"The faithful only know the trivialities of love, while the fickle understand the depths of love's sorrow and pain." - Oscar Wilde
The Jewish Memorial is located on one side of the Brandenburg Gate, at the heart of Berlin's urban axis. From a distance, these tall and low black square cement pillars resemble countless graves. Occasionally, lively faces pass through the corridors of each grave, some children hop around the pillars, playing hide and seek. Clouds drift in the cobalt blue sky, with the sun weaving through, forming arrow-like rays, melting snow on the edges of the pillars. I exhale, turning into a mist of snow white. Yan Feng takes off his gloves, facing me, his face flushed, lips dry and pale from the cold. His hands grasp mine. His hands are cold, mine too. When it's cold, gloves and clothes are never as warm as another person's body temperature. We hold hands like this, gradually warming up.
Yan Feng tells me that the American architect Peter Eisenman designed the Jewish Memorial and Monument. I'm not interested in these, for the audience, the work is always more important than the creator.
We walk along Wilhelmstrasse for a long time, and Yan Feng takes me to the left at a wide intersection. He tells me we'll soon reach the Berlin Art Museum. At a smaller street corner, the grid-like letters are arranged on a road paved with yellow grids. A pure white square building stands in between a Baroque-style building and a Soviet-style residential area, with floor-to-ceiling glass at its corners. Colorful giant posters are placed in front of the glass, each poster bearing a letter. Crowds gather in front of the posters, some men wearing black wool coats or wool suits, some women wearing lambskin coats or leopard-print jackets, all holding champagne and chatting. Among the crowd is a young Asian woman wearing Prada sunglasses, a black chiffon strapless dress embellished with rhinestones, white geometric earrings hanging on her shoulders, accentuating the contours of her collarbones. She laughs and jokes with the circled crowd, whispers with one or two solitary women from time to time. Every time someone sees her approaching, their smiles become more exaggerated. She is clearly the center of attention in the crowd.
I approached the entrance of the art museum with Yan Feng, and the woman looked at me.
"Yexi!" She called out to me, taking off her sunglasses.
"...Wang Zhen," I turned back, but Yan Feng was still pulling me forward.
She leaned to the side, holding a champagne glass in her left hand, a bracelet adorned with diamonds on her wrist reflecting the champagne-colored light, identical to the bracelet Yan Feng had given me.
"Is this your friend?" She glanced at me, then tilted her head slightly, looking at Yan Feng. "You're... Yan Feng?"
She paused after saying Yan Feng's name.
"Do you two know each other?" She confirmed with Yan Feng.
"Who are you?" Yan Feng turned around, looking at Wang Zhen. "Ye Xi's friend?"
"Yes, hi, I'm Wang Zhen. The David Hockney Berlin exhibition opens today, and I happen to be interning as a curatorial assistant at the Berlin Art Museum these days." She nodded to the people nearby, left the crowd, and walked towards me and Yan Feng, holding both champagne glasses in her hands.
"You're even more handsome in person than on TV," she took a sip of champagne. "So you two know each other. Are you planning to make music together?"
"Yeah, that's the plan. I happened to be on vacation in Berlin, so I arranged to meet Yexi and talk about music," Yan Feng stood a bit ahead of me.
"Is this an exclusive news? Haha. I haven't heard my dad mention anything about you two collaborating before," Wang Zhen twisted her waist, arching her abdomen backward into a bow.
My body was half behind Yan Feng's. I stood between Wang Zhen and Yan Feng, unable to say a word.
Yan Feng's eyes flickered, his pupils shining under the lights.
"Oh, I just remembered my lighter is still with you. It's a limited edition, don't forget to return it to me," Wang Zhen said. After she finished speaking, I lowered my head, letting my bangs cover my eyes. I didn't want Yan Feng to see my expression. I didn't want Yan Feng to know who the owner of the lighter was, but when I thought of him and Lin Huiru, my guilt disappeared.
"Sure, I'll bring it to you in a couple of days," I raised my face and smiled at Wang Zhen.
I felt Yan Feng's expression solidify, as if he was looking at me. I didn't dare to look at him.
"Okay, I'll be back in England in a few days, so before that is fine. I still have exhibition matters to deal with today, so I'll take my leave now." She tilted her head again, her long hair swaying slightly, hitting her white earrings, making a tinkling sound. "Yan Feng, let's make plans for the next time we meet." She smiled at Yan Feng, her lower eyelids forming full creases, her slightly narrowed double eyelids elongating her gaze, making her smile seem sly like a cat.
"Sure, okay," he twitched his mouth, his eyes devoid of any smile.
With a light wave of Wang Zhen's hand, it felt like a cold wind had swept between Yan Feng and me. As she disappeared back into the crowd, Yan Feng and I remained rooted to the spot. I had to pull Yan Feng along towards the exhibition hall.
"Is she the one?" he muttered quietly, burying his head.
"Yeah," I replied without hesitation.
I felt his grip loosen, but I still held onto him tightly, and his steps didn't falter.
"Do you know her dad?" he asked again.
"Yeah, her dad is Wang Zhuo," I didn't look at Yan Feng, continuing to walk.
We arrived at the entrance of the Greek Collection Exhibition Hall and stopped.
"We're here," I said.
"She's studying in England," Yan Feng ignored me.
"Yeah, she's studying art management," I turned back to look at him, unexpectedly meeting his gaze, his lips twitched slightly.
Suddenly, he pushed me into the exhibition hall, looking around, pulling me to various display cases, then moving on until he stopped in front of a black-glazed ceramic panel. I watched him as he stared at the panel, lost in thought, then glanced at the description beside it.
"Achilles and Patroclus," he said, looking at the panel.
The panel was cracked in the middle, with a deep crack surrounded by smaller ones. Acrylic fixatives bound many small ceramic pieces together, depicting the clear images of two young men. Patroclus, wearing armor, carefully wrapped Achilles' wound with a piece of white cloth.
"Do you believe in their friendship? You know they're both married, right?" I thought of Wang Zhen and Lin Huiru, feeling both annoyed and sad. I had never loved before, and Yan Feng was my first time. Before meeting him, I didn't know what love was. If marriage was love, I had never seen the passion and intimacy between me and Yan Feng in the marriages of my elders. So I didn't believe in the authenticity of marriage, but I believed in love. I heard love, in Yan Feng's songs, and perhaps in all the melodies that followed thereafter.
"I believe in their love," Yan Feng leaned closer to me, his shoulder touching mine. Marriage is worthless in the face of love.
We lingered in front of the ceramic panel for a long time, until the museum was about to close. My phone began to vibrate, and Yan Feng and I hurriedly left the exhibition hall. The crowd had dispersed, and Wang Zhen was nowhere to be seen. I stood by the museum's entrance, answering the phone.
"What are you doing? Your piano has arrived, don't you know?" Dai Yanzhi rarely sounded so stern.
"Oh."
"The delivery guys called me. Luckily, you left my number. It's almost midnight, and I was about to sleep. Getting a call from you at this hour made me anxious. You didn't even bother to find an assistant. Otherwise, I'd just drop out of school and follow you," he complained incessantly from the start.
"Yan Feng, Ye Xi! You're still here!" Wang Zhen's voice came from afar.
"Yan Feng?" Dai Yanzhi heard it. "Ye Xi, are you out foraging? （This saying was from an ancient Chinese story. Wang Baochuan supported her husband by foraging, but her husband betrayed her.)" Yan Feng leaned closer to my phone.
"Yanzhi, Ye Xi and I are fine. Don't worry," Yan Feng said loudly.
"...Just take care of yourselves. I've told the piano delivery guys not to come today. They'll bring it over tomorrow at 9:30 in the morning," Dai Yanzhi hung up the phone.
"Yeah, we just finished the exhibition. It was really great," Yan Feng seemed very happy, quite different from when he first saw Wang Zhen.
"European exhibitions are really amazing. If you have time in the future, you should visit Europe often," Wang Zhen unlocked the H-shaped clasp, took out a brown cardholder from her tea-colored handbag, and handed her business card to Yan Feng, "Here's my card. Feel free to contact me if you want to see exhibitions in the future."
Yan Feng took the card and tucked it into his coat pocket.
"Thank you. I forgot to mention earlier, you have a great style," he smiled at Wang Zhen, a smile he had never given me before.
"Haha, thank you. Where are you guys going to eat later?" Wang Zhen glanced at me.
"We haven't decided yet. Are you free? Why not join us for dinner? The more, the merrier," I thought of Yan Feng's smile at Wang Zhen just now, and I felt uneasy.
"I have a dinner party tonight. But how about I join you for drinks after it's over? I know a really nice wine bar," she slightly parted her lips, her perpetually vibrant lipstick giving her a unique vitality.
"Sure," I nodded in agreement.
"But it's your treat, though. I won't forget about last time..." she trailed off before finishing her sentence.
"Yeah, sorry for putting you on the spot. I'll treat, I'll treat. It's rare for Yan Feng to come to Europe," I interrupted her.
"Then I'll contact you later," she fastened her handbag and walked away.
"She's quite cute," Yan Feng didn't look at me.
"She's a bit demanding, typical Beijing girl," I also didn't look at Yan Feng, "What about Lin Huiru?"
"She's not cute," Yan Feng's expression turned gloomy.
I caught a glimpse of the melancholy on his face, and I felt a sense of happiness.
"What do you want to eat?" I changed the subject.
"Let's go back first. I haven't decided yet," he glanced at his phone.
"I forgot to ask Wang Zhen where we're going for drinks later," I also picked up my phone and called Wang Zhen, "Where are we meeting later?"
"Just next to your place," she replied.
"Okay. See you later. I'll also return the lighter to you. Bye," I hung up the phone.
"Her lighter and the cigarette case I gave you are both Vivienne Westwood," Yan Feng's eyes were filled with disappointment.
"Oh. Let's go back," I didn't want to continue this topic, "The bar is right next to my place."
The apartment door slammed shut, his tongue like an old-fashioned key trying to pry open the lock to my heart. His teeth grazed my tongue, leaving a tiny cut, blood seeping into both our mouths, swirling around. The taste was like a rotation, the friction between key and lock emitting a scent of ancient metal, the prelude to unlocking each other's hearts. He leaned down abruptly, undoing my belt, the first time he had ever done so to please me. He took out the medication he bought the day before from the plastic bag on the table. It was a jar of orange liquid, and I didn't look closely; it wasn't the medication for me.
He uncapped the bottle, poured some out, and applied it to my lower body, then poured some onto his own body. It flowed along Yan Feng's curves, penetrating into his body. He held me, guiding the moist trail to his depths. At first, it wasn't smooth, I felt his pain, feeling sorry for him, but then I remembered how rough he had always been with me, so I indulged myself, unabashedly holding him, leading him to lean against the edge of the table, the corner of the table emitting squeaky sounds. Once again, Yan Feng led me into a sensory world I had never experienced before.
"Do you think Wang Zhen is better than me?" he gasped, his face pressed against the table, strands of hair falling onto his nose.
"What kind do you mean?" I deliberately didn't answer him, looking at him with a victorious smile. I knew he was jealous. Actually, he didn't know that this was my first time.
"It's this kind," he grabbed my leg with one hand, guiding me towards his depths.
"What about Lin Huiru?" I still didn't answer him.
"Don't mention her to me," the annoyance in his voice made me unsure if it was because of pain or something else.
"What do you want to know?" I asked him.
"Do you love me?"
"I do."
"Say you love me the most," he tightened his grip on my leg, pulling me closer.
"I only love you, Yan Feng," I whispered into his ear.
"I only love you too."
We always wanted to prove that we were each other's only one, but we didn't dare to take the first step to reach the other side until someone else boarded the ship first. Is the ship still there, or has it been taken away by someone else? Do we still have a chance to reach the other side? From then on, it seemed like we could only build a boat with our bodies, stepping on each other's bodies, moving forward in the sea of fire, until everything turned into ashes. I didn't know if we could still go to the island of Mallorca because our bodies were already too broken.
I looked at the chandelier on the table, as it swayed, the light began to flicker, shining on a few strands of Yan Feng's golden hair, glaringly bright. All my grievances were clearly expressed in his voice. I had never lost before; I always won easily. But when it came to Yan Feng, I could only be a loser for a lifetime in our game. I knew the man in my arms was destined to take away all my firsts.