Chapter 37

The Porsche pulled over and turned off its engine two streets away from the residential complex. Mottled tree shadows shone on the weathered cement road, a familiar scene. Qu Yanting glanced out the window and asked, "Where is this?"

The driver turned back. "The film set. They're shooting here today."

Qu Yanting's heart had softened and he'd agreed to Lu Wen's request to come supervise the scene, so he hadn't paid attention to the call sheet. He got out of the car, climbed five or six steps, and saw an entrance that looked like an ordinary storefront. Beside it stood a narrow sign, its words already blurred.

This was a small, old wet market. Fruits, vegetables, meat, eggs, and non-staple foods—it was crowded and chaotic, but it had everything. As Qu Yanting walked in, a mixture of sounds and smells rushed to greet him.

The A-team was at the end of the second row, getting ready.

Qu Yanting passed stall after stall, his heels squeaking on the washed grid-patterned tiles. The closer he got to the end, the slower his steps became. He smelled a thick, fishy odor.

"Yanting!" Ren Shu saw him and strode over to welcome him. "This place is so shabby, what are you doing here!"

Qu Yanting didn't state his reason, only saying, "My flight is tomorrow morning, I haven't told you yet."

"Why didn't you say so earlier? This is what I was afraid of!" Ren Shu anxiously ran a hand through his stubbly hair. "I'll reschedule the scenes. I'll see you off tonight, and I'll take you to the airport tomorrow morning."

Qu Yanting shook his head. "Just do what you need to do. Get back to work."

As they spoke, Qu Yanting's gaze swept past Ren Shu's shoulder toward the crowd. The outermost circle was made up of crew members doing odd jobs; inside were the camera crew and the lighting technicians. A makeup artist in red was on her tiptoes, touching up the male lead's makeup.

The powder puff dabbed softly against his face, and Lu Wen's gaze softened along with it. He had seen Qu Yanting the moment he appeared and hadn't looked away since.

He had sent that message last night without thinking, never expecting Qu Yanting to agree. When he checked the call sheet this morning, Lu Wen regretted it immensely.

The crew had rented a fish stall. Today's shoot was for the scene where Ye Shan sells and guts fish.

After his makeup was done, Lu Wen walked through the crowd. He felt apologetic; Qu Yanting couldn't stand fish or shrimp, so being here was pure torture for him. But Qu Yanting had come for him, and he couldn't help but feel elated.

Slipping a hand into his pocket, Lu Wen stopped in front of Qu Yanting and simultaneously took out a box of mints. He tipped two into his own mouth and stuffed the rest of the box into the other man's hand. "Teacher Qu, it smells bad here. Have a mint to cover it up."

Qu Yanting accepted it. "Are you doing this on purpose?"

"Definitely not," Lu Wen explained. "After everything that happened last night, how could I remember what we were supposed to be shooting? I just wanted... wanted you to come..."

The mint melted slightly on his tongue, as cool as ice. Qu Yanting opened his mouth a little and drew in a breath. He was a man of his word; despite the unpleasant environment, he would stay and watch this entire scene.

Lu Wen asked, "When are you leaving?"

"Tomorrow morning," Qu Yanting replied.

Lu Wen didn't want a vague answer. "What time specifically?"

Qu Yanting wasn't stupid. Asking for the time was just a prelude to seeing him off at the airport. It would be crowded. He refused in a low voice, "Xiao Feng will take me to the airport."

Lu Wen didn't say any more, pressing his lips together so tightly that a small dimple almost formed at the corner of his mouth. Qu Yanting had seen this pitiful look before; most people couldn't resist its power. To prevent his heart from softening, he turned his face away.

"..." Lu Wen said, aggrieved, "You can't even be bothered to look at me anymore?"

Casting a sidelong glance, Qu Yanting said, "You're as tall and sturdy as a pillar. Stop trying to act cute."

Lu Wen denied it. "This is a genuine expression of my feelings."

"What feelings are you expressing to me?" Qu Yanting raised his hand, smoothed Lu Wen's collar, and patted his broad, straight shoulder. "Go express them to your darling girlfriend."

"I—"

Lu Wen had just started when the script supervisor called for everyone to take their places.

The fish stall was a square enclosure with tables on three sides. Next to it was a stall selling dried seaweed and shrimp. Fresh fish and shrimp were laid out on the tables, and live fish swam in a large rectangular basin in front.

Lu Wen walked in, sat down with his hands by his sides, and the small, shabby chair creaked. He had never personally bought groceries before; today was his first time setting foot in a wet market.

To perform well in this scene, Lu Wen had arrived two hours early to observe the vendors' expressions, actions, and ways of dealing with customers, then integrated them with Ye Shan's own characteristics and made slight adjustments.

To be honest, Lu Wen felt out of place everywhere he went. But once the cameras started rolling, he threw caution to the wind. He grabbed a rag to wipe the table, set up the electronic scale, sharpened the kitchen knife, and skillfully flicked open a plastic bag.

Qu Yanting sank into a canvas folding chair, watching the scene intently. The series of details in Lu Wen's performance was vivid and lifelike. He chewed on a mint, a gratified smile touching his lips.

An auntie stopped in front of the stall and picked out two fish. Ye Shan scooped them up. The plump, live fish thrashed about energetically, leaping from the cutting board straight back into the water.

Duan Meng, who was close to the camera, got a face full of water. "Xiao Lu, I love you, man, but take it easy."

Lu Wen nervously shot the second take. He got the fish onto the cutting board, but its head and tail flapped wildly. He desperately pressed it down with both hands, forgetting to say his lines.

After finally finishing this set of shots, it was time to kill the fish. Lu Wen held the fish with one hand and the knife with the other. As the camera pushed in on him, he brought the knife down with a clang, chopping off the fish's tail.

Qu Yanting: "..."

Lu Wen had tried to learn from his housekeeper before joining the cast but failed, cutting his hand in the process. By the time it healed, he had come straight to Chongqing. He said sheepishly, "Director, I don't know how to kill a fish."

Ren Shu was in a bind. The stall owner was a Chongqing local with a very carefree attitude; he had gone home to sleep right after the handover. He looked around. "I don't know how either. Who here knows how to clean a fish? Teach him."

The crew members were all specialists in their own fields; no one was skilled at this. The one or two who could do it were only at a fumbling amateur level. Lu Wen couldn't help but feel anxious. This was the last scene Qu Yanting would watch before he left, and he had to perform it well.

Scooping up another fish, Lu Wen held its head with his left hand and used his right to scrape the scales, the muscles in his arms tensed. Suddenly, the fish's tail flipped up violently, and the blade slid sideways, scraping across the back of his left hand.

Several people around him cried out in alarm. Ren Shu shouted, "Xiao Lu! Don't force yourself!"

The rubber glove was torn. Lu Wen took it off; thankfully, his hand wasn't injured. A quiet fell over the chaotic scene as everyone worried about what to do next.

Qu Yanting poured a handful of seven or eight mints into his palm and tossed them all into his mouth, his cheeks puffing out slightly. He stood up, took off his coat, and, under a wave of astonished gazes, rolled up his sleeves and walked over.

Lu Wen stammered, "Teacher Qu..."

"Move aside." Qu Yanting went inside the stall.

The thick, fishy smell drilled straight into his nostrils. Qu Yanting held his breath. The gloves were ruined, so he took the knife with his bare hands.

He grabbed the fish that had jumped away. The thing still tried to escape. He gave the knife a light toss in his palm, flipping the thin blade up. As his hand rose and fell, he smashed the back of the knife hard against the fish's head!

Everyone stared, dumbfounded, unable to believe that Qu Yanting would do something like this.

The space was a bit cramped for two adult men. Lu Wen stood aside, turning his body, and inevitably brushed against Qu Yanting's shoulder. He was an exception—he wasn't shocked, nor was he impressed. It felt like his heart was being squeezed.

These slender, tough, and fair wrists, these fingers that held pens and typed on keyboards—what had they done in the past? Had they, in his verdant youth, sacrificed entire weekends, busy from morning till night, stained with the stench of fish?

Lu Wen had no way of knowing and didn't dare to guess.

The cashmere sweater's sleeve was very loose and slid down from his elbow. Qu Yanting tried to wipe his hand on his waist, but after two or three times, his patience ran out. He nudged Lu Wen's stomach with his elbow.

"Use your eyes," he said. "Help me pull it up."

Lu Wen circled Qu Yanting's wrist with one hand, holding it loosely as he pushed up, bunching the fine sleeve back at the elbow. The cuff was damp, having inevitably been splashed.

Qu Yanting instructed him, "First, hit the fish on the head to knock it out. It'll be easier to kill."

The tip of the knife pointed straight at the gill slit, cutting in through the opening. He sliced open the gill cover, hooked it with the tip of the knife, and simultaneously flipped the fish over, pressing the hooked side of the gills against the cutting board and chopping it off with a 'thwack'.

After dealing with the gills, Qu Yanting held the blade vertically. "Hold the knife like this to scale it. Scrape along the grain of the scales, row by row. If you just scrape randomly, you won't get it clean."

Lu Wen listened intently. "I understand."

After scaling the fish, Qu Yanting sliced open its belly to clean out the innards. Fearing Lu Wen wouldn't remember, he grabbed another fish after finishing and went through the process again until he had taught Lu Wen properly. When he was done, Qu Yanting casually plunged the knife, embedding its tip in the wooden cutting board.

Lu Wen handed him a paper towel. "Thank you, Teacher Qu."

His palm was slick and greasy, and the area between his thumb and index finger was red from being rubbed by the fish's fin. As he wiped his hands, Qu Yanting said, "If you're not good at it, just do a few more takes. Don't cut your hand. That was terrifying just now."

Filming resumed behind him. Qu Yanting came out, clutching a wad of paper towels, and walked outside. He stopped on the steps at the entrance of the market, taking deep breaths of clean, fresh air.

A feeling was rising in his chest, and Qu Yanting felt quite nauseous. He wanted something to suppress it. There was a small convenience store nearby. He bought a pack of cigarettes and sat on a stone stump by the steps to light one.

It was his first time smoking. He had been curious about the taste of nicotine in his youth, but he was too poor back then; just filling his stomach was a huge problem. Qu Yanting reminisced distantly, inhaling and exhaling the milky white smoke.

Before today, he thought he would never kill a fish again in his life, that he would have lost the skill after so many years. He never expected that the sequence of movements was as if carved into his bones, not easily erased at all.

He didn't notice how much time had passed. The scene was finished. Lu Wen walked out and saw Qu Yanting before he even stepped through the doorway. The designer coat was half-open, revealing a fine figure, exhaling a wisp of warm white smoke into the desolate early winter air.

"Since when did you start smoking?" Lu Wen said in a familiar tone.

Qu Yanting asked, "Is it cool?"

Only a teenager smoking for the first time would care about being cool, wanting to imitate Chow Yun-fat in the movies. The tables had turned, and Lu Wen finally had the chance to laugh at Qu Yanting for being childish.

An old woman had set up a stall on the steps to sell flowers. In two bamboo baskets lay white Huangjuelan flowers, some in bouquets, others strung on thread. No one had patronized her for a while, so Lu Wen bought a string.

He offered it to Qu Yanting. "Teacher Qu, this is for you."

First, it was the carnation in the hotel wall vase, and now a string of Huangjuelan flowers that cost a few yuan. Qu Yanting commented, "You're really not picky."

"You don't get it," Lu Wen said reasonably. "I can't give you anything too expensive or too nice. It would look like I'm trying to suck up to you, which isn't sincere. After all, you are—"

Qu Yanting interrupted, "The person who has the qualifications to sleep with you."

Lu Wen blushed. Why bring up such an embarrassing memory? He pinched out the cigarette butt between Qu Yanting's fingers, slipped the string of flowers onto Qu Yanting's wrist, and said, "Just think of it as... a small farewell gift."

Qu Yanting asked with a smile, "Will this quality last until I get to the airport?"

"Depends on whether you take care of it or not." Lu Wen touched his cuff. "It's all wet. Let's go back to the crew and you can change."

They didn't take a car, instead cutting through a small alley back to the residential complex. Qu Yanting went into the screenwriters' lounge and headed straight for the bathroom to wash his hands.

Lu Wen went up to the makeup room on the second floor. He removed his makeup first. He had brought two spare sets of clothes that morning. He changed into one and took a shirt downstairs, knocking on the door of 101.

Qu Yanting was in the bedroom, standing by the bed folding a small blanket. Catching Lu Wen's outline in his peripheral vision, he said, "I'm not taking the blanket. I'll just leave it here. Whoever wants it can use it."

"Okay."

"I haven't finished the snacks and drinks in the fridge. You can share them with everyone."

"Got it."

"There are two cartons of milk. You should drink them. The boxed lunches are often spicy."

"Mhm."

Hearing him issue these instructions, Lu Wen truly felt that Qu Yanting was leaving. He pulled himself together, determined to arrange their last day together properly. He handed over the shirt. "Teacher Qu, make do with mine for now."

The sweater's cuffs were damp, cold, and smelly. Qu Yanting didn't refuse and took it, saying as if with emotion, "Without realizing it, I've worn your clothes several times now. I'll return it to you at the hotel tonight."

It didn't matter to Lu Wen. "It's fine if you don't."

"How could I do that," Qu Yanting said. "I already kept a sweater of yours, you gave me flowers today, and now another shirt. Your farewell gifts are quite generous."

"It's a gift set." The man was about to leave, so Lu Wen didn't want to hide his feelings. "The main thing is my sentiment. The items are just tokens."

The curtains weren't drawn, and the lights weren't on. The bedroom was dim. Qu Yanting turned his back, lifted his cashmere sweater off, slightly messing up the hair at the back of his head.

A flash of a fair back appeared before Lu Wen's eyes. It was thin, with a slightly protruding spine that snaked from the waist to the center of his back, connecting two wing-like shoulder blades, as if a faint butterfly kite was engraved on his back.

Qu Yanting put on the shirt. It was a bit large, the cuffs covering the backs of his hands. Lu Wen approached and took a pair of cufflinks from his pocket, custom-made for this shirt. He helped Qu Yanting fold the cuff back once and fasten it.

Lu Wen kept his head down, smelling the faint scent of lavender on the fabric, absorbed from the rattan diffusers in the hotel's walk-in closet.

He took a sniff.

Qu Yanting sensed it keenly. His raised hand clenched into a fist, and he jerked it back suddenly and forcefully. With a clink, the improperly fastened cufflink fell to the floor.

Lu Wen was startled. "What's wrong? Did it poke you?"

Qu Yanting was defensive and distant. "What are you smelling?"

"Nothing," Lu Wen was a bit dazed. "There was just a scent..."

A panicked look filled Qu Yanting's eyes. He pushed him away and strode out of the bedroom.

Lu Wen took two seconds to react, then chased after him, hearing the sound of rushing water.

Pacing to the bathroom doorway, Lu Wen froze.

The faucet was turned on full blast. Qu Yanting was bent over, scrubbing his hands incessantly. His nails scraped across his skin, leaving red marks. Water droplets splattered on the mirror, and the backs of his hands gradually turned bright red.

He was possessed, trapped in a nightmare, his fragile nerves captured by a net woven from old memories.

Qu Yanting had been enduring it all along—that market, the cramped fish stall, the thrashing live fish, his shabby and wretched youth, the pair of sleeves engulfed and devoured by the fishy stench.

He had exhausted his strength pretending to be an indestructible wall. At this very moment, he was defeated. He was nothing but a pane of cracked glass, shattering inside and out at the slightest touch, just like his dignity that lay scattered on the ground when he was bullied all those years ago.

The sound of the water was frantic, and Lu Wen's heart contracted violently, uncontrollably.

He rushed forward, caught Qu Yanting's wrists as if holding a bouquet of flowers. Cold water dripped down. He pulled those hands toward himself, pressing them against his own warm abdomen.

Lu Wen hugged Qu Yanting, abruptly, yet gently.

He didn't know how to speak, what to ask, what to say to comfort him. Countless images of drama and reality overlapped, and a tangle of clues flew past his eyes.

Lu Wen remembered that classroom, the corner by the window, where he had picked up the manuscript page Qu Yanting had dropped, which had been blown by the wind.

After a long while, Qu Yanting buried his face in his shoulder and whispered, "Why?"

Lu Wen listened quietly, his heart pounding.

"When I was hiding in the last seat, ignored by everyone," Qu Yanting asked with anguish, "why did someone like you never appear before my desk?"