Times of Our Lives - Chapter 33

When Xie Meng groggily woke up in the morning, he felt Ji Qinyang’s lower body rubbing against him from behind. Realizing that Xie Meng was awake, Ji Qinyang quietly asked, “Can I come put it in?”

Xie Meng, still dazed, hoarsely murmured an affirmative.

Ji Qinyang applied a generous amount of lubricant around Xie Meng’s entrance. This time, the penetration was smooth, and the sensation of Ji Qinyang hitting his prostate was even more pronounced than the night before. It didn’t take long before Xie Meng reached his limit. He couldn’t ejac—ulate from the front, so he vaguely said, “That’s enough…”

Ji Qinyang stopped, breathing heavily. He held Xie Meng tightly and bit his neck, finishing after a while. He withdrew, and the con—dom was filled with c-u-m.

Xie Meng mumbled, “I have class in the afternoon…”

Ji Qinyang said, “Take a leave.”

Xie Meng asked, “To sleep?”

“Sleeping is too wasteful,” Ji Qinyang smiled, leaving hickeys on Xie Meng’s side, nearly forming a flower-like pattern.

They took a shower together, dried each other’s hair, and while shaving in front of the mirror, Xie Meng accidentally cut himself a little. Ji Qinyang saw it, pinched his chin, and licked the wound.

Xie Meng skipped his afternoon classes and spent the time in the converted music room with Ji Qinyang, writing songs. Before they had finished a song, they ended up wrestling on the sofa, with Ji Qinyang pinning Xie Meng on the electronic keyboard, occasionally pressing keys that made strange noises, causing both of them to burst into laughter.

Eventually, exhausted, Ji Qinyang covered Xie Meng with a blanket and sat on the piano bench, shirtless, finishing the remaining music scores.

In early May, the evenings in Beijing were dry and cool. The sunset filtered through the eaves and onto the windowsill. Xie Meng lay on the sofa, listening to Ji Qinyang hum those unfamiliar yet pleasant melodies, drifting in and out of sleep with his eyes closed.

Waking and sleeping intermittently, Xie Meng always saw Ji Qinyang’s back, making the time spent together feel precious.

After nearly two months of collaboration, not all of the songs Ji Qinyang wrote were selected by Qian Mo. He often struggled with his choices, reluctant to let go of some songs.

Ji Qinyang said, “Your voice isn’t suitable for this song.”

Qian Mo, frustrated, replied, “Then why did you write it?”

“Just to sing for fun,” Ji Qinyang lazily propped his legs on the piano cover and pushed the selected scores toward Qian Mo. “For next month’s concert, you’ll sing these. Practice them well.”

Qian Mo asked, “Are you really not joining in?”

“Not for now,” Ji Qinyang glanced at his phone and prepared to pick up Xie Meng. “I’m not short on money lately.”

Qian Mo, resting his chin on his hand, said, “You act like you’re drowning in cash. Is it really that common?”

“Exactly,” Ji Qinyang put on his headphones. “I need to make a living. How can I manage without money?”

In a few days, the second semester of Xie Meng’s freshman year would end, and Beijing would officially enter summer. Compared to the sultry heat of Suzhou, the weather in Beijing was quite comfortable for Xie Meng and Ji Qinyang. Zhang Ganggang and Han Dong had already booked their return flights, and Xie Meng chatted in a WeChat group.

Qi Fei: “Aren’t you and Yang Ge coming back?”

Xie Meng: “No, Mayday is coming for a concert in a few days.”

Zhang Ganggang: “I like Mayday too! I should have booked tickets for later!”

Han Dong: “You don’t dislike anything… What about Zhuo Xiaoyuan?”

Xie Meng noticed that Zhuo Xiaoyuan had been silent. Just as he was about to message them privately, Zhuo Xiaoyuan posted in the group: “I’m accompanying Jinjin in the hospital. I might come to Beijing in a few days.”

Xie Meng frowned and turned to Ji Qinyang, who peeked at the phone: “What’s wrong?”

Xie Meng indicated for him to read. Ji Qinyang, with an unreadable expression, scrolled up the chat history and then called Zhuo Xiaoyuan.

“Alright… I’ll send you the address later.” Ji Qinyang held Xie Meng’s hand. “Don’t worry, we have a place for you to stay.”

Zhuo Xiaoyuan said something on the phone.

Ji Qinyang smiled, “No need to be so polite. Hang up.”

Xie Meng opened his mouth, “Jinjin…”

“It’s fine,” Ji Qinyang squeezed his palm. “She’ll be alright.”

The afternoon Zhuo Xiaoyuan arrived in Beijing, a thunderstorm had just ended. Ji Qinyang borrowed a car from Qian Mo’s band to pick up the siblings. The little girl, looking a bit dejected, clung to Zhuo Xiaoyuan’s shoulder and smiled at Ji Qinyang: “Brother Qinyang.”

Xie Meng picked her up, surprised at how light she felt. Ji Qinyang packed Zhuo Xiaoyuan’s luggage into the car, looking weary.

“Where to first?” Qian Mo, who was driving, asked.

Zhuo Xiaoyuan said, “Let’s go to the hospital first. I’ve made an appointment with the doctor and I’m afraid we might be late.”

Qian Mo nodded, started the car, and they drove in silence. The only sound was Zhuo Xiaoyuan occasionally asking his sister if she wanted any water.

Zhuo Jinjin was asleep in Xie Meng’s arms. Looking out the car window, she suddenly asked, “Are we going to the Great Wall?”

“Not today,” Xie Meng reassured her. “We need to see the doctor first.”

The little girl nodded obediently.

Ji Qinyang gently patted her head.

At the hospital, they went through registration, examinations, and admission procedures. Zhuo Xiaoyuan spoke with the scheduled doctor in the hallway, his expression remaining tense. Qian Mo bought dinner and water, but no one touched it.

Zhuo Jinjin was already asleep, wearing a hat. The oversized hospital gown made her appear extremely thin.

“I’ll stay here tonight,” Zhuo Xiaoyuan said. “You guys should head back.”

Xie Meng asked, “What did the doctor say?”

Zhuo Xiaoyuan shook his head, saying nothing.

Ji Qinyang asked, “Do you have enough money?”

“Yes, I brought enough for chemotherapy,” Zhuo Xiaoyuan said with a look of not wanting to talk more. “You guys go back.”

Ji Qinyang didn’t press further. He pulled out a card from his wallet and handed it to Zhuo Xiaoyuan. “The password is Jinjin’s birthday. If it’s not enough, use it.”

Zhuo Xiaoyuan opened his mouth to speak but didn’t take the card. Ji Qinyang firmly stuffed it into his jacket pocket. “Don’t overwork yourself. Tomorrow, Xie Meng and I will come to relieve you.”

Ji Qinyang and Qian Mo waited by the car while Xie Meng and Zhuo Xiaoyuan finished their conversation. Qian Mo took out a cigarette, lit it, took a few puffs, and then extinguished it. As a singer, he usually took care of his voice.

“How much is on that card?” Qian Mo suddenly asked. “You need to pay rent next month, right?”

Ji Qinyang replied calmly, “I have a plan.”

Qian Mo scoffed, “We won’t have another show for two months. Can you wait that long?”

Ji Qinyang glanced at him, and Qian Mo raised an eyebrow. “Does your partner have money?”

“That’s none of your business,” Ji Qinyang said, seeing Xie Meng coming out. He made a gesture to indicate that the conversation was over. “Stop talking.”

Qian Mo shrugged and got into the driver’s seat.

Zhuo Xiaoyuan ate the boxed meal Qian Mo had bought much later. He went to get hot water and, upon returning, saw that Zhuo Jinjin was still asleep. He sat by his sister’s bed for a while, cautiously touching her pale, thin arm.

“I’ll be out for a bit,” Zhuo Xiaoyuan told the middle-aged woman in the next bed. “Please keep an eye on my sister.”

The middle-aged woman smiled warmly, “No problem. Just go ahead.”

Zhuo Xiaoyuan thanked her and walked to the central garden outside the ward. He stood by the window of his sister’s room for a while, then slowly squatted down on the concrete floor.

Zhuo Xiaoyuan lit a cigarette and smoked quickly. Before long, only the butt was left. When he reached for a second cigarette, he realized the pack was empty.

“…” Zhuo Xiaoyuan bitterly crumpled the empty cigarette pack in his hand. He looked up, then down, and after a moment, covered his eyes with his hand.