E ⋆ Chapter 8

“Why don’t you come back to school with me today? A few of us single colleagues are having a movie night in the dorm,” Zhao Sibei said lightly to Yang Ke as he drove on the afternoon of August 30th.

He drove out through the iron gate at the end of the tree-lined road, leaving the deep mansion and its courtyards behind. He pressed a button to open the car’s sunroof, letting a gentle wind pour into the interior, creating a noisy but not unpleasant sound for Yang Ke. From the corner of his eye, Yang Ke caught sight of Zhao Sibei’s white short-sleeved shirt fluttering in the breeze.

“What movie?” Yang Ke asked.

“Rear Window,” Zhao Sibei said, then asked Yang Ke, “Want to watch?”

Yang Ke said yes.

Zhao Sibei was Yang Ke’s biological father.

As far as Yang Ke knew, not long after he was born, his mother had passed away for unspecified reasons. Yang Zhongyun had used his most favored underhanded tactics to obtain custody of Yang Ke, and then immediately asked Zhao Sibei to leave the house, granting him only a two-day visitation window once a month on the last weekend of each month.

Zhao Sibei had originally held a teaching position in sociology at Ning University, the youngest associate professor there. After his wife’s death, under Yang Zhongyun’s interference, he was forced to leave Ning City and accept an offer from a key university in the provincial capital of the neighboring province.

But every month, rain or shine, he would drive hundreds of kilometers to visit Yang Ke in Ning City, just as he did today.

The visitation time was too short to go anywhere far. He took Yang Ke on short trips nearby, visited various museums, and had returned to his home in New City many times. His house was located within the university, an older dorm assigned by the school. The space wasn’t large, but it was arranged neatly and warmly.

He had not remarried. He kept a wedding photo of himself and Yang Ke’s mother, Yang Nian, in the house, but rarely spoke of her to Yang Ke.

Sometimes when Yang Ke spoke, Zhao Sibei would say that Yang Ke reminded him of Yang Ke’s mother, and only then would he reveal some things from the past.

Mostly about when they were dating.

Zhao Sibei said Yang Ke’s mother would sneak out of her house on weekends to see him, waiting for him to finish his part-time work, and would fall asleep reading his professional books. She studied market management at Ning University, two years his junior, with grades that weren’t very good, constantly on the edge of failing every subject. She didn’t like to talk much but loved to sleep.

Once, Zhao Sibei told Yang Ke that they hadn’t originally planned to have children. Yang Ke was an accident. At first they didn’t want to keep him, but when they got to the hospital, Yang Nian changed her mind.

This origin story made Yang Ke feel somewhat unwelcome, but Zhao Sibei was different from Yang Ke in that regard. He was considerate and willing to express his emotions. He told Yang Ke: “It’s just a small episode. Your mother loved you very much.”

When staying with Zhao Sibei, on nights when he wasn’t at home, Yang Ke would sometimes think before sleep about leaving Yang Zhongyun to live on his own after turning eighteen.

Planning to live alone, or perhaps getting closer to his father, that sort of thing. But it was only idle thinking.

“Anything new lately?”

Entering the highway toward New City, the sunset at the horizon had nearly disappeared, the sky growing dim. Zhao Sibei played an old album he liked and casually asked Yang Ke: “I think I saw a boy I haven’t seen before earlier, standing by the stairs.”

“Yes,” Yang Ke told his father. “A poor student from a mountainous area that he’s sponsoring. His name is Yu Zhinian.”

“Your grandfather? Sponsoring poor students?” Zhao Sibei’s tone was surprised, probably feeling the same confusion as Yang Ke about why Yang Zhongyun had suddenly had a change of heart and become a genuine philanthropist. “Is he an excellent student? Does he live in the house?”

“Well, he doesn’t seem to be an excellent student either.” Thinking of Yu Zhinian’s dark circles under his eyes and the accent he occasionally heard when Yu Zhinian was mumbling vocabulary words, Yang Ke assessed.

“How old is he?” Zhao Sibei thought for a moment, then asked, “He looks very young.”

“Same year as me,” Yang Ke paused for a moment, then briefly told his father about the time Yu Zhinian had received the red envelope, and about how recently Yang Zhongyun had been calling Yu Zhinian into his study every evening to keep him company.

For some reason, Zhao Sibei fell silent for a long time, and then, as if carefully considering his words, said: “Yang Ke, pay more attention to this new boy. Find out what he and your grandfather do together.”

“He just sits there reading,” Yang Ke said immediately. “Nothing else.”

The reason he knew this so clearly was because Yu Zhinian messaged him every day, complaining about his boredom, what homework he had done that evening, what books he was reading, how many hours he had been sitting, and about being woken up by Yang Zhongyun after falling asleep. It made Yang Ke feel that Yu Zhinian not only studied poorly but talked a lot and was drowsy all the time.

On the drive to New City, Zhao Sibei kept asking questions about Yu Zhinian, but Yang Ke didn’t care about or know much about Yu Zhinian. He only knew his family was very poor, and beyond that he couldn’t answer much.

The movie night was held at Professor Lin’s house. After Zhao Sibei arrived with Yang Ke, the screen began playing the film. Not long after, Yang Ke received a new message from Yu Zhinian, saying that Grandfather still hadn’t come home tonight, so perhaps he didn’t need to keep him company reading. He asked where Yang Ke was and whether he could borrow the swimming pool to practice.

He sent several messages, saying that he had chosen swimming for his PE class in the new semester, but he had never learned.

Yang Ke replied “out” during a break in the movie, allowed Yu Zhinian to use the pool, and told him he wouldn’t be back tonight.

Yu Zhinian asked again where Yang Ke had gone. Yang Ke read the message but didn’t reply.

On the second day in New City, Zhao Sibei took Yang Ke and his colleagues to drive out to a camping site for an overnight trip.

Zhao Sibei’s colleague Professor Xu had two sons, one eight and one ten. Yang Ke set up the camping tent, and the two boys crowded around to watch. But they seemed a bit afraid of Yang Ke, so they didn’t say much.

In the evening, they brought out chairs and mosquito-repellent lamps and sat in the darkness of the camping site, chatting and looking at the stars.

The two boys fell asleep as they watched. Professor Xu’s back wasn’t very good, so Yang Ke carried the children into the tent for him. Professor Xu praised Yang Ke to Zhao Sibei, commending his calm temperament and good upbringing, saying he was completely different from some of the fifteen or sixteen-year-old students at the private school where he went to give lectures.

The weekend passed quickly. On Sunday afternoon, Zhao Sibei drove Yang Ke back home.

Strangely enough, the sun had been bright on Saturday, but Sunday was a humid, overcast day with low atmospheric pressure. The greenery around the mansion was lush and well-maintained, but the leaves weren’t fully unfurled.

Yang Ke got out of the car and was about to go inside when he suddenly noticed all the lights in the swimming pool were on, as if someone was using it. He walked over to look. He passed through the corridor, pushed open the door to the pool, and saw Yu Zhinian thrashing about in the water while the coach on the shore directed him on his breathing technique.

Yu Zhinian’s balance was mediocre, his arms flailing in the water. Seeing Yang Ke come in, he stopped practicing and lifted his head, calling out to Yang Ke: “You’re back.”

Yang Ke made a sound of acknowledgment and walked closer. Yu Zhinian’s face was wet, his eyes wide as he looked at Yang Ke. The dark circles under his eyes from all the tutoring were still quite pronounced. He asked with what seemed like a hint of envy: “Where did you go? You didn’t reply to any messages.”

When staying with his father, there was always much to do and life was full, so Yang Ke had barely looked at his phone. He didn’t answer Yu Zhinian’s question but asked him instead: “How’s your learning going?”

“It’s a bit difficult,” Yu Zhinian moved closer to the pool’s edge, gripping the ladder with his hands and wiping his face. “A bit tiring.”

The coach behind him sighed, looking somewhat helpless, and said to Yang Ke: “It’s been a long time since I’ve taught someone with zero foundation.”

Yang Ke found it amusing and asked Yu Zhinian: “You’ve never swum before?”

“No,” Yu Zhinian said somewhat pitifully, then added, “When will I be able to swim as well as you?”

“How long does it take to build muscle?” He started asking strange questions.

Yang Ke said nothing. The coach laughed first: “Learn your breathing technique first.”

Yu Zhinian made a bitter face and said “okay,” then sank a little deeper into the water.

His skin was already very pale, even paler where the sun couldn’t reach. His upper body, which showed no signs of exercise, was half in the air and half underwater. The pool water’s ripples wrapped around his arms and swayed, like shaking a jar of cream about to melt.

“Yang Ke,” he called Yang Ke’s name, seeming reluctant to continue learning and so trying hard to find a topic. “How old were you when you started swimming?”

Yang Ke said “I forgot.”

He had only come to the pool to take a look and was too lazy to chat further with Yu Zhinian. He was about to leave when Secretary Xu of Yang Zhongyun’s pushed the door open and hurried in, saying urgently to Yu Zhinian: “Zhinian, Chairman Yang is back from his business trip.”

Seeing Yang Ke, Secretary Xu paused slightly, then smiled: “Young Master, you’re back so early this time? Would you like to practice?”

Yang Ke didn’t respond to him, glanced at Yu Zhinian, and asked Secretary Xu: “Is Grandfather looking for him?”

“Yes.” Secretary Xu acknowledged but didn’t say more.

Yu Zhinian obediently climbed out of the water, took the large towel the coach handed him, wrapped himself up, said “I’ll go change, I’ll be right there,” and ran toward the changing room.

Yang Ke watched his figure disappear behind the door, then casually asked Secretary Xu: “What does Grandfather want with him?”

Secretary Xu perhaps hadn’t expected Yang Ke to ask. He paused, as if weighing the pros and cons, and finally answered: “I’m not entirely clear on the specifics either, but it’s probably something to do with Zhinian’s studies.”

Yang Ke didn’t ask further and left the swimming pool.

When he reached his room door, he received a message from Yu Zhinian, a crying face emoji, saying: “I just came out, did you leave?”

Yang Ke said yes and asked what he was being called for. After a little while, Yu Zhinian replied: “I think he wants me to go keep Grandfather company while he works.”

After returning to his room, Yang Ke put down his luggage. For some reason, he decided to walk to the balcony and look outside.

His room was farther from the connecting corridor. About half a minute later, he saw two small figures hurrying out of the swimming pool. The one behind was probably Yu Zhinian, looking rushed and at a loss.

Yang Ke could picture Yu Zhinian’s slightly panicked expression as he jogged along, and a moment later, his trembling, nervous demeanor facing Yang Zhongyun.

Trusting Yang Zhongyun and accepting his favors came at a price. What price Yu Zhinian would pay was unknown, but he had in all likelihood made the wrong choice.

Yang Ke recalled the Shih Tzu that Yang Zhongyun had kept, the different lovers he had brought home, the subordinates who bowed and scraped. Recalling such people and things, those who had briefly entered this mansion and then left permanently, he thought this way.

Based on past experience, Yang Ke believed that to Yang Zhongyun, Yu Zhinian was perhaps more like a pet dog than a lover. Because Yang Zhongyun cherished his pet dog dearly but didn’t show his lovers the same respect. But Yang Zhongyun had a strange temperament and never played by the rules, so Yang Ke was unwilling to make any definitive judgment.

It was just that whenever he opened his phone and saw the many messages Yu Zhinian had sent him, whenever he encountered Yu Zhinian’s hurried manner of being summoned here and there by Secretary Xu, beyond cold observation, Yang Ke still felt a few seconds of something resembling pity.