Chapter 61: The Matter of the Night

The movie had just reached the part where the female protagonist went bungee jumping when we finished our meal.

I quietly got up to clear the dishes, taking the empty bowl from Gan Ling’s hands and putting the leftovers in the fridge. Then I came back, turned off the lights to let the movie screen stand out, wiped the oil splatters off the coffee table, and sat back on the sofa. Gan Ling shifted her position, moving from the center of the sofa back to her corner, as if deliberately putting some distance between us.

When the movie ended happily ever after, I got up and turned on the lights. The projected screen ended, and the TV automatically switched to shopping channel ads. Gan Ling promptly turned it off, closed the TV, and bent down to find her shoes.

“You’re leaving already?” I asked.

“Or what?” Gan Ling pulled out her phone to check the time. “I have work tomorrow.”

Gan Ling had to go to work tomorrow, while I was an unemployed drifter.

After she said that, she licked her lips a bit uncomfortably, moistening her somewhat pale lip color. She stood there for a moment, then suddenly asked, “What are your plans for tomorrow?”

I said I had none.

“Oh, it’s late. I’ll sleep here.”

I said okay.

One sofa bed, one woman. I stood by the bedroom watching Gan Ling’s back as the blanket cascaded down. My earlobes felt hot. I felt like Gan Ling was keeping her distance from me, her attitude strange. Ever since I left her place that day, things between us had become awkward. Every move felt stiff, needing some lubrication to keep the parts running smoothly.

But I couldn’t think of any reason. The topic we discussed that day was unsolvable. I said she hadn’t considered my feelings at all. She first claimed she never cared about others’ feelings, then apologized to me, saw me out the door, and afterward we still met and talked as usual, with no unusual expressions. Yet I always felt uncomfortable, like Gan Ling was deliberately distancing herself from me.

A few months ago, I would’ve been thrilled if Gan Ling distanced herself from me and left my life to fend for itself. But now, a single star anise had been tossed into the pot and stir-fried to release its aroma, yet without any seasonings to pair with it, it was dry-roasted over the fire until it scorched black in moments.

My thoughts were a jumble as I watched Gan Ling fall asleep, but I felt no sleepiness myself. A thousand words clogged my heart, wanting to spill out, but they turned into stammers I couldn’t voice. I just wasn’t good at expressing what “I” wanted.

The woman’s breathing gradually evened out. I tiptoed around to the back of the sofa bed. The sudden whir of the AC turning on didn’t interrupt Gan Ling’s breathing. I lifted the edge of the blanket and slipped myself in behind her.

I closed my eyes. The surroundings were silent. I was glad I was so light, making no noise.

In the middle of the night, Gan Ling seemed to get up to use the bathroom. I kept my eyes closed, pretending to be asleep. When she came back, she paused by the sofa bed and even tugged the blanket over me a bit.

I listened to the movements in the darkness. Gan Ling seemed to walk quite far away.

I secretly cracked my eyes open. Gan Ling had taken out her phone and was standing by the window, casually scrolling through messages. Then she turned off the screen, did nothing else, just stood there quietly for a while before returning to the sofa bed. She avoided the blanket and lay down in the far corner, on the verge of falling off.

After sleeping another ten minutes or so, I tentatively rolled over, chasing after Gan Ling and squeezing into that narrow corner. Gan Ling called out softly, “Jiang Xiaohui?”

I pretended I was just a bad sleeper and didn’t hear, breathing in and out. I wanted to see how she’d dodge this time—maybe get up or scoot to another corner.

The woman let out a long sigh.

That’s when I realized she’d have to go to work come morning. Unlike me, this idle unemployed bum, she needed proper rest. My nighttime antics and clinging would only disturb her, so I silently performed another roll, giving up half the sofa bed.

Sleepiness evaded me even more after the rolling around. An indescribable stuffiness and sourness filled my heart, even a bit of grievance. Nights always brewed excess emotions. I held back my sniffles and quietly shed tears.

But Gan Ling slowly scooted closer, gently pressing against me, her fingers resting on my waist.

I immediately tensed up. A person pretending to sleep has to know their limits—if I were awake, I couldn’t explain my midnight craziness. I tried my best to breathe evenly, like I’d just emerged from the womb, every inch of my body sensing Gan Ling’s presence. That hand on my waist had such a strong presence; though her touch was light, it pressed the breath out of me.

I must have some Gan Ling-exclusive receiver. The moment she got close, the signal connected, and my mind flashed through every moment with her in a riot of colors: hair gone white, gloomy face, deep-set eyes, tall and slender figure. Under my magic, she’d switched to jet-black hair, lips always curved in a hint of mockery, long hair casually tied back over her shoulders, fingers rough with deformed joints and full of scars.

It was like painting hundreds of images of this woman in that instant, stacking them to form Gan Ling’s shape. This shape was behind me now, her arm curving around to hook my shoulders from the front, hugging me tightly.

Tears burst forth. I held my breath to keep snot and tears from flowing out in embarrassment. My shoulders stiffened sharply, but I finally held it together without letting Gan Ling realize I was fully awake and sensing her every move. The woman’s rough fingers slid up my neck, brushed my ear, then retreated back to my waist—only to suddenly slip further, like tumbling down a waterfall by accident, through the folds of my T-shirt, stopping at my chest.

As if my bra might bite, Gan Ling quickly withdrew her hand, tugging the T-shirt fabric down to my waist and letting her wrist anchor there through the cloth.

Half panic, half anticipation—this was all so unfamiliar. I involuntarily shifted back a fraction, pressing tighter against Gan Ling, but in the end, nothing happened. It was like walking down a path only for the road ahead to be erased by an eraser halfway. What was I supposed to expect? Nothing. Just blank sleep.

In that dream, countless words tangled together, tugging at my ears and shouting loudly. But upon waking, I barely remembered any, only fragmented lines I’d recited before, ones I thought I’d long forgotten: “You shall not lie with a male as with a woman; it is an abomination.”【Note 1】 Such persons in your love feasts, when they feast with you, are reefs. These are hidden reefs at your love feasts as they feast with you, shepherds who care only for themselves without fear; waterless clouds carried along by winds; autumn fruitless trees, twice dead, uprooted; wild waves of the sea foaming up their own shame; wandering stars for whom the black darkness has been reserved forever.

I jolted awake to the rice cooker’s beep. Last night’s leftovers had turned into porridge. Gan Ling had left at some point, but on the coffee table was a boiled egg, a dish of fermented tofu, and an unwashed empty bowl.

I rubbed the back of my neck; cold sweat dampened my palms. I sat there stunned for a good while. When I went to get the bowl for porridge, my hand shook badly and it shattered on the floor with a clatter. A flying porcelain shard cut my ankle.

I couldn’t stop replaying last night’s events. Expectation and panic had all turned into fear. Sitting on the floor, watching a trickle of blood seep from my ankle, I rubbed my face and buried my head in my arms.

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