Chapter 9

On their wedding day, both of them overslept.

The night before, they had walked all the way to the seaside, sitting on a bench, talking intimately until even the moon seemed to yawn.

Their conversation flowed freely and without restraint. Liang Yuanxing recounted his time singing at a bar, how he would help the bartender wash glasses when busy, and casually overhear gossip at the counter.

The bar counter was an intriguing place, where bartenders and patrons unconsciously slipped into roles at certain moments—like a weary, world-weary bartender in a roadside saloon in the American West, his eyes dull and tired, while customers took turns recounting the same story from different angles.

The topics patrons confided in had evolved with time. Few these days asked the bartender, “What is love?” Instead, the question had shifted to, “What is life?”

The bartender would respond coldly, “That comes at an extra charge.”

Sometimes, when customers were truly drunk and insisted on paying to hear the meaning of life, the bartender would calmly pull out a tablet and play a paid online lecture by some philosophy professor.

Last night, Duan Qingshen felt as if he were drunk himself.

He didn’t drink alcohol, but that light, unburdened feeling—where anything could be talked about and it was all permitted—felt like intoxication.

“Which floor?” Liang Yuanxing pressed the elevator’s up button twice, then pressed it once more.

“Uh…” Duan Qingshen fumbled for his phone, checking their messages. “Fourth floor.”

“Let’s take the stairs,” Liang Yuanxing said decisively, grabbing his wrist.

It was last night that Liang Yuanxing finally understood what Duan Qingshen had been hesitating about—though he had already resigned, the hardest decision made, he still faltered, stepping forward only to hesitate again.

“This hall?” Liang Yuanxing asked.

“The whole floor,” Duan Qingshen replied, clutching his phone as he searched for the gift table.

“That one!” Liang Yuanxing spotted it.

The entire fourth floor of the hotel was decorated in bright red, making the gift table, also covered in red cloth, blend into the backdrop. Only when they approached did they realize it was the bride’s family’s gift table. The other side smiled and pointed across: “Groom’s family’s gifts are over there.”

Hand in hand, they hurried into the hall just as the master of ceremonies was about to habitually announce, “Let’s welcome the newlyweds!”

Thankfully, the MC caught himself in time.

Duan Qingshen scanned the room; it was dim, with the lights focused on the stage. He was a little nervous—many eyes were on him… on them. Duan Qingshen disliked this feeling intensely.

But the scene was not as he expected. People glanced once, realized they weren’t the bride and groom, and promptly turned back to their conversations.

“Here!” He Wenbing spotted them and waved.

The tables in the hall were arranged densely, partly because a beautiful floral display for the bride took up space in the center. Many chairs were placed back to back, requiring someone to stand to let others pass.

Duan Qingshen led the way, still holding Liang Yuanxing’s hand tightly, as their table was in the darkest corner.

Twice, Duan Qingshen turned back to remind him to watch his injured foot.

“You two can come back after the hot dishes arrive,” He Wenbing joked.

“Sorry, sorry,” Liang Yuanxing shifted his chair forward, “We stayed up too late last night.”

The table was filled with high school classmates, and Duan Qingshen introduced them one by one as they exchanged greetings. He Wenbing, one of the groomsmen, adjusted the flower pinned to his suit and asked, “I have to leave right after dinner. What about you guys?”

Duan Qingshen and Liang Yuanxing exchanged a glance, which made He Wenbing laugh awkwardly and ask, “Do you guys need a secret signal now?”

It wasn’t a secret signal—they didn’t even know why they looked at each other then. Duan Qingshen cleared his throat and said, “No, we’re about the same—after dinner, we’ll just buy a few things in the city and then leave.”

“Where are you going?” asked Li Zhihan, their former class president.

As he asked, suddenly music blared through the hall—apparently the wedding company didn’t set the volume right the first time, even the staff who often worked weddings were startled.

“Whoa, damn!” He Wenbing jolted, clutching his chest. “It’s okay, it’s okay.”

After calming himself, he looked around at everyone. The room was dim and bathed in soft light. On his right was Duan Qingshen, and to Duan’s right, Liang Yuanxing.

Fortunately, the wedding staff quickly turned down the volume. Liang Yuanxing then slowly released Duan Qingshen’s wrist—just moments ago, Duan Qingshen had been about to take out his phone or something, his left hand hanging down, when Liang Yuanxing, startled, grabbed it tightly.

He must have squeezed painfully—Liang Yuanxing was strong, especially his grip. His piano teacher had once praised how perfectly he delivered accented notes.

“…” Liang Yuanxing looked at Duan Qingshen. “Does it hurt, brother?”

“Somewhat,” Duan Qingshen replied. “We should’ve waited for the hot dishes before coming.”

Liang Yuanxing chuckled twice, then bent down again to reach his ankle. Duan Qingshen grabbed his hand and sternly said, “Don’t scratch.”

“I’m itchy.”

“I know. Wounds itch, just bear with it.”

“No, I got bitten by a mosquito.”

Though the music was quieter, they still had to speak closely to hear each other. From He Wenbing’s point of view… the scare was only momentary—so why were their heads still so close?

Duan Qingshen looked at him with suspicion.

Liang Yuanxing said, “I really was bitten. I’m puzzled—don’t mosquitoes in Shandong fear the cold? It’s this time of year and they’re still out biting people.”

A spotlight shone on the entrance as a server opened the door. Jiang Yu appeared in a beautiful wedding gown. Everyone applauded and cheered enthusiastically, while the MC read out a string of fresh compliments.

“Hey, hey,” He Wenbing patted Duan Qingshen on the shoulder. “Feeling better now? The newlyweds are entering—give our brother Zeng a glance, will you?”

Jiang Yu lifted her gown and stepped onto the stage. Then the spotlight moved back to the door for the groom’s entrance.

Last night, Duan Qingshen told Liang Yuanxing that Zeng Xiaoyang was his best friend from high school. His parents divorced because his father had an affair. At that time, Duan had followed his mother back to his grandparents' home in Shandong. His mother was in very poor condition then, which affected Duan deeply, leaving him despondent.

Zeng Xiaoyang was outgoing and cheerful and had brought Duan into their group of brothers—those sitting at the same table today.

When Duan reached this point last night, Liang Yuanxing was not surprised. Perhaps it was because he sensed Duan’s life carried stories, or maybe because of the earlier remark, “We’re quite similar.” Regardless, Liang Yuanxing listened quietly, a rare moment of attentiveness.

Until Duan Qingshen turned the question back to him: “What about you?”

The bench was not far from the beach park, the night wind carrying a salty scent.

Liang Yuanxing told him his mother was a pianist. On the way to a performance, it rained; an overloaded truck skidded and crashed into them, killing his parents. He was very young then, barely able to remember.

His aunt raised him with the conviction, “I must raise this child well for my sister,” nurturing him according to his mother’s preferences and ambitions.

On that bench by the sea, he told Duan Qingshen that’s why his sister didn’t pursue piano, but he was determined to learn—not because his aunt forced him, but because he had heard so many similar words since childhood.

“You must be like your mother.”

“You inherited your mother’s excellent musical genes.”

Not only at home. His mother’s former classmates, teachers, and orchestra colleagues were willing to guide him and even give lessons for free.

Family and friends cared for him deeply, and he understood this. His aunt and uncle tirelessly took him to lessons; his uncle’s family, though not very attentive, sent him money occasionally.

As Liang Yuanxing spoke, he sighed after nearly every sentence.

“So your family was very unhappy with your singing at the bar,” Duan Qingshen said.

“Very unhappy,” Liang Yuanxing said, head lowered. “Because… right after graduation, I was confused and just wanted to work at the bar, but my family exploded. They said sadly: ‘How could you sing in such a place? What would your mother think?’”

“I…” Liang Yuanxing sighed again. “I talked back, shouting at them: ‘Who exactly gave you dreams about her? Why didn’t you come to me all these years when there were problems?’”

He wasn’t sure if it was good or bad, but in any case, he had come this far.

Duan Qingshen had no answer for whether that was good or bad.

Afterwards, they sat quietly, the salty night wind blowing, silence stretching between them.

“So you’re being pushed along too,” Duan Qingshen said after a long pause.

“Yeah, I guess so,” Liang Yuanxing replied.

Then he squinted and asked, “Has the wind here always been this strong?”

Duan Qingshen thought for a moment. “Yes.”

The lights in the banquet hall finally brightened as the parents of the bride and groom took the stage to thank the guests. Meanwhile, servers began bringing cold dishes.

“Come on, pour the wine!” Li Zhihan shouted. “Today is old Zeng’s big day! No one can leave this hall straight under my watch!”

“That’s what you say,” Wang Hui laughed. “Looks like the class president wants to get all of us at this table drunk.”

“Go!” Li Zhihan rolled his eyes and asked Liang Yuanxing, “Can you drink, Xiao Liang?”

Xiao Liang shook his head quickly. “I won’t drink, can’t drink and drive. Sorry, Brother Li.”

Xiao Liang was young, but the man beside him was older.

The older man tried to dodge, “I have to drive today.”

“What car!”

“He really can’t.”

He Wenbing spoke up for him, but didn’t make excuses like saying he had something to do today.

He said, “He resigned.”

The table fell silent for a moment.

Except for He Wenbing, Liang Yuanxing, and the one who resigned, everyone was clearly stunned. Someone said with a rising tone, “What the hell?” Then Li Zhihan cautiously asked, “Did your dad beat your legs… Wait, so you’re on the run now?”

“Sort of,” Duan Qingshen nodded.

“Where are you running to?” Li Zhihan asked.

Duan Qingshen smiled, patted Liang Yuanxing’s shoulder, and said, “Let’s see where Yuanxing takes me.”

“We’re…” Yuanxing thought for a moment, “We’re running far away for now.”

“You have to run far!” Li Zhihan agreed seriously, looking at Liang Yuanxing. “His dad… I always speak harshly, but his dad really is too controlling.”

Duan Qingshen grinned. “Nothing harsh about it, it’s the truth.”

He had said as much last night by the sea. When Liang Yuanxing asked bluntly, “Why do you have the courage to quit, but not to keep moving forward?”

Duan Qingshen answered, “My father always leaves me a ‘turnaround buffer zone.’”

“After I make a mistake, he doesn’t punish me right away. Instead, he gives me time to acknowledge it. As long as I turn back within that time, I’m safe, and he won’t hold a grudge. Maybe this time is the same—he didn’t lash out immediately but waited for me to reflect and return.”

Liang Yuanxing found this confusing. “No, Brother Shen, quitting might not be seen as a good thing in traditional views, but it’s not necessarily absolutely bad.”

“Yuanxing?” Duan Qingshen called again.

He came back to himself. “Huh?”

“You’re moving towards me…” Before he finished, a waiter arrived carrying a bubbling small clay pot. The hall was crowded, the music continuous.

He wanted to remind Liang Yuanxing to make room for the dishes, but Liang Yuanxing was lost in thought.

So he had to grab the leg of Liang Yuanxing’s chair and pull both him and the chair close beside him.