Chapter 57

The fact of the matter is, none of us have ever truly seen Hell. No matter how painful, tiring, and exhausting your life is, you are merely clawing and struggling at the edge of the mortal realm.

But it’s always that grey stretch between the mortal realm and Hell that is the most terrifying.

When I hugged Yan Yang, at that moment I was worried he would push me away, then point his finger at my nose and curse me for how detestable I was.

The fear that I would be pushed away by him anytime turned me into a person crawling through a crevice, on the brink of death. Whether I would return to the mortal realm, or completely fall into Hell, was entirely dependent on his response.

I could neither figure out what Yan Yang was feeling towards me, nor figure out what exactly it was that he wanted to do. When I kissed him, he remained motionless.

He did not resist it, or accept it either. He lay there with his eyes open, watching me. Surrounded by the sound of firecrackers that seemed neverending, he bore the weight of my kiss, neither light nor heavy.

In the past two years, I had often masturbated. It seemed like my sexual desire had become even more intense. Every time I masturbated, I would think of Yan Yang, but at the same time, I didn't dare to think of him either. Towards him, I had always felt remorse.

He loved me as much as he hated me.

We were clearly two independent bodies, yet it seemed like I could feel his love and his hatred.

It was just that I couldn't grasp it.

When my hand reached into his shirt and my palm pressed against his abdomen, he was like an ice-cold corpse. His body could not reject it, but his soul was screaming out in agony.

He was screaming because he felt I was filthy and disgusting.

I looked at his expressionless face. In the end, I retracted my hand and forcefully rubbed it against my clothes. I rubbed until the skin of my hand was red and raw, then caressed his sweat-covered face.

“I'm sorry.”

I got off him and lay back down on the floor.

I didn’t dare to look at him, so I could only lie on my side, facing away from him.

Yan Yang did not make a sound from the beginning to the end. We stayed like this until morning came.

It was winter, so the sky brightened later. I stared at the cabinet in front of me, watching the room fill with sunlight bit by bit.

On the first day of Chinese New Year, the sun was bright.

I heard the sound of Yan Yang getting up. The iron-framed bed creaked, then he wore his slippers and walked out of the bedroom.

I followed after him and got up too, cautiously walking behind him.

Yan Yang had changed too much. If I hadn't already known this person was Yan Yang, by his silhouette, I wouldn’t even be able to recognise him immediately.

He was thin and lifeless.

Of course, I was probably the only person who could see his lifelessness. In the eyes of others, he was a pristinely dressed and graceful young pianist.

I watched him stand in the living room and drink water. He was looking out of the window, straight at the sunlight spilling in.

“Good morning.” He suddenly turned around to look at me.

I didn’t speak, dumbly nodding in reply.

It looked like he was smiling. A shallow smile, one with a mocking undertone.

Was he mocking me? Or himself? Or perhaps, he was mocking this entire situation.

“Go wash up. I’ll make breakfast.” He turned and headed for the kitchen. I really couldn’t help it and grabbed his wrist.

Yan Yang’s wrist was so thin that I could break it if I used a bit more strength. He was so skinny now; did he still have the strength to play the piano?

“Let's talk.”

He definitely had things to say, and I should have things to say too.

But I had to admit, when I suggested talking, I hadn’t actually known how to untangle the knot between us.

Where should we start from?

From the moment I was fetched by him? Or from the time I was hospitalised? Or perhaps we should start from the moment we met.

Yan Yang pulled out his hand that I had grabbed, then turned to lean against the wall, assessing me.

“My parents have divorced,” he said, “They separated last year.”

He reached out and took the pack of cigarettes on the shelf next to him. When he opened it, he realised it was empty inside.

“There are cigarettes in my coat pocket. Help me get them.”

I turned around to look at the clothes rack. I hesitated for a moment, but still took the cigarettes and passed them to him.

It was early in the morning, and Yan Yang was leaning against the wall, smoking, his eyes closed. He breathed in and exhaled puffs of smoke, an air of fatigue about him.

“This must be happy news to you, right?” Yan Yang looked at me through squinted eyes, “If I were you, I'd be happy too.”

On the contrary, I wasn't. After hearing this, I didn't feel happy.

I still loathed that man, but when my revenge on this person had hurt Yan Yang and his mother too, I really was remorseful.

But there probably wasn’t anyone who would believe my remorse.

“As for myself, nobody wants me anymore.” Yan Yang asked, “Do you know why?”

He suddenly closed in on me. The tips of our noses touched.

He jabbed at my chest with his finger that clasped a cigarette, gritting his teeth as he said, “Because of the stupid crap I had with you.”

Yan Yang's eyes reddened. He paused for a moment before continuing, “Because even though you've wronged me and destroyed my family, I'm still fucking living for you.”

He probably really did hate me, but his love was likely also real.

This was the first time I had seen Yan Yang in such a state, his veins bulging. He looked like he could go crazy any moment from his pain.

He said, “Do you know how this whole mess was cleaned up? It was cleaned up by me, knelt on the ground, licking it up bit by bit. I was committing incest with my own older brother, and just as I was wracking my brain for a way for us to stay together for a long, long time, the person of my heart gave me a slap in the face. My mum asked me not to think of you anymore and take it as if you had never existed. If us mother and son stayed farther away from your chaotic world and chaotic relationship, she said we could still lead a decent life. But I didn't agree to it. I went through hell and back but never managed to die. Why? Because I was still fucking thinking about how you were still in the hospital. If I died, what would happen to you? How could I be so fucking rotten that even at a time like that I was thinking that even if I died, I still wanted to be buried together with you! Rotten bones; I'm just rotten bones, rotten bones ripped from your fucking body!”

Yan Yang was almost quivering as he shouted the last part. His entire face was streaked with tears, like a wild animal that had gone rabid.

I wanted to hug him, but I couldn't move. I could only act like a spectator, watching him scream out in pain.

Yan Yang squatted down, his hand trembling as he smoked his cigarette. With the back of his hand, he wiped away the tears on his face as he said, “I'm just fucking rotten.”

I watched him bury his face in his hands as he sat on the ground and cried. It felt like the whole house was wailing with him.