On the weekend he had requested off from Jiang Tong, Xiao Fengtai accompanied Madam Xiao to visit his mother’s grave.
The cemetery was situated on a lush green hillside facing the sea, offering a vast, open view. The headstone was maintained by professionals, its black marble shimmering with a faint, somber light under the sun. A small portrait of the younger Madam Xiao was embedded in the center of the stone, surrounded by the fresh flowers the grandmother and grandson had placed there. The woman’s smile was radiant, her features charming and gentle, captured in the peak of her youth.
"Time spares no one," Madam Xiao said, stroking the headstone as if brushing her deceased daughter’s long hair. "In the blink of an eye, even little Feng’er is about to start university."
"I can never forget how your mother looked when she left us."
Xiao Fengtai gazed at the miniature black-and-white portrait on the headstone. Had Xiao Heling ever smiled at him? Had she truly been this beautiful, this gentle?
His memories of his mother were blurred, consisting only of fractured shards—tears dripping onto his cheek and sliding down his neck, warm at first, then gradually turning cold. Fingernails painted with red lacquer, their edges sharp, sinking deep into his arms, leaving row after row of red marks. Her eyes seemed larger than in the photograph, pitch-black and hollow, like two deep wells.
The adults said she was sick, which was why she couldn't live with him. Once a week, he was led to see her. He was terrified and resistant, but he didn't dare speak up. In a room where all four walls were covered in white foam padding, they sat at opposite ends of a table. Most of the time they remained silent, his hand clutching a small red button.
"It would have been better if you were never born." His grandmother said she had once been the lead singer of a choir, but in his memory, her voice was as hoarse and low as an old crow’s. "You, and your father—you both have the devil’s blood in your veins. You are both incarnations of Satan."
Yet, the next time he saw her, she would cry and hold him, apologizing. "Mama loves you. Mama is sorry for leaving you alone in that house. Do the aunties your father brings home bully you? It’s all because Mama is too weak to protect you."
He had wanted to say that he was actually doing fine, that the aunties his father brought home always gave him toys and delicious snacks. It was just that when he got up for water in the middle of the night, strange sounds always came from his father’s bedroom, leaving him bewildered. But his mother held him too tightly; his chest would ache, and he would gradually lose his breath, eventually needing to press that red button so outsiders would force them apart.
During their final meeting, she was uncharacteristically lucid. She spent a long time working on a puzzle with him, whispering softly to him for hours. She praised his excellent grades at school, said she was proud of him, and even kissed his cheek, promising to leave the hospital as soon as possible to take him away from that den of vice and start a new life.
He didn't actually want to leave Singapore, but as long as his mother was happy, he was fine with anything. His mother told him to keep it a secret, so he told no one. He simply drew circles on his calendar in secret every day, waiting in quiet anticipation.
Then, he received the news that she had taken advantage of a lapse in her nurse's supervision and committed suicide by jumping from the building.
Madam Xiao observed his expression, a bitter smile appearing as she expected.
"Don't blame your mother," Madam Xiao sighed. "She couldn't control herself back then."
"I don't remember," he said softly. "The good version of her, the bad version... I don't remember any of it."
"It's better to forget." Madam Xiao pulled him by the shoulder. "Your mother... your mother wouldn't want you to remember how she became later on."
"You can choose not to remember her, or even to hate her, but never doubt that she loved you," she whispered. "You don't know how hard she tried to be a good mother."
"But if I didn't exist, Mama would surely be living a very happy life now," Xiao Fengtai said, lost. "I remember her saying she regretted giving birth to me, that my father and I ruined her life..."
"The most right thing your mother ever did in her life was giving birth to you; the most wrong thing was not breaking up with your father in time," Madam Xiao interrupted him sharply.
"Kenneth, don't walk the same path your mother did." Her arm tightened around Xiao Fengtai, like a warm, expanding shackle of flesh and blood.
"When your mother left, half my life went with her. If something happens to you too... what point would there be for me to keep living in this world?"
Xiao Fengtai struggled slightly, feeling unnatural. "What are you saying? I don't understand."
Madam Xiao withdrew her hand and smoothed her hair. "It's nothing. I haven't seen your mother in a long time, and I got too emotional. I couldn't control myself for a moment."
"When people get old, they tend to get sentimental. Don't laugh at your grandmother." Madam Xiao patted his shoulder as if joking. "I wonder what you'll be like when you reach my age."
Something was wrong. Something had happened behind his back. Any elderly person in the world could be capricious, muddled, nonsensical, or sentimental—but not his grandmother. From the fragments of others' stories, Xiao Fengtai couldn't piece together the vigorous, iron-fisted woman Madam Xiao had been in her youth. However, he clearly remembered that at his mother's funeral, everyone held a handkerchief to wipe their tears; even his father couldn't help but wail. Only Madam Xiao, dressed in black with her back ramrod straight, remained terrifyingly calm amidst the sea of grief.
It was the funeral of her only biological daughter—a parent burying a child—yet she hadn't shed a single tear from beginning to end.
Feeling that something was amiss, he spent every day carefully observing his grandmother. Yet, the old woman acted completely as usual. Until the moment she boarded the plane back to the UK, Xiao Fengtai couldn't find a single flaw.
Burning the candle at both ends, Xiao Fengtai poured all his energy into his home life, inevitably neglecting Jiang Tong’s movements. When Jiang Tong placed a teak box before him, he was still bewildered.
"What is this?" Xiao Fengtai asked, pointing at the beautifully wrapped box.
"A surprise." Jiang Tong’s smile made his heart drum. He urged, "Go on, open it."
Feeling puzzled, Xiao Fengtai unwrapped it as instructed. A black fountain pen came into view, but he was still confused. "It's a nice pen. Who is it for?"
Jiang Tong burst out laughing. "Who do you think?"
"Tomorrow is your birthday. I can't spend it with you, so I have to wish you a happy birthday in advance."
The boy's face lit up with surprise, then quickly dimmed.
"The gift is too expensive," Xiao Fengtai said hesitantly. "I can't accept it."
Jiang Tong pressed down on the hand that was about to close the box. "I've already torn up the receipt. It can't be returned anyway. If you don't take it, it'll just sit in my house gathering dust."
Xiao Fengtai was relentless. "I can accept the pen, but I'll transfer an equivalent amount of money to your account."
"I said no, and I mean no." Jiang Tong’s rebuttal was gentle but left no room for doubt. "I earned the money for this pen through my part-time jobs. I didn't use your tutoring fees, and I haven't sent any less money home."
"Tutoring me is enough of a part-time job for you," Xiao Fengtai said aggrievedly. "It's not that I don't like your gift... I would cherish anything you gave me."
"Don't you want to know why I chose this pen?" Jiang Tong asked in return.
Xiao Fengtai was momentarily speechless.
"After you get your offer from an American school, you’ll need to sign your acceptance in person," Jiang Tong answered. "When school starts, you’ll have to rent an apartment, set up bank cards, buy a car, and sign internship contracts. When you graduate and start working—whether you return to the family business or start your own—there will only be more occasions where you need to sign your name."
"Every signature is a choice. I hope that on every such occasion, I can be by your side."
"If things go well..." He felt embarrassed and couldn't continue, lowering his head with a smile. "I hope you can use this pen for a lifetime."
Jiang Tong didn't say more. The moment his eyes met Xiao Fengtai’s, he knew the other understood the subtext he hadn't yet put into words.
This was his promise, an expensive resolution—a promise that everything was only just beginning, a promise that he would no longer be timid or over-cautious. They had a future ahead of them so long that the end was nowhere in sight.
Xiao Fengtai reached out, cautiously stroking Jiang Tong’s arm. Neither of them pulled away.
"In less than twenty hours, I’ll be an adult," he said.
He thought Jiang Tong would quickly pull his hand away, as he had done countless times before.
However, Jiang Tong simply stood motionless by his side, his eyelids lowered, like a silent wax statue.
He didn't refuse.
"Teacher Jiang..." Xiao Fengtai heard his own voice trembling. "Can I?"
The light in front of him suddenly dimmed as he was enveloped by Jiang Tong’s presence.
"That’s my question to ask," Jiang Tong chuckled softly. The vibration in his chest sent Xiao Fengtai’s heartbeat into a chaotic rhythm.
"Can I?"
He slowly leaned down, giving his obedient, diligent student an incredibly gentle, lingering kiss. The scent of lemon-mint shampoo became overwhelming. Xiao Fengtai lost the ability to think or act; he simply closed his eyes and accepted Jiang Tong’s lead, allowing him to conquer every inch until his lips were slightly numb from the suction. The moist, rising breath of an adult man felt like listening to waves from inside a ship's cabin—one felt tossed up and down by the waves, helpless.
"Can I?"
Jiang Tong’s voice was even closer than imagined—too close. Xiao Fengtai felt dizzy from the lack of oxygen, slumping into the chair in a daze. Through the haze, he felt a cool touch on his chest—it was Jiang Tong’s long, strong fingers, with thin calluses on the tips, pressing against his chest, meticulously unbuttoning his shirt.
His body was suddenly lifted into the air. He hurriedly opened his eyes, seeing only the faint stubble on Jiang Tong’s jaw. Sensing his gaze, Jiang Tong looked down at him without a smile. His eyes held an emotion Xiao Fengtai couldn't understand, and he felt a sudden flash of fear.
They were very close—so close that Xiao Fengtai could see his own reflection in Jiang Tong’s eyes.
Jiang Tong’s voice seemed to resonate directly from Xiao Fengtai’s heart.
"Kenneth, can I?"
Xiao Fengtai suddenly felt at peace. He reached out and hugged Jiang Tong back. The man’s broad shoulders, the smooth, tight lines of his muscles, his breath, his whispers, his gaze, his touch—his desire and his pain—all of it belonged to him, and him alone.
Xiao Fengtai was willing to pay any price for this.
"Teacher Jiang," he spoke, only to find his voice choking with emotion. "You can do whatever you want."
The small apartment vanished—no, not just the small room they were in, but the sunlight outside the window, the sound of cars, the chirping of cicadas—everything in the physical world was dissolving and thinning. There was only a pitch-black universe containing him and Jiang Tong. He was floating, falling, helpless, drifting with the tide. Xiao Fengtai could only hold Jiang Tong tighter and tighter, like a drowning man clutching a piece of driftwood.
But how could he be driftwood? Jiang Tong was the ocean itself. The sea, which had hidden its undercurrents beneath a calm exterior, finally whipped up dark, scalding waves, carrying the momentum of ten thousand horses to sweep away his dull, repressed life in a single stroke.
Xiao Fengtai stared blankly at the ceiling. In his swaying, blurred vision, only Jiang Tong was clear. His reddened eyes, the sweat on his forehead, an expression that seemed both joyful and pained.
"I'm sorry," Jiang Tong whispered indistinctly against his ear while kissing him. "Kenneth, I'm sorry."
A sudden surge of fierceness rose in Xiao Fengtai’s heart. He leaned in and bit Jiang Tong’s lip, as if to swallow the man’s unspoken apology whole. A faint metallic taste of blood spread between their tongues.
Everything had changed. Closing his eyes and throwing himself into the kiss, only one thought remained clear in Xiao Fengtai’s mind.
He would never love anyone else but Jiang Tong.
The phone alarm rang three times before the two of them got up to tidy the aftermath. As he saw him to the door, Jiang Tong was still worried. "Are you okay going downstairs by yourself?"
Xiao Fengtai waved his hand. "I'm fine. Go back inside."
He walked into the elevator with a light step. His hair had just been blown dry, fluffy and soft, bouncing with his movements, showing a rare, age-appropriate liveliness.
Jiang Tong stood by the window, peering out through a gap in the curtains. He watched Xiao Fengtai walk out of the apartment building and climb into the sedan that had been waiting below. Before getting in, Xiao Fengtai seemed to sense something and looked back up at the apartment. He didn't find Jiang Tong, but he seemed to remember something sweet and amusing, lowering his head with a smile before opening the door and sitting inside.
Jiang Tong kept his eyes on Xiao Fengtai’s back. It wasn't until the car carrying the boy disappeared at the end of the road that he realized, belatedly, that he was also smiling.
He should have held out until Xiao Fengtai reached adulthood. Giving a meticulously prepared, expensive gift wasn't meant to trick the boy into giving himself up in a moment of passion. It was the shadow of Madam Xiao that had taken root in his heart, giving rise to delusions and a tainted possessiveness.
Didn't she look down on him? She looked down on him so much that she didn't even bother to hide her loathing and contempt. She had tried every means to drive him away from her precious grandson, as if he were some toxic pathogen. Yet, the precious grandson she so carefully protected had slipped out of his sterile chamber time and again, looking at him with moist, longing eyes, kissing him, touching him, begging him to possess him.
His lighthearted mood lasted the entire day, until Fang Dayong called late at night.
Song Yiyi’s relapse was sudden. At noon the day before, she had eaten a small bowl of steamed egg custard, half a bowl of rice, and half a steamed bun. In the afternoon, she had gone for a walk in the neighborhood garden with Jiang Bei. She might have caught a chill outside; the next day, she showed mild cold symptoms and a loss of appetite. After taking some cold medicine, she went back to bed to rest. In the evening, Fang Dayong had specially brewed some plain congee for her, but before she could even drink it, she was rushed to the hospital by ambulance due to vomiting and severe convulsions.
Upon admission and examination, it was found that the cancer cells had spread to her brain. The doctor hinted subtly that the family should start preparing for the end.
"It makes no sense," Fang Dayong repeated frantically over the phone. "She was fine yesterday, a living person who could eat and sleep. How is she in the ICU today? The hospital must have made a mistake... it makes no sense!"
In his despair, Jiang Tong felt a flicker of absurdity—if the progression of cancer made sense, how could it be a terminal illness?
"Calm down first. The doctor has to explain the worst-case scenario; things might not be that bad." Jiang Tong forced himself to suppress his emotions to comfort Fang Dayong. "Please take a photo of the lab results and send them to me. What medicine has the doctor prescribed now? Are the hospitalization fees paid up?"
"Right, right." Fang Dayong was hit by the barrage of questions until he stuttered, finally remembering the original purpose of his call. "Tongtong, if it's convenient for you, could you transfer ten thousand yuan to your uncle?"
Jiang Tong froze. "The previous money is already gone?"
Fang Dayong’s voice became somewhat ethereal and weak. "Well, your mother seemed to be getting better, and she brought it up herself. Half the money you sent was put into a wealth management product to earn some interest, and the rest was used to sign Bei'bei up for tutoring classes. The wealth management is a fixed-term deposit; it can't be withdrawn for a while..."
Jiang Tong was speechless. The pressure of his silence traveled all the way from the Strait of Malacca to the North China Plain through the phone line. Knowing he was in the wrong, Fang Dayong could only force an explanation. "Tongtong, Uncle was foolish this time. You can criticize me however you want later. Right now, the hospital doctors are waiting for the receipt. If we don't pay, they won't administer several of the out-of-pocket medications."
"I'll transfer the money now," Jiang Tong said coldly. "Please take photos of the lab results and the doctor's prescriptions and send them over as soon as possible. I'll book a ticket back to Beijing tomorrow. We'll talk in person."
***
| Chinese | English | Notes/Explanation |
| :--- | :--- | :--- |
| 肖鹤龄 | Xiao Heling | Xiao Fengtai's deceased mother. |
| 撒旦 | Satan | Biblical figure mentioned by Xiao Fengtai's mother. |
| 柚木匣子 | Teak box | The packaging for the fountain pen gift. |
| 方大勇 | Fang Dayong | Jiang Tong's stepfather. |
| 宋依依 | Song Yiyi | Jiang Tong's mother. |
| 蒋蓓 | Jiang Bei | Jiang Tong's younger sister. |
| 桐桐 | Tongtong | An affectionate nickname for Jiang Tong used by his stepfather. |
| 蓓蓓 | Bei'bei | An affectionate nickname for Jiang Bei. |
