Chapter 25: Earning It Back
Tang Yu spent the entire day's classes hopelessly absent-minded. Even sitting at his desk, he wanted to be eight hundred meters away from the person beside him.
Ji Qian'ang was as cold and austere as ever, and neither of them mentioned anything about the night before.
In fact, Ji Qian'ang had been puzzled. The side quarters sat at the end of the second-floor corridor, and the other rooms were all locked—if Tang Yu had gone poking into rooms one by one, he would have reached Lin Juefei's room first.
Before long, though, he heard from the workers that Lin Juefei locked his door when he slept—and locked it when he wasn't sleeping too. The moment he entered his room, he locked it.
That explained everything.
Over the past few days, quite a few people at school had asked Ji Qian'ang where the marks on his neck and Adam's apple had come from. Every time someone asked, Tang Yu, sitting beside him, felt his heart climb into his throat. Yet he forced an air of unconcern, gazing out the window at the blue sky and green shade as if it were none of his business.
He heard Ji Qian'ang reel off a different answer every time: gua sha, an allergic reaction, mosquito bites, sensitive skin scratched raw by the change of season, a bad-tempered stray cat at the old house...
Leave people a line of room, and you'll meet again with ease, Tang Yu thought silently. This study companion actually knew his place. At least he had never asked the young master, to his face, where the red marks had come from.
On Sunday, the sun rose over the sea, and Tang Yu was already seated in the last row of the coach by the window.
He hadn't slept well for several nights; his mind kept replaying the embarrassment of waking up in the side quarters that day.
Tang Yu pressed his forehead against the cool window glass and closed his eyes.
"A-Yu!" Tian Qianxing poked his head over the seat in front. "Why are you sitting all the way back here? There are seats up front."
Tang Yu didn't even open his eyes. "Carsick," he said.
Tian Qianxing said nothing more, wedged a bottle of water into the space beside Tang Yu, and withdrew his head.
The coach headed south along Repulse Bay Road, passing Deep Water Bay, Ocean Park, and Wong Chuk Hang, driving toward the more remote reaches of the Southern District.
This volunteer activity took them to a community center in Aberdeen, to help elderly residents clean their homes.
South Island Secondary School's volunteer team arranged this kind of event twice a semester. It wasn't mandatory, but most students came.
Tang Yu hadn't wanted to come, but after what had happened, he felt he needed a legitimate reason to disappear from the old house for a while.
But it seemed he had chosen the wrong way to do it.
Ji Qian'ang sat in the middle-rear of the coach on the aisle, with Luo Yueze beside him.
He wore a black short-sleeved shirt, and the seven or eight red marks on his neck were on display without the slightest attempt to hide them.
Tang Yu turned his head; his gaze accidentally swept across those red marks and he yanked it away at once. He was annoyed. It had been days—when would these misleading marks finally disappear completely?
He turned his face to the window. The Repulse Bay shoreline receded behind them, palm trees flashing past one after another.
He tried to make himself think about something—anything—else, but every train of thought ended at the same vivid picture: Ji Qian'ang lying beneath him, the red marks on his neck impossible to ignore, the scorching hardness pressing up from below.
Tang Yu pushed the window open; the cool morning sea wind poured in. He breathed it in deeply. Still hot.
The coach stopped at the community center in Aberdeen. The volunteer team was led by a bespectacled woman teacher, who quickly divided them into groups, each assigned to one household. The work was mainly cleaning windows, sweeping floors, changing light bulbs, and occasionally sitting with the elderly for a chat.
Tang Yu was assigned to the third group. So was Ji Qian'ang.
Tang Yu stared for a few seconds at the two names side by side on the list, then folded it up and stuffed it back into his pocket with resignation. "Let's go."
He walked at the very front, at no ordinary pace.
Ji Qian'ang followed five or six steps behind, neither near nor far.
They soon reached the first household, on the third floor of an old tong lau. The stairwell was narrow, the handrail rusted through, and the glazed tiles on the walls visibly loose and precarious.
A white-haired Granny Leung opened the door. Tang Yu walked in and looked around.
The windows were thick with dust; the kitchen faucet was still dripping.
"Hello, Granny. We've come to clean your windows."
With that, Tang Yu went into the kitchen, wrung out a rag, climbed onto a stool, and started wiping—efficient, practiced movements.
Ji Qian'ang sat in the living room keeping Granny Leung company and chatting, and replaced the batteries in her remote control while he was at it.
The room was just that small. With Tang Yu's back to them, he heard the old woman chuckle warmly in Cantonese, "You're such a good boy, young man."
The thick grime on the windows was soon wiped away with the rag; through the brightened glass, the street outside came into view.
Across the way stood another old tong lau; a clothesline on its corridor still held a few garments, one of them worlds apart from what he had worn to the anniversary gala. That outfit had been chosen by Ji Qian'ang himself.
Tang Yu tossed the rag toward the sink and headed straight for the door. "I'll go downstairs to carry water."
With that he hurried down and stood at the stairwell entrance, back against the tiled wall, breathing hard.
Ji Qian'ang's voice caught up almost at once. "What are you running for?"
Tang Yu opened his eyes and saw Ji Qian'ang carrying a bucket of water, his mismatched eyes fixed on him.
He looked away and answered awkwardly, "Nothing. I came down to carry the water."
Ji Qian'ang set the bucket on the ground. "The water's carried."
Tang Yu prickled under his gaze and snapped in irritation, "Then go back up. Why are you staring at me?"
"You're avoiding me."
"No, I'm not."
Ji Qian'ang stated it with certainty, then added, "You've been avoiding me for days. On the coach just now, too."
Tang Yu was struck dumb. He tried to invent an excuse, but everything he came up with was too clumsy to be believed.
Ji Qian'ang picked up the bucket. "About that night—"
"Don't mention that night!" Tang Yu's voice shot up a register.
Ji Qian'ang stopped. The two of them stood in silence beneath the blazing sun outside the old tong lau in Aberdeen.
The streets of Aberdeen were nothing like Repulse Bay: narrow, noisy roads, trucks parked at the curb, someone unloading cargo.
Tang Yu's fists were clenched, his ears burning red while his face was deathly pale. His voice dropped. "That day... I was drunk."
"I don't remember any of it. Don't take it to heart. I don't remember anything."
With that, Tang Yu bent down, hauled up a bucket, and gritted his teeth up the stairs.
But how could he possibly not remember? Weeping on Ji Qian'ang's chest, making him sing, then going mad rubbing against his Adam's apple, gnawing and nuzzling everywhere with his lips... Crazy. Absurd. Unbearable to look at.
Ji Qian'ang quickly caught up and reached for the other bucket. They climbed the stairs side by side, buckets in hand, silence spreading between them.
The water was carried back without mishap, and Ji Qian'ang set about repairing the broken faucet while Tang Yu stood beside him handing over tools, head lowered.
Granny Leung sat in the living room watching television, Cantonese opera blaring from the screen. When the faucet was fixed, she thanked them and walked them downstairs with a smile.
They carried their tools across the stone ground below the tong lau. A typhoon had just swept through in October, and the old banyan's crown was missing a corner. Tangled wires hung overhead; tree shadows swayed at the end of the corridor, lengthening and shortening.
Near the corner, Tang Yu deliberately slowed his pace. He opened his mouth, shut it, and finally called out anyway: "Ji Qian'ang."
"About that night—remember to forget it."
"And... lock your door when you sleep from now on."
Then, as if something occurred to him, his voice hardened and he added in a rush, "If you feel you were taken advantage of—"
Ji Qian'ang tilted his head and cut him off. "You could take it back?"
Tang Yu: "..."
"I can pay you back. Or if there's anything you want, tell my grandma."
The words were barely out when Tang Yu quickened his steps, all but running away.
Ji Qian'ang's hand was faster. He seized Tang Yu's wrist, yanked him back, and pressed him against the wall covered in gray-green ivy.
"What did the Young Master just say?" He stepped closer, lips almost brushing Tang Yu's earlobe. "Pay me back?"
"Then name your price. How much do you think it's worth—all the advantage you took of me?"
"You cried on top of me for almost half an hour. When you finished crying, you made me sing for you. When I finished singing, you rubbed against my neck—"
Tang Yu reached up to cover his mouth. "Stop talking."
Ji Qian'ang ducked aside, lips grazing Tang Yu's palm. "And after all that rubbing, you bit."
"I didn't—"
The corner of Ji Qian'ang's mouth curved, a flicker of amusement in his eyes. He tilted his neck, baring the patch of red marks on his throat for Tang Yu to see. "Then who left these? Do the mosquitoes in Repulse Bay plant strawberries?"
Since the truth was out, Tang Yu went all in, past caring. "I was drunk," he retorted, self-righteous.
"So being drunk means you get to bully people as you like?"
"I didn't bully you! Ji Qian'ang, what exactly do you want?"
Ji Qian'ang tilted his neck; warm breath struck the side of Tang Yu's throat.
The onslaught was fierce. Tang Yu went rigid in an instant, certain he was about to be bitten. But there was only Ji Qian'ang's scalding lips, grazing the top of the side of his neck without quite touching, breath burning hot.
But that was all. Nothing followed.
"Of course—"
Ji Qian'ang's voice was low. He breathed a few words against Tang Yu's ear. "To earn it back."
A moment later he lifted his head, composed again, and gave a low laugh. "I'll lock the door."
"But if you come open it again, I'll take it as intentional. Running won't help."
Still rigid, Tang Yu ducked out from under his arm at once, grabbed the tool bucket, and ran toward the community center.
A soft Cantonese curse escaped him under his breath: Puk gai...
Lin Juefei had grown busy lately and hardly ever returned to the old house. The last time he came back, he said he would take Tang Yu to a gathering to meet more senior figures.
Tang Yu wasn't very willing, but the moment his grandmother heard of it, she thought it a fine idea. So on Saturday evening, the moment Tang Yu stepped out of Jardine House, Lin Juefei was waiting for him in the car with Uncle Chen.
Ji Qian'ang followed behind Tang Yu, half-carrying his backpack on one shoulder, and the two of them got into the car.
The golden clouds at the horizon gradually turned gray-purple. A yacht was moored at the Repulse Bay pier, berthed at the innermost position, its railings wound with brilliant strings of lights.
Tang Yu stepped out of the car into a face full of sea wind. He wore only a white shirt and felt slightly cold.
Lin Juefei got out of the passenger seat, a few loose strands of hair falling over his forehead. He smiled, his voice gentle. "Here we are. Tonight is just for unwinding—nothing formal. If you don't feel like talking, you don't have to."