The opportunity to meet Zhuang Xu at the end of June was truly hard-won.
In Li Shanqing’s short eighteen years of life, he had accomplished many things others couldn’t—academics, competitions, socializing, and being likable in every way. These came effortlessly to him, always within his grasp. Only Zhuang Xu consistently made him feel some degree of frustration, time after time.
This experience was, in a way, novel.
To put it nicely, Li Shanqing was resilient and optimistic. Less charitably, he only accepted success, couldn’t tolerate failure, and never learned to give up. At the end of the day, he just wanted to see Zhuang Xu. Was that some unforgivable sin? If he could fly, he’d be willing to return to Bingang. But he couldn’t, could he?
Through his persistent urging, Zhuang Xu finally relented one day in mid-June, revealing part of his schedule: “I’ll be in Licheng next Monday.”
Yet he still wouldn’t confirm whether he’d visit Li Shanqing, as if Li Shanqing’s daily efforts to beg and ask were some kind of amusement to him.
—Zhuang Xu had really changed. Though he’d matured, he’d definitely been corrupted by the business world.
Li Shanqing thought sadly every night before bed. Earlier, he’d only assumed Zhuang Xu was busy, hence the cold indifference. But after seeing Zhuang Xu on TV, he felt Zhuang Xu no longer had the kindness he once showed him.
Perhaps now, if Li Shanqing were caught in a cold breeze, Zhuang Xu wouldn’t even drape a jacket over him. What had this cruel society done to the once soft-hearted, sharp-tongued Zhuang Xu?
On the twentieth, Zhuang Xu arrived in Licheng. With no time difference between them, their communication didn’t grow closer. Before bed, Li Shanqing called him, but Zhuang Xu didn’t pick up, saying he was still in a meeting.
Li Shanqing didn’t believe it. It was already ten-thirty—who’d still be working? Who could he be meeting with? He hadn’t expected Zhuang Xu to learn to lie to friends. Perhaps he was out reveling somewhere, maybe even watching an adult show. Li Shanqing shook his head in heartache, sighed, and decided to ask again tomorrow.
It wasn’t until the evening of the twenty-third that Li Shanqing got a slightly more definite answer. Zhuang Xu answered his call.
“When are you finally done with work?” Li Shanqing asked persistently. Zhuang Xu seemed to be outside, with some background noise, and said vaguely, “Tomorrow morning, work should be mostly done.”
“I’ll buy you a plane ticket,” Li Shanqing said immediately, ready to check flights on his computer. Zhuang Xu said, “No need.”
“Then send me the flight number after you book it, and I’ll pick you up.”
Zhuang Xu paused, sounding skeptical, and asked, “You’re picking me up?”
“I told you I can drive now, didn’t I?” Li Shanqing corrected his misconception at once. “When my parents visit, I pick them up.”
“Let’s talk after I book the ticket,” Zhuang Xu replied in his usual evasive way.
Li Shanqing hated how he never spoke clearly and repeatedly urged him to inform him once the ticket was booked.
The next morning, Li Shanqing woke up unusually early. He opened the curtains to find the sun hadn’t risen yet, with morning fog still lingering, casting a gray haze outside.
After changing, Li Shanqing paced around the house, thinking of any unfinished tasks, and finally chose a pair of black sneakers, as black signified mystery and maturity.
He checked the car in the garage to ensure it was clean. As Mary came downstairs, he returned from the inspection, startling her.
At ten o’clock, after asking twice, Zhuang Xu finally sent Li Shanqing the flight number. Seeing it, Li Shanqing noticed the plane was leaving in an hour and got worried, asking, “Why’d you book such a close flight? Can you make it?”
Zhuang Xu didn’t reply, so Li Shanqing called. Zhuang Xu answered, his tone carrying a hint of his old exasperation: “I’m already at the airport. Li Shanqing, can you talk less?”
“Alright,” Li Shanqing agreed obediently, not messaging him again until Zhuang Xu boarded.
He drove to the airport without Mary. The morning fog had cleared, and as the sun rose, traffic picked up, the air turning transparent and crisp. Speeding on the highway, he could see distant mountains with the naked eye.
Unable to open the window, Li Shanqing played music, listening to songs while driving, inexplicably nervous as he thought of tech topics to discuss with Zhuang Xu.
He considered talking about his life in Fancheng, his growth, new friends, social circle, and how much the professor he’d met liked him. Though he’d mentioned all this in texts and calls, Zhuang Xu likely hadn’t paid attention, so they could serve as fresh topics.
But when he saw the airport’s white canopy, Li Shanqing forgot these thoughts, feeling less like he was picking someone up and more like meeting a wish or an obsession with an uncertain outcome.
He keenly felt the willful and stubborn parts of his personality, though he had no intention of changing them.
The forty-minute drive was somewhat tiring for Li Shanqing. He parked in the lot, rested a bit, and saw Zhuang Xu’s flight was about to land. He put on a mask and headed to the exit to wait.
Standing until his legs ached, craning his neck to watch passengers from Zhuang Xu’s flight come out one by one, he still didn’t see him. Li Shanqing called Zhuang Xu, who answered. Li Shanqing asked, “Are you getting your luggage? Did it get lost? Why aren’t you out yet?”
“No luggage,” Zhuang Xu said. “I’m almost at the exit. Where are you?”
“I’m waiting right at the exit,” Li Shanqing said, looking up. He first saw an elderly person in a wheelchair with a ground crew member pushing it, then spotted Zhuang Xu walking behind them.
Zhuang Xu wasn’t in a suit or carrying luggage, dressed casually in a short-sleeve T-shirt and pants, still tall and lean with fair skin, though his hands seemed slightly tanned. He wore the same old mechanical watch. Seeing Li Shanqing, he nodded, his expression unchanged, his steps steady.
Li Shanqing froze in place, feeling odd, his hands and feet stiff, wondering what was different about Zhuang Xu. Was it the color of his clothes?
Was it that his mouth didn’t curve at all upon seeing Li Shanqing?
Or was it because he’d grown taller? Li Shanqing couldn’t figure it out.
At the exit, Zhuang Xu first bid farewell to the elderly person in the wheelchair. From a few meters away, Li Shanqing heard the elder thank Zhuang Xu for his help, grasping his hand. Zhuang Xu patiently said no thanks were needed.
After the ground crew took the elder away, Zhuang Xu glanced at Li Shanqing again and walked toward him.
The airport was crowded, perhaps because it was a weekend. People with suitcases, bags, old and young, passed through Li Shanqing’s vision like streaks in a time-lapse. That day, only one person was clear.
Standing before Li Shanqing, Zhuang Xu said, “The ground crew said they were short-staffed. I ran into them by the restroom after landing, so I helped out.”
Li Shanqing didn’t speak. Zhuang Xu seemed to hesitate, then asked after a few seconds, “Been waiting long?”
At that moment, Li Shanqing thought Zhuang Xu was utterly infuriating, like an impenetrable wall or a glacier immune to global warming, yet he said such things.
It was as if Li Shanqing’s speculations about his character change were all his fault, a malicious smear. Zhuang Xu was still the nineteen-year-old who didn’t like Li Shanqing but would lend him clothes, and they hadn’t gone a whole year without meeting.
A whole year!
As if his longing and resentment at being ignored finally found a tangible outlet, Li Shanqing opened his mouth, took a deep breath, and, still fuming, called out his name sternly like a cop addressing a suspect: “Zhuang Xu!”
Zhuang Xu seemed taken aback, his coldness softening slightly. He looked down at him, and Li Shanqing quickly reached out, hugging him tightly, burying his head in Zhuang Xu’s shoulder. Through his mask, he smelled an unfamiliar shower gel scent on Zhuang Xu, saying fiercely yet with a pang of sorrow, “Xiao Zhuang, how could you not visit me for a whole year! Aren’t we good friends?”
Zhuang Xu’s body was already stiff, bony and muscular, uncomfortable to hug. Li Shanqing held on for a few seconds, found it unbearable, and let go.
As he stepped back, he felt Zhuang Xu’s hand on his back, suspecting Zhuang Xu wanted to push him away. He glared up at him and said, “Let’s go,” tugging Zhuang Xu’s arm.
On the way to the parking lot, Li Shanqing did most of the talking. His voice was muffled by the mask, sounding childish, but he couldn’t stop sharing his life with Zhuang Xu.
“My parents come see me every month,” he told Zhuang Xu nonstop. “They just left last week. I told you, you should come hang out every time you’re in Licheng. The weather here is way better than Licheng. That place is crowded and filthy.”
“Have you been?” Zhuang Xu asked, undermining him. “You never mentioned.”
Li Shanqing didn’t like hearing that and retorted, “Mary went, so it’s like I went.” He asked, “Aren’t you negotiating a market deal with a company in Licheng starting with P? You’ll come often, right?”
“Who told you that?” Zhuang Xu’s expression turned serious, asking him.
Seeing Zhuang Xu’s handsome face react because of him, Li Shanqing’s mental scoreboard rebooted, adding fifty thousand points. He said smugly, “I guessed it. Nothing gets past Mr. Li.”
Zhuang Xu seemed done talking, only gently holding Li Shanqing’s arm when crossing car lanes among vehicles heading to the exit, saying, “Li Shanqing, watch where you’re going.”
At the car, Zhuang Xu wanted to drive, but Li Shanqing refused, as this was a rare chance to show his adult vibe. He coolly slid into the driver’s seat, buckled up, and belatedly asked, “You don’t have luggage?”
“I’m flying back tonight,” Zhuang Xu said.
This was an unexpected answer. Li Shanqing froze, a bit upset, his face falling, not wanting to talk. He started the car and drove out, rock music playing again. After a silent prelude, he heard Zhuang Xu’s voice, slightly soft: “I have a lot to do after I return tomorrow.”
It was that tone, different from before, firmer yet making Li Shanqing feel Zhuang Xu hadn’t fundamentally changed.
Li Shanqing didn’t know how to respond, saying, “Okay.” His fingers tapped the steering wheel to the music for a bit before asking, “Any place you want to go? I’ll take you.”
“Didn’t you say Fancheng’s fun and you’d show me around?”
“It’s too fun, so I can’t pick,” Li Shanqing, who’d boasted this many times, defended himself shamelessly. After a moment’s thought, he decided, “I’ll take you to the beach Mary likes.”
Zhuang Xu glanced at him. “Not somewhere you like?”
“…” Li Shanqing shot him an annoyed look. “You haven’t said a single thing today to make me happy.” After two seconds, he added, a bit aggrieved, “You know I stay home when I’m not at school. I can’t go out to play.”
Zhuang Xu’s lips moved as if to say something, but Li Shanqing tilted his head to watch the road and didn’t hear.
“I thought you were healthier,” Zhuang Xu said after a while. “Let’s go to that beach. Didn’t you say there are lots of birds?”
“You remember?” Li Shanqing was surprised. “But there aren’t many birds to see in summer.” He quickly thought of what to say next, grinning. “There are in autumn, so you have to visit me in September too.”
But Zhuang Xu started again: “If I have time.”
“Time, time, time,” Li Shanqing chided. “You’re always talking about time. Who’s this ‘time’?”
Mimicking buddy-buddy interactions from TV, he elbowed Zhuang Xu’s arm, which was resting calmly. He misjudged the force, unsure if it hurt Zhuang Xu, but it definitely hurt him. He hissed, nearly slumping onto the steering wheel.
Zhuang Xu finally laughed, though faintly, saying, “Li Shanqing, drive properly. Don’t act grown-up.”
Li Shanqing, don’t act grown-up. Li Shanqing, watch the road.
These were words Li Shanqing would suddenly recall for a while. In his mind, he conjured Zhuang Xu’s voice, greedily devouring and chewing over these words, feeling like a machine powered by Zhuang Xu’s caring remarks, restarting with each one.
But at the time, Li Shanqing joked, saying he was eighteen and could visit adult venues, pressing Zhuang Xu about what he was really doing at ten p.m. on his first night in Licheng, whether he’d seen anything inappropriate. He didn’t realize the precious moment’s arrival or its passing.
