C2 Part11

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P – Chapter 2.10

P – Chapter 2.11

The two youths carefully climbed down that grey and dusty cement building wall, clinging onto that plastic water pipe.

“Where’s it?” Cao Ye was currently on the fourth floor, one of his legs searching for that iron plate. “Why can’t I find it?”

Liang Sizhe had gone down first, and he’d already reached their room on the third floor. The windowsill was quite broad, so with his body hunched over and hands holding onto the edge of the window, he lifted his head into the air and looked at Cao Ye. “A bit to your left.”

“Where?” Cao Ye’s left leg stretched to the side again. He didn’t quite dare to look down. “I can’t reach it.”

“Hold on.” Gripping onto the windowsill, Liang Sizhe turned around and reached a long leg out onto the plate underneath the third floor window. His hands had just gone around the water pipe when one of Cao Ye’s legs swept over.

“Oh, fuck!” Cao Ye suddenly panicked, thinking he’d kicked something hard. “Was that your head?”

There was no answer, but Cao Ye felt a hand wrap around his ankle. The fingers were a bit cold, and they led his left leg over to the iron plate by the side. Liang Sizhe’s voice drifted up. “It’s here. Step down.”

Cao Ye was no longer felt so uncertain, his heel dropping firmly onto the metal. “I’ll continue then.”

Liang Sizhe retreated back to the windowsill. The window hadn’t been shut, so he jumped straight into the room. After he landed on the floor, he leaned out of the window again and looked up, holding onto the window frame. “Keep going. I’m already in the room.”

Two minutes later, Cao Ye followed him in. He slid down the wall as soon as he entered, crouching and sighing with some lingering fear. “Man, my legs feel weak. I’m all sweaty, too…”

Liang Sizhe closed the window and pulled the guitar off his body, placing it to the side. He carelessly asked, “Then why weren’t you afraid when going up?”

“I didn’t need to look down when going up! But you need to look down when coming down — every time I lowered my head, I thought I was going to fall…” Cao Ye sat on the floor, his back to the wall. One of his hands was holding onto his collar, and he was plucking at it to get some airflow. He lifted his head and asked Liang Sizhe, “Oh yeah, did I kick your head?”

“No, my head was lowered. You kicked the guitar.”

“Oh… that’s fine, then. That scared me.” He didn’t say the second half of his words: it would’ve been terrible if he’d kicked his face.

They went downstairs, one following the other. Liang Sizhe walked in front, leading the way, while Cao Ye walked behind him, gazing curiously around.

A woman with curly hair and heavy makeup greeted Liang Sizhe as they went down. “Handsome boy, did you bring a friend over today?”

Liang Sizhe gave that person a smile. “Mn.”

Once they reached the first floor, Cao Ye eased next to Liang Sizhe’s side and asked in a low voice, “What does this place actually do? Just singing?”

“They do exactly what you’re thinking.” Liang Sizhe didn’t elaborate. “What do you want to eat?”

“Not sure.” Cao Ye thought about the row of shops he saw that day he’d first arrived, all covered by thick layers of grease. What was there to actually eat? He lost his appetite just thinking about it. “What’d you eat today? I’ll have the same as you.”

“Noodles. I don’t know if the shop’s still open.” Stepping over the door threshold, Liang Sizhe looked in the direction of the noodle shop and jerked his chin. “That one. Want to try?”

“Sure,” Cao Ye said.

It was midnight. Most of the alley’s shops had already packed up, but there were a few scattered restaurants still open and waiting for business. The owner of Lao Du Noodle Restaurant was in his forties, and he sat on the side of the road with his beer belly, an old newspaper underneath his butt. A radio rested on his legs, and he hummed along with the Chinese opera music coming out of it, slowly and leisurely waving a plastic fan from a nearby men specialist hospital.

Seeing the two of them come over, the owner gave them a friendly grin. He pointed behind him and said, “Eating so late? Sit wherever you’d like.” He then got up and handed a menu to them. “What would you like?”

Cao Ye quickly glanced over the menu before looking at Liang Sizhe. “What did you order earlier?”

“Beef noodles.”

“I’ll have that then,” Cao Ye said to the owner.

The owner raised his voice and aimed it towards the shop, shouting, “Shengzi, a bowl of beef noodles. Quickly!”

The noodles came out rapidly. Cao Ye lifted up a bunch of noodles with his chopsticks and considered it for a while; he only then placed them into his mouth.

“It’s actually quite good.” He started picking out the scallions and coriander in his bowl after he swallowed. As he fished around, he asked Liang Sizhe, “Are you from Beijing?”

“No,” Liang Sizhe said. “I’m from Yan City.”

“Oh… I’ve never been.” Cao Ye ate another mouthful once he couldn’t see any more scallions and coriander.

“It’s a small city,” Liang Sizhe said.

Liang Sizhe watched as Cao Ye ate his noodles with his head lowered; he started to feel hungry again after watching for a while. Despite being a picky eater, Cao Ye’s cheeks bulged as he ate, and the way he looked while eating rather roused Liang Sizhe’s appetite.

Beckoning to the owner, Liang Sizhe ordered another bowl of noodles. He wasn’t picky with his food, so once he mixed everything in his bowl, he started to eat along with Cao Ye.

“How did my dad find you?” Cao Ye asked with some curiosity.

“I’m not sure.” Liang Sizhe swallowed the food in his mouth and then continued. “I’d gone out that day, and when I came back, your dad was standing at my door. What about you? Why’d you get sent here?”

“Dad wanted me to experience the lifestyle here… Say, do you think we’ll end up in the same film?”

“I don’t know.” Liang Sizhe shook his head. “No one’s talked to me about filming anything.” After a few bites, he thought he must’ve imagined those pangs of hunger and so stopped eating, placing his chopsticks onto the bowl.

“I asked Uncle Yin earlier, and he said they’ll arrange a character for you. But he didn’t talk about it much — I’ll help you ask later.” The bowl of noodles in front of Cao Ye was already completely empty in just this short span of time. He’d eaten it with whirlwind speed, not leaving behind a single strand.

Is he not full? Just as Liang Sizhe was about to order another bowl, Cao Ye spoke with his eyes focused on Liang Sizhe’s noodles. “Are you done?”

“Yeah,” Liang Sizhe said. “I’m not that hungry.”

“Then…” Cao Ye gazed at Liang Sizhe. “Can I have some?”

Liang Sizhe thought his eyes really resembled that white stray dog — that dog would look at him just like that as it wagged its tail and begged for food. “Let me order another bowl for you. I ate from this already.”

“It’s fine, I’ll be full after eating your bowl.” Cao Ye reached out, took Liang Sizhe’s bowl and pulled the noodles into his own bowl — of course, he first picked out the scallions. He then shot Liang Sizhe a grin. “I’ll treat you next time.”

“You don’t need to,” Liang Sizhe said. “Someone delivered food every day for lunch and dinner. Did they not come today?”

“They did…” Cao Ye rubbed his nose and said a bit guiltily, “My dad saw and then threw the food away. I don’t think there’ll be food coming anymore. Sorry…”

Nothing showed on his face, but Liang Sizhe silently thought, the food was delivered for you, so why are you sorry? I just took advantage of it. He then couldn’t help but think: Cao Xiuyuan’s son was actually quite different from Cao Xiuyuan himself. Cao Xiuyuan appeared serious and reserved and so hard to approach, but Cao Ye seemed to be naturally easygoing; he made it easy for others to put down their guards and be his friend.

It was a hot and sticky summer night, so the noodle shop owner considerately turned on a fan, the humming blades sending air straight towards them. Cao Ye was absorbed in eating his noodles. Half of his head was facing the fan, and his hair on that side of his head wafted up a bit from the wind. An energy-saving bulb hung from the side, and it glowed weakly with dim yellow light. Inexplicably, Liang Sizhe thought Cao Ye’s hair should be soft to the touch.

After sending off its final two guests, the noodle shop closed for the night.

Before they left, Liang Sizhe bought two bottles of iced hawthorn-flavoured sofa. He gave one to Cao Ye and opened the other himself, taking a sip.

The cold liquid accompanied the food and slid downwards — it was refreshing and invigorating.

Some wind started to stir, and it blew away the night’s heavy, sticky feel. Tree leaves rustled; the cries of the cicadas gradually weakened. The two of them crouched by the side of the road in the wind and drank their soda bit by bit. “Didn’t think it’d be so comfortable here,” Cao Ye said.

Turning his head over, Liang Sizhe glanced at him. “More comfortable than looking for someone to sleep with you?”

“Why’d you bring that up again…” Cao Ye pressed that cold, pebbled with droplets, glass body against his forehead.

Liang Sizhe chuckled. “It’s actually only comfortable for this short while.”

Once they finished their sodas, the two of them returned back to Lan Yan and their room.

As they passed that row of doors, Cao Ye said out loud what Liang Sizhe had been wondering. “Do you think people actually live here?”

“I think so,” Liang Sizhe replied. “I even saw someone coming out of a door yesterday.” She’d looked to be around her thirties, and she’d been carrying a bawling infant.

“The room I looked in was so small. The walls also looked mouldy.” Lowering his voice, Cao Ye said, “And it didn’t even have a window. You wouldn’t be able to imagine it — the smell as soon as you walked inside…”

“The room costs less than 20 RMB a day. What’d you expect?” Liang Sizhe asked as he unlocked the door. He then pushed it open, walking inside.

“20 RMB?” Cao Ye widened his eyes. In disbelief, he asked, “Are you serious?”

“I’m serious. I heard it’s 500 RMB for one month.”

“Ah…” The astonishment on Cao Ye’s face had still yet to fade. “All right.” He then plopped onto his own bed. “Good thing Uncle Yin’s relatively kind and arranged this room for us.”

Uncle Yin? Zheng Yin’s face appeared in Liang Sizhe’s mind. He looked gentle and soft-spoken, but in reality, he didn’t seem to be that easy to get along with. Except — “How old is he? You call him uncle?”

“That’s because he calls my dad ‘Yuan-ge’, and he keeps emphasising that they’re the same generation. He told me to call him uncle… I thought it was a bit awkward in the beginning too, but I’m used to it now.” Cao Ye flipped over and relaxed on his back, grabbing and stuffing a pillow behind his head. He looked at Liang Sizhe. “Uncle Yin’s actually really amazing. I bet you can’t tell. He’s my dad’s manager, assistant, producer, assistant director… As long as my dad asks something of him, there’s nothing Uncle Yin can’t do. He’s like Doraemon. As for my dad, he’s just a director. He only cares about filming and has a bunch of strange and wild demands too — so without Uncle Yin, my dad wouldn’t be able to film at all.”

“Then he is quite amazing,” Liang Sizhe echoed.

Before showering, Cao Ye opened the suitcase Zheng Yin had prepared for him, crouching down to roughly search through the things inside. He sighed, “Man, Uncle Yin’s too good…”

The suitcase didn’t look that large, but it held everything Cao Ye needed. T-shirts, shorts, pants, underwear, pyjamas… All of them were freshly washed after being newly purchased; a label from the dry cleaners was still attached. Moisture absorbers were also included, as well as toiletries, towels, clothes hangers, earphones, earplugs, a sleeping mask, a phone charger — everything was stacked neatly and orderly according to what they were. The script Zheng Yin had urged him to read was left at the very top.

Taking it out, Cao Ye threw it onto his bed and then took his pyjamas and a towel to the bathroom.

The two of them cleaned up one after another, and then they sat on their beds, doing their own things. Liang Sizhe had casually grabbed a book about acting, and now he flipped through it, leaning against the head of the bed. Cao Ye was lying on his side, going through the script.

It took a few pages for Cao Ye to be sure Xiao Man was the character Zhou Rui had written based on him. He was the son of a bathhouse owner. It was an old-fashioned bathhouse, the kind that’d died out in the last century. It was a bathhouse that needed people to manually add water — Cao Ye had never seen one before. He tried to imagine what it would look like, but he couldn’t think of anything.

“Have you gone to a bathhouse before?” he asked Liang Sizhe, turning his head over.

“A bathhouse?” Liang Sizhe thought about the day spa he’d once gone to. “Yeah.”

“What’s it like?” Cao Ye asked with interest.

“Just… There was a pretty big lobby as soon as I got inside,” Liang Sizhe said, searching through his memories. “There were a lot of deck chairs, and once you go in, you change out of your clothes and then relax in a big pool and sauna…”

“Not that kind of bathhouse.” Cao Ye realised Liang Sizhe wasn’t talking about the kind written in the script. “I’ve been to that kind before too — that should be a day spa, right? But the bathhouse in this script isn’t so modern. It’s the kind that needs someone to manually add water, and when the water’s used up, the guest needs to call out to the person waiting outside…”

“I haven’t been to those before,” Liang Sizhe said.

“Neither have I. Then how am I meant to act it out…”

“Is that the script?” Liang Sizhe looked at the stapled stack of paper in Cao Ye’s hand.

“Yeah. You wanna read it? But Uncle Yin said he asked for this in secret and said I shouldn’t spread it…” Cao Ye spoke the truth somewhat awkwardly. “You can read it if you want, but don’t tell Uncle Yin…”

“Forget it.” Liang Sizhe smiled. “I was just curious about what a script looked like — I’ve never seen one.”

“Here, have a look.” After thinking about it, Cao Ye closed the script and threw it to him through the air.

Liang Sizhe caught it easily and saw the cover. It said: Thirteen Days, scriptwriter: Zhou Ru.

He flipped through it quickly, not really reading the content, and then closed it before throwing it back to Cao Ye. “Thanks.”

The person offering didn’t act pretentious about it, and the person reading didn’t cross any lines. Both of them acted quite tactfully.

“Your script will definitely be sent over later too,” Cao Ye said, taking back the script.

Liang Sizhe let out a ‘mn’.

After a while, a crisp smack rang out — Cao Ye had hit himself on the arm. “Mosquitoes!” He sat upright and said, “There are quite a few of them. They’re buzzing around my ears! Do you hear them?”

“I do,” Liang Sizhe replied, flipping through his book with his head lowered.

“How are you so calm? Are there this many mosquitoes every day?”

“No.” Liang Sizhe turned to look at him. “It’s because you didn’t close the window after you climbed out.” He knew this was going to happen.

“Oh… I forgot,” Cao Ye said, realising it was his fault. “Then what should we do? Do we have mosquito repellants?”

“I’ve finished them already. We can go buy some tomorrow.” Liang Sizhe grabbed the traditional herbal water1 at his night stand and offered it to him. “Use this for tonight. It somewhat works.”

“Oh…” Taking it, Cao Ye poured some of the lotion into his palms and smeared it over his bare arms. Once he finished with his arms, he stood up and spread some over his legs — he ended up using over half the bottle. He then gave the lotion back to Liang Sizhe, flopped back onto his bed and curved his head, wanting to see the cover of the book Liang Sizhe was holding. “How to Prepare as an Actor… Is that the book Stephen Chow was reading? In that King of Comedy film?”

Liang Sizhe flipped the cover over for Cao Ye to see. “Yup, that one.”

“Hah? So it’s a real book… Is it interesting?”

Smiling, Liang Sizhe said, “How could a professional book be interesting?”

“That’s true…” Cao Ye ended up yawning as he spoke.

It was now long past midnight, and the singing voices downstairs slowly faded away. Liang Sizhe held onto his book, but he didn’t flip a single page; he started to doze, but he woke when his chin started to lower.

He turned to take a look at Cao Ye. He was flat across his bed, his head faced towards Liang Sizhe, and he was sleeping on his stomach. His face was buried into the open pages of his script.

He wouldn’t end up losing the sensation in half of his body again, would he? Liang Sizhe placed his book to the side and got lightly off his bed; he turned off the lights and then laid back down.

The moment before he fell asleep, he suddenly remembered that English song Cao Ye had sung earlier. He sang quite nicely… Liang Sizhe thought — and then he fell quickly into sleep.

The author has something to say:

They’re finally living together! They took a tiny step forward

Translator has something to say:

This is 花露水 and is also known as ‘Florida water’. I decided to translate it to ‘traditional herbal water’ because the formulation of it in China is different from the usual ‘Florida water’ (which is more of a perfume than mosquito repellent). Short wikipedia article about it here! ↩

P – Chapter 2.12

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