A Lucky Coin

The feeling Yan Hang didn’t want to confront this whole time.

He was very scared.

Every time he was alone at home, every time they left another not-yet-familiar city, every time he looked forward and saw nothing, then looked back and saw it to be blank too.

His every emotion rose and fell with Dad’s appearances and disappearances.

Aside from the present, Dad had never said a single word about the future or the past, and he could only try to tell himself that he didn’t need any of that.

Father and son, they walked the earth freely, roaming far and wide, reckless and arrogant, unaffected by anything worldly.

Freedom.

That’s what Chu Yi envied.

In reality, what Chu Yi envied was just his imagination.

Without origin, without a place to return–was this really a freedom to be envied?

Yan Hang walked into the kitchen and prepared another portion of rice, adding curry because his dad liked curry, then sprinkled it with shredded cheese and popped it in the oven.

He adjusted the temperature and timing, then spaced out in front of the oven.

At the end of the day, as long as Dad was there, he felt safe, even if this safety was like a sprinkle of cheese on top of baked rice.

“You remember stuff from when you were little?” Dad leaned against the kitchen door.

“I don’t remember things from before primary school, I think.” Dad suddenly raising the issue made him feel a bit anxious. He didn’t remember much about his childhood, as if nature had erected a barrier against it.

“When I first brought you out, you couldn’t even cook noodles for two. You cooked a whole wok-ful, and the water dried up while the noodles were still raw.” Dad laughed.

“Oh.” Yan Hang thought about it and laughed too. He glanced back at Dad. “And you didn’t teach me how.”

“I didn’t know either, how could I teach you? Cooking was something you really learnt and honed yourself, you didn’t even have anyone to teach you the basics.” Dad lit a cigarette as he spoke. “Want one?”

“I’m cooking, why smoke?” said Yan Hang.

“Very sensible,” Dad laughed.

After that was another long silence. When the oven went “ding!”, Yan Hang turned to see Dad still leaning against the kitchen door. Dad didn’t notice him looking; he was gazing blankly out the window.

“It’s done,” said Yan Hang.

“Smells good.” Dad sniffed, then turned to the living room and sat on the couch.

Yan Hang placed the baked rice on the coffee table and sat next to him.

The TV was showing the local news. The two of them sat on the couch with their bowls in hand, watching TV as they ate–this scene had been a fixture in their lives from as far as Yan Hang could remember.

Normally they wouldn’t speak. After the meal, they would savour the aftertaste; if there were dishes to be done, Yan Hang would only get up and wash them after that, sometimes even leaving them for the next day. At night, Dad would watch TV while Yan Hang would sit in the corner fiddling with his phone or reading a book. Occasionally, he would get Dad to say something, anything, and he’d translate it into English.

Today was no different–except, though curled up on the sofa with his book, he barely read two pages.

Dad had touched the book under the coffee table. He’d definitely taken the letter that Yan Hang had put between its pages. It was the same every time. No matter where he put the letter, Dad was always able to find it and take it away.
Back then, whenever Dad retrieved the letter, everything would go back to normal.

But today was different, and again, he couldn’t explain what this feeling was.

Yan Hang was a sensitive person. He could pick up the slightest details and changes in atmosphere. Dad once lauded: “Not many can match our prince’s insightfulness!”

But he wished that he was slower on the uptake; he wished he felt less. Maybe then he wouldn’t be scared of anything.
It wasn’t like he’d never speculated about his father. When he was much younger, his naïve imagination conjured up many exciting professions for his dad.

A secret policeman, a special agent, a spy, an assassin, a ghostbuster…

Later on, he stopped thinking about it.

He couldn’t even pretend to ignore reality. Dad couldn’t possibly be employed. And how he made his money was unlikely to be glamorous.

As for why, he could only wait.

He was always waiting, up till now.

His insecurities reached their peak today.

Scared.

Fear was a feeling he never wanted to reveal to anyone, not even Dad.

He was Yan Hang. Arrogant, easygoing, a prince who’d never been scared of anyone in his life.

“Do you remember your mother’s parents?” Dad suddenly asked.

“Hm?” Yan Hang was slow to react. Mum’s parents, like Mum herself, left no trace in his memory, except perhaps a shadowy image in some of his extremely unpleasant dreams.

Besides that, he was usually unable to recall anything about her.

Even when Dad said “your mother’s parents”, his first thought was of Chu Yi’s caterpillar-browed, pale-faced old granny.

“Your grandmother passed away last year, your grandfather last month,” Dad said. “They weren’t that old, though.”
Yan Hang stared at him, not knowing what to say.

He only knew that Dad was an only child. He had no paternal grandparents, and he’d never even thought of his maternal grandparents. Even now, when Dad suddenly raised the topic, he felt nothing, had no reaction.

“I suppose I’ve never brought it up before.” Dad bent his head. “I really, really, really… miss your mother.”

Yan Hang stared.

When Dad said the words “your mother”, Yan Hang saw the tears shining in his eyes.

It was the first time he could remember ever seeing his father’s tears.

“Lao Yan,” he said, bewildered, “you…”

Dad smiled at him. “You don’t look the least bit like your mother, I can’t even look at you and reminisce.”

“I guess I accidentally grew up to look too much like you,” said Yan Hang.

In fact, he’d thought along the same lines before. Once, he’d stared at his reflection in the mirror, trying to picture his face without his father’s features, hoping to see a shadow of his mother–but to no avail.

He really looked so much like Dad. Sometimes he even felt like Dad could’ve given birth to him himself.

“I probably won’t be going out much for a while.” Dad lit a cigarette, returning his gaze to the television. “Please don’t make the same thing for dinner every day, or I’ll break things off with you.”

“Okay.” Yan Hang grinned.

When it was almost ten, Dad suddenly turned to look at the door. Then a knock came.

“It’s Chu Yi,” said Yan Hang softly. “He asked me out for a run.”

“Running won’t make him taller,” Dad said. “Tell him not to waste his time, try jumping instead, high-jump or something like that.”

“Tell him yourself.” Yan Hang stood up and opened the door.

Chu Yi was standing at the door, in his too-small tracksuit and that pair of NBs. He’d done as Yan Hang had taught him, pushing the legs of his pants up as well as his sleeves.

When he saw Dad, he smiled. “H-Hello, Sir.”

“Running?” said Dad.

“Mhm.” Chu Yi nodded.

“Good, running makes you taller.” Dad pointed at Yan Hang. “When he was your age, he was only 140cm…”

“Whatever happened to privileged communication?” Yan Hang turned to look at Dad, shocked.

“He ran every day, then, whoosh,” Dad gestured, “he stretched out. Like magic.”

“Like m-magic.” Chu Yi laughed.

“Right, c’mon,” Yan Hang changed into his running shoes, then turned back as he was leaving. “Do you want supper? There’s a lot of barbecue stalls on our route.”

“Get me wings, intestines, tendons, duck neck…” Dad quickly rattled off.

Yan Hang ignored him and closed the door. Behind him, Dad yelled, “See if they have chilli salted duck tongue, and remember the beers—”

“One, f-forty, huh.” Chu Yi looked at him in surprise.

“Looking for a beating?” replied Yan Hang.

“I’m g-getting a growth spurt,” said Chu Yi.

“Can’t tell. If it isn’t visible to the naked eye, let’s not speak of it.” Yan Hang looked at the top of his head. Chu Yi’s hair was getting long now, a few tufts of hair standing up and dancing when the wind blew. He probably didn’t have enough money for a haircut.

“I’m f-five cm t-taller than I was last year.” Chu Yi did a little jump.

“Congratulations,” said Yan Hang sincerely. “You must’ve been pretty short.”

“Not much shorter than y-you were back then,” said Chu Yi.

“I’m gonna join Li Zihao’s gang tomorrow.” Yan Hang gave him a look.

“No, y-you won’t.” Chu Yi shook his head. “Li, Zihao’s E-English isn’t good enough, you can’t c-communicate.”

“Fuck,” Yan Hang laughed. “Is your English good?”

“I f-fail every s-subject,” Chu Yi answered honestly.

“…you won’t be able to go to a regular senior high that way, right?” Yan Hang thought about it. “A technical college then? Or vocational studies?”

“I want to w-work,” Chu Yi said in a small voice.

Yan Hang looked at him silently.

School probably held no attraction to a child like Chu Yi; maybe going to work and escaping that environment was his most pressing need.

“My mum would be mad, f-for sure,” said Chu Yi.

“Your family’s pretty funny. Not a lot of caring,” said Yan Hang, “but so many requirements. Were you a foundling? Or adopted?”

“No,” laughed Chu Yi. “I was an a-accident, Mum didn’t want to have me. She was gonna s-sit the STHEEs, but that didn’t p-pan out.”

“…oh.” Taken aback, Yan Hang raised a hand and flicked his forehead twice.

There were quite a few people on their running trail today, all regular runners fully decked out with headphones in. Yan Hang enjoyed looking at them–it made him feel grounded.

As usual, after running for a while, Chu Yi began to keep to the sides; once again, Yan Hang dragged him back to the middle of the lane.

“Want a d-drink?” Chu Yi asked after they had ran for an hour and were taking a rest.

“You’re running every day, and you’re drinking every day,” said Yan Hang. “You have a lot of pocket money, don’t you?”
“You’re p-paying,” said Chu Yi. “I’m d-drinking plain water t-tomorrow.”

Yan Hang laughed for a good while. “What do you want to drink?”

“Lemon tea,” replied Chu Yi.

Yan Hang bought a lemon tea for him and a coke for himself. As they sat drinking by the river, a strong gust of wind blew, and Chu Yi grabbed at his windswept hair.

The mess of hair on his forehead looked like something a dog had chewed up. Yan Hang couldn’t help but reach out to smooth it out, but its chewed-up look remained unchanged.

He’d never noticed how strictly principled Chu Yi’s hair was before.

After some thought, he asked, “Do people usually cause trouble for you, or steal your money?”

“A man r-roaming the mortal realm,” Chu Yi took a sip of his lemon tea, “cannot avoid m-mishaps.”

“Did someone steal your pocket money? Is that why you can’t afford a haircut?” asked Yan Hang.

“I always j-just cut it m-myself,” Chu Yi replied, supremely calm.

Yan Hang detected a hint of pride in his tone. “Oh, you think you’re pretty skilled at it, don’t you?”

“It’s a l-layered cut.” Chu Yi pinched his forelock and tossed it back.

“True.” Yan Hang looked at him. “Lots of layers to it.”

Chu Yi laughed. After a while, he asked, somewhat embarrassed: “Is it ugly?”

“Nah. You can thank your alright looks for that,” said Yan Hang.

“Nobody l-looks at me a-anyway.” Chu Yi gulped down a mouthful of lemon tea.

“I do. We go running every day and I look at you all the time.” Yan Hang sighed. “I’m getting a haircut tomorrow anyway, let’s go together.”

Chu Yi kept quiet.

“I have a card,” Yan Hang added. “You can use my card.”

“N-Nah.” Chu Yi stayed silent for a while, and then spoke again. “I c-can’t help you with a-anything anyway.”

“How about this.” Yan Hang suddenly realised that, while he didn’t mind at all himself, the offer probably gave Chu Yi a great deal of social pressure. He pulled out his phone and opened the calendar. “I’m starting work tomorrow, and I finish late on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. You can help me get groceries.”

Chu Yi looked at him carefully.

Yan Hang keenly felt his own lack of experience in “having friends”.

Everything was stiff and awkward.

He shut up.

“When you n-need g-groceries,” said Chu Yi, “l-let me know i-in advance.”

“Okay.” Yan Hang nodded. After a pause, he covered his eyes and sighed. “Fuck, this is so awkward.”

Chu Yi laughed.

“What are you laughing at,” said Yan Hang.

“Yan Hang, you’re r-really nice,” said Chu Yi.

“I know that,” said Yan Hang.

Chu Yi laughed again.

On the way back, Yan Hang stopped by the barbecue stalls nearby. They didn’t have everything Dad wanted, but he bought a whole load of stuff anyway. A little nearer to home, he detoured to the supermarket to buy two packs of beer.

“Come have barbecue at mine?” Yan Hang looked at Chu Yi. “I’m gonna make something with these.”

“Sure.” Chu Yi didn’t hesitate.

“Blunt.” Yan Hang patted his shoulder. “I like it.”

“I want to s-stay with you,” said Chu Yi.

“Do you, now.” Yan Hang laughed. “I have to tell Dad that his magic trick doesn’t pick up chicks, just little boys.”

“Can you t-teach me?” asked Chu Yi.

“Who are you picking up?” Yan Hang glanced at him.

“No one.” Chu Yi raised a hand and waggled his fingers. “Just t-thought it was cool.”

“I’ll teach you in a moment, it’s really easy, you just need to practice,” said Yan Hang.

“‘Kay.” Chu Yi nodded happily, his hand raised and fingers dancing as they walked back home.

When they reached home, Dad had already tidied up the coffee table and prepped the microwave oven and frying pan. It was a habit of theirs.

He and Dad both loved barbecue, but never ate it outside. They always brought it home to be heated up and eaten.
“Come, Chu Yi, sit here.” Dad grabbed a small stool for Chu Yi. “Can you drink beer? Maybe a little?”

“A few l-licks,” said Chu Yi.

“Well, you can lick up two or three cans, then,” Dad said.

“Don’t lead the kid astray.” Yan Hang brought three plates out. He opened the microwave and popped a small stick of butter in. “Butter makes things smell good.”

Chu Yi stuck his face next to the pan and sniffed. “Smells good.”

Sitting around the table like this, without any pressure, without an earful of complaints and dissatisfactions, unhurriedly eating barbecue and drinking beer… Chu Yi liked it very much.

Things were somewhat similar at Grandpa’s, but Grandpa’s place was too far away, and he only got to visit for a few days every summer. On top of that, he had to put up with a month of Nana calling him an ingrate before and after.

Yan Hang’s dad had a childlike air, so Chu Yi didn’t feel the pressure of dealing with an elder when they spoke. It was very relaxing.

He could say nothing and just listen to Yan Hang and his dad shoot the breeze.

He felt it especially worthwhile.

Very warm and homey.

“What’s your mum’s cooking like?” Yan Hang’s dad asked him.

“The all-in-one t-type,” said Chu Yi.

Yan Hang’s dad laughed. “A little stutterer with a smart mouth.”

“I thought your grandmother cooked for your family,” said Yan Hang. “Didn’t you say your mum’s pretty busy?”

“So’s m-my grandmother,” sighed Chu Yi.

Busy fighting, busy complaining, busy taking advantage of people.

“Come over when you’re hungry.” Yan Hang’s dad took a swig of his beer. “We have good food and drinks and no rules.”

“Mm.” Chu Yi grinned and nodded.

He enjoyed the supper very much. Chu Yi never knew he could eat as much as he did, nor did he expect the two Yans to eat as much as they did. When they finished the beers, the barbecue was almost gone as well.

“Two chicken wings and a stick of chitterlings, finish it off.” Yan Hang’s dad picked up the bag and poured it into the pan.

The bag had two layers; the two coins that Yan Hang had chucked into the outer layer fell out.

“Oh, talismans.” Yan Hang’s dad picked the coins up and placed them on the coffee table.

“I have one.” Chu Yi chuckled. “Yan Hang g-gave me one.”

“Did he?” Yan Hang’s dad laughed. “I’ll have you know, they’re very useful.”

“Mhm.” Chu Yi nodded. “My m-mum almost s-spent it yesterday, scared me to d-death.”

Yan Hang gave him a look. “It’s fine if she spends it, you can just get another.”

“I can’t, it’s n-not the same,” said Chu Yi. “That’s… it j-just isn’t.”

“Well, take good care of it, then,” laughed Yan Hang. “They all look the same, you’ll lose it once they mix together.”
Chu Yi suddenly panicked at this and touched his pocket.

“Give it to me.” Yan Hang must have noticed his anxiety and reached out. “I’ll help modify it a little.”

“Modify h-how?” Chu Yi placed the coin in his hand.

“One moment.” Yan Hang stood. “Lao Yan, where’s that piece of leather you picked up?”

“Left it on the table in my room,” said Yan Hang’s dad.

Yan Hang went into his room and didn’t emerge for a while.

Chu Yi and Yan Hang’s dad had finished the rest of the barbecue and were chatting idly for some time before Yan Hang finally walked out and placed the coin on the table in front of him. “You won’t lose it like this.”

Chu Yi took one look and stilled.

The coin was wearing a little leather jacket.

Two thin strips of dark brown leather criss crossed and wound around the coin, stuck to a round piece of leather supporting the coin from behind. A thin leather cord looped through it, so it could be worn like a necklace.

“Looks good.” Chu Yi stared at Yan Hang, a little surprised. “You m-made this?”

“It was easy enough, I just had to cut and paste a bit of leather,” said Yan Hang, laughing. “If you don’t dare to wear it on your neck, you can wind it around your wrist, and if you don’t dare to do that you can just hide it away. Either way, it won’t get mixed in with other coins.”

Chu Yi held the coin in his hand the whole time, only putting it in his pocket when he rose to leave.

Yan Hang never imagined that anyone could care this much about a coin.

“Xiao Tian gege, walk him home.” Dad ordered as he lay on the sofa. “I think that stretch of road isn’t well lit.”

“It’s fine,” said Chu Yi, embarrassed. “I’m a g-guy.”

“Come on, I’ll go for a little walk,” said Yan Hang.

Dad knew about Chu Yi getting bullied. Now that the days had grown warmer, the night was only just beginning for lowlifes and ne’er-do-wells; Dad was probably worried that Chu Yi’s joyful evening would be cut short.

After they had passed the stretch of unlit road, Chu Yi pointed at the row of old buildings before them. “My house is h-here.”

“Okay.” Yan Hang looked; he couldn’t tell which building it was, but, knowing Chu Yi probably wouldn’t want anyone to get too close to his house, he stopped.

“Thank you,” said Chu Yi.

“Enough nonsense now. Go home,” said Yan Hang.

“S-Someday, if,” Chu Yi gazed at him, “if you leave, I’ll m-miss you a lot.”

Yan Hang smiled.

Chu Yi smiled too. He reached out to hold his hand, then shook it gently, before turning and hurrying off.

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TN: 烧烤 shāokǎo – Chinese barbecue.

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