Under Clear Skies Chapter 15: You Don’t Know

Chapter 15: You Don’t Know

Translated by Fefe of Exiled Rebels Scanlations

Editor: Addis

It was an indescribable feeling—Tang Heng knew that his thoughts were abnormally clear, but his body fell limp, out of control. He was like a corpse in the movies, possessed by an evil spirit. The instant the evil spirit left, he went limp and died again.

Yes, died again. The first time was six years ago; now was the second time. His kneecap slammed against the cement ground. It hurt so badly that he didn’t feel the pain. Tang Heng knew clearly that his body had fallen forward and actually felt a weight lifting off his shoulders. If he collapsed just like this, in front of Li Yuechi, it would be some kind of redemption.

But the next second, he was caught steadily by Li Yuechi.

Li Yuechi half-knelt before him. He was strong—one arm wrapped over his shoulder, one hand stabilizing his head. “Tang Heng, wake up,” he called anxiously. “Can you stand?”

Tang Heng wanted to say, “Wait,” but he moved his lips and couldn’t produce sound. He just felt that this moment was too familiar—so familiar that he couldn’t believe this was real.

Li Yuechi changed his posture, letting Tang Heng’s chin rest against his shoulder. Then he wrapped both hands around Tang Heng’s waist, hoisted him up and quickly placed Tang Heng on the bed.

He looked over Tang Heng. “Do you feel unwell anywhere?”

Tang Heng still couldn’t speak, but he opened his eyes with all his might, staring at him.

The two exchanged stares for a few seconds. Li Yuechi was the first to look away and gaze at the folders on the table. He walked over and put the folders neatly back into their place without saying anything. Tang Heng could only stare at his backside. It was still that gray jacket, covering his thin frame. This made his back seem more like six years ago—he was still that student who handed out flyers on the street, or the person who stood in the cramped rented apartment and cooked eggs and noodles for him. Tang Heng felt like he was dreaming.

Li Yuechi walked over again. He touched Tang Heng’s forehead and then squatted down, lifting his calf.

“You…” He paused. “Don’t move.”

So, Tang Heng didn’t move. He looked up at the ceiling—it was the same old liver-colored wood with small holes on the side. Would the wind leak in during winter? Li Yuechi turned and walked out. Tang Heng’s eyes followed him until he was out of sight. Now, he finally felt the shreds of pain from the bottom of his foot. He probably got cut by glass when he shattered the window. Looking down, his gaze fell upon the bedside bookshelf again. There were four shelves with two drawers in the middle. Without thinking, Tang Heng lifted his arm and pulled open the drawer closest to him.

He couldn’t see—he could only feel around with his hands and grabbed a black plastic bag. Untying the knot, he pulled out three small sealed bags. Transparent. Tang Heng held them up, one by one, looking without blinking. It’s like stacking dolls, Tang Heng thought, one wrapped in another as if they’re some kind of treasure.

They weren’t any treasures. They were the guitar picks he used six years ago. A plastic, dark green pick. He probably bought it along the way from a music store when he forgot his pick for a practice. And this… He should save money in a bank, right? That afternoon six years ago, he stole 52.8-kuai from his pocket. How many bills and coins could make up the 52.8-kuai? Even he himself forgot that it was one 50-kuai bill, two one-kuai coins and eight dimes. They were all there. The last one was even more laughable. It was the Zhonghua cigarettes he gave him a few days ago. He clearly didn’t smoke any—it was still heavy.

The sealed bag over the Zhonghua cigarettes were smooth, while the other two were wrinkly, rubbed countless times. The new sealed bag joined the older ones, like a newbie squeezing in between two old people. If Tang Heng hadn’t discovered them, they’d probably be locked in this drawer forever, until the new one slowly aged as well. And he’d never know how many times Li Yuechi had studied them.

Tang Heng closed his eyes. Two lines of tears streamed from his eyes to the hair on his temples.

Li Yuechi returned not long after. He met Tang Heng’s eyes the instant he entered the room; his eyes were a bit surprised. Then he saw the things in Tang Heng’s hands and he instantly became expressionless. Li Yuechi turned to the side and said to the middle-aged man behind him, “He cut his foot.”

“Hey! How could this be? Didn’t wear shoes?” The man opened the first aid kit and pulled out rubbing alcohol and gauze. “Sir, it might hurt a bit. Keep strong!”

Tang Heng made an mn. He still gazed at Li Yuechi, but Li Yuechi turned his face as if purposely avoiding him.

The next second, a stab of pain shot from his foot to his skull. Tang Heng let out a muffled grunt and grabbed Li Yuechi’s blanket. “The injury looks kinda deep. Seems like there are glass shards. Uh… Sir, hold still.” Before the doctor finished speaking, there was another stab of pain. Tang Heng tugged a corner of the blanket and bit down.

“Hey, Xiao Li, help me hold him down. I’m scared he’ll move around.”

Li Yuechi walked over without speaking and held down Tang Heng’s knee with both hands.

“Aiyo, look! I was right!” Tang Heng couldn’t see the doctor’s face. He could only hear the man sigh continuously. “Mud got in. This is bad, this is bad. It’ll get infected if we don’t clean it. Xiao Li, hold him tight. I need to use alcohol.”

Li Yuechi didn’t answer. A few seconds later, he said, “Do it softly.”

“It’ll hurt no matter how softly. No helping it.”

But it hurt too badly. Tang Heng’s vision went dark and cold sweat beaded on his forehead. This night was like a tribulation from heaven. His body had become a thin piece of paper, permeated with pain. Even his consciousness was blurring.

After who knew how long, a cool palm was placed over his forehead. He heard Li Yuechi’s voice: “All done.”

Tang Heng opened his eyes in a daze and realized that the doctor was gone.

“Let go,” Li Yuechi said.

Tang Heng relaxed his bite. Li Yuechi pulled the blanket corner away and said, “Your hand.”

This time, Tang Heng didn’t move. He still hugged that black bag in his arms.

Li Yuechi reached over and tugged it but couldn’t tug it away. Lowering his voice, he said flatly, “It’s all your stuff. It works out. You can take it.”

“I know it all,” Tang Heng said.

“What do you know?”

“Sun Jihao took bribes. He gave me sleeping pills when he uploaded the data. I fell asleep—”

“Didn’t I tell you not to drink alcohol?”

“It was the milk.”

“…”

After a moment of silence, Tang Heng said softly:

“Tian Xiaoqin was raped by Tang Guomu, right.”

“It’s been six years. What’s the point of talking about it?”

“What’s the point of keeping these things?”

“Then, you can take it.”

“Li Yuechi.” He paused, gathering all his strength. “I love you. Have always, always loved you.”

Li Yuechi didn’t answer. Tang Heng felt like he was nailed to a cross, waiting for his judgment.

But a moment later, he laughed. The incandescent light shone on his face, illuminating the stiff curve of his lips and eyes. This was an extremely faint smile—neither cold nor full of mockery. Only sadness. Tang Heng had never seen this kind of expression on his face before, as if he’d cry the next second. But he didn’t cry.

It was still pouring outside as if the rain would never stop. The world was as turbid as hell. Water vapor snaked through the cracks and holes, seeping in strand by strand.

Li Yuechi looked at Tang Heng and whispered, “Actually, you don’t know.”

“Don’t know what?” Tang Heng said.

Li Yuechi shook his head and didn’t speak. He thought this day would never come in his life, but it was okay. He’d been in jail for four years and seven months, he’d lied about Wang Di being his girlfriend, he’d humiliated him and chased him away. Everything he did was for this day to never come.

—You don’t know, just how much, I love you.

 

Author’s note: the part for 6 years ago starts tomorrow!