A Lucky Coin

It was Yan Hang’s first time hearing about his mother, but Dad had been holding it in his heart for over a decade.

It had been too long; it seemed as though he no longer knew how to speak of it. All he could do was take large gulps of alcohol, on and on, until at last he lay upon the table and fell asleep.

Yan Hang sat at the table. He stared at the food and empty erguotou bottle in front of Dad, spacing out.

Altogether, their “chat” had lasted less than half an hour.

But his heart felt very empty.

He knew that his mother had died, but he never thought that this was how it happened.

So suddenly, without warning, without a chance to mentally prepare for it—and so meaningless, flashing past like a faceless extra in a film.

An accident that was somehow too simple.

After over a decade, aside from her next of kin, nobody would remember it, even though it was an unsolved case and the killer had not been caught.

Even if the topic was ever brought up, no one would know that somewhere in this world, someone had been suffering because of it for over a decade.

Dad said that after the incident, he had been taken away by his grandparents, then returned to Dad at the age of four.

“You could say I stole you back,” said Dad. “It would’ve been better if I took you back sooner.”

Yan Hang had no memory of this. Childhood memories were like a dream, normally; people would usually need their parents to remind them—“when you were little”, “when you were three”, “when you were five”—before they could find traces of their memories.

Dad never gave him such reminders, so naturally he never remembered.

Anyhow, Yan Hang sensed that those memories were not especially pleasant.

When Dad mentioned his grandparents, he even felt a vague repulsion towards the two close relatives who had taken care of him for two years.

Dad didn’t sleep soundly. He would occasionally open his eyes and glance over blearily, then shut them again and go back to sleep.

Yan Hang lifted his chopsticks. Along with his alcohol, he finished the food that had gone cold.

“I raised a pig,” Dad said muddily.

“Go sleep in your room,” said Yan Hang. “Sleeping on the table isn’t comfortable.”

“Our prince is wonderful.” Dad patted his hand twice. “Wonderful.”

“You’re in no state to be buttering me up,” laughed Yan Hang.

“Wonderful.” Dad’s voice dipped low. “And I ruined him…”

Yan Hang frowned. He stood, grabbed Dad’s arm, and pulled him up, then walked him to his room. “Sleep.”

“Do you think I’m selfish?” Dad continued to mutter in his low voice as he lay on the bed. “I thought of giving up, for my son… but I can’t give up, she was right next to me… right next to me when she…”

Dad clenched his fist. “When I held her hand, it was frozen… I’m so sorry… my life is full of regrets; if only I’d never met your mother, if only I’d never married her, if only I didn’t listen to you when you said you didn’t want to go to school…”

Yan Hang sat by the bed until Dad stopped mumbling and fell asleep, then rose and turned off the room light. He returned to the living room and cleared the table, taking everything back to the kitchen to wash up.

At times like these, when he didn’t feel up to it, he would usually leave clearing and washing up to the next day. But today, dinner had been so stifling; he wanted to wash up as quickly as possible to wipe away the traces of his unhappiness.

After showering, he went back to his room. It was much earlier than his usual bedtime, but he felt a little sleepy.

Perhaps it was the alcohol. He and Dad often drank together, but they rarely drank like this—they’d finished two whole bottles in under an hour, and now he was a little dizzy.

The last thing he remembered was holding his phone and glancing over Chu Yi’s little emoji post of the day.

But before he could recognize the emoji, he had fallen asleep.

Yan Hang didn’t like to dream. When he slept poorly, he seemed to have a surfeit of dreams, a huge mess, as if he were simultaneously watching tens of wildly edited melodramas; the crux of it was that when he woke, he couldn’t even remember a single frame.

Yet he would still be tired, as if he hadn’t slept.

But it wasn’t something he could control. In fact, tonight he was sure that he would sleep very deeply—it felt as if he would pass out the minute he closed his eyes.

He still dreamed.

Of an old lady, and an old man.

Both of them seemed to be enveloped in a grey fog.

The old lady kept crying, squeezing his neck as she cried. He couldn’t hear her crying, nor did he feel suffocated even as his neck was squeezed… it was a dream, after all.

But his fear was crystal clear.

The old man said, I don’t want to catch sight of him, then turned and stared at him—I don’t want to catch sight of you.

And then the surroundings changed.

You’re the ones who should’ve died.

All scenes in scattered fragments.

Silhouettes wavered; thin, inaudible sounds torn apart as if in a strong wind; a scene flashed past as if a snippet from an incomplete play.

Everything, every bit of it vanished when Yan Hang opened his eyes and woke. The second before, chaos was all around him; the moment his eyes were open, they faded into the distance.

So distant were they that they seemed to be a dream he had dreamt many years ago, the colours washed out, the sound vanishing. His emotions turned into a mess.

Yan Hang creased his brow as he rubbed his eyes.

He grabbed his phone and checked the time. Half an hour earlier than usual.

He sat on the bed, dazed. Though the dream had faded so much that it seemed even a sigh would dispel its remnants, it still made him a little muddle-headed. Only after a long moment did he jump out of bed.

Putting on his slippers, he went to Dad’s room first; he had left their room doors open yesterday so he would be able to hear his father moving about.

The room was empty, and the bed unmade.

Yan Hang’s stomach dropped. He turned and walked to the living room, yelling as he did: “Lao Yan!”

“Bathroom!” Dad’s voice called out from the toilet.

“What are you doing in the bathroom?” Yan Hang sighed in relief and asked, bewildered.

“What a question. What could I be doing in here, eating breakfast?” said Dad. “Do you really want me to answer honestly?”

“What do you want for breakfast?” Yan Hang asked.

“Can you wait till I’m out to ask?” Dad said.

“Apologies,” Yan Hang laughed, then went to the window and sat on the sill.

It was earlier in the day than usual. He could hear birdsong from the big tree outside the door; the birds sang quite happily.

This sound, coupled with the sight of people passing by, helped him to gradually relax. He leaned against the window frame and stared blankly.

Today, once again, he didn’t see Chu Yi passing by on his way to school. It was probably because the crab had come back and he was unable to walk past here, needing to adjust his route to the crab’s crawl path.

“Are you going to the music fest?” At some unknown point, Dad stood behind him.

“Hm?” Yan Hang turned and gave Dad a look. “The music fest that Chu Yi said he knew the place of?”

“Yeah,” Dad said. “If you’re going, bring me along.”

“You want in on it too?” Yan Hang laughed. “Alright, I’ll bring you.”

“Do I need to prepare any thematically appropriate clothes?” Dad asked.

“Please maintain your usual silver-fox appearance,” said Yan Hang. “Chu Yi will either be wearing his school uniform or that undersized tracksuit anyway. If you look too different, he might curse you out for underdressing.”

Dad laughed and squeezed his shoulder. “Son.”

“Yeah?” Yan Hang responded.

“I love you,” Dad said.

Yan Hang stared at him, taken aback.

“Give me a little face,” Dad said, going “pfft” with suppressed laughter. “Your reply?”

“I love you too, Dad,” said Yan Hang.

“Is cheese-baked rice for breakfast okay?” said Dad. “You got up so early today, we won’t have anything to do if we don’t make cheese rice.”

“…you want me to make you cheese rice this early in the morning? We need to cook the rice first.” Yan Hang glared at him. “Is this why you were being all sappy?”

Dad grinned cheerfully as he sat on the couch.

Yan Hang stared at him for a while, then finally leapt down from the window sill, took the ingredients out of the fridge, and went to the kitchen.

Dad seemed to have returned to his usual state. Last night’s painful recollections appeared to have dissipated along with any traces of alcohol.

But Yan Hang didn’t manage to find the assurance and peace of mind he had sought.

Are you looking, or hiding?

Are you planning to do something, or have you already done it?

What were those things I dreamt of?

The answer to one of his questions had merely invited more questions.

And now he no longer had the courage to ask any further.

During self-study, the teacher left after walking once around the class. The classroom gradually grew rowdy.

Chu Yi leaned on his desk doing his homework. His deskmate was chatting happily with the people sitting in front of and behind them, occasionally knocking the desk; his handwriting looked like jagged lightning strikes whenever the table rocked, but rather more frequent than lightning.

He lifted his gaze and looked around, then bowed down, put his stationery in his desk, and rose to leave the classroom.

They’d changed seats this week. He was moved to the seat by the back door. It was an excellent position; he could come and go without being noticed, and with the protection of his little coin talisman, he walked out as if he was invisible every time.

Of course, even if anyone did notice, they wouldn’t care.

The teaching block was next to the school wall. Few people went there. This was where he usually lurked whenever he came out, sitting on a very comfortable large rock there.

Most of the time, he would daydream, grinding rocks for fun.

Today was different. When Yan Hang said he liked that little black stone, the one that he wanted to wear on his ankle, he suddenly felt some pressure.

Actually, he would grind rocks whenever he hadn’t much else to do. Dad had even gifted him a little tool set, though his grandmother sold it—fortunately, he had taken a small file and a small drill out of the kit to use, so those hadn’t been sold.

Now, what he usually did was grind the rocks against the ground, then use the little file to take care of the finer details.

He had polished many rocks before—black ones, white ones, red ones, yellow ones, some with patterns, some round, polygonal ones, some shaped like flowers, some like hearts. This black one he had today wasn’t the best looking one. He had just been grinding it casually because he was bored.

If only he’d known that Yan Hang would like it. He would’ve made it a more elaborate shape.

It had been two days since Yan Hang said he liked it. He had to finish work on it today.

The whole time, he hadn’t passed Yan Hang’s house on his way to and from school, and never ran into Yan Hang. But Yan Hang didn’t contact him either.

This made Chu Yi a little anxious. He didn’t know how to maintain a “friendship”. He’d had no experience, after all.

All he could do was finish polishing the stone. Then he could seek Yan Hang out.

He took the little file out of his pocket and filed the corners of the stone, then took some sandpaper and began to polish.

Though the shape was simple and not sufficiently pretty, the quality of the stone itself was excellent. It was uncommonly hard, and a very pure black; once polished and lacquered, it would be beautiful.

Oh right, and he had to make a hole…

His phone vibrated in his pocket. Chu Yi pulled it out, slightly surprised. Who would be texting him during class?

Nobody texted him even when they weren’t in class.

After a long delay, the phone finally displayed the text message.

It was Yan Hang.

[are you taking us to the music fest tonight?]

Chu Yi smiled. He thought that the music fest was just a casual conversation topic; he didn’t expect that Yan Hang actually wanted to go.

[Yeah, you going?]

[who would you bring if I didnt?]

[I’ll come look for you after dinner?]

[tell your family you’ll be coming to ours for dinner. my dad wants to go too. we’ll go together after dinner]

[Ok]

Chu Yi suddenly felt excited, the same way he had when, on a spring trip in primary school, one of the kids took the initiative to form a group with him.

Even though that kid later ate all his fried rice and then ignored him.

Today Dad was home, so he just had to go back and tell his Dad.

And then he could go out and have fun with Yan Hang and Uncle Yan!

He would have fun!

Normally he couldn’t even find a companion to walk with him, and now he was actually going to see a music fest with other people.

Even as he ground his rock, his hand seemed to tremble.

“Doesn’t that poor kid take this road home in the afternoon anymore?” Dad stood at the window and looked out.

“He’s afraid he’ll run into their neighbour. Guy’s a bona fide gangster who just came back recently.” Yan Hang was dicing beef in the kitchen. He was about to make shrimp paste as well.

“Ah,” Dad sighed. He lit a cigarette and continued to gaze outside. “I’ve always said, these people who pass us by, they all have their stories.”

“Lao Yan! The water’s boiling!” Yan Hang called out. “Blanch the chicken wings first.”

“Alrighty.” Dad walked in with his cigarette in his mouth, then walked back out and put his cigarette down before coming back in again and putting the chicken wings in the pot.

“Done preparing?” Dad asked.

“Yeah.” Yan Hang nodded. “I’ll start cooking when he arrives. We can eat in twenty minutes.”

Dad stood next to him. When the wings were done blanching, he fished them out and put them in a large bowl. “Do you and Chu Yi have much to talk about?”

“You’ve chatted with him before,” said Yan Hang.

“He’s a little tyke, that’s how I see him.” Dad leaned against the counter. “You’re about the same age though… I think?”

“He’s about fourteen or fifteen,” said Yan Hang.

“He’s so small, he looks like a primary school kid next to you,” Dad laughed.

“I wonder who it was who told that primary school kid that I was 1.4m tall the other day.” Yan Hang gave him a look.

“Petty.” Dad snorted. He thought for a while, then asked again softly, “Do you have much to talk about?”

“We’re alright, no awkward silences. He’s pretty funny.” Yan Hang began to mince the shrimp. “I haven’t been around a lot of people, so I don’t have much basis for comparison.”

Dad didn’t speak. After a while, he took the pepper and looked at it. “Should I grind this for you?”

“Yeah, sure,” said Yan Hang.

All the preparation was done now. After arranging everything on the counter, Yan Hang took a photo with his phone and posted it on Weibo.

When he returned to the living room to sit down, Dad was watching the news again.

Yan Hang looked at his phone as he half-listened to the news. He didn’t know what kind of information Dad was seeking, or what kind of details in what kind of news story he would find it in.

Yan Hang listened to the news all the way till they began the weather report without finding anything of note.

“Why isn’t Chu Yi here yet? I thought he was just going to let his family know once school was done, and then come here after?” Dad looked at the time. “It’s been an hour since school finished.”

“True.” Yan Hang blanked for a moment; he had been keeping his ears cocked for the news and didn’t even notice the time. “I’ll ask him.”

He sent Chu Yi a text, but after ten minutes, Chu Yi still didn’t respond.

Yan Hang thought of the day Chu Yi hadn’t gone home for lunch, and how he seemed to be on tenterhooks when he went home. He suddenly began to worry if the boy was being punished by his grandmother for not going home to eat again today.

Thinking of the caterpillar-browed, white-faced old granny, Yan Hang couldn’t help but wrinkle his brow.

He called Chu Yi directly.

“What’s up?” Dad looked at him.

“He’s not replying.” Yan Hang listened to the phone’s dial tone until it cut off. “He’s not picking up either…”

“He wouldn’t have run into that back-in-town gangster on the way here, would he?” Dad said.

“…What are the odds?” Yan Hang was bewildered. “He hasn’t been taking this road for the past few days.”

“If he’s coming here to eat, he can’t not take this road.” Dad looked at him.

Yan Hang didn’t speak. He met his father’s eyes, and the two stood in unison.

“I can go alone,” said Yan Hang.

“I want to join in the fun,” Dad said.

“‘Yan Hang’.” Liang Bing held the phone and looked at the screen. “Who’s this? Why haven’t I heard of him?”

Chu Yi stood against the wall. The pain searing from the root of his ear to his neck was somewhat unbearable.

“Whoa.” One of the people standing next to him snuck a peek. “You know how to read the character ‘Yan’?”

“‘Ambassador Yan went to Chu’ [1]! Haven’t you heard the story?” said Liang Bing. “What are you, illiterate?”

[1] A short story about Yanzi/Yan Ying’s diplomatic mission to the Kingdom of Chu, where the king attempts to embarrass him but he retorts cleverly.

And there was Yan Jidao.

Chu Yi guessed that Liang Bing probably didn’t know who Yan Jidao was. Yan Shu was more famous, he might know Yan Shu…

“Oi!” Liang Bing yelled. “Playing dead? I’m talking to you!”

At the same time as he shouted, a rock hit Chu Yi’s head.

It wasn’t a big rock, much smaller than a brick. Liang Bing didn’t use much strength when he knocked Chu Yi with it, either. His head still hurt, though.

“Fuck it, it’s no fun playing with this guy,” said someone leaning against the wall. “At least a sandbag makes a noise when you throw it. This one doesn’t even squeak… Are you fucking dumb?”

No.

I’m a fucking stutterer.

You idiot.

“Let’s see if he makes any noises.” Liang Bing threw his phone at the ground and walked over.

Chu Yi felt pained. After being thrown like that, his phone would probably be even harder to communicate telepathically with.

“Go on, make a noise!” Liang Bing came over and kicked at his lower abdomen.

Chu Yi quickly turned aside, lowering his arm to block—Liang Bing’s foot landed on his arm.

“Fuck!” Liang Bing swore, then bashed his head with a fist. “Make a noise!”

Chu Yi raised his arm to block again.

Liang Bing had something in his hand; he felt a sharp, unbearable pain when the fist made contact with his arm.

“Aren’t you gonna make a sound at all!?” Liang Bing grabbed him and flung him at the wall.

Chu Yi banged hard against the wall. A cloud of golden stars appeared before his eyes. Shortly after this, he felt several blows on his back and his belly. Liang Bing didn’t hold back. He could hardly breathe.

“You.” Liang Bing angled his head at one of the people standing next to them. “Take his trousers off. His granny loves to go topless, I’m sure her dear grandson loves going butt-naked too.”