Chapter 34: N. Wandering Threads of Dreams

Su Hui carefully read through Xue Gao’s electronic identification. It had been issued a year ago, meaning the dog had become a certified therapy dog as soon as he reached adulthood—a full year of service to date.

Xue Gao let out a soft whine, pushing his chest forward and nudging his nose under Su Hui’s palm, signaling for a pet.

But Su Hui was already lost in thought. He stood up and went back upstairs—entering, for the first time, the room Kofi had mentioned: the one Ning Yixiao used to occupy.

It was the largest master bedroom, connected to a vast, hollow study that looked more like an office; this was where Ning Yixiao worked whenever he was in New York. Su Hui entered with a sense of trepidation. The room contained almost no personal items, looking brand new, devoid of any trace of Ning Yixiao.

He walked through the bedroom without stopping and entered the master bathroom.

On the vanity, he found the very thing he had feared to find.

Xue Gao had followed him upstairs, and upon finding Su Hui holding a bottle of hand sanitizer, he let out a few barks. Su Hui looked down, catching the anxiety in the dog’s moist eyes and the rapid wagging of his tail.

He set the hand sanitizer down and knelt, opening the cabinet beneath the sink. Sure enough, inside sat a neat, orderly row of unopened bottles of sanitizer.

These were the items in the entire house that most clearly represented Ning Yixiao’s existence.

Su Hui sat on the bathroom floor, facing the cabinet of sanitizer, and thought of the Ning Yixiao of the past. When they first met, Su Hui had known about his germophobia. He had once used that as an excuse to refuse Ning Yixiao’s request to stay over, but in the end, his heart softened, and he relented.

Later, he realized it wasn’t as simple as just being clean. Ning Yixiao would sometimes suddenly feel that his hands were filthy, washing them repeatedly. In severe cases, he would uncontrollably count things in his mind, like steps or streetlights he passed.

Su Hui was the first person to tell him he wanted to take him to see a doctor.

It is always difficult for people to face the fact that they have a mental health disorder. From his youth until he fell in love with Ning Yixiao, Su Hui had never learned to accept it with ease, and the strong-willed Ning Yixiao was no different.

Su Hui had secretly booked an appointment with his own previous therapist, bringing Ning Yixiao along under the guise of needing to pick up his own medication. At first, Ning Yixiao was confused and even angry, but he had no choice but to walk into that consultation room as scheduled.

The weather that day was abysmal, heavy with overcast clouds. Su Hui sat alone in the hallway waiting for him, learning for the first time how to be a capable family member, asking the doctor about his condition.

By roughly the third session, the doctor concluded that the source of Ning Yixiao’s OCD was most likely rooted in childhood experiences.

Often, after their sessions, Su Hui would take Ning Yixiao’s hand, sit on a bench outside the hospital, and eat ice cream with him, telling him stories about the strange things he’d encountered when he sought treatment in his youth—some funny, some heartwarming—anything to cheer him up.

That was, of course, assuming Su Hui was in a stable period or being governed by the light mania of happiness.

But there were times when Su Hui was swallowed by waves of major depression, which had an even worse impact on Ning Yixiao. Su Hui knew this clearly and always wanted to give up. It was a terrible feeling, like a horrifying cycle: when manic, he felt like the best person in the world, the one most worthy of Ning Yixiao; but the moment the depressive phase hit, his self-confidence was shattered, and no matter how he looked at it, he was nothing but a burden. It was a repetitive loop.

Because of this, Su Hui always felt that only healthy people were qualified to talk about love. He was terrified of being the anchor tied to Ning Yixiao’s ankle, dragging him down into the sea he hated so much.

Fortunately, six years ago, his manic phases far outnumbered the depressive ones. In the six months they spent together, Ning Yixiao’s OCD had shown visible improvement.

Su Hui had always believed he was getting better, that he would be fine—unlike himself, who might remain submerged in a chaotic, turbulent life forever.

But as it turned out, Ning Yixiao had perhaps not been healed after all.

Xue Gao was his therapy dog.

Su Hui could not stop himself from guessing that the reason for all this was him. Because he was temperamental and had suddenly disappeared without a trace, Ning Yixiao had been angry and sad.

Subconsciously, he pulled out his phone, found that number, and wanted to dial it—to call Ning Yixiao, to verify if his illness had truly returned, to tell him so much, to comfort him.

But it all seemed useless.

Su Hui quickly regained his senses, stopping this misguided impulse.

They were no longer in the relationship they once had. Now, there was someone new by Ning Yixiao’s side. Six years was too long; he knew nothing of what had happened during that time, and the displacement between them might never be reconciled.

He had long since lost the qualification to be concerned.

Trapped in his emotions, Su Hui became an old towel soaked in water, massive and heavy, unable to stand up on his own.

Beside him, Xue Gao sensed something. Again, he forced his way into Su Hui’s arms, nudging his arms with his head, letting out puppy-like whimpers, or perhaps guidingly biting at his clothes, trying to pull Su Hui up.

With Xue Gao’s help, Su Hui finally steadied himself against the cabinet and stood up, walking slowly out of the master bedroom.

Xue Gao guided him, leading him downstairs, turning back with almost every step to confirm that Su Hui was safe. Once they reached the ground floor, Xue Gao dashed off, returning from somewhere with a small frisbee in his mouth, running up to Su Hui as if dying for him to play.

Su Hui was feeling incredibly low, but he took the frisbee from Xue Gao’s mouth and threw it toward the sofa.

Xue Gao was smart; he raced to catch it, then pounced back, burrowing into Su Hui’s arms.

Su Hui stroked his back and patted him gently. “Xue Gao, did you coax your owner like this before, too?”

Xue Gao let out a “woof,” as if he truly understood, puffing out his chest with an air of immense pride.

Su Hui gazed at him, stroking his ears. “Is your owner very difficult to coax? Whenever he’s sad, he just throws himself into studying and work, or cleaning things up, and has no time to play with you, right?”

Xue Gao whined and leaned closer, resting in Su Hui’s arms.

Su Hui leaned against him too, closing his eyes. “He was like that before. Maybe it’s different now; I don’t know anymore.”

Xue Gao rubbed against him, and the feeling of being filled by this warmth allowed Su Hui to calm down slightly, gaining a shred of security.

“He must be very good to you.” Su Hui leaned on Xue Gao. “He is a very gentle person.”

He didn’t know what he was saying; it was illogical, as if speaking to Xue Gao, yet more like talking to himself. But unlike before, with Xue Gao here, these meaningless emotions and words seemed to have found a new outlet. The dog was like a warm hollow tree—even if Su Hui said dangerous things to him, they would be contained, never to be spread or judged.

After a long while, Xue Gao grew hungry. Su Hui stood up to pour him a dish of dog food and boiled some chicken breast, crouching quietly to watch him finish.

With Xue Gao’s companionship, Su Hui gradually adapted to the empty, massive house. His state of mind improved significantly; he was no longer as taciturn with Kofi and Mark as he had been at the beginning, occasionally managing to speak a few more sentences.

Every day at 8:00 AM and 7:00 PM, Xue Gao would wait at the entryway, his goal to remind Su Hui to take him out. At first, Su Hui still found it difficult, but for Xue Gao’s sake, he persisted every day.

It was also because of him that Su Hui could successfully leave the house to visit his grandmother at the hospital independently, without needing others to accompany him.

Grandmother was recovering well. The caretaker Ning Yixiao had hired was professional and kind; whenever Su Hui arrived, she was either massaging his grandmother or chatting with her.

Su Hui could clearly feel that the chaotic, crumbling life he’d lived a dozen days ago was slowly being restored piece by piece, though he felt ashamed knowing this was all owed to his ex-boyfriend’s resources.

He could even begin to handle his stalled work, willing to open his inbox and clear the mountain of accumulated emails.

That was when he found an old email from Sean, asking if he had any new works for exhibition—it had remained unread. Su Hui thought Sean must be anxious, so he immediately replied, though he skipped over the mention of that “work” since he didn’t want to bring up Ning Yixiao’s engagement ceremony.

[Eddy: I don’t have any new works at the moment, but the students I’m mentoring are currently in a competition. They might have an exhibition of their work in a while.]

[Eddy: I am truly sorry. So many things have happened lately that I didn’t see your email in time. I’m replying only now. I hope you’ve been well lately? Is everything going smoothly?]

He sent the message and took a deep breath, feeling guilty. He had barely read three more work emails when Sean’s reply arrived—so fast it took Su Hui by surprise.

[Sean: Not very smoothly. My old ailment flared up recently; my stomach hurts all the time, which is really affecting my work efficiency.]

Stomach pain.

Su Hui asked with genuine concern.

[Eddy: Is it serious? If it’s affecting your work, it must be bad. You really must eat on time. The biggest cause of chronic illness is bad habits.]

Without much delay, Sean replied with another email.

[Sean: You’re right. What about you? Are you eating properly every day?]

[Sean: It feels like young people nowadays don’t have very healthy habits.]

Su Hui was hit right on target; for a moment, he didn’t know how to respond. He couldn’t lie, after all.

[Eddy: My appetite isn’t great, but I’ve been trying to eat seriously.]

[Sean: I can tell. You’re very thin; I saw you at the last exhibition.]

Su Hui was surprised.

[Eddy: You saw me? I haven’t seen you yet. You really helped me a lot. I was thinking at the time that if I had the chance, I’d love to treat you to a meal in person. I’m not sure if you’d be open to that once I’m in a better state.]

This time, Sean didn’t reply quickly. Su Hui checked the time; it was indeed mealtime.

Kofi called out to him from outside, so Su Hui responded and went downstairs with her.

For dinner, Mark made wontons. Thinking of the email, Su Hui ate a little more than usual. After finishing, he returned to his room and checked his inbox again, but there was still no reply.

Perhaps his invitation had been too abrupt? Su Hui wasn’t sure.

He planned to take Xue Gao out and grabbed his favorite black coat from the closet.

During periods like this, he would subconsciously choose dark-colored clothing, wrapping himself up tightly. Security seemed to be something that clung to his skin, and if he were too exposed, it would leak away.

He stared at his bloodless face in the mirror, feeling a sense of avoidance. His hair was too long; Su Hui tied it behind his head, put on a hat, and buried his chin into his scarf.

Xue Gao was already waiting in the entryway. Su Hui put on the dog’s muzzle and coat, opened the door, and took him downstairs.

The sky was already half-dark, and the outdoor temperature was much lower than inside the house; he couldn’t help but pull his scarf up. As soon as they stepped outside, Xue Gao began to trot, and Su Hui could barely hold him back, being dragged all the way to the park. After doing a few loops, Xue Gao had burned off half his energy. Su Hui was already tired and negotiated with him to go home.

Xue Gao wasn’t stubborn; after a bit of coaxing, he became obedient and followed Su Hui back. The road was fairly busy, but because Xue Gao’s appearance was so menacing, passersby proactively gave them space, as if he were forming a natural barrier.

Passing the fountain and circular lawn on the way home, they walked by an ice cream shop. Su Hui had been too distracted to notice his surroundings before and hadn’t seen it.

He was attracted by the beautiful gift boxes in the window and the long row of ice cream displays. He stopped, hesitated for a long time, and finally went in to buy a scoop of vanilla, packed in a small box.

The shop didn’t allow large dogs, so Su Hui had to take Xue Gao to an outdoor seating area. It was freezing outside, and the area was empty, which actually made him feel more at ease.

Su Hui looped the leash around his wrist, tore open the paper spoon packaging, and tasted a tiny bit of the ice cream.

Xue Gao stood straight, looking up at him pitifully, clearly wanting some.

“You can’t have this,” Su Hui tapped his nose. “It will make you sick.”

Xue Gao whined pathetically. Su Hui couldn’t help but curl his lips into a smile, taking out a second spoon he’d grabbed intentionally, scooping some up, removing the muzzle, and feeding it to him.

“Xue Gao eating Xue Gao (Snow Cream).” He found it amusing, but terrified the dog would become addicted, he only fed him one spoonful. “No more.”

He rubbed Xue Gao’s face and asked, “If your owner knew, he’d lecture me.”

Having said this subconsciously, Su Hui felt something was wrong. It was strange; he unnaturally let go of Xue Gao’s face and picked up the paper box. “He probably wouldn’t…”

“But you can’t have any more. Just that one bite, be good.”

Afraid the dog would crave it, Su Hui quickly ate the entire scoop himself. It was so cold it made his teeth ache, and he covered his cheeks with his hands for a long time.

He was still tired and didn’t want to leave, so the man, the dog, and the empty box lingered for a while.

Xue Gao rested his chin on Su Hui’s knee, while Su Hui fished the cigarettes he’d bought two days ago from his pocket, lit one, held it between his fingers, leaned back in the chair, and tilted his head to slowly exhale a smoke ring. The gray-white mist circled lethargically and decadently before dissipating in the cold wind.

He had only smoked half when someone approached. Su Hui’s nerves were fragmented and intermittent, and his reactions were sluggish until the person arrived right beside him.

For a moment, Su Hui suffered a delusional hallucination, feeling as though Ning Yixiao might suddenly appear. But Xue Gao’s defensive state dispelled this unrealistic notion.

He turned his face away with lazy, sluggish movements; the newcomer was a tall, unfamiliar white man who had come to flirt.

Being stared at like this made Su Hui feel uncomfortable. He lowered his head and crushed the cigarette into the box full of melted cream.

“Sorry, I…”

Before he could refuse, Xue Gao activated his instinct as a guard dog. He let out a continuous, aggressive, low growl, every muscle in his body taut as if he might lunge and bite at any second.

This clearly frightened the man; he raised both hands and backed away two steps.

“Xue Gao, it’s okay, don’t be nervous.” Su Hui stroked Xue Gao’s back, then stood up, nodded to the man in apology, and took the dog away.

Not until they were a hundred meters away did Xue Gao’s tense state slowly subside. Su Hui stopped and hugged him. “You were so fierce just now.”

Xue Gao rubbed his nose against him, seemingly transforming back into the dog who begged for hugs at home. Su Hui couldn’t help but wonder how a dog could be both a healing therapy animal and a territorial guard dog ready to strike at any moment.

He thought of Ning Yixiao.

“You really are just like him.”

Su Hui felt a sense of wonder, followed quickly by the feeling that he was beyond saving.

Better not to think about it.

“Let’s go home.”

Taking Xue Gao into the elevator and returning to the top floor, he unlocked the door, locking everything that had just happened outside.

Back at home, Xue Gao reverted to his smart, clingy self, following Su Hui to the room and occasionally letting out small, soft barks.

Su Hui sat in his chair, staring blankly for a long time at the night sky through the gaps in the blinds.

An email notification sound rang out, pulling his restless thoughts back.

Su Hui let go of those improper longings, moved the mouse, and clicked on the new reply.

[Sean: You are very beautiful, and I have a deep impression of you. But I don’t look very good, and I’m afraid that if we meet, I will disappoint you.]

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Author’s Note:

Ning “I don’t look very good” Yixiao.

Someone going to great lengths to disparage his own appearance just to keep his mask on.