He came back, holding two plastic bags in his hands. When he entered, he opened one of the plastic bags and took out a glass ashtray. Then he took out a small box from the cotton pocket, a delicate tan suede adorned with a shiny stainless steel clasp, about the same size as a cigarette box. He placed each item on the dining table one by one. The light from the two pendant lamps shone on the transparent ashtray and stainless steel clasp, one emitting colorful light, the other emitting a laser-like glow. I picked up the small box and opened it; the silver stainless steel interior was engraved with vines, and in the center of the box was a depiction of Saturn, much like the one on Wang Zhen's lighter. Glancing at the pocket aside, it was labeled "Vivien Westwood."
"I saw a vintage grocery next to the pharmacy, and I guessed you would like the things inside. I found this cigarette box in the inner hall, and the owner said it was his private collection. It took me a while to convince him to sell it to me." He took off his coat and hung it on the hanger. "I realized I grabbed the wrong clothes when I went out, but I can wear your clothes too."
"It looks pretty nice. I think the owner just found an excuse to raise the price," I closed the cigarette box and placed it aside.
"Perhaps," he said with a hint of disappointment upon hearing my words.
I couldn't tell what was standing between us, maybe it was two women, or perhaps it was something unknown to both him and me.
"Are you hungry?" He smiled at me again.
I looked into his eyes, narrowed into two fine lines, his deep gaze shining through the gaps. I've been chasing these two beams of light. From Fortworth to now, they'll accompany me for life, illuminating the loneliness of my childhood, the brilliance of my youth, and the darkness of the future. For me, Yan Feng is the embodiment of love and desire, as well as the elder brother in my lonely life. He has been with me as I grew up, sharing every joy and sorrow I encountered in letters. When I reached the peak of my life, he was the first to send a gift. I remembered what Teacher Dan said, "The childhood friendships that grow up together are not easily replaced." Besides Dai Yanzhi, He Tiantian, and Li Li, I only have Yan Feng. Dai Yanzhi, He Tiantian, or Li Li all have their pride, but only Yan Feng doesn't hesitate to praise me. Of course, I've heard too many flatteries from others, but Yan Feng's praises reflect his own pursuits. It means we share common aspirations. Only he follows me in the way of music; others can only pray for me through music.
When he smiled at me again, I was unwaveringly convinced of this.
"I'm a little bit hungry." I said, looking into his eyes, and he leaned in for a kiss.
"Xi Xi, believe me. No one can replace you. If someone else's embrace can temporarily ease your longing for me, I won't mind, because I'm as lonely as you are. I understand all your anxiety, your loneliness." His eyelashes brushed against mine, his lips trembled as he spoke, sometimes touching my upper lip, sometimes grazing against my tongue.
"I know. I know." I kissed him, and nothing else mattered. I slid my hand into his shirt, and he grasped my hand.
"Let's eat first. I'll take you to a delicious place." He wrapped his coat around me, put a scarf on me, and smiled warmly at me, then tidied himself up. He led me downstairs, called a taxi. I said I could drive him there, but he said I always got lost, and it would be quicker to take a cab. He didn't tell me if we were going to have Japanese or Chinese food, so blindly, I got into the taxi with him. We got off in front of five white arches, and between the arches and the restaurant was a space made of gray cement. A row of tables was placed along the corridor, each with a candle, casting a warm glow in the gradually darkening night. He said he was afraid I'd be cold and pulled me indoors. From the decoration, it was different from the restaurants I used to go to. It was a cozy little place, with white tablecloths meticulously laid on simple wooden tables, a camellia flower inserted into a black glazed vase. The interior walls were painted black and red, and the light from bamboo tubes illuminated the walls with an orange glow. We ordered some sashimi, some grilled birds, and some sushi. The food and the Japanese spoken in the kitchen made me feel like I was back in March, when Yan Feng and I were in Japan.
He sat across from me, smiling, dimples appearing on either side of his full lips. His straight nose, fair skin, exuded Western beauty. His hair had grown much longer compared to a few months ago, with a few strands of blond hair embedded in his black hair, making it difficult to determine his nationality. His side-swept bangs covered his left eye, his pupils faintly visible through the strands of hair, not to blame for my infatuation, only him for being excessively beautiful. His beauty had changed a lot since I last saw him a few months ago, different from the album cover he sent me. He stood out more and more in the crowd; if not in Berlin, I would fear him being recognized by passersby, shouting his name. Even in Berlin, even if others couldn't call out his name, his appearance would still make people constantly admire him.
Everyone loves him. I remembered the songs he wrote for me, but he only said to me that my love for him was not a matter of course. I started to believe what he said; no one could replace me, even if he had someone else. Thinking of this, I smiled, but my eyes fell down.
"What are you laughing at?" He noticed that I wasn't smiling at him.
"I was thinking about the songs you wrote." I didn't hide my thoughts anymore.
"Which one? Really made you laugh." He also smiled and lowered his eyes, as if afraid to look at me.
"Many of them. So, are all your songs really written for me?" I rarely asked him directly. I believed that sometimes being honest wouldn't hurt the other person. If both sides reached a certain understanding, trust could still be established. I completely forgot about my jealousy towards Lin Huiru or other women and men whose names I didn't even know. I thought that whenever we were together or talked about music, we were each other's only ones.
"Yes, only you understand. Besides the lyrics, there are hidden numerical secrets in the notes. Take your time to decrypt them; this is our encrypted communication," he winked at me.
"I believe you. I've figured it out, 143 major and 143 minor chords," I couldn't help but smirk.
"I fall thee," he leaned forward with both hands on the table, kissing me. "And the stars in the lyrics, stars (pronounced similarly to Xi Xi in Chinese) are you."
He leaned back into his seat, and I grabbed his collar, returning his kiss. He became more daring, his lips and tongue stirring up spring water in my mouth. I caught sight of the waiter carrying dishes over. I released Yan Feng. The waitress was a blonde girl; she smiled at us without any hint of avoidance and wished us a good dinner. Suddenly, despite the cold weather in Berlin, I no longer felt chilly.
Yan Feng said Greece was nice and wanted to go there with me again. He told me he saw replica bas-reliefs of Achilles and Patroclus in Greece; Berlin had authentic ones, and he wanted to take me to see them in a few days. He said that without me in these past few months, he often stayed up late writing songs in the studio, sometimes relying on Gould's Goldberg Variations to fall asleep, sometimes feeling as if a piano hammer was striking his heart because I wasn't there. He chuckled as he spoke of his partner, Dragon Brother, tormented by his insane work style. Until a moment of silence lengthened into the next sentence, his smile vanished from his handsome face, replaced by melancholy. I secretly rejoiced; I guessed he was thinking of Lin Huiru or someone else, whether his sudden gloom was due to guilt towards me or some other unpleasant memory. At least when he thought of these things, he felt sadness or remorse, and that was enough for me. I didn't need to know the details or hear his confessions.
I interrupted his sadness proactively.
"Let's go see it tomorrow. I know the bas-reliefs are at the Berlin Art Museum," I poured him a cup of sake.
"Okay," the light returned to his eyes, "there's a performance by the Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra in a couple of days, but unfortunately, I won't have time to watch it with you this time. I'll come find you for next month's performance."
"Sounds good. De Zhi has connected me with some resources, and I might collaborate with the Berlin Philharmonic in the second half of next year." I raised my glass, and the cool, sweet sake flowed slowly down my throat.
"Wow. We must celebrate!" He clinked his glass against mine, "Who's conducting?"
"Seiji Ozawa," I placed the glass back on the table, smiling at the colorful glaze on the rim.
"Gosh, Bravo. I knew you'd land a deal with De Zhi," he raised his glass, looking at me with the deepest love. I noticed admiration in his eyes besides love.
"There are many work plans for this year; it's going to be busy," I picked up a piece of sushi into my bowl.
"Do you have time to see me?" he lowered his head, looking up at me.
"Of course," I dipped the sushi into soy sauce and wasabi, then put it into my mouth.
"I'm also releasing a new album at the end of the year. It's quite busy," he raised his head, his hair shaking slightly, emitting a woody fragrance, "I want to try some Baroque counterpoint, and I've also come up with new musical ideas. But I can't tell you about this one; you'll find out later. Speaking of counterpoint music, when I was listening to the Goldberg Variations, I heard two German folk songs rewritten about 'cabbage' and 'turnip.' It reminded me of the necklace and bracelet I gave you. Hahaha."
I pulled up my sweater, revealing the bracelet on my left wrist. I pulled out the golden necklace from my neckline, still hanging the ring he gave me.
"Look."
"You're wearing them all," his eyes were like black pools, and as I moved the bracelet again, the diamonds embedded in it were about to create a reflection in the ripples he made.
"Yes," I tucked the necklace back into my neckline, straightened the cuffs of my sweater, "When you mentioned 'cabbage' and 'turnip,' Dai Yanzhi and I used to mock Bach for that. Bach had his moments of plagiarism too."
"If it's done well, it's called 'inspiration.'"
Yan Feng and I burst into laughter together.
When we talk about careers, we are comrades; when we talk about music, we are soulmates; when we make love, we are lovers. Our relationship transcends worldly definitions, and with each conversation I have with him, I become more convinced of this.
I never remember the way, walking back to the apartment, he leads me, holding my hand tightly, and I follow him with trust. When the autumn wind blows, there's always a warmth. Suddenly lifting the fallen leaves, mixed with the remnants of snow along the street, the dry, crisp scent of wood spreads in the air. I can't distinguish whether it's the scent of Yan Feng or the scent of autumn. I just want to get back to the apartment and savor his scent again. I'm too preoccupied with looking at the path beneath my feet, until we reach the pedestrian crossing, where he turns around and stands in front of me. It's still a red light, and I finally let my guard down and smile foolishly at him. He uses his hand to playfully tap my nose, saying he likes my nose, how it's both straight and gentle. I hug him without saying anything. He reminds me that the light has turned green, and we're just one intersection away from the apartment. He holds my hand again, leading me forward.
It's not until we reach the downstairs of the apartment that I notice a hint of coldness. I insert the old-fashioned key into the lock, turn the handle in the middle of the white door, and the living room fireplace still flickers with a gentle blue flame, warming up the room completely. I help him hang his coat on the hook behind the door, while he's still taking off his shoes. I've already slipped off my leather shoes, and I've turned on the faucet in the bathtub, waiting for it to fill with hot water, ready to soak in the warmth of late autumn with Yan Feng in the clawfoot tub. I hear footsteps approaching, and he enters the bathroom with a cigarette box and ashtray in hand.
"Do you want a cigarette?" he leaned against the white door frame, shaking the cigarette box he had given me and glanced around, "Do you have a lighter?"
"...Yes, I do. It's on the top shelf of the cabinet," when he mentioned the lighter, Wang Zhen's image flashed in my mind.
"I'll go get it for you."
It must have been my guilty conscience; he wouldn't know whose lighter it was. The hot water gradually filled the bathtub, my face appeared on the surface of the water, and Yan Feng's naked body was also reflected beside me. Everyone else was superfluous. I undressed and lay down in the water. He also lay facing me. In the ripples, I could clearly see every detail of his body. His face, lying back, was flushed, the ends of his hair dampened by water, his lips moistened by steam, even fuller. I couldn't help but kiss him, my hands couldn't stop roaming over him. Finally, I found his already hardened shaft in the dense bush. It was this that made me hurt and bleed, and I was determined to retaliate against it. Just this afternoon, it was so unruly, with such fierce competitiveness, like a wild horse out of control, shaking my body uncontrollably until I felt like I was falling apart. So I let it be wilder until it was exhausted, and I had to win against it. I wildly played with it with my palm, feeling every rhythm, and Yan Feng hummed along. Finally, in the fusion of water and milk, it signaled surrender from its mouth, becoming obedient and soft.
Yan Feng's hands were on my body again, and soon he made me shed tears of happiness. Different liquids mingled in the flowing water of the bathtub, our souls intersecting and penetrating in this autumn water. They would evaporate into a wet cloud or flow into the city's sewers, eventually meeting again in the ocean, returning by different paths to the same destination.