“Excuse me, can I still enter the venue now?”
Shi Wuyang, holding his ticket, asked the staff member at the entrance.
“Yes, you can,” the other person nodded. “May I have your ticket?”
Shi Wuyang had been working with Zhou Yi for two years, but it was only last month that he learned Zhou Yi played in a band in his spare time, where he was the drummer. Zhou Yi said it was just a hobby, not something he took too seriously.
Tonight, their band was performing a charity New Year’s Eve music show here. Shi Wuyang was quite interested, so Zhou Yi got him a ticket.
Unfortunately, he had attended a lecture at another university this afternoon that didn’t end until five. Afterward, he was held back by an old professor he knew, who chatted with him for a long time. That professor was Shi Wuyang’s doctoral advisor—a very talkative little old man.
By the time they finished talking, it was almost six. The old professor invited him home for dinner, but Zhou Yi’s performance started at seven. If he had actually gone to the professor’s house, he had no idea how late he would have been kept, so he politely declined.
Shi Wuyang found a noodle shop and quickly ate a bowl of noodles. By the time he finished and drove over, it was already 7:30. He had sent Zhou Yi a WeChat message saying he would be late, but Zhou Yi hadn’t replied—probably because he was already on stage performing.
Shi Wuyang entered the venue too late and could only stand at the back. Looking up, all he could see were bobbing heads and waving glow sticks. The scale of underground music performances couldn’t compare to proper concerts, and without the stage being displayed on a large screen, audience members who couldn’t see the stage could only listen to the music and soak in the atmosphere.
Shi Wuyang was tall, and by craning his neck, he could just make out the people on stage.
Zhou Yi sat behind the drum kit, looking quite stylish. However, since he was seated and looking down, Shi Wuyang couldn’t see his face clearly. Yet he could distinctly feel his own heartbeat synchronizing with the rhythm of the drums—those crisp, powerful beats that Zhou Yi was creating with his drumsticks.
***
The performance ended at nine. Shi Wuyang waited outside the underground venue for a while. After most of the audience had dispersed, Zhou Yi finally emerged. He carried a black backpack slung over one shoulder, his short black hair slightly messy, his brow slightly furrowed, his expression cool and detached.
Shi Wuyang had never seen Zhou Yi angry before. He didn’t exactly look angry now either—just serious, with a hint of impatience flickering between his eyebrows.
Zhou Yi usually wore a perpetually cheerful smile, but on the rare occasions when he turned serious, the handsomeness hidden beneath his goofy personality became impossible to ignore.
“Professor Zhou,” Shi Wuyang called out.
Zhou Yi looked up, his gaze instantly softening as it took on his usual casual, easygoing expression.
His bandmates were trailing behind him. He turned and exchanged a few words with them, and they glanced in Shi Wuyang’s direction, nodding with smiles before heading off first, carrying their respective ‘gear’.
“Thought you hadn’t come,” Zhou Yi said as he walked over. “Why didn’t you message me when you arrived?”
“Forgot.”
Shi Wuyang had been waiting outside for a while. He was wearing a suit underneath his overcoat, but the chilly weather made the outfit inadequate against the cold, and the wind seeped straight through his collar.
Zhou Yi glanced down at Shi Wuyang’s tie and chuckled. “You’re definitely the first person to wear a suit to an underground music show.”
Shi Wuyang was a man of refined taste—his tie patterns always matched his suit style perfectly. He carried a briefcase and wore a faint woody fragrance.
“I told you I was attending a lecture,” Shi Wuyang said.
“You came straight from the lecture?”
“Yep.”
Zhou Yi wore a leather jacket that looked effortlessly cool—just painfully thin for the weather.
“Wearing so little—didn’t bring a coat?” Shi Wuyang asked him.
“It’s hot inside.”
“It’s cold out here. Don’t catch a chill.” Shi Wuyang considered taking off his own overcoat for Zhou Yi but decided against it, thinking the gesture might come off as too intimate.
“How are you getting back?” Shi Wuyang asked Zhou Yi. “Did you drive?”
“No,” Zhou Yi said, suddenly reaching out to pluck a stray piece of confetti from Shi Wuyang’s hair. “I came with the people in the band.”
Shi Wuyang flinched slightly. Zhou Yi explained: “Something was in your hair.”
Shi Wuyang glanced at the small golden piece of confetti in Zhou Yi’s hand. “I’ll give you a ride.”
Zhou Yi flicked the confetti to the ground and smiled. “Then I’ll trouble you, Professor Shi.”
The wind outside was strong, so Zhou Yi zipped up his jacket, pulling the collar up to cover his neck.
Shi Wuyang turned to look at him and chuckled: “Cold, huh?”
Zhou Yi nodded. “Feeling the full malice of winter.”
“When did you start playing in a band?”
“College. I had too much free time back then, joined a club, and somehow kept at it till now. It’s not as impressive as you might think—I just mess around with them.”
“Mess around and still play that well? Are those people from your college club too?”
“Yeah.”
Zhou Yi’s bandmates were just like him—office workers by day. They played music out of passion and as a way to relieve stress. Their performances were usually free, and any ticketed shows were charity events with low-priced tickets, all proceeds going to charity.
“You looked quite handsome when playing the drums,” Shi Wuyang said.
Zhou Yi chuckled, “See? The purpose of inviting you to the performance has been achieved.”
Shi Wuyang smiled and opened the car door.
“The Little New Year[mfn]小年 (xiǎo nián): festival on the 23rd or 24th of the 12th month of the lunar year when sacrifices are made to the kitchen god. Little New Year (Chinese: 小年), also known as the Festival of the Kitchen God, is a festival in the traditional lunisolar Chinese calendar. It honors the Kitchen God and takes place roughly a week before the Chinese New Year. In northern China the Little New Year is celebrated on the 23rd day of the twelfth month of the Chinese calendar, while in southern China it is celebrated on the 24th day.[/mfn] is just around the corner, do you have any plans?” Zhou Yi asked Shi Wuyang.
“No, I don’t have time for that. I have a research report to work on.”
Zhou Yi got into the car, “Make a little time. I’ll bring you dumplings[mfn]餃子 (jiǎozi): Dumplings are a broad class of dishes that consist of pieces of cooked dough (made from a variety of starchy sources), often wrapped around a filling. The dough can be based on bread, wheat or other flours, or potatoes, and it may be filled with meat, fish, tofu, cheese, vegetables, or a combination. One of the earliest mentions of dumplings comes from the Chinese scholar Shu Xi who mentions them in a fu poem 1,700 years ago. In addition, archaeologically preserved dumplings have been found in Turfan, Xinjiang, China dating back over 1,000 years.
[/mfn] on the night of the Little New Year.”
Shi Wuyang fastened his seatbelt and glanced at him.
Zhou Yi looked back at him, “What’s wrong?”
Shi Wuyang wanted to say something but didn’t know where to start. He and Zhou Yi were clearly getting closer—something all the other faculty members had noticed. Having meals together after work, traveling to nearby cities during holidays, dropping by each other’s homes for dinner—this had become their daily routine.
Sharing a plate of dumplings on the night of the Little New Year—for them, it was just another ordinary part of their lives.
But when such ‘ordinary’ routines last long enough, there’s always a day when the balance breaks. Zhou Yi wasn’t oblivious—he was just too clear-headed, which is why he was so skilled at feigning ignorance. How could someone as perceptive as Shi Wuyang not sense this ‘imbalance’ between himself and Zhou Yi?
This ‘imbalance’ was something he wanted, and Zhou Yi seemed to be giving it to him all along, but he never felt entirely confident.
He found it hard to explain his own hesitation, because he had never experienced anything like this before.
After a long silence, Shi Wuyang finally asked, “Aren’t you going home to spend it with your parents?”
“No. If I go back, it’s either blind dates or being nagged about why I haven’t found a partner yet.”
Shi Wuyang thought to himself, Yes, that was probably the reason for his hesitation. Although Zhou Yi’s life sounded mundane, it was at least peaceful—he couldn’t just recklessly disrupt it.
“Alright,” Shi Wuyang nodded. “Then bring the dumplings over to me. Are you making them yourself?”
Zhou Yi laughed, “If I didn’t make them myself, I wouldn’t dare bring them.”
“Can I choose the filling?”
“Of course. What kind do you want?”
“Just meat.”
Zhou Yi chuckled, “Fine.”
***
On Little New Year’s Day, Shi Wen also brought Shi Wuyang a box of dumplings—made by their mother.
Shi Wen put the dumplings in the refrigerator and glanced at Shi Wuyang, who was working on his research report in the living room. Shi Wuyang had already mentioned in their family WeChat group that he was busy these days but would definitely return home before Little New Year’s Eve.
As an older single gay man, his situation at home wasn’t much better than Zhou Yi’s. Even though he liked men, he couldn’t escape his parents’ pressure to find a partner.
“Brother,” Shi Wen walked into the living room, “Mom asked me to pass on a message.”
“Mm?” Shi Wuyang responded without looking up.
“She said at your age, even if you like men, you should bring someone home for her to meet.”
Shi Wuyang adjusted his glasses and chuckled, “What age am I? It’s not like I’m seventy or eighty—32 is still young.”
Having delivered their mother’s message, Shi Wen had something else to say to his brother. He switched sides to his brother’s, “You’re still young, take your time. Help share some of the pressure for me.”
Shi Wen was under thirty, still a young man, but in a few years, he might follow in his brother’s footsteps. Once his brother’s relationship situation was settled, their parents would likely turn their attention to him—he wanted a few more years of peace.
Shi Wuyang looked up at him, “I’m going to tattle on you when I get back.”
“Go ahead and tell them, see if those two at home even have the energy to pay attention to me.” Shi Wen picked up the car keys from the coffee table. “Get back to your work, I’m leaving.”
He had only completed part of today’s work. If he hadn’t made plans with Zhou Yi in advance, Shi Wuyang would likely have spent this Little New Year’s Day working again. When it’s time to relax, one should relax properly. Shi Wuyang closed his laptop and headed to the bathroom for a shower.
Just as he stepped out of the bathroom after his shower, the doorbell rang. Without time to change, Shi Wuyang answered the door in his bathrobe. He thought it was Zhou Yi, but upon opening the door, he realized it wasn’t.
Seeing Shi Wuyang in his bathrobe, the man outside the door was startled. After a moment of eye contact, he lowered his voice and quietly called out, “Brother Qi.”
Shi Wuyang’s first name was Shi Qi. When he was eight, he fell seriously ill and nearly met the King of Hell ahead of schedule. After recovering, his parents took him to change his name to the current one. Before he was eight, he was called Shi Qi, or Qi Qi as a nickname. He had shared all this with Ding Ze when they were dating.
Ding Ze usually called him ‘Brother Qi’, and when he was happy, he’d call him ‘Qi Qi’.
“Why did you come here?” Shi Wuyang asked.
“I brought you some dumplings,” Ding Ze lifted the lunchbox in his hand. “All meat filling.”
There were faint finger marks on Ding Ze’s neck, not very noticeable, but Shi Wuyang still spotted them.
“What happened to your neck?”
Ding Ze immediately covered his neck. Shi Wuyang frowned. “Who did this?”
Ding Ze lowered his head and remained silent. Shi Wuyang noticed a small cut below his ear that was still bleeding.
It was cold outside. Shi Wuyang said to him, “Come inside first.”
Shi Wuyang and Ding Ze had broken up over two years ago. Apart from the initial period after the breakup and the last couple of months, they had hardly seen each other during those two years.
They still kept each other’s contact information since the breakup had been amicable, and there was no need to act as if they would never be in contact with each other again for the rest of their lives.
[dropdown title=”List of Idiom in Extra 2.1″]
辭舊迎新 (cí jiù yíng xīn): to ring out the old and ring in the new; to bid farewell to the old year and welcome in the new; ring out the Old Year and ring in the New Year; bid farewell to the old and usher in the new; saying goodbye to the Old Year and welcoming the New Year; a common New Year’s greeting, meaning to say goodbye to the old year, that the bad things will pass, and to welcome the new year—a beautiful wish. It can also be understood now as getting rid of old things and embracing new things.遊刃有餘 (yóu rèn yǒu yú): to handle a blade skillfully; handling a butcher’s cleaver with ease (idiom); to do a task with skills and ease; to achieve something effortlessly; be more than equal to； accomplish a task with ease; be more than equal to a task; handle a butcher’s cleaver skillfully; do a job with skill and ease; have plenty of room for play of a butcher’s knife. From Zhuangzi: 今臣之刀十九年矣，所解數千牛矣，而刀刃若新发于硎。彼節者有間，而刀刃者無厚；以無厚入有間，恢恢乎其於遊刃必有餘地矣，是以十九年而刀刃若新發於硎。, Now my knife has been in use for nineteen years; it has cut up several thousand oxen, and yet its edge is as sharp as if it had newly come from the whetstone. There are the interstices of the joints, and the edge of the knife not thick; because the thin blade enters the gaps, there must be enough room for the blade to move freely, so after nineteen years, the edge is still as sharp as if it had just been sharpened.
七老八十 (qī lǎo bā shí): lit. be seventy or eighty years old; very old; in one’s old age; in one’s seventies (age); advanced in age; elderly; describe someone who is very old.
老死不相往來 (lǎo sǐ bù xiāng wǎng lái): grow old and die without having had any dealings with each other―never be in contact with each other; (of two entities) to never have contact with each other; to never interact; be completely isolated from each other all their lives; not visit each other all their lives; Refers to not contacting each other or communicating the situation.
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