After Uncle Bai found out about Jingrui, Jingrui and Hetiantian followed Yexi back to China. Uncle Bai kept calling me repeatedly, asking if I could get in touch with Jingrui. I had never heard panic in Uncle Bai's voice before; this time, there was not only panic but also a sense of aging. I thought back to that Christmas Eve in my childhood before leaving Taipei, when he played Santa Claus, bending down to look at me with bright eyes, casting a condescending gaze on my face. Now he seemed like a lost old man, his words even tinged with pleading. Although I felt sympathy, I was powerless. Eventually, I returned to Taipei and left my phone on silent for work reasons.
It wasn't until the home phone rang at Guoting's place that Mom called.
"You've grown wings, haven't you? You won't even pick up Uncle Bai's calls," Mom started scolding right away. "Oh my, what's wrong with Bai Jingrui? I think she's been reading too many messy books, her faith has been shaken, God won't forgive her. I say you young people should communicate more, you should guide her more."
"Mom... please stop."
"I see you've really grown wings. I'm worried about you too, seeing her like this. Weren't you quite close when you were in New York? I've heard some rumors, but I've always thought you were a good kid."
A good kid. Hearing my mom describe me like that, in this moment, in the world, was she a stranger or was I?
"Alright, I understand. I guess she doesn't want to see anyone right now. I'll reach out to her later," I deflected.
"By the way, I heard you've been invited to the Spring Festival Gala. Your brother just switched jobs recently, so during his break, he'll come with you to Beijing to help you."
"I'm fine over here. Let Kai rest well. He's been in investment banking for so many years; he must be tired. Plus, he can use this break to spend more time at home with you."
"Your dad and I are doing well. As long as you're doing well, we're happy."
"Alright."
"That's it then. Bye." She hung up faster than me, as if afraid I might say something in the next second.
Honestly, she was acting unusually this time. Normally, she never hesitates to give me advice, but this time she ended the call abruptly, like a startled bird, cautiously treating me. She turned a blind eye when I bought an apartment in New York behind her back, so I suspect she knows about Ye xi and me, but she doesn't want to confront it. She's afraid that if I confirm it, there will be no turning back. Maybe it's a matter of pride for her. She firmly believes that I also consider it something to hide, just like my other scandals, all fleeting moments. This is something she's always been good at—tolerating discomfort until she achieves her goal, portraying peace until everything is settled in her favor.
Right now, I don't care how she feels. What's important is how to comfort Ye xi. I know what he wants. He loves me but doesn't want to lose himself. During our time in New York, I had a delusion that I had him, possessed everything about him, saw his vulnerability, saw his pride, with him close to me like I was to him. But fate decided he couldn't be confined to a piece of Manhattan land. He's still that distant star. I reach out, but I can never grasp him. He deserves the best, but clearly in America, he couldn't get what he wanted. And now, I still can't give him the best, whether it's love or money. I want to try, but if even hope is gone, ideals will surely fail. I think of a story, and I must learn a lesson from it.
"A young man fell in love with a star. Standing by the sea, he stretched out his hands. One night, filled with infinite longing, he leaped into the air, reaching for that star. But in the instant he jumped, he was shattered to pieces. He didn't understand how to love. If only he had remained steadfast in that moment of leaping, perhaps he could have soared into the sky and become one with that star." (From Hermann Hesse's "Demian")
I believe time and time again that besides belief, there is also destiny. A mysterious force binds Ye xi and me tightly together.
After Ye xi and EMI terminated their contract and returned to China, I also wanted to stand on my own. After he rejected my proposal, I thought a lot. Perhaps it was time to take control into my own hands. At least this way, I could choose how to present myself to the public. All that's left is to wait patiently, for time to work its magic. Just like in New York, where same-sex marriage became legalized—a sign. Even though in the public eye, despite legal support, homosexuality is still stigmatized, there will come a day, just like with racial discrimination, when things will get better and better. After all, didn't Obama become president? Until every corner of the world, including mainland China and Taiwan, grants us the same rights, and we no longer face curious stares or fear being questioned or burdened by our sexual orientation. Until everyone realizes that moral flaws have nothing to do with artistic greatness.
My beliefs are radically different from what Zhang Hongsheng taught me. He said, "If you separate morality from your works, they won't go crazy for you. The shaping of your personality is within this 'moral' framework, whether it's wild and unruly or gentle and frugal. It's a story that integrates with your work, a story meticulously crafted by the company. You have to trust the team's understanding of public psychology; we know what they like the most. If you don't sell the story, maintain its consistency, fans won't be loyal to you. If fans aren't crazy about you, we won't make as much money. I don't care who you are in private, but at least in public, you should think about the company. After all, you debuted as a 'high-quality idol.' If you suddenly change your image, all your fans will feel deceived. So even if it's a mask, you must remember to wear it firmly on your face at all times."
"What if the public's psychology changes?" I rarely questioned him so directly. He took a drag of his cigarette, squinting as if caught off guard by my words. Sensing my rebellion, I pressed on, "Many people's perceptions can't keep up with societal changes, right?"
After a long pause, he uttered a single word.
"Yes." He took another drag of his cigarette. "So, for next year's Spring Festival Gala, we think you should give it a try."
"What are we trying?"
"To go on stage together with Ye xi. Actually, we've been observing, and this kind of hype has been a new trend in the past two years. You don't even have to go public for real, just appear on the show for a few shots. Ultimately, the decision-making power rests with you, and it won't affect anything. We can adjust our PR strategy based on public opinion, flexible to proceed or retreat," he said slowly, as if presenting a proposal for an advertisement.
I sat in the chair, the swivel chair stopping its sway, gripping the armrests tightly, unsure if I was feeling joy or nervousness. He stood up, patting my shoulder, extinguishing the ember of his cigarette, and slowly walked away with his back to me, closing the door to the recording studio.
Maybe going on stage with him, when I speak his name in front of everyone as if introducing to them, "he is my lover," that's what he wants, a public display of love. He must understand my feelings, accept me again, accept my proposal. Suddenly, I prayed in my heart—I haven't prayed for a long time, feeling I had forsaken God since being with Ye xi, evading prayer daily out of shame. But every time I thought it was over between Ye xi and me, some mysterious force brought us back together again. This storyline was like the ebb and flow of the tide, following some predetermined pattern of strength and weakness. If it wasn't for God, who brought me to meet Ye xi, who brought him to New York, and who pushed us into the public eye?
I prayed sincerely, "Our Father in heaven, bless us. I will never forsake You. Grant us Your glory and wisdom, bestow Your grace and blessings upon us. Smooth our path, shelter us until eternity. I pray earnestly, thanking the Almighty, Amen."
I continued to pray in my heart, these words turning from silent meditation to murmurs, accompanying me from New York to Taipei, and then to Beijing. Until I opened the door to his hotel, sharp light slipping through the crack, his fingers touching my face again. I knew this time, we would never part again.
"You can't run away this time," I said to him. "God is helping us."
"Didn't He abandon you?" he questioned.
"He led me to you; He won't abandon us."
I kissed him, the bedside light spreading like a thin veil behind him. With my blinking eyelids, he seemed like an angel fluttering his wings. All the divergent paths led to this moment of reuniting with him here. I had fallen into a promise, firmly believing that the future was now in our hands.
"If we could get married here, I would agree to it," he mumbled. His words, soft as silk, mingled with the light's veil. As my fingers traced down his spine, his voice flowed to the tip of my tongue, slipped into my stomach, and coursed through my veins, like a spell bringing a thunderclap. I began to tremble slightly.
"I heard they're planning on it," he continued softly, lingering on the last syllable as if lifting a hand from water at fifty degrees, the water soaking into the tiny creases of my exposed skin, detailed to the point of being inescapable.
I covered his mouth with mine. He fell into my soft embrace, like a fish returning to the sea, no longer speaking but becoming lively and relaxed. His skin turned translucent against the white sheets, like a snowflake melting into a snowy field. I held him tightly, fearing he might vanish. He smiled at me triumphantly, and I leaned over to look at him. His face was upturned, hair splayed out, his once full cheeks now hollow, the line of his jaw pulling a stray curl to his ear, like...
"You like it when I lick you," my nose touched his.
"What kind of lick? Like this?" he suddenly stuck out his tongue, gliding over my nose.
"I mean you like it when I hold you," I laughed, my nose moving away from his.
"What kind of lick? Like this?" He suddenly stuck out his tongue, gliding it over my nose.
"I mean you like it when I hold you." I laughed, my nose moving away from his.
"Or like this?" He suddenly grabbed me, mumbling something indistinct. His entire universe enveloped me, and my desire exploded at that moment.
"Stop teasing me, I can't take it." I pressed his head down.
He stopped, looking up at me.
"You're teasing me again." I stared at him as he looked at me innocently, like a little boy. "I mean stop talking about breaking up. We always get back together in the end."
With his back to me, I gently held him, starting to confide in him with the voice from my heart, telling him drop by drop that I loved him.
"Your...song, have you finished writing it?" He seemed to understand my confession, softly humming along with me.
"Yeah, like this." I gave him a firmer touch, letting him know it was almost time. Until we finished our final song, he relaxed and appeared vividly on the white sheets, like a relief sculpture on marble.
"'Dance of the Golden Snake' and 'Descendants of the Dragon,'" I sighed softly, then let out a small laugh.
"Why are you laughing like that?"
"You'll understand once you see the sheet music. It's quite different from what you used to play."
"No need to guess. It must be jazz."
"Haha, yes." I patted his head, his hair falling over his eyes. "Whatever it is, it's too easy for you."
"I used to say I never play pop songs," he pouted slightly.
"'Dance of the Golden Snake' isn't a pop song, it's folk music." I looked at the bedside lamp, tracing the fringe hanging from the lampshade with my finger.
"And 'Descendants of the Dragon'?"
"You just said you agreed to marry me," I looked into his eyes.
"Don't change the subject. You should sing 'Descendants of the Dragon' yourself."
"That was the first Chinese song I ever heard. It has a special meaning. It's as old as my chink out and as old as your debut."
"Wedding march?" His voice was so soft I could barely hear it.
"Hahaha, something like that. When you came to America, you were like the cloud of my homeland to me." I gently kissed the cloud. It turned pink, becoming heavier and heavier as raindrops gathered inside it, ready to fall.
"I'm very happy," he said, his voice getting softer and softer. "I'm also willing to play the piano for you."
As his voice faded into rhythmic breathing, I knew he was tired. I covered his bare shoulder with the blanket. In that moment, dreams and reality merged because we finally believed that day wasn't far off. The ending of our story was drawing closer and becoming clearer.