Chapter 18: P. Cherries and the Sea

“All the cherries are finished.”

Su Hui patted his pockets.

“I have more.” Ning Yixiao gave his share to him, handing over everything he had in his pockets.

“You don’t like them?” Su Hui tilted his head.

“Hmm,” Ning Yixiao replied. “Not particularly.”

“Alright, then let’s play Rock, Paper, Scissors one more time.” Su Hui raised his hand to his shoulder, already prepared. “I don’t believe I’ll lose again.”

Ning Yixiao had no choice but to play. Perhaps because he was still lingering in the fantasies of a moment ago, he was a bit distracted and ended up losing to Su Hui just as he had wished. Cloth beat scissors; Su Hui had finally secured a long-awaited victory through sheer persistence.

“Best two out of three, right?” Su Hui began to act shamelessly.

Ning Yixiao was almost amused to the point of laughing. “Alright, but I don’t have any ‘talents’ to perform.”

Su Hui gave him a look that suggested he was dealing with a liar. “That’s not very convincing.”

“I’m not lying,” Ning Yixiao said, pulling the medicinal wine he had just bought from his pocket and crouching down. “Pull up your pant leg; let me see what’s wrong with your knee.”

“Ning Yixiao, you are really good at changing the subject.” Su Hui pursed his lips and lowered his head, the brim of his hat casting a small shadow. His tone turned gentle. “Then tell me about something that left a deep impression on you.”

“Let me see your knee,” Ning Yixiao diverted again, his voice very soft. “You can’t even walk properly.”

Su Hui had no choice but to obey, bending down to roll up his trousers, revealing a bruised knee. Ning Yixiao didn’t ask what had happened; he just quietly and meticulously applied the medicinal wine with a cotton swab before saying, “The bruising is deep. Rubbing it will help the circulation and recovery.”

Su Hui nodded.

Ning Yixiao’s gentle fingers covered his injured knee, rubbing the wine in as lightly as he could, yet he still heard Su Hui stifle a small gasp.

“Does it hurt?”

“A little,” Su Hui admitted. “You… go a bit slower.”

Ning Yixiao lowered his head, his fingers pressing into the bruise, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Mm. Tell me if it hurts, and I’ll stop.”

The wind seemed to have stilled, and the humid air enveloped them both. Su Hui bit his lip, feeling hot. The scent of the medicine slowly rose, suppressing the smell of the sweet-and-sour cherries and stirring up a strange, cloying, sweet aroma.

Ning Yixiao felt as if he were stepping closer and closer to a dangerous critical point. The terrifying thing was that he was aware of it, and he was willing. Perhaps out of a desire to warn himself, or perhaps to make it clear to Su Hui just how vast the gap was between them.

“Su Hui, do you still want to hear it?”

Ning Yixiao spoke abruptly, leaving Su Hui slightly bewildered. “What?”

“The punishment from before.”

“Oh.” Su Hui realized. “Yes.” He reflexively shrank back as it was pressed a bit too painfully.

Ning Yixiao paused for a moment, then began. “I remember you said you like the sea. I grew up by the sea. But it probably wasn’t like what you imagine. It was a very dangerous sea; sometimes, when the men went out to sea, they wouldn’t come back.”

Su Hui’s thoughts wandered, as if he had suddenly been dragged by Ning Yixiao to the edge of a blue coast, the waves threatening to swallow him whole.

“Did your father go out to sea?” he asked curiously. “Have you ever gone?”

Ning Yixiao laughed—it was a laugh unlike any he had ever shown before: cold, bitter, and tasting of medicine and cherries.

He smiled and said, “There was only my mother and me at home, so I never went out to sea.”

In the few hours he had spent with Su Hui, a strange and pessimistic thought kept surfacing in Ning Yixiao’s mind—he didn’t know when, or if, he would ever see this person again. Perhaps urged by such emotions, he peeled himself open in a way he rarely did. It was a form of self-admonition: a reminder of where he came from and the heavy burdens he carried, which he could never forget simply because of a moment of fleeting happiness.

Ning Yixiao stood up, sat back down beside Su Hui, and said in a very flat tone, “I grew up in a fishing village. My mother gave birth to me there. Because I had no father, I was always bullied by the older kids. It was a very small, dilapidated fishing village—underdeveloped. Most people relied on the sea to survive. Fishing was the entire village’s greatest productivity, and those who could fish held the power. No one in my family had any say.”

His mother was frail and possessed a face too beautiful for her destiny; she couldn’t possibly survive on those fishing boats, enduring the erosion of the waves alongside men who would have stripped her bare. She could only rely on selling eggs and weaving fishing nets for a living.

“There was only one school in the village with no grade levels. Children of all ages were in primary school together, and I was among the youngest.”

Ning Yixiao looked at the students nearby who were still laughing and playing, his thoughts drifting far, far away, back to that bumpy, impoverished village.

“I remember it was around this season, maybe when I was eight. There was a boy in class five years older than me whom they called Dacheng. Dacheng’s uncle worked at a cherry orchard in the city; when he came back to visit the village, he brought a crate of cherries. Dacheng filled a net with them and brought them to class to share with everyone.”

For some reason, Su Hui seemed to have already guessed what would happen next. That imagination was incredibly vivid, as if he had experienced it himself, standing right beside little Ning Yixiao.

“He gave all the good, big ones to others and gave the rotten ones to me.”

Ning Yixiao spoke as calmly as if he were telling a fictional story. “Of course I didn’t want to eat them. It was very hot that day, and the smell of the rotting cherries was unbearable. But they forced me. Two of them grabbed me and pressed me against a red brick wall, while another tied my flailing legs with a fishing net. Dacheng stuffed those rotten cherries into my mouth one by one, forcing me to eat them.”

“I threw up at the time, so they went to the teacher to complain, saying I was wasting food.” Ning Yixiao chuckled lightly. “No matter how I explained it, the teacher believed them and made me stand in the scorching sun for two hours. Later, I got heatstroke, and my mom had to carry me home on her back.”

Ning Yixiao lowered his eyes. “I still can’t forget that rotting smell to this day. One taste is enough to bring it all back.”

After finishing, he asked Su Hui, “Does that count as a memorable event?”

Su Hui stared blankly at him, saying nothing. The night was like water. Ning Yixiao saw Su Hui’s eyes reddening and filling with moisture, and he couldn’t help but smile. He subconsciously reached out, wanting to touch the tip of Su Hui’s nose, but suddenly realized the impropriety and simply gestured instead. “Why are you looking like you’re about to cry?”

Su Hui shook his head. His hands felt around his person, and finally, he found his cigarette case and held it out. “Do you want to smoke?”

Ning Yixiao found him interesting. He said to him, “Su Hui, I’m not sad.”

“You are.” Su Hui stared into his eyes. “You’re sad right now.”

Ning Yixiao couldn’t maintain eye contact. A few seconds later, he surrendered, looking down to take the cigarettes from Su Hui’s hand, his eyes fixed on the blue-green glow of the black cigarette box. “Is that so?”

“Ning Yixiao, you don’t have to pretend.”

Su Hui’s voice seemed to have some kind of spell. He was like the sweetest trap in the world. Even though Ning Yixiao had received countless warnings, even though he knew they were not from the same world, he was still irresistibly bewitched.

“Pretend what?” Ning Yixiao flipped the cigarette case up; it fell back into his hand.

Flip—

“You clearly don’t like to smile, yet you smile every day.”

Drop.

In the warm breeze, Su Hui’s voice was soft, yet stubborn.

“You clearly hate your current life, yet you still put on a face of enthusiastic acceptance.”

Flip—

“You don’t actually like having power in a crowd, you don’t like having so many people around you, you don’t like sucking up to teachers, you don’t like working so hard…”

Drop back.

Ning Yixiao gripped the cigarette case tightly.

He didn’t smile. He took out a cigarette, lit it with a lighter, took a drag, exhaled, then turned his head to look at Su Hui, his tone lazy. “Then tell me, what do I like?”

Su Hui paused. That beautiful face was radiant under the streetlights, surrounded by smoke.

“You’re actually very cold and detached. You probably don’t like anything.”

He also pulled out a cigarette and asked for the lighter, but was refused. Ning Yixiao held the lighter far away, though his face remained turned toward him.

Su Hui didn’t reach for it; he just held the cigarette between his lips, bit the menthol capsule, the spicy mint hitting his brain. He leaned in, his voice soft. “Stingy.”

The long, thin, white cigarette touched Ning Yixiao’s burning ember like a surrogate kiss. The transferred fire, the permeated mint, the ambiguous breath—all were rolled into Su Hui’s lungs.

After separating, he asked Ning Yixiao, “Why were you willing to tell me your story?”

Ning Yixiao stared at Su Hui’s expensive sneakers and his expensive cigarette case through the gray smoke. He gave a vague answer: “Because I lost.”

Having had his cold, detached core pierced, that ambiguous night ended in a way that felt almost like a falling out.

After finishing their cigarettes, the two returned quietly to the bonfire party without a bonfire, participating in social interactions they didn’t care about. Su Hui continued to talk to the male classmate, laughing heartily from time to time, while Ning Yixiao continued to pretend he didn’t care.

However, in the days that followed, things turned out differently than Ning Yixiao had imagined. Su Hui didn’t vanish because of his coldness; on the contrary, he appeared every single day. Whenever Ning Yixiao returned to school from his internship, he would find Su Hui at the study room or the lab.

What surprised him even more was that Su Hui brought him a different cherry dessert every day: cherry almond tarts, cherry cake, cherry cream puffs, cherry brandy pound cake, or cherry chocolate parfaits.

A week later, Ning Yixiao saw Su Hui again. He was holding an exquisite dessert box, humming a tune, waiting for him under the trees on Lover’s Slope.

It was a beautiful evening, and the sky filled with fiery clouds reflected off the large, empty lawn. On the lawn, a pair of newlyweds were taking wedding photos. They wore purple graduation gowns, and the girl wore a white veil, holding a small bouquet of lilies of the valley. Perhaps because they were so happy, they made Su Hui, not far away, seem all the more solitary and pitiful.

After they met, Su Hui asked him where he wanted to eat. Ning Yixiao was too tired and suggested they just sit on the lawn, so they ate dessert while watching the newlywed couple.

Ning Yixiao took a bite and felt his skills had improved; it wasn’t like the beginning, where there were still crushed eggshells in the cake.

“They’re so cute not wearing wedding dresses or suits.” Su Hui leaned against a tree, smiling.

“Want to get married?” Ning Yixiao teased him.

Su Hui laughed, and after laughing, he said very seriously, “I probably won’t get married.”

“Why?” Ning Yixiao asked.

On the lawn, the photographer finished a shoot and told the newlyweds, “Happy wedding!” The bride smiled shyly.

Su Hui watched, his eyes frank. “Because no one could stand being with me forever.”

Ning Yixiao put down his box, wanting to say something, but Su Hui spoke first.

“But watching others get married feels so satisfying. Weddings, too. When the newlyweds take their vows at a wedding, that must be their happiest moment. It’s a pity—I haven’t even attended one wedding. If only I weren’t sick.”

Ning Yixiao watched Su Hui, seeing him stare earnestly at the newlyweds. He looked relaxed and happy, yet somehow fragile.

“What about you?” Su Hui suddenly asked. “What kind of wedding do you like?”

Ning Yixiao didn’t show much expression and answered concisely, “I don’t like weddings, and I don’t like marriage.”

Having said that, he habitually changed the subject. “Why make so many desserts?”

“You don’t like them?”

Su Hui looked at him, his usually gentle tone laced with a tiny bit of complaint. “I learned to make these by following a master pastry chef’s tutorial videos. Making desserts is so hard; it takes so long that I don’t even get enough sleep at night.”

This time, Ning Yixiao wasn’t misled by his diversion and asked again, “Why bring them to me every day? Could it be you’re planning to open a dessert shop and want me to be your taste tester?”

Su Hui shook his head, borrowed his spoon, and took a bite of the melting parfait. “Ning Yixiao, do you think it tastes good?”

Ning Yixiao nodded.

“That’s good.” Su Hui put down the spoon, leaned languidly against the tree, his smile faint and sweet. “I want you to think of cherries as a delicious taste from now on.”

Ning Yixiao froze, his heart feeling as if it had stopped. The red sunlight, about to sink, illuminated Su Hui’s full cheeks, making them translucent like a happy peach.

“But I also know that human memories aren’t so easily changed.”

Su Hui’s voice was very light, just like how he spoke when stroking a stray dog. “I’ve been thinking these past few days: if I had grown up with you, living in that village by the sea, then we would be very, very similar. Because I also don’t have a father who can take me out to sea, and I don’t even have a healthy body. They might prefer bullying me even more, tying me up, too. If that were really the case…”

As he spoke, he laughed, innocent and carefree.

“Ning Yixiao, I would eat the rotten cherries with you.”