I couldn’t sleep.
Blame it on the sofa bed being too hot. I quietly got up to turn on the air conditioner. Beep. Gan Ling turned over, peering at me faintly in the darkness, like a cat vigilantly listening to the surroundings. I returned to Gan Ling’s embrace, my mind churning with thoughts. Suddenly, Gan Ling spoke in a low voice.
I was too noisy, and it took me concentrating to make out what Gan Ling was mumbling to me: “…You feel it too?”
“Say that again. I didn’t hear you.”
The woman’s expression floated in the darkness like a pale piece of silk, the curve soft. But she didn’t repeat it. Instead, she rubbed the contours of my face with her fingertip, then chuckled after a moment: “That movie you played the other day.”
“Which one? City of God?”
“The one with the Black girl traveling.”
“The Last Holiday?”
Gan Ling smiled in acknowledgment: “It really touched me.”
That movie was the kind of feel-good family entertainment for the masses—good is rewarded with good, evil with evil. The bad guys get reformed, and the good people become friends with everyone. I thought about it for a bit, then suddenly grew alert. The premise of that story was that Georgia only had one month left to live, so she chose to go traveling.
Did Gan Ling’s life also have such a countdown? The January timeline next year immediately popped into my head. If she only had half a year left, then while waiting for the killer in those days, Gan Ling had chosen to spend time with me?
The sudden thought passed like a string of dark clouds. Then I abruptly remembered Gan Ling wanting to take me away from Neng County. She’d talked about her future plans, doing business, working jobs—bouncing around—and the clouds dispersed in an instant.
But Gan Ling added a note to her words: “Or maybe I just want to be a little selfish.”
“Hm?”
“Make life a bit better for myself.”
I had no idea how that movie could be interpreted that way. Then I thought back to that night, crammed on my little bed. Gan Ling seemed to hold back her hunting impulse no longer, opening her mouth to seize the prey. Had a thousand thoughts rolled through her mind before she finally made up her resolve?
I found it even harder to sleep now. Thinking of Zheng Chenggang—that hyena crawling out of his cage, prowling nearby—filled me with dread. So I couldn’t wait to put stargazing at sea and leaving Neng County on the agenda. Even though I hadn’t told Gan Ling yet, I was already prepared.
“Um,” I finally responded after a long while.
Gan Ling lowered her eyes, smiling at me, her hand slipping restlessly into my clothes.
Inappropriately, I recalled Lu Jinshi’s caresses. Lu Jinshi’s fingers were clean, no scars, just a smoky scent, scraping over my body like a windshield wiper. I didn’t know how good it would feel to be touched; maybe I was just a slab of meat, numbly being measured. But Gan Ling’s fingers were full of scars. Her caresses were soft and vivid, like shaping a lump of clay. In her hands, I was molded into form. I felt a little dizzy, my head hot and muddled as I covered my face.
Once the heat finally dissipated, I ruined the mood by asking: “Have you ever been with a woman?”
Gan Ling mumbled: “What do you mean?”
“No…” Sometimes in front of Gan Ling, I impulsively blurt out things that don’t make sense. The thoughts in my heart never get sorted out. My fingers played piano on Gan Ling’s shoulder—who knows what melody—tap tap, tap tap. Gan Ling slightly pulled back the blanket, propping up her upper body and hooking my waist. So we kissed, caressed. What she’d said before about “think about it” seemed off the table for now. Before I finished thinking, there was only flesh comparing to flesh. But in the end, we still didn’t do it. Gan Ling stopped. I leaned on her shoulder, her damp hair scattered messily by my lips.
“You’re the first,” Gan Ling said slowly, “woman.”
The gender specification let me know that after leaving Zheng Chenggang, Gan Ling had still been with men. She didn’t spell it out, but I looked at her questioningly. Gan Ling lowered her eyes in response. Like me, she felt a bit bewildered by this strange, naturally arrived same-sex relationship.
But Gan Ling had always been more proactive than me. She’d spotted me in the grass, hesitated a moment, then crouched down to hunt. I was still wandering in confusion.
Or maybe just closer friends? Best friends? Just thinking that made me feel guilty looking at Gan Ling. I was lying with my eyes wide open. A bit embarrassed, sorry for my overactive thoughts. Gan Ling didn’t know why I suddenly hugged her tighter. She asked softly—and this time I realized it was the same question from just before: “Do you feel it for me too?”
“You wanna ask?” I hesitated a little.
“I don’t have to ask, but you have to say.” Gan Ling was a bit firm, squinting at me from the pillow. I opened and closed my mouth, flopping like a fish on a cutting board, curling into a caterpillar for a few minutes before propping up on my front legs(?) and looking at Gan Ling’s lips, which were pursed ready to laugh: “I’m not good at talking.”
So I solemnly kissed her, like a caterpillar munching leaves. Gan Ling laughed and dodged, rolling to the other side. The sofa bed creaked: “Have you thought it over?”
“Um.”
“Don’t do it just ’cause you’re bad at refusing me…”
My image as someone bad at refusing was deeply ingrained. Gan Ling worried while closing in layer by layer, asking reasonably again. I couldn’t help snapping angrily: “No! No, I’ve learned to refuse. If you say it again, I’ll—”
“You’ve really learned to refuse?”
“I have.”
“I want to do it.” Gan Ling shifted position, calmly stating her request. I didn’t know if this was a test or her real thought, but Gan Ling always stated things righteously. Making requests was already hard for me, but she wielded it so skillfully.
After thinking, I surprisingly didn’t know what the right answer was. Stiff for a moment, I said: “I, I refuse…”
“Not mastered it. If you wanna refuse, refuse right away.”
“Isn’t sooner or later the same?”
Gan Ling just chuckled: “No, it’s not.”
“Uh… I’m really good at refusing others now. When people hand out flyers on the street, I don’t take them like I used to.”
Gan Ling laughed so hard she doubled over: “Good.”
“I’m just… not so good at refusing you.”
“That’s exactly who you need to learn to refuse.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m very selfish. If one day I don’t care about you like I do now, and my selfish side flares up, if you’re too accommodating, you’ll suffer.”
This woman left me speechless. Ruining the perfectly ambiguous mood. Neither Gan Ling nor I were very romantic. Together, we were atmosphere killers, yet squeezed together doing things that should be lovey-dovey, only for the words to veer toward bad endings. I immediately said: “You always talk like I’m some selfless person.”
“You’re the weak one. My personality is very dominant. If I don’t like you anymore, and I’m not liking anyone else for the time being, I won’t let go proactively. Because I’ve already gotten the benefits. How’s that saying go? Incumbents don’t easily spit out meat that’s already in their mouths…”
Suddenly, I thought of Gan Ling and Zheng Chenggang. Gan Ling had chosen to leave Zheng Chenggang because she could refuse—but she refused too late. I don’t know how I realized this, but Gan Ling was using her more than ten years of scars to teach me, putting herself in Zheng Chenggang’s position.
After stewing a bit, I said: “You can bully me.”
“Failing grade.”
“But if I know you’re being mean on purpose because you don’t like me anymore, I’ll leave.”
“Failing grade, but closer to the right answer.”
“No right answer, Gan Ling. You’re not Zheng Chenggang, and I’m not you. If I feel wronged in the future, I’m willing to bear 70%, leaving you 30. It’s fine to take a bit more bullying. You can still be a little selfish. Because I’m Jiang Xiaohui, I… aiya…”
I’d suddenly said something resolute and strong, and immediately felt embarrassed, flipping back and forth. The sofa bed creaked under the strain.
Gan Ling was serious: “Why do you think you should take more bullying?”
“Those who can, should bear more. I’m… very strong, can handle more bad emotions…”
Only after saying it did I realize it sounded like Gan Ling was fragile. I frantically flipped through my nine years of compulsory education dictionary for words to backtrack. But Gan Ling paused for a long time, her eyes gleaming once, then silently turned her back. I slipped on my slippers and circled to her front, grabbing tissues and crouching down. Gan Ling hadn’t cried—it was like she’d held it back. She lifted her arm, letting me toss the tissue box aside and fall into her embrace.
We didn’t say any more profound things about the future, just cuddled until dawn. I’d made up my mind to weave my life as Jiang Xiaohui together with Gan Ling’s. Gan Ling was still at work, so I needed to move faster—quickly leave Neng County, far from Zheng Chenggang.
The next day, I focused on collecting guides and making travel plans, scouting livable cities, inventorying assets, and plotting the move.
I sorted the ones I liked and sent them to Gan Ling, adding a few thoughts of mine, hoping to chat with her. But Gan Ling was probably busy—no reply. When I finally lifted my head from the webpages and notes, it was already dark. I rubbed my eyes, got up to wash my face, and tidied up the excess stuff at home again. Checking the chat, there were over thirty messages, and Gan Ling still hadn’t replied.
Maybe she’s busy? I waited until after 8:30 before calling her.
After a few rings, Gan Ling picked up and went “Mm?”: “What’s up?”
I hadn’t called Gan Ling since coming back from the city. Suddenly, I didn’t know how to start. I was an adult— a few unread messages weren’t worth getting mad over. It wasn’t even on my mind.
I wanted to make this call purely because that cloying feeling in my heart had flared up again, but I couldn’t bring myself to say that I missed her after just one day without seeing her, so I hemmed and hawed before asking, “Where are you?”
“I’m outside, what’s up?”
“Not really…”
Suddenly, a violent crash sounded from over there, and I heard the loud clang of some metal object striking a hard surface.
“I’ll call you later.”
Gan Ling’s voice was very calm. At that moment, I was immersed in that unfamiliar emotion, as if a piece of ginger had been soaked in honey, so dizzy that my judgment failed. I let out an “oh,” but still couldn’t help muttering softly: “What time is it?”
But Gan Ling had already hung up the phone. I happily peeled off the face mask, washed my face, and suddenly felt something was off.
*
Some reader friends want to see Gan Ling’s perspective.
Next chapter.
