Under Clear Skies Chapter 33: Ham Chow Mein

Chapter 33: Ham Chow Mein

Translated by Fefe of Exiled Rebels Scanlations

Editor: Addis

Tang Heng gaped at the penned words. They probably weren’t written by a doctor—he hadn’t been to the hospital much, but he’d seen his family physician’s handwriting. It was always scrawls and unclear words.

That line of words had been written stroke by stroke. They weren’t neat or beautiful, but it was as if the writing had put much effort into it, so they were abnormally clear. Especially the last stroke of the word age slid down and even formed a tiny hole in the soft plastic at the end.

Tang Heng repeated in his mind, 32 years old. Thirty-two.

Li Yuechi graduated from university this year. He should be 22 years old, which meant that his girlfriend was a full decade older than him. Of course, a 10-year age difference wasn’t crazy, but—his stream of thought cut off. Tang Heng ran out the door.

 

He stood at the door; Li Yuechi stood on the stairs. The two stared at each other, a few steps between them.   

Why had he come back now?!

Li Yuechi looked at Tang Heng, seeming to be taken aback for a moment. Then he arched an eyebrow. “Xuedi, what else do you need from me?”

“I… Yeah, there’s something else…” Eyes wide, Tang Heng stared as Li Yuechi climbed the stairs step by step, getting closer and closer to him. A few seconds later, he suddenly reacted and stepped down, blocking Li Yuechi’s path.

“I, I need to tell you something.” Tang Heng’s tongue felt like dried cotton. “An accident happened.”

“What accident?” Li Yuechi asked calmly.

“Uh… Your lock, broke.”

Li Yuechi: “Huh?”

“Your lock broke!” Tang Heng didn’t know how to explain. “I just leaned against the door and the cylinder fell out suddenly!”

Li Yuechi didn’t respond.

Tang Heng moved to the side and mumbled, “Really. See for yourself.”

The lock cylinder was still on the ground. It was horribly rusted. Li Yuechi bent over to pick it up. He looked at it, then looked at Tang Heng. The expression on his face was hard to describe, but if one must, it was probably a mix of Tang Heng, good job and Keep making up excuses.

Tang Heng felt so fucking wronged—who would’ve thought that this crappy house’s crappy lock would have such good timing? Not any sooner, not any later, but just when he was here?

More importantly, in Li Yuechi’s eyes, he was an immoral rich guy who’d wanted to trick him into selling his body for money—right? Since he could even think of ideas like that, picking a lock and breaking into private property was no big deal.

Seeing that Li Yuechi wasn’t responding, Tang Heng had no choice but say quietly, “I’ll call a locksmith later… It really broke on its own.”

Li Yuechi tossed the cylinder to the side. “I know.”

Know what?!

“I’ll go now and fix it tonight,” Tang Heng mumbled. With that, he started down the stairs. But he’d only taken two steps when he heard Li Yuechi say behind him, “Wait.”

Tang Heng turned and gazed at him.

“Are you hungry?” Li Yuechi asked. “I bought chow mein.”

Tang Heng ran back up.

 

Li Yuechi washed his hands, turned on the electric fan, and plugged in the electric stove. Tang Heng sat on the stool beside the shipping containers. He watched as Li Yuechi produced a cutting board out of nowhere and opened the container to take out a handful of red peppers and a jar of Sichuan peppercorn.

“You’re that good at eating spicy food?” Tang Heng couldn’t help but ask.

“This is how we eat at home.” Li Yuechi put the cutting board on a cardboard box. He casually squatted there and started cutting up the peppers. His back was to Tang Heng and his shoulder blades shook as he lifted his arm to cut the peppers—they were like the trembling bony wings of a bird. Tang Heng thought of his injury from the beer bottle. Did it leave a scar?

Li Yuechi moved with practiced ease and quickly diced the pile of bold red peppers. Then he shoved the chipped bowl into Tang Heng’s hands and gave him a pair of chopsticks. “Take how much chow mein you want.”

“Oh.” Tang Heng looked at the pile of peppers. “What’s that for?”

“For eating.” 

“…”

“It’s really spicy.” Li Yuechi paused and looked up to meet Tang Heng’s gaze. “Do you want to try?”

Inside, Tang Heng thought, I’ve lived in Wuhan for six years. Don’t underestimate me!

“Give me some,” Tang Heng said.

 

A moment later, Li Yuechi took out a big bowl. Tang Heng recognized it—it was the one they’d used to eat ramen that night. Li Yuechi pushed the chow mein from the takeout box, making a mound with a tip in the bowl, and piled the peppers and peppercorn at the top. Then he heated up the pot and poured oil in. The oil quickly heated up too and a peanuty fragrance wafted out. Li Yuechi picked up the pot and said, “Stand behind me.” Thus, Tang Heng took two steps back, wondering what was with this huge commotion. Was this a full-course feast?

Li Yuechi poured the hot oil over the peppers and peppercorn. With a sizzle, the spicy and numbing smell rushed into Tang Heng’s nose. He couldn’t stop himself from coughing.

“Xuedi, are you okay?” Li Yuechi seemed to ask that on purpose, because he dragged out his words, tinged with a smile. “I told you it’s really spicy.”

“I’m fine…” Tang Heng wiped at the tears in the corner of his eyes. “Wait for me.”

Then he ran out, got onto his bike, and bought two big cups of rice wine from the restaurant at the entrance of the alley. By the time Tang Heng carried the wine back, Li Yuechi had already separated their servings of chow mein. Tang Heng’s bowl didn’t have the peppers and peppercorn, but it’d gotten drizzled with hot oil and was blazing red. Li Yuechi took the rice wine and said softly, “Don’t force yourself to eat if you can’t take it.”

Just like that night when they ate the ramen, one sat on the stool and the other on the side of the bed. The cramped room was still unbearably hot. Adding the spiciness to it, Tang Heng was drenched in sweat in no time and his ponytail stuck to his neck. The chow mein that Li Yuechi had bought wasn’t amazing. The noodles were stiff, like they’d been set out for a long time. Other than the noodles, there were only a few pieces of bok choy—even stiffer—and some ham that tasted like starch.

Tang Heng had enough after a few bites, but Li Yuechi was sitting right across from him. With his eyes lowered, he picked up a chopstick-full of noodles and a small clump of peppers. His actions were detailed and his expression was serious as if he was eating some delicacy. Tang Heng felt his heart softening suddenly, like it was wet from Wuhan’s continuous midnight rain or like it was submerged in the sweet and sour rice wine.

“Is it good?” Tang Heng asked him.

“It’s okay.” Li Yuechi looked at Tang Heng’s bowl. “Are you full?”

“No… I need a break. I’ll start eating again in a bit.”

“Give it to me if you can’t finish it.”

Tang Heng was taken aback. “Give it to you?”

“It’s a pity to waste it.”

“…Then I’ll give you some.”

Tang Heng got a big chopstick-full of noodles from his bowl and carefully moved it to Li Yuechi’s bowl. Li Yuechi continued eating his portion, not paying much attention, and occasionally sipped the rice wine. To be honest, Tang Heng was shocked. He didn’t think that Li Yuechi would actually eat something from his bowl. Even he and his mother wouldn’t take each other’s leftovers, let alone Li Yuechi.

For some reason, Tang Heng suddenly thought of Li Yuechi’s girlfriend. Would Li Yuechi eat his girlfriend’s food? Probably yes.

Tang Heng really wanted this moment to slow down, because he had the hallucination that he was Li Yuechi’s girlfriend at this moment—or boyfriend—not important. Anyway, he was Li Yuechi’s lover and they ate dinner like this, sitting across from each other, every single day. The setting sun outside the window dropped down bit by bit; twilight covered the sky like a thin blanket. They would wake with the sunrise and rest with the sunset—they still had many nights that they could go through together.

 

Li Yuechi set down his chopsticks and bowl. “Hurry up,” he suddenly said.

Tang Heng snapped out of his thoughts. “Huh?”

“Eat faster.” Li Yuechi turned on his phone. “I have to go to the hospital later.”

Those romantic thoughts were wiped clean. Tang Heng gripped the edge of his bowl and hesitated for a few seconds before he gathered the courage. “Can I ask you something?”

“What?”

“I saw from the packet…” Tang Heng looked toward the packet on the wall. “Your girlfriend is 32 years old?” When he finished, he wanted to add an explanation like, I saw it by accident, but Li Yuechi cut in before he could speak.

“Yes, she’s 32.” Li Yuechi’s voice turned cold. His eyes did too, permeating with frigidity. “I’m pretty sure this has nothing to do with you.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Tang Heng explained hurriedly. “I was just wondering—”

“Tang Heng.” Li Yuechi stood up and tossed his finished rice wine into the trash. With his back to Tang Heng, he said coolly, “There’s no way for us. Stop wasting time.”