Times of Our Lives - Chapter 27

Qian Mo’s last song received even more enthusiastic feedback than expected. Guo Lin’an found it somewhat unbelievable: “He’s going public with his coming out vibe…”

 

Zhai Lin was indifferent: “In Chongqing, everyone floats freely, so what’s the fuss?”

 

Ji Qinyang had no comment. He watched as Xie Meng went to get drinks, only to be dragged away by Zhang Gang to see the photos he took. They seemed to have discovered something interesting, as Xie Meng’s face softened with a gentle smile.

 

“I can’t understand men liking men.” Guo Lin’an scratched his head, unable to resist asking Ji Qinyang, “Even if Qian Mo is good-looking, would you like him?”

 

Ji Qinyang’s expression was cold: “No, he’s not my type.”

 

“…” Guo Lin’an thought he was joking and continued enthusiastically, “Then what type do you like?”

 

Ji Qinyang didn’t hesitate: “Someone like my Xie Meng at home.”

 

Guo Lin’an burst into laughter: “Hahaha, have you told your bro that? Hahaha!”

 

Xie Meng happened to return with the drinks, curiously asking, “What are you guys talking about?”

 

Laughing uncontrollably, Guo Lin’an wiped tears from his eyes, “Ahahaha, Qinyang said you’re his type hahaha!”

 

“Is that so.” Xie Meng smiled too. He handed the drink to Ji Qinyang, and they clinked their bottles together. “What a coincidence, you’re my type too.”

 

Guo Lin’an still thought they were joking: “Hahaha, you guys are so compatible, why not get married hahaha!”

 

“…” Clearly realizing what was going on, Zhai Lin looked at Guo Lin’an with an expression that said, “Are you kidding me? You’re asking for trouble.”

 

Guo Lin’an: “??!”

 

After Qian Mo finished signing autographs and taking photos with enthusiastic fans, he walked over to the table where Ji Qinyang was. He looked at Xie Meng and greeted him casually, “Hello.”

 

Xie Meng shook hands with him, “You sang really well.”

 

“Thank you.” Qian Mo smiled and took a sip of his drink, “After hearing so many, which song did you like the most?”

 

Zhang Gang thought for a moment, “The last one.”

 

“Oh?” Qian Mo raised an eyebrow.

 

Zhang Gang continued, “It had a special feel, very uplifting and touching, could bring tears to your eyes!”

 

Everyone had an expression of “what kind of tears are those…”

 

“The lyrics were okay, but the melody was lacking.” Qian Mo humbly replied. He glanced at Ji Qinyang and raised his bottle, “So, what do you think? Interested in collaborating?”

 

Ji Qinyang replied calmly, “I’ll consider it.”

 

Qian Mo smiled and shook his hand, “Hope we get the chance to work together.”

 

Zhai Lin and Guo Lin’an left for the dormitory first. Han Dong escorted Zhang Gang back. By early October, Beijing was already cooling down. Zhang Gang still had his car door open, head bowed while flipping through the photos. Han Dong took off his jacket and covered him, but Zhang Gang didn’t even lift his head, just naturally pulling the collar of Han Dong’s jacket with his hand.

 

In the night’s darkness, Ji Qinyang wrapped his arm around Xie Meng’s shoulder and kissed his forehead gently.

 

Qian Mo stood on the spacious rooftop of MAO, holding a beer can in his hand. His hair, tousled by the night breeze, partially obscured his view. He took out his phone and sent a text message, then slowly drank the beer sip by sip. Behind him, his bandmates teased him without malice, “Who has caught your eye this time, Mo Mo?”

 

Without turning around, Qian Mo raised a middle finger.

 

“Don’t be angry.” The band captain and guitarist, Wen Tao, laughed, “Every time it’s either a straight guy or someone already married. We hope you’ll settle down and live a good life.”

 

Qian Mo said nothing. He leaned against the railing, stretching his arm out, his feet on the rusty old gate covered in the hundred days’ sunlight, emanating heat.

 

After finishing the beer, Qian Mo suddenly threw the empty can high into the air.

 

As early October approached winter, Xie Meng had already put on a slightly thicker sweater. From initially always forgetting to bring lip balm and hand cream, he had now gotten used to applying them.

 

On Friday, the child Xie Meng taught called him to participate in the cycling club and specially called him.

 

“Mengmeng!” Xu Shaoheng refused to call him properly: “Do you want to come and play?”

 

Xie Meng smiled and refused, “You go ahead and play. Be safe.”

 

At noon, the sun was just right, and it took Xie Meng about 20 minutes to walk from the dormitory to the east gate, feeling hot all over.

 

Ji Qinyang is still waiting for him in the old place. The boy only wears a shirt, not even a coat.

 

“So cold?” Ji Qinyang put one hand in his pants pocket and put his hand on Xie Meng’s shoulder: “Do you want me to help you buy autumn pants?”

 

Xie Meng: “……”

 

Ji Qinyang: “Don’t worry, you look handsome even in autumn pants, Mr. Autumn Pants God.”

 

The Forbidden City in Beijing was even larger than imagined. After walking for half a day, even those with good stamina found it somewhat exhausting.

 

“No wonder emperors in ancient times used imperial carriages,” Ji Qinyang joked, “It takes half a day just to get to the Empress’s quarters. What could one even do all night?”

 

Xie Meng glanced at him. “How about visiting the Imperial Garden?”

 

Ji Qinyang teased, “What if we can’t walk anymore?”

 

Xie Meng replied, “I’ll carry you.”

 

“…” Ji Qinyang said, “No, I’ll carry you.”

 

Xie Meng looked at him strangely. “But aren’t you unable to walk?”

 

“Forget it.” Ji Qinyang sat down casually on a stone, leaning back with his arms behind his head. “Let’s just hold hands.”

 

So the two walked hand in hand to the Imperial Garden. However, they soon realized that Taihe Hall to the Imperial Garden was much farther than expected. Xie Meng got dizzy from walking, so Ji Qinyang initially dragged him, then ended up pulling him along.

 

“I really can’t walk this time…” Ji Qinyang sat lazily on a rock, leaning back with his arms supported behind him. “But the scenery is really nice.”

 

Xie Meng nodded. His stamina was slightly worse than Ji Qinyang’s, so he took a long rest before fully recovering.

 

Suddenly, Ji Qinyang reached out and pinched his neck.

 

Xie Meng: “?”

 

Taking advantage of the moment, Ji Qinyang quickly kissed him on the cheek.

 

“…” Xie Meng said, “When will you stop these surprise attacks?”

 

Ji Qinyang laughed heartily. Just as he was about to stand up, Xie Meng grabbed his collar, and Ji Qinyang felt a slight pain at the tip of his nose as Xie Meng gently bit him.

 

“Tit for tat,” Xie Meng smiled lightly.

 

Ji Qinyang: “…”

 

After leaving the Forbidden City, Ji Qinyang took Xie Meng to Jingshan Park. By the time they climbed to the top of the hill, the sun was nearly setting.

 

Ji Qinyang pointed north, gesturing for Xie Meng to look. The setting sun crossed the central axis of old Beijing, casting its warm glow on the gray tiled roofs of the Drum Tower.

 

“It’s like splitting the sky,” Xie Meng murmured. “Truly magnificent.”

 

“Majestic distant mountains ahead,” Ji Qinyang recited with a smile. “Across the line of sky.”

 

Xie Meng couldn’t help but say, “Okay, I get it, you’re more cultured than me.”

 

Ji Qinyang raised an eyebrow. “Artists all have an artistic heart. Even when we’re older.”

 

“An old cultured young man,” Xie Meng summarized. “Will you spend your old age planting flowers, drinking tea, and writing poems every day?”

 

“And hugging my wife every day,” Ji Qinyang spread his arms. “Come on, hug me quickly. The mountain breeze is chilly at night.”

 

Smiling, Xie Meng hugged him from behind, and they stood together on the mountaintop watching the sunset.

 

“You finding me was my blessing,” Ji Qinyang held Xie Meng’s hand around his waist. “You’re good-looking, have a good temper, can sing, write poetry, and your skills are improving. I’ll love you steadfastly for ten thousand years.”

 

Resting against his shoulder, Xie Meng chuckled softly. “Even tortoises can’t live for ten thousand years.”

 

“Then how about a hundred years?” Ji Qinyang suggested.

 

“A hundred years is still too long,” Xie Meng replied.

 

After a moment of thought, Ji Qinyang said, “Then I’ll love you as long as I live, even if I die the next second, I’ll still love you this second.”

 

“…” Xie Meng muttered, “You’re so cheesy.”

 

Ji Qinyang laughed. He bent down and carried Xie Meng on his back, slowly descending the mountain. “This is all the skill I have. I need more practice to get used to it.”

 

Xie Meng leaned down and kissed the back of Ji Qinyang’s head.

 

“If I can’t dig out my heart to show you, I’ll just have to say it,” Ji Qinyang carefully watched the path beneath his feet. “I know you’ve done a lot for me. The path of music is actually harder than imagined, but you never say it, always unconditionally supporting and encouraging me. I know all of that.”

 

As they neared the foot of the mountain, Ji Qinyang finally set Xie Meng down. He took a breath, looked up at him with his hands on his knees, and said, “You’re so amazing, I have to love you more diligently.”

 

Xie Meng didn’t say anything. He reached out and wiped the sweat off Ji Qinyang’s forehead, slowly saying, “I once heard a saying: ‘Accompanying is the longest confession.'”

 

Xie Meng lowered his head and kissed the sweaty temple of the young man. “When I needed you most, you were by my side. What you’ve given me is much more than you think.”

 

“That’s in the past,” Ji Qinyang smiled. He held Xie Meng’s hand and walked towards the direction of Nanluoguxiang. “We still have a future.”

 

Xie Meng responded with a thoughtful “Hmm,” and said seriously, “When we’re old, let’s plant flowers, drink tea, write poems, and hug each other every day.”

 

Ji Qinyang couldn’t stop laughing. “A high-age literary old man.”

 

“That sounds nice too,” Xie Meng pondered for a moment. “I like it.”

 

“Speaking sweet nothings every day.”

 

“…Let’s skip that,” Xie Meng hesitated.

 

“Why?” Ji Qinyang asked.

 

“Getting old, my heart can’t take it,” Xie Meng replied.

 

Exiting from Nanluoguxiang onto Gulou East Street, the two walked eastward, stopping now and then until they reached Guijie. Ji Qinyang began scouring for delicacies using Dianping, a popular Chinese food app, and asked Xie Meng, “Do you want to try spicy crayfish?”

 

“Crayfish?” Xie Meng asked uncertainly. “Can we still get them now?”

 

Ji Qinyang put away his phone. “We can try something else.”

 

He found a restaurant with some history, ordered stir-fried liver, braised offal, tripe, and Beijing-style pocket stew. Flipping through the menu, he also spotted a picture of douzhi (fermented mung bean soup).

 

“Wanna give it a try?” Ji Qinyang grinned mischievously. “Guo Lin’an says it’s really delicious.”

 

Xie Meng wasn’t sure what douzhi was exactly, so he asked suspiciously, “Is that true?”

 

“When have I ever lied to you?” Ji Qinyang raised an eyebrow. “Remember the sour plum soup incident?”

 

“I definitely won’t forget that,” Xie Meng closed the menu and said to the waiter, “Bring us a douzhi as well.”

 

The previous dishes allowed Xie Meng to experience Beijing’s hearty local snacks. Ji Qinyang, being from the south, was quite adaptable, enjoying the sweet, spicy, and salty flavors so much that his nose started to sweat, almost wanting to take off his shirt.

 

Watching him from the side, Xie Meng sighed, “Your skin looks so good even when you eat so spicy.”

 

Ji Qinyang took a sip of tea. “I use face masks. Don’t you?”

 

“…No,” Xie Meng shook his head.

 

Ji Qinyang suggested, “I’ll give you two pieces when we get back. We can use them together next time.”

 

Imagining the scene, Xie Meng found it rather beautiful…

 

When the douzhi arrived, Xie Meng’s expression went from anticipation to shock. He pointed at the bowl and asked Ji Qinyang uncertainly, “…Is this really edible?”

 

“It is,” Ji Qinyang eagerly picked up a chopstick full and brought it close to Xie Meng’s mouth. “Ah—open up!”

 

After hesitating for a while, Xie Meng finally put it in his mouth without even tasting the flavor.

 

“You should taste it properly,” Ji Qinyang scooped up another spoonful for himself, squinted his eyes, and imitated a not-so-authentic Beijing accent, “This is the taste.”

 

Reluctant to admit defeat, Xie Meng took a photo of the douzhi and posted it on his WeChat Moments. Zhuo Xiaoyuan was the first to like it, while Qi Fei commented, “What is this?”

 

Xie Meng replied, “Beijing douzhi.”

 

Underneath, Zhang Ganggang commented, “You guys go eat good stuff without calling me! I’m gonna sic Han Daye on you!”

 

Han Dong replied to him with a dog emoji.

 

Xie Meng put away his phone and pushed the douzhi back towards Ji Qinyang.

 

“Aren’t you going to tell Zhang Ganggang about the taste?” Ji Qinyang couldn’t help asking.

 

“Why should I tell him?” Xie Meng looked at him expressionlessly. “Let him come and try it too.”

 

Ji Qinyang: “…”