Stranded

The slide was placed in the corner of the freezer compartment.

There were no extra activities this year, and Chen Ziheng didn't just turn and leave. After the banquet ended, the four of them tidied up the living room and kitchen, then said their goodbyes.

In a daze, it was just the two of them again.

Cheng Shuo wrapped the leftovers with plastic wrap, put them in the fridge, and turned around.

"Are you busy tonight?" he asked.

"Nothing much," Cen Zeng replied. "I've cleared up some time."

Cheng Shuo smiled and said, "Then watch a movie with me."

He opened Douban's curated selection, but there was nothing he wanted to watch.

It was a slow year for movies, all just cliché and tasteless stuff.

In the end, the two of them started watching Brokeback Mountain.

Ang Lee's directing was so slow it had a kind of tranquility that didn't belong to this era.

Amidst the sheep covering the mountains and plains, Cheng Shuo turned his head and asked, "When did you realize your sexual orientation?"

Cen Zeng thought for a moment and said, "First year of high school. A boy from the class next door called me out. I was originally going to say I don't like guys, but suddenly I felt that wasn't quite right. So I said, sorry, no time, not interested, find someone worth liking."

"How come you were even colder than when you rejected me?"

Cen Zeng replied, "After all, blocking my way for six days straight is pretty rare."

"How did he end up liking you?" Cheng Shuo narrowed his eyes. "Let me guess, your grades were so good you were always giving speeches under the national flag?"

"No," Cen Zeng said. "It was never my turn to speak under the national flag. It was just that one night, I found him being beaten up by three people on a street corner."

"Felt bad for him?" Cheng Shuo narrowed his eyes. "Played the hero saving the damsel?"

"What are you thinking?" Cen Zeng smiled. "Do I look like a hero to you?"

He really didn't look like a hero at all.

"Saying it like this might make me sound kind. Actually, I just thought those guys were too loud and were disturbing my smoke. When I looked back, I realized it wasn't a gang fight, they were all still in their school uniforms. The guy getting beaten up looked pretty pitiful, so I helped him out."

"You can fight?" Cheng Shuo was shocked.

"You've never been in a fight?" Cen Zeng was clearly also surprised.

"No one dared to fight me," Cheng Shuo said calmly. "They all knew they wouldn't get anything good out of it."

At most, they'd argue a bit when fighting for the basketball court or chasing people, maybe give a pretentious shove. When it came to actually fighting, everyone had to weigh the consequences.

"The place I lived in when I was a kid..." Cen Zeng thought for a moment. "Everyone was having a tough time, full of resentment. My mom and I looked easy to bully, so she had to cuss people out on the street, and I had to fight those kids. I had to win. So I learned a little."

"The ones I ran into that day were all students..." He recalled. "They were easier to handle, looked like they'd never met real thugs. A little scare and they got frightened."

He said it casually, his expression calm.

"Then I told them to get lost, and to not come to that alley to disturb my smoking in the future." He thought for a moment. "And they left."

"Sounds pretty cool," Cheng Shuo laughed out loud. "I never would have guessed."

"And then? How did he end up liking you?"

"I didn't even realize it," Cen Zeng said. "I don't think it was 'like,' just that I helped him out, the suspension bridge effect. That boy would walk with me for the next few days. Since I was helping, I might as well see it through, so we walked together for a week."

"It got really annoying, so I took a detour. After all, having someone watch me smoke is irritating. My mom's cigarettes were strong, a few puffs and I wanted to cough. Having someone next to me was very uncomfortable.""

"So you just ditched him?"

"We weren't the same kind of people to begin with," Cen Zeng replied. "Then the next day, he called me out."

"Then who is the same kind of person as you?" Cheng Shuo asked him.

"In high school, I felt like the whole world wasn't the same kind of person as me," Cen Zeng replied.

He avoided talking about the present.

"What about you? How did you realize?" He even asked back.

"By seeing what kind of stuff I liked to watch on websites." Cheng Shuo smiled. "Very simple."

They didn't continue this topic. On the screen, the red nail polish of the woman who killed her husband was garish and powerful.

"Do you like this story?"

Cen Zeng replied, "I've always been bad at writing essays. Watching this, I just feel that people will get their retribution. That's pretty good."

It was a strange comment, but inexplicably, it overlapped with the teenager who wrote 'Why is the only truly serious philosophical problem suicide?' in his draft book.

So Cheng Shuo laughed, almost to the point of tears.

Cen Zeng stared at him for a while, and finally poured him a glass of water.

The movie ended, the day was over, and they each went to wash up.

Cen Zeng walked into the bathroom and subconsciously locked the door behind him.

The only birthday he remembered celebrating was when he turned twelve.

Zhang Ruoxue bought cupcakes and said, "Cen Zeng, happy birthday."

He blew out the single candle, thinking in his heart, 'Mom, are you happy then?'

'Are you happy? Taking me to run away, letting me live, are you happy?'

But of course, he didn't ask it out loud.

He closed his eyes, no tears fell. The laughter from a few hours ago still rang in his ears.

The way Cheng Shuo smiled at him, the way he seemed interested in his shallow and uninteresting past, made him hate that the moments captured by human eyes were always destined to blur with memory.

But such a person would still smile, would still stare at him, making him feel an inescapable pain.

Why? On what grounds?

And what is love?

He had no answer. But his stomach reacted first.

Before he started vomiting, he finally turned on the showerhead.

Amidst the gurgling sound of the water, as if that wasn't enough, he turned on the faucet over the sink, and then, he finally started to throw up.

Mangled cake, mixed with soup broth, undigested carrots.

He looked down for a few seconds, realized just how disgusting what he was doing was, and started to flush. The toilet smashed everything down into the sewer.

The next moment, he started throwing up again.

Leaning over the edge of the toilet bowl, he almost immediately felt a sense of absurdity.

Why? What was he throwing up?

Wasn't the present much better than his terrible childhood, his painful adolescence, his high school days of doing problems every day?

Someone was willing to stand by his side, worry if the food he made suited his friends' tastes, accept his strange gifts, patiently ask about his past, give reactions, give him gentle and caring looks.

It was good enough. Good enough.

So, what should he do?

Besides pretending nothing was wrong and playing along, not ruining his birthday party, and trying hard to fit in, what else could he do?

'Is it worth it? Cheng Shuo, am I worth it?'

No one could give an answer.

'Senior Brother, is it worth it? If a life this absurd has an escape route you don't want, is everything you've given worth it?'

'Senior Sister, after trying so hard to maintain a balance, only to be misinterpreted by a useless junior brother in the end, is it worth it?'

Life was this absurd.

And he could only face the toilet, throwing up everything he had eaten, feeling utterly disgusted with himself.

Why vomit on the birthday of someone who was good to him?

Why, exactly?

He didn't know. He just picked up his toothbrush and futilely scrubbed the smell from between his lips and teeth.

[Author's Note]

Xiao Cheng never expected it, right? The two people he specifically warned didn't throw up, but the one who cooked did.