—and loved the most.

Xie An’yu had signed up for an advanced course and picked it up quickly, despite not having practiced woodcarving in years. This vintage camera was specifically carved for Yu Feng and had been sitting in his possession for days, unsure of how to present it. Yu Feng’s recent award win provided the perfect opportunity.

“At this point, if you told me you could build a tank, I probably wouldn’t even be surprised,” Yu Feng said, gently tracing the carved texture on the camera’s surface. “Thank you. It’s beautiful—I love it.”

Xie An’yu smiled.

“How did you learn to carve this?”

“I studied under a master craftsman back in my hometown.”

There was a spark in Xie An’yu’s eyes as he spoke. Yu Feng asked, “You really enjoy carving, don’t you?”

Xie An’yu hummed. “I love the scent of wood. To me, it’s as pure as water.”

Moreover, carving wood allowed him to immerse himself in his own world for long stretches of time. Xie An’yu loved that feeling of complete detachment, where he didn’t need to interact with the outside world and wouldn’t be disturbed by anyone.

“So you do have something you enjoy,” Yu Feng said, looking at him. “I always got the impression you didn’t care about anything.”

Wood carving was something Xie An’yu genuinely liked, but whether he cared about it or not was another matter. Unlike Yu Feng, for whom photography was an ideal, Xie An’yu doubted he would ever love wood carving as passionately as Yu Feng loved photography.

But it wasn’t true that Xie An’yu didn’t care about anything. He might have been like that in the past—if he had never met Yu Feng.

“You have to have something you want to do, or life would be pretty dull,” Xie An’yu said.

After everything Zhou Yi had told him yesterday, Xie An’yu still felt a pang in his chest whenever he saw Yu Feng today. He kept wanting to say something to him, yet he also felt that most of those words were unnecessary.

“Brother, we should live for ourselves.”

Yu Feng glanced at Xie An’yu.

After a long silence, Yu Feng suddenly said, “I once read a quote. At the time, it didn’t mean much to me, but now I think it makes a lot of sense.”

Yu Feng’s state of mind had actually changed long ago—very, very long ago.

“What quote?”

“One must have a passion for something, just as plants and trees are devoted to the passage of time[mfn]一定要愛着點什麽，恰似草木對光陰的鐘情 (yī dìng yào ài zhe diǎn shén me, qià sì cǎo mù duì guāng yīn de zhōng qíng): This quote draws a parallel between human passion and the natural, unwavering existence of plants. It suggests that we should find something in our lives—a passion, a person, a belief—and love it with that same kind of deep, unwavering, and natural devotion. It’s about appreciating the journey, the process, and the slow, steady unfolding of life, just as plants patiently embrace the passage of time. This quote, encourages a deep and unwavering passion for life and its elements, is widely attributed to the celebrated contemporary Chinese writer Wang Zengqi. Wang Zengqi (Chinese: 汪曾祺; pinyin: Wāng Zēngqí; 1920 – 1997) was a contemporary Chinese novelist, essayist and Peking Opera playwright. He is known for his short stories and essays with an elegant style and content infused by both traditional literature and folklores of his hometown. He was referred to as a “master stylist of modern Chinese”, along with his literary mentor Shen Congwen. He is regarded as a successor of the “Beijing School” heralded by Zhou Zuoren and Shen Congwen in the 1940s.[/mfn].”

Xie An’yu wasn’t wrong—Yu Feng really did have a poetic soul deep down.

The words were so tender they made his ears tingle, especially coming from Yu Feng’s lips, drifting lightly into his ears. His deep voice seemed to transform into tiny electric currents, stimulating his brain.

This wasn’t right. Nothing about this felt right.

Xie An’yu felt like he should go downstairs and run another hundred laps.

***

The sample issue of the latest 《Charm》 magazine had been released. Jiang Ting sent Xie An’yu a copy, and a few days later, she suddenly called him, her voice brimming with excitement, pitched several octaves higher than usual.

Xie An’yu grasped the gist of it—he was going to be on the cover of the next issue of 《Charm》, alongside a supermodel named Tang Shu.

Jiang Ting’s excitement didn’t seem like a joke, but Xie An’yu was still skeptical. “Are you sure there’s no mistake?”

“How could there be? Irene herself gave the order. She told me directly, face to face.”

Irene was the first to review the sample issue once it was out. The quality of the photos spoke for itself—Jiang Ting was definitely going to sign Xie An’yu. But becoming a contracted model for 《Charm》 wasn’t that simple. Irene wasn’t someone easily fooled.

Jiang Ting had originally planned to have Xie An’yu shoot a few more issues as an amateur model, gaining experience and a portfolio before bringing it up to Irene. Unexpectedly, Irene approached her first, telling her that Xie An’yu was slated for the next cover and asking her to sound out his thoughts.

Jiang Ting had been so stunned she thought she was hearing things, dumbfoundedly asking Irene if she was joking.

This was what Irene had said to her at that time: “I know you want to sign him, but 《Charm》 isn’t something just anyone can waltz into. I need to see what kind of impact he can make, how much value he can bring to the magazine, before deciding whether to sign him.”

The way to test the results was to feature Xie An’yu on the cover. Jiang Ting was practically grinning from ear to ear, but although the exposure would skyrocket with a cover feature, if the sales flopped, then Xie An’yu would almost certainly not get signed—that was beyond doubt. Irene had always been decisive; she gave Xie An’yu the best opportunity, but only this one chance.

“Mostly, it’s because you proved yourself,” Jiang Ting said over the phone.

Irene had such a sharp eye—she wouldn’t just randomly pick someone for the cover without careful consideration. Choosing Xie An’yu meant she must have seen his potential.

“The next issue is a double cover. Your partner is Tang Shu. You’ve probably met her before, right? That day you went to the wrong studio—she was the model in that studio.”

Xie An’yu was a little surprised. “Her?”

“Yeah, this is really hitting the jackpot. She’s super famous—an international supermodel.”

But the fact that she was willing to lower her status to collaborate with Xie An’yu was probably out of respect for Irene. Their relationship wasn’t exactly a secret in the industry, and Tang Shu was also a long-time collaborator with 《Charm》.

Xie An’yu hummed. “I see.”

“You’re really unfazed, huh?” Jiang Ting chuckled. “No wonder the photos turned out so striking. Your vibe really suits print modeling.”

“Oh, and there’s one more thing I haven’t told you yet. The photographer for this shoot is Yu Feng.”

Xie An’yu was stunned.

Jiang Ting laughed. “Double the joy—your buff are maxed out.”

Most of 《Charm》’s covers were shot by Yu Feng. Occasionally, they’d switch to other photographers, but the majority of photographers simply weren’t qualified enough.

“Don’t be fooled by Tang Shu’s always-smiling, easygoing demeanor—that’s just surface-level. She’s actually quite picky and only works with Yu Feng. No other photographer in our company has ever shot her.”

Xie An’yu absentmindedly hummed in response.

Jiang Ting fell silent for a moment before murmuring, “I’ve noticed you have this air about you—unmoved by external gains or personal losses.” She laughed. “Never mind. I’ll just celebrate on my own. That’s all for now—we’ll talk later.”

***

The new issue of 《Charm》 was officially published a few days later. On the day of its release, Zhou Yi invited Yu Feng out for a meal, saying a colleague had recommended a specialty seafood restaurant—small, but with excellent flavors.

Zhou Yi lived close to his university, and when he was too lazy to drive, he often rode his electric scooter to campus. Today, he was on his scooter, yet he’d arranged to meet Yu Feng for dinner, meaning Yu Feng had to pick him up from the university.

Zhou Yi’s scooter was a foldable one—the kind used by designated drivers. He’d seen them riding these and thought they looked fun, so he bought one for himself.

Yu Feng parked his car outside the faculty building. Zhou Yi drifted over on his scooter and screeched to a halt behind the car, then patted the trunk. “Open sesame.”

Yu Feng, smoking a cigarette, glanced at the rearview mirror with an unimpressed expression before pressing the trunk release. The trunk obediently opened to Professor Zhou’s command.

Zhou Yi simply placed his scooter inside the trunk, then climbed into the passenger seat. “Your trunk really is huge. My little donkey fits in without even having to fold it. If I had the money, I’d get a G-Wagon too—so damn cool.”

Yu Feng tossed his cigarette butt into the car’s ashtray and said, “Do you act this silly in front of your students too? Don’t they suspect you escaped from a mental hospital?”

Zhou Yi chuckled as he fastened his seatbelt. “Do you really think Professor Zhou is someone who doesn’t care about his image?”

“Yes.”

Zhou Yi had been in particularly high spirits lately because summer vacation was just around the corner. Sitting next to Yu Feng, he hummed a little tune under his breath.

“Why didn’t you bring Xiao Xie along?” Zhou Yi asked Yu Feng.

“I didn’t. He doesn’t seem too fond of seafood, so it’s just the two of us today. Did you call Yue Lai?”

“What do you mean, ‘did you call?’ Why didn’t you call him?”

“Aren’t you closer to him? You’re always hanging around his bookstore.”

“What ‘always’? I only go two or three times a week.”

Yu Feng gave a noncommittal hum. “Right, and there are only seven days in a week.”

Zhou Yi laughed. “I did call him. He’s allergic to seafood, so he can’t eat it.”

“Where’s his bookstore?” Yu Feng asked.

Zhou Yi turned to look at him. “What, are you planning to pay him a visit too? He’s already off work by this hour.”

“I’m going to buy a book.”

Zhou Yi searched for the bookstore’s address on the car’s navigation system. It was very close to the university—just a five-minute drive.

Yu Feng got out of the car while Zhou Yi waited for him in the car. Before long, Yu Feng emerged from the bookstore with a magazine in hand.

“This is the book you wanted to buy?” Zhou Yi looked at the magazine in his hand. “Hey, isn’t that your company’s magazine?”

Yu Feng gave another hum and placed the magazine on the back seat.

Despite having worked at 《Charm》 for so long, Zhou Yi had never once seen a copy of the magazine in Yu Feng’s home, let alone witnessed him making a special trip to a bookstore to buy one. Besides, even if Yu Feng wanted to read it, did he really need to buy it from a bookstore?

“Something’s off with you,” Zhou Yi said, picking up the magazine from the back seat. As he flipped through the pages, a large, striking close-up of Xie An’yu immediately caught his eye. The photo was in the first half of the magazine, and Zhou Yi happened upon that familiar face with just a casual flip.

Zhou Yi turned back a few pages, and more photos of Xie An’yu were right there. He turned to Yu Feng. “You bought this for these pages, didn’t you?”

Yu Feng didn’t deny it. “Yes.”

Zhou Yi looked down at the magazine, muttering, “I really am a prophet.”

“Does he know?” Zhou Yi asked Yu Feng.

“Do you think he would still be so calm and comfortable living with me if he knew?”

Zhou Yi closed the magazine and smirked. “Yu Feng, are you playing the secret admirer game?”

---

The author has something to say:

“One must love something, just as plants are devoted to the passage of time.” —From the cover of Wang Zengqi’s 《Grass And Trees of the World》[mfn]《人間草木》 (rén jiān cǎo mù): The book is a collection of essays by Wang Zengqi that records old people and stories, his travel experiences, local customs and practices, and the beauty of flowers, birds, insects, and fish. The words between the lines fully reveal his deep attachment to the trivialities of life and local customs, as well as his nostalgia for the scenes of the past.
[/mfn].

This line doesn’t actually appear in the original text of 《Grass And Trees of the World》, so I’m not sure if it was written by Old Wang himself. It might be a blurb—many book covers have beautifully written blurbs. Regardless of who wrote it, I really love this line. I’m borrowing Brother Yu’s voice to send it to himself and to all of you.

If there’s nothing else to love, then love yourself. The meaning of life is life itself, just as Xiao Dao said—we should all live for ourselves. [Heart][Heart]

[dropdown title=”List of Idiom in Chapter 42″]
毫無疑問 (háo wú yí wèn): undoubtedly; without a doubt; certainly; beyond doubt.

不以物喜，不以己悲 (bù yǐ wù xǐ , bù yǐ jǐ bēi): lit. to not be thrilled or depressed because of external objects and one’s experiences; to not be emotionally affected by external objects and one’s experiences; not to become attached to material things, not to pity oneself; not pleased by external gains, not saddened by personal losses; do not rejoice with things, do not grieve with yourself. This idiom originally means not to be happy because of the beauty of external things, nor to be sad because of one’s own failure or misfortune. Using intertextual rhetoric, it can be translated as not to be happy or sad because of the good or bad of objective things, nor to be happy or sad because of the good or bad of one’s own circumstances. It describes maintaining a constant and calm attitude regardless of failure or success. From Yueyang Lou Ji by 范仲淹 (Fan Zhongyan): 予嘗求古仁人之心，或異二者之為，何哉？不以物喜，不以己悲。, I have looked into the attitude of the ancient sages, and it was different from those of the two aforementioned groups of people, why? (The ancient sages) were not thrilled or depressed because of external objects and their experiences.

一語成讖 (yī yǔ chéng chèn): (idiom) to have one’s words turn out to be (tragically) prophetic; one’s careless words (inauspiciously) turned out to be a prophecy.
[/dropdown]

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