Clear Pond

Chapter 1 Fang Nianchi's eyes skipped over the man seated across from him, fixing on the bar for a heartbeat before he drew his gaze back. "Can we part ways amicably?" he asked. It should've been a cold statement, but the way Fang Nianchi phrased it was incredibly gentle, a lover's whisper rather than a confrontation. The bar's low, warm lighting served as a perfect mask for the flicker of irritation in his eyes. His craving for a smoke was gnawing at him, an intense desire to shoo Jiang Yang away and puff his worries into the night air outside. But Jiang Yang remained resolute, a silent monument, immovable in his seat. Their relationship had lasted three months, or maybe just over two. He hadn't really kept track of the days, but it was around that mark. Jiang Yang was older by five years, a man of few words, even somewhat awkward. In the throes of their romance, Fang Nianchi found this reticence charming, a sign of stability and dependability. But now that they were at the end, he realized that it also meant Jiang Yang could be monotonously dull. Struck with a sense of helplessness in the face of this impassive statue, Fang Nianchi glanced at his wristwatch and got up to leave. He could've tried to soothe Jiang Yang a bit longer—after all, he was the one who initiated the breakup, which gave him a sense of obligation. Moreover, a mature parting should be executed with grace. But a day spent putting out fires at his ad agency had worn him thin. All he wanted was to drown his frustrations in the depths of a glass at this new bar. His plans, however, were ambushed by his very own ex-lover—coupled with an unsightly scene. Drinking here was no longer an option, so he resolved to leave this ill-fated place behind. "I've got a meeting at the company first thing tomorrow," Fang Nianchi said, leaning slightly towards Jiang Yang. He reached out, patting his shoulder lightly, "Want me to drop you home?" Jiang Yang lifted his eyes to meet Fang Nianchi's gaze and said nonchalantly, "Don't bother." A silent sigh of relief escaped Fang Nianchi. He had plans to hit another bar for a few more drinks and had already picked out a place. Offering a ride home to Jiang Yang would entail a long detour. Retracting his hand, he picked up his coat draped on the chair back, and casually remarked, "Take care on your way back, then." "Fang Nianchi." Jiang Yang suddenly lifted his hand, capturing his arm and pulling him closer. Caught off guard, Fang Nianchi stumbled, his foot kicking a chair under the table. The screech of the chair scraping against the floor was an ear-piercing noise, drawing a few glances from nearby patrons. The grip on his arm tightened, causing Fang Nianchi to wince in pain. "When we first met, you told me you were fickle, quick to fall in love and equally quick to fall out of it," Jiang Yang said, a self-deprecating smile on his face. He eased his grip. "I thought I might be an exception." "I must have overthought," he continued, the hint of a smile disappearing, leaving only an indifferent gaze. "You're not capable of loving anyone. You're with people only to fulfill your own needs." After dropping these words, Jiang Yang turned and walked away without looking back, taking two steps at a time. His departure was surprisingly graceful. Fang Nianchi watched him leave the bar, pressing his lips together. He had to admit that Jiang Yang, being an academic, had a knack for summarizing issues concisely and accurately. Rubbing his sore arm, his gaze wandered inexplicably to the side, catching sight of a man, his head slightly lowered, engrossed in conversation with the pretty woman behind the bar. Zhou Tong'an had changed a lot over the seven years they hadn't seen each other, transforming from a handsome young man into a mature adult. Fang Nianchi averted his gaze, striding towards the exit. As he walked, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a cigarette, placing it in his mouth. He bowed his head to search for his lighter. He thought to himself, no one is truly exceptional. ////////// Fang Nianchi was jolted awake by the stifling heat. Ever since he got into a university in a different city, he had started to despise the weather in his hometown. Yang City was a small town with damp cold winters and muggy hot summers. On sweltering days, the heatwave engulfed the city, and the air conditioning was his lifeline. But this year, the power supply was unreliable, and now, there was a blackout. If he had known, he wouldn't have come home for the summer vacation. Fang Nianchi fished out a popsicle from the malfunctioning refrigerator, giving it a light squeeze; it was limp and melting. He clicked his tongue in annoyance, tossing the popsicle, still in its wrapper, into the trash. Then he dialed Zhang Yaoqing's number. "What's up?" Zhang Yaoqing's voice came out muffled and drowsy from the other end of the line, sounding like he had just woken up. "Got any coke? Preferably iced." "Do you think my house is a supermarket?" Zhang Yaoqing retorted, but he still heaved himself out of bed. Not long after, Fang Nianchi heard him curse, "Damn, there's a power cut again." "Mm-hmm." Zhang Yaoqing paused before asking, "Your place too?" "Yeah," Fang Nianchi responded. Grumbling, Zhang Yaoqing suggested, "Ever thought about us living in the same building?" "I'll take my chances." "…Are you out of your mind?" Zhang Yaoqing slammed the fridge door shut, then made a proposition. "Why not try your luck at the convenience store downstairs and grab a couple of cold ones for me while you're at it?" "Which convenience store? With this blackout, are they even open?" Fang Nianchi glanced outside the window. It was four in the afternoon, the sky clear and unmarred by a single cloud, save for the ruthless sun hanging high in the sky. "No power there either," Zhang Yaoqing admitted with a yawn, stretching out on his bed once more. "But they use a cooler box to keep drinks cold, specifically to deal with power outages. It's a new store, right next to the noodle shop we used to frequent." Sensing Fang Nianchi's hesitance, he added, "If you're late, they might sell out." The desperate need for an icy cold coke ultimately defeated the irritability brought on by the sweltering heat. Fang Nianchi ended the call, washed his face in the bathroom, and slipped into a loose t-shirt. He and Zhang Yaoqing had attended the same school since elementary. His father had passed away early, and his mother, Shen Ling, ran an interior design company and was often out of sight. She hardly had time to take care of him from a young age, resulting in Fang Nianchi eating more meals at Zhang Yaoqing's home than ones cooked by his own mother. After starting high school, Shen Ling saw that her son had managed to grow up just fine on his own, even managing to be one of the top students in his class. She decided to move into an apartment closer to her company and throw herself into her work. Fang Nianchi doubted if there was another mother in the entire Yang City with such a laid-back attitude. Despite practically being part of the same family, he and Zhang Yaoqing had entirely different personalities. Zhang Yaoqing stayed in Yang City for university, while Fang Nianchi went to a school a thousand kilometers away. Zhang Yaoqing loved sports, Fang Nianchi preferred to stay at home. Zhang Yaoqing had a sweet tooth, Fang Nianchi preferred spicy food. Zhang Yaoqing liked girls, but Fang Nianchi liked boys. Fang Nianchi first came to terms with his sexual orientation during his junior year of high school. At that time, the most beautiful girl in the school had sent him a love letter through a friend. Most teenage boys, to some extent, have a bit of vanity. Dating the school beauty was considered one of the most prestigious things for a boy his age. But after much thought and an intense battle with his vanity, Fang Nianchi had to admit a shocking fact: When faced with girls, he had no romantic or sexual thoughts whatsoever. He didn't even have the desire to give it a try. He came out to Zhang Yaoqing immediately, which shocked his completely heterosexual friend. It took Zhang Yaoqing an entire month to muster the courage to invite him to eat together downstairs again. Fang Nianchi descended the stairs, only to find he had severely underestimated the outside temperature. Sweat trickled down his neck, soaking half of his back. But at this point, the distance back to his apartment and to the noodle shop was about the same. Turning back now would feel like a wasted effort. He muttered a curse at Zhang Yaoqing under his breath, wiped the sweat off the back of his neck, and pressed on. There was indeed a previously unseen shop next to the noodle restaurant, which seemed to have taken the place of an old breakfast spot. The new storefront was quite shabby, with a hastily hung sign stating "Wholesale and Retail of Cigarettes, Alcohol, and Daily Necessities". Before he could even reflect on the shop's plain name, his attention was captured by a small figure near the shop entrance. A boy, who looked no more than four or five years old, was wandering around as if in a daze. In just a few more steps, he would be in the path of oncoming traffic on a busy street. Fang Nianchi quickly walked over, gripped the back of the boy's shirt, and asked, "Where are your parents?" The boy didn't respond until the question was asked. Then, with a loud wail, he burst into tears. The crying drew the attention of the passersby and nearby shopkeepers. Even though Fang Nianchi was reasonably good-looking, the sight of him holding the crying boy didn't paint him in a favorable light. He swallowed nervously, reaching into his pocket for his phone to call the police, when his gaze met that of a man leaning against the shop's door frame. The man's arms were crossed, and he was casually leaning against the frame of the small shop's entrance. Fang Nianchi had seen many handsome guys before, but the word 'handsome' didn't seem quite right for this man—his features were delicate, his facial structure was refined, and he had a pair of distinctively beautiful phoenix eyes. He was very beautiful. Fang Nianchi had to admit, some beauty was so stunning it could literally take one's breath away. For a moment, he even thought his heart had skipped a beat. However, the wailing child in his hands somewhat disrupted the moment. Shaking off his distraction, Fang Nianchi continued to hold the man's gaze unabashedly, and asked, "Do you know this child?" The man didn't respond, simply shaking his head. The crowd of onlookers continued to grow, but no one stepped forward to claim the child. "You should call the police," the man suddenly spoke. His voice was slightly cold, yet clear. Fang Nianchi prided himself on not being a man easily swayed by attractiveness, but his hand hesitated in his pocket, his words escaping before his thoughts, "Do you have a phone? I left mine at home." The man looked at him for a moment, seemingly on the fence about responding, but eventually stepped aside from the entrance, signaling for him to come in. By now, the little boy seemed to have cried himself out, his small face crumpled and body twitching slightly. Fang Nianchi had no experience with children, but an inexplicable stubbornness not to appear inadequate emerged. He patiently picked up the child, only to have the little one's hands clutch onto his neck, smearing snot and tears all over him. A shudder ran through Fang Nianchi, but he couldn't exactly express his disgust. With a mix of sweat, tears, and snot, his neck was truly a disaster zone. The man slid a landline phone from the counter towards him, no longer paying him any mind, and stepped out through a door at the back. After ending the call, and seeing the man hadn't returned, Fang Nianchi found himself aimlessly looking around the shop. There wasn't much to see. The shop wasn't large, roughly thirty square meters, with cigarettes, alcohol, beverages, and groceries neatly arranged. The man seemed to be about his age. Fang Nianchi wondered if he was a summer job worker or helping out family. As he was staring at the variety of cigarette boxes behind the counter, lost in his thoughts, the man returned. He casually glanced at Fang Nianchi and asked, "What type of cigarette do you want?" "Eh?" Fang Nianchi tamed his curiosity and stuttered, "No, I'm not buying, I don't smoke." Upon hearing this, the man turned his back and began rearranging the shelves, ignoring him. Despite the scorching sun outside, the atmosphere inside was icy cold. As his initial restlessness began to subside, Fang Nianchi cleared his throat and spoke again, "The police will take him to the station soon. Can I let him stay here for a while?" The man didn't turn around, his actions uninterrupted, and he responded succinctly with a non-committal hum. Fang Nianchi, after repeated attempts at friendliness had been met with cold indifference, found it tedious and finally decided to get down to business. He asked, "Do you have any cold coke here?" "Yes." The young man clapped his hands, walked over to the cooler, and pulled out a Styrofoam box, asking how many bottles he wanted. "Four... make it six." "We only have two left." The young man pulled out two bottles of coke from the box, turned his head and asked, "Is room temperature okay?" Fang Nianchi was about to let it slide, but when he caught sight of those eyes - teasingly uplifted at the corners in something that wasn't quite a smile - his response changed to an "Okay". "That's eighteen in total." The young man packed the six bottles of coke into a plastic bag and casually pointed to the payment QR code. Fang Nianchi pulled out his phone, and in one swift motion scanned the code and made the payment. Just as he was about to pick up the plastic bag, he abruptly halted. The young man kindly did not comment, but his gaze lingered on Fang Nianchi's phone, a playful look in his eyes. Deciding to ignore the teasing expression on the young man's face, Fang Nianchi decided to double down, reopened WeChat and asked, "Do you do deliveries? Can I add you on WeChat?"