Another folding chair and fishing rod appeared on the riverbank. One person became two. The water reflected their figures, a few reeds swaying beside them in the wind.
Zhu Jingru wasn’t in a hurry to start a conversation. If the enemy doesn’t move, I don’t move. He continued to leisurely look up at the birds in the sky, listening to the wind, and incidentally, to the sound of breathing a meter away.
Bai Qinglin took off his black gloves and unscrewed the lid of his thermos. His skin was incredibly pale. He wore a dark, crisp jacket, his back straight, his posture proper and scholarly, like the “good student” who sat in the front row and listened attentively in school. Zhu Jingru, on the other hand, had been mischievous back then, never having a peaceful day, a headache for every teacher.
Ten minutes passed. Bai Qinglin completely ignored the extra person beside him, placing a fish trap by his feet, his elbows resting on his knees, his expressionless face fixed on the water. He truly had no intention of speaking.
Zhu Jingru gradually adjusted his slouching posture. When he finally spoke, he wasn’t particularly nervous or restrained, choosing a topic that might pique the other’s interest.
“Shop Manager Bai has probably fished all the fish in this area. I came early, but haven’t seen a single one yet.”
“You shouldn’t use bloodworms as bait.” Bai Qinglin glanced at Zhu Jingru. “You need to change it.”
“I’ll listen to you, I’ll change it.” Zhu Jingru slowly stood up, walked over to Bai Qinglin’s side, and squatted down, maintaining a proper distance, not intrusive yet closing the gap. He looked up and asked, “Could I borrow some bait?”
“…”
Zhu Jingru asked again, “May I?”
“…” Bai Qinglin noticed the strategically placed red mole at the corner of Zhu Jingru’s eye. A unique scent surrounded him, like vodka mixed with sandalwood, very faint, refreshing, and quite pleasant. He continued to stare at the water, his voice deep, “Take it yourself.”
Soon, a fish took the bait. Bai Qinglin skillfully pulled the line, reeled it in, and re-baited the hook, his attention completely focused, not sparing Zhu Jingru another glance.
Zhu Jingru wasn’t discouraged in the slightest. He resumed his comfortable posture, his eyes busy, sometimes fixed on Bai Qinglin’s hand holding the fishing rod, sometimes on his straightened legs as he stood up. The outline of his profile was strikingly handsome, very pleasing to the eye.
The one he wanted to catch was right in front of him; it didn’t matter what was swimming in the river.
Bai Qinglin checked the fish trap, counted the few fish inside, and locked it. He finally looked up and noticed Zhu Jingru, who had shrunk back in his chair, his baseball cap covering half his face. He stood there and spoke for the first time, “Cold?”
Zhu Jingru lifted his hat. The autumn morning was inevitably windy, his voice slightly nasal, his eyes slightly red. “Mm…”
Bai Qinglin frowned in thought for a moment, then bent down and unscrewed the thermos on the ground again. He took out a disposable plastic cup from his toolbox, poured some water, and handed it to him, commenting in a neutral tone, “You’re not wearing enough clothes.”
The water was slightly warm. Their fingertips seemed to brush against each other lightly, fleetingly, or perhaps it was just an illusion. Zhu Jingru held the cup and slowly finished the water, finding it truly satisfying.
“But,” Zhu Jingru paused, then continued, “I look good dressed like this.”
Bai Qinglin didn’t reply for a moment. Only when the drooping reeds brushed against the river surface, creating ripples, did he give a faint “mm” in agreement.
People who weren’t familiar didn’t have much to talk about. Talking too much would seem forced. Zhu Jingru knew when to stop, though his gaze still lingered on Bai Qinglin from time to time.
After all, fishing required patience and composure.
Several hours passed unnoticed. The wind carried the faint scent of Zhu Jingru’s vodka perfume to Bai Qinglin’s nose.
In the end, no fish took Zhu Jingru’s bait. It seemed like he had wasted his morning, but he finally understood why he never saw Bai Qinglin at the coffee shop during the day.
He had been going to the wrong place.
Before they parted ways, he deliberately offered Bai Qinglin a cigarette, a Su Yan with sandalwood, the brand Bai Qinglin smoked most often.
Bai Qinglin didn’t take it.
Zhu Jingru didn’t withdraw his hand either.
They stood in a stalemate for a minute before Bai Qinglin slowly accepted the cigarette, lowered his head, and put it between his lips. His brow relaxed, then furrowed slightly. He lifted his eyelids and discreetly looked at Zhu Jingru, who was close at hand, clearly waiting for something.
“Shop Manager Bai, I don’t often light cigarettes for people.” Zhu Jingru was extremely perceptive, raising his hand to shield the wind. Their hair mingled and brushed against each other in the breeze as he flicked the lighter, a faint blue flame igniting.
Bai Qinglin exhaled a puff of smoke, his voice low, “Mm.”
“But I should be the one lighting your cigarette. You’re four years older than me, I should call you Brother Bai.” After saying this, Zhu Jingru stepped back to a safe social distance. There were no verbal suggestions or deliberate actions, but his flirtatious eyes, the corners upturned in a smile, sparked the imagination.
Bai Qinglin looked away first, silently flicking the ash from his cigarette, recalling Li Wenxue’s words, “I heard he’s gay.”
