Under Clear Skies Chapter 42: Heavens Above

Chapter 42: Heavens Above

Translated by Fefe of Exiled Rebels Scanlations

Around five p.m., Jiang Ya started complaining about being hungry. An Yun had to go home for a family dinner, so Tang Heng and Jiang Ya ordered food delivery. The two sat cross-legged on the sofa, each holding a bowl of fish noodles. It was unexpectedly quiet.

Jiang Ya heaved a sigh halfway through eating. “Grown daughters always leave home.”

Tang Heng lifted his head and stared at him as if he was stupid.

“Back in the way, we always joked around and laughed while eating,” Jiang Ya complained. “But now? You have someone else. You don’t love me anymore.”

“What do you want?” Tang Heng asked.

“We can’t chat if there’s nothing up?”

“Then let’s chat.”

“You’ve been on your phone all afternoon.” Jiang Ya giggled, his voice turning pervy. “What were you chatting about with Li?”

“Nothing. And his name is Li Yuechi.”

“I still can’t imagine how you’re dating him…”

“Oh.” Tang Heng paused and stared at the noodles and fish balls in his bowl. “I have a question.”

“Huh?”

“When you’re dating… how often do you contact them?”

“How often?” Confused, Jiang Ya said, “We… basically meet up every day.”

“Then what about when you don’t meet up?”

“Call them.”

“What if you can’t call?”

“Is this fucking online dating?”

“…”

“No, what’s wrong?” Jiang Ya set down his bowl and crossed over to Tang Heng’s side. “Does that Li guy not let you call him?”

“No.”

“Then call him.”

“But we agreed to just text this afternoon… He’s busy at the hospital.”

“What’s he busy with?”

“Taking care of the sick.”

“Bullshit.” Jiang Ya rolled his eyes. “So busy he can’t even answer the phone?”

He hasn’t even replied to a text, Tang Heng thought in his mind, let alone answer the phone. He’d clearly shaken his phone when they’d separated at the subway station. He’d clearly said in the Baotong Pagoda that they could text at any time.

“My son, you have to be stronger! You don’t owe him, so why’re you being such a chicken?”

“Whatever,” Tang Heng mumbled. “He’s probably busy.”

“Just call him and ask.”   

“No need.”

“So stubborn,” Jiang Ya scoffed. “I’d like to see how long you can keep it up for.”

 

Tang Heng indeed overestimated himself. After dinner, Jiang Ya went on a date with his girlfriend, so Tang Heng walked home alone. The lights on Luoyu Road had just turned on and the crowd was bustling. The people getting off work sped through and the excitement for the upcoming weekend surged all around. Only Tang Heng walked slowly with his hands in his pockets, seeming completely unhurried. It wasn’t that he was unhurried but that being in a hurry was useless—it wasn’t like he could fly to Li Yuechi’s side and force him to reply to his text. The ancient poet wrote about watching thousands of boats pass, while he was just watching his phone. This little black machine seemed to have a mind of its own, stubbornly refusing to light up or vibrate, insisting on going against him. He realized for the first time just how torturous waiting was.

The sky darkened gradually, heavy clouds gathering in the sky, and a slight wind picked up. Tang Heng passed by Cai Lin Ji restaurant and heard the staff by the door say, Oh, it’s going to rain.

Wuhan was a place that had rain at night often.

Tang Heng’s steps halted and suddenly thought of that night. Could it be that the loan sharks had gone to mess with Li Yuechi again?

Thinking of this, he couldn’t hold back anymore. He quickly dialed Li Yuechi’s number—thank god, his phone wasn’t turned off.

But the other end rejected the call.

He dialed again. Rejected again.

The third rejection, Tang Heng finally got a text from Li Yuechi. It couldn’t be any shorter: Busy, wait.

So it’s not like he didn’t see the texts, Tang Heng thought.

 

At nine p.m., it was still raining outside the window. Tang Heng had given up on contacting Li Yuechi. He thought that Li Yuechi must seriously be busy, busy… taking care of that Zhao-laoshi. Tang Heng told himself that it didn’t matter. It was alright as long as Li Yuechi was alright. They had a lot of time, anyway.

After comforting himself like that, Tang Heng went to take a shower. Halfway through, he suddenly heard sharp buzzes. It was the sound his phone vibrating against the glass tabletop. Tang Heng ran out with shampoo bubbles in his hair—it was his uncle’s call.

“Tang Heng, what are you doing?” Professor Tang’s voice was more serious than usual. “Xiao Yu said you gave up on the Japan exchange trip?”

“Yeah, I don’t wanna go anymore.”

“Why do you suddenly not want to go?!”

“I want to stay at school to write my final thesis.”

“You can write your thesis anywhere!”

“Anyway, I’m not going.”

“You’re already an adult.” Tang Heng could imagine Professor Tang’s stern expression. “Do you know how to take responsibility for your own decisions?”

“It works out. My mom doesn’t want me to go either.”

“Oh, now you’re thinking of your mother! The way I see it, you should give up on doing grad school abroad too!”

“I—”

“You need to think it through.” Professor Tang sighed, his voice permeated with disappointment. “Having exchange experience would help with your applications. I told them to keep your spot. There’s still time if you change your mind tomorrow.”

Tang Heng hung up and slammed his phone onto the table. There was a muffled thud.

Water droplets from his body formed a small puddle on the ground. He lowered his head and stared at the puddle before slowly returning to the bathroom after a moment. He didn’t want to admit to his feeling of loss. Even if nobody saw it, he didn’t want to admit it.

 

After showering, he read 20 pages of Bourdieu. Then he found a bag of dumplings made by Wang-ayi in the freezer, cooked ten, and ate them all.

By the time he did all this, it was 10:02.

His phone was lying on the edge of the table, still without a sound. Tang Heng wanted to go to sleep—it was so early that there was no way he could fall asleep, but he couldn’t find the energy to do anything else. After a pause, he turned off all the lights, save for the reading lamp by his bed. He used that faint and soft light and stared at the phone, just a few steps away.

He couldn’t explain if he was mad at his phone or mad at him.

A moment later, Tang Heng admitted defeat and picked up his phone. He pressed on it. Still no response.

No way. Was it broken?

He plugged it in to the charger and sat on the bedside, clutching the phone. Maybe the battery had died, so it should turn back on after charging for a while. The small black machine sat heavily in his palm, catching his heart.

After a while, a green light flickered in the right corner. So the battery really had died. He pressed on the power button and the image of two hands together appeared. It was the starting image of Nokia phones.

After the animation ended, there was a temporary black screen before it lit up again.  

The notification banner popped up. You have three unread messages.

Tang Heng shot to his feet.

 

The first one at 21:35. Li Yuechi: I’m back. Can we meet?

Second one at 21:45. Li Yuechi: Tomorrow is ok too

Third one at 22:01. Li Yuechi: Goodnight

 

Tang Heng sat down heavily. It felt like he’d fallen from the sky and his heart finally landed back onto the sturdy earth.

He dialed Li Yuechi’s number. The call connected practically the instant it started ringing.

“Tang Heng,” Li Yuechi called out his name, voice low. “Were you sleeping?”

“No.”

“Oh.” He laughed. “Otherwise, you wouldn’t have seen my text.”

“So were you sleeping the entire afternoon?”

“…”

“Never mind,” Tang Heng said. “Rest up.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I was kidding.”

“Zhao-laoshi passed away this afternoon.” Li Yuechi was silent for a moment, then, “I want to see you.”

 

Fifteen minutes later, Tang Heng saw Li Yuechi. He’d changed clothes—a black t-shirt and black track pants. If not for his dark red umbrella, he probably would’ve melted into the night sky. Tang Heng walked over and ducked under the umbrella. He whiffed the faint scent of shampoo.

Neither of them spoke at that moment. The fine drizzle landed on the umbrella. It was silent too.

“I was too busy in the afternoon,” Li Yuechi murmured. “And then I was at the funeral home.”

“Don’t… Don’t be too sad.”

Li Yuechi nodded. “I was prepared.”

“That’s good.” Tang Heng paused. “I was just… a little worried for you.”

“I was at the funeral home when you called.” Li Yuechi’s voice was very muffled and soft. “I don’t know why, but I didn’t want to hear your voice in that place.”

Tang Heng couldn’t say anything to that.

They walked out of Lingbo Gate, crossed the street, and arrived at the side of the East Lake. It was very late now and it was raining, so there was nobody here. There weren’t even many cars driving past. Before them was the dark and vast river; behind them was the dark and vast school campus; above them was the dark and vast sky, starless and moonless. This vast night seemed to have come just for them.

Li Yuechi said, “I thought she could hold up for a bit longer.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“I know, but I still don’t feel good.” He pressed his waist against the railing and faced Tang Heng. “When I graduated from middle school, I was supposed to drop out and go work at the mine with my dad. She was teaching in our place. She went to my parents and told them that they have to let me go to high school.”

“So then you went to high school?”

“My parents wouldn’t agree because we didn’t have enough money. So she came to my house every day to persuade them and even paid 500-kuai for my tuition.”       

“She’s… great.”

“Mn, then I came to Wuhan for university and reconnected with her. She had a high fever for a while last year. The Central Hospital diagnosed her as bone cancer. It had already spread at that time.”

Tang Heng didn’t know how to comfort Li Yuechi. Death was too distant from his life. He’d only been 11 when his father had passed away and the memories had long become blurred. Tang Heng thought of how, after Li Yuechi had gotten drunk, he’d said that she was also a consequence. He still didn’t really understand it now. All he could do was grasp Li Yuechi’s hand—it was cold.

 

Li Yuechi smiled, probably not wanting to make the atmosphere too somber. “What about you? What did you do this afternoon?”

“Choosing songs at Jiang Ya’s place.”

“Choosing songs?”

“Our band wants to produce an album. An Yun had written some melodies before, so we were choosing.”

“If she writes the melodies, then who writes the lyrics?”

“Me and Jiang Ya.”

“Is there enough time?”

“Huh?”

“You’re going to Japan.”

“Not anymore.”

“…”

“You can’t oppose,” Tang Heng said half-jokingly. “Anyone can oppose except you.”

“Because of me?”

“Yes.” He didn’t find it necessary to lie.

“I can wait for you to come back,” Li Yuechi said. “Seriously.”

“I signed up in the first place to avoid you,” Tang Heng said matter-of-factly.

So Li Yuechi stopped speaking. Tang Heng could only hear his soft breaths. Then he leaned forward and placed his chin on Tang Heng’s shoulder, his arms wrapping around Tang Heng’s hand and waist. He was like a net. His body was heavy, his breaths were heavy, and that shampoo scent was even clearer now. A taxi drove past at this moment. The orange headlights swept past them from the distance, stretching their shadows with the long and narrow strands of rain. But there was actually only one shadow, because they were overlapped like two combined rocks.

Li Yuechi buried his face in Tang Heng’s shoulder. “I’ll write a line for you,” he murmured. “Can I?”

“Mn?” Tang Heng was a bit surprised.

“Let me think,” Li Yuechi said.

While he thought, he stayed slung over Tang Heng’s body as if they were the only two left in the world. Under the slight rain, the East Lake was the sea. The sea was in the distance, behind them, and in the sky. The only land was under their feet.

“You are, the lake,” he uttered after a half-minute pause, “surging into my lungs.”

Tang Heng asked, “Why the lungs?”

He chuckled and answered, “The lung is a very important organ.”

You are the lake surging into my lungs? Before Tang Heng could ponder it, Li Yuechi tossed the umbrella to the side, cupped Tang Heng’s cheeks with both hands, and began kissing slowly. From his temple to the end of his brows, to his eyelashes, to his nose, his dry lips scraped over Tang Heng’s skin. It was ticklish, like some small animal skittering past. Tang Heng felt himself trembling. Finally, his lips met with Tang Heng’s lips. The surroundings were silent, the world was turbid, they had enough time. Tang Heng’s lips parted to welcome him and his chest rose up and down at the same frequency as him. The senses between his lips exploded. Tang Heng thought blearily that it really did feel like water surging into his lungs, but he didn’t want to stop right now. With the heavens above them, they gave themselves to each other.

 

Author’s note: the first part is over