Last night, the residents of Golden Magnolia Garden reported hearing two gunshots. When the police arrived at the scene, they found the bodies of a man and a woman in an abandoned residence. The victims were a 52-year-old woman and a 26-year-old man. The two were mother and son—the wife and son, respectively, of Cheng Kang Psychiatric Hospital's administrative director, Liang Jicheng. The police discovered suicide notes written by the deceased within the residence. As both were involved in the Cheng Kang case, their cause of death is suspected to be suicide to evade punishment…"
On a weekend evening, Xie Qingcheng was sitting on the high-speed rail when he received a push notification for a news article on his phone.
He frowned slightly and opened it.
The article wasn't long; as these things usually went, the more serious the matter, the fewer the words.
Liang Jicheng's wife and son…
He recalled how the young nurse who greeted them at Cheng Kang Psychiatric Hospital that day had indeed said that Liang Jicheng had a wife and child—those were the very words that made He Yu realize that the "Liang Jicheng" Xie Xue had met was an impostor.
Did those two really die by suicide?
Something about this case unnerved Xie Qingcheng, but, ultimately, he wasn't a police officer, and the details were too scant. The article didn't even include a picture. Even if he wanted to, there were no clues for him to ponder over in the first place, so he turned off the display of his phone screen and let out a soft sigh. The flames from the rooftop of Cheng Kang Psychiatric Hospital that day seemed to flicker before his eyes.
Jiang Lanpei had cackled hysterically and said that no one had ever come to see her over the course of twenty years; no one had ever even thought of her.
She wanted to become a vengeful ghost and turn all of Cheng Kang into Hell.
Was this some kind of otherworldly karmic retribution?
"Good evening, this is the G12 regular service train. We will arrive at Hangshi Station in ten minutes. Please gather your belongings and prepare to disembark the train. Thank you for riding with us today. The next station is Hangshi Station."
The sound of the high-speed train's announcement pulled Xie Qingcheng out of his thoughts.
He politely excused himself to the young girl sitting beside him. Her face turned red as she made room for him to pass. Holding the gift box, he walked down the aisle and waited to exit the train. He pushed the matter of Liang Jicheng's wife and son out of his mind; after all, the case of Cheng Kang was a thing of the past.
The production He Yu had joined was a small-budget web series.
The screenwriter was a newbie, the director was a newbie, and the actors were newbies… Since there was little to no investment, the entire cast and crew were all new while the props were all old.
However, there were good things about being newbies too. As everyone was equally inexperienced, their faces had yet to be stained by the grease of smoke-filled celebrity banquets, and the soles of their shoes had yet to be tainted by the mud of powdered fame. Most of their hearts still resided in their chests, wrapped only in a thin layer of flesh, and could be easily worn on their sleeves; while it was difficult to say just how much sincerity they possessed, they weren't completely fake, at the very least. According to Xie Xue, the overall atmosphere was quite amiable.
By the time Xie Qingcheng's taxi arrived at the filming location, the cast and crew were shooting the final scene before dinner break.
Xie Xue had already given the crew a heads up prior to Xie Qingcheng's arrival, so once he got there, he was ushered to the seat next to the director's playback monitor to watch the filming while he waited.
He Yu was in the middle of the shoot.
To be honest, Xie Qingcheng didn't know what kind of production He Yu had joined before he came. After observing for a while, he realized it was a melodramatic and extremely clichéd campus love story.
In the drama, He Yu played a bourgeois male cannon fodder character who'd silently crushed on the female lead for years; the character actually fit his real personality quite well. In this particular scene, the capitalist was to declare his love to the female lead, be rejected, and then leave on his own.
This scene had to be filmed in a rainstorm, and since it was a drama with such paltry investment that even the director's great-aunts and grandmothers had been dragged into playing the extras, the crew would no doubt look to save money on artificial rainfall if they could. So, when the stingy producer happened to get a rainstorm gifted by the heavens, he started to frantically pull actors in and torture them with repeated takes.
As a result, He Yu had to repeat this emotional, explosive scene in the heavy downpour, over and over.
Acting wasn't his major, and it was also his first time doing it. But He Yu managed to control his emotions very well when filming this scene. It didn't seem like he was acting at all. Instead, it felt like he was rather freely expressing his own emotions.
Xie Qingcheng was quite surprised, and he wasn't the only one who felt this way. Everyone standing before the monitors under the makeshift tent was shocked as well.
"Wow, is this stud really not an acting major…?" a staff member rolled the script into a little megaphone and said in an extremely soft whisper.
By the time they finished shooting this scene, the sky was already completely dark.
The embarrassingly poor production team had erected a makeshift tent by the side specifically for the actors to rest and change in. He Yu dipped into this tent after he finished filming his scene. For a long while, there was no discernible movement from within.
Xie Qingcheng sent him a message, and about ten minutes later, a young assistant pushed aside the hanging screen and came out. The assistant, who was carrying a large black umbrella with a carbon fiber handle, ran over to the tent where Xie Qingcheng was waiting and invited him to the one that He Yu was in.
He Yu's tent was very small and contained only a white plastic outdoor table and a couple of chairs. When Xie Qingcheng entered, He Yu was sitting in one of the chairs toweling his hair dry. Hearing movement, he lifted his head and glanced at Xie Qingcheng.
This glance of his was not quite what Xie Qingcheng had expected.
He had thought that He Yu's condition would be exceedingly poor. He Yu's unbridled emotional performance just now had somewhat affected even the staff members who were watching in the tent and caused them to shed a few tears, but the actor himself was unexpectedly apathetic. He Yu lounged in the tent, listening to music with his Bluetooth earbuds stuffed into his ears and his slender, fine-boned left hand nonchalantly tapping a beat against the table.
On the contrary, his mental state seemed even more normal than when they had run into each other at the hospital.
"Xie Xue told me that you were coming." He Yu removed one of his earbuds and tossed it carelessly onto the table. He even gave Xie Qingcheng a smile. "Are your allergies better?"
Xie Qingcheng relaxed slightly. "If they weren't, I'd be dead." He glanced at He Yu's phone screen. "What're you looking at?"
"The news," He Yu said. "The aftermath of Cheng Kang Psychiatric Hospital. Liang Jicheng's wife and son died last night. The reporter said the authorities suspect suicide. You saw it too, right?"
Xie Qingcheng nodded.
He Yu smiled. "Even a man like this had a wife and son… Even he had someone who liked him before."
Xie Qingcheng didn't notice the darkness in He Yu's words. He pushed the gift box Xie Xue had him bring into He Yu's arms. "From Xie Xue."
Carrying the heavy box, He Yu stilled for a moment before he said, "Thanks."
Xie Qingcheng accepted his thanks with a clear conscience. After standing in the tent for a while, he asked, "Enough about Liang Jicheng, let's talk about you. Why did you suddenly want to act?"
"I want to try some more things and the opportunity happened to fall into my lap. Plus, I like this character."
Xie Qingcheng nodded. He pulled a chair over, sat down, and put a cigarette in his mouth.
But before the lighter could touch the cigarette, he heard He Yu say, "Could you not smoke?"
Xie Qingcheng was silent.
He Yu often watched his parents' guests puff out clouds of smoke when he was young, so he had developed an aversion to smoking that was difficult to put into words.
Xie Qingcheng slid the cigarette back into its box, but he still subconsciously bit down on his lip out of habit.
He Yu watched him. "You didn't smoke in the past."
"…Mm."
"When did you start?"
Xie Qingcheng pursed his lips and seemed to be deep in thought. Finally, he looked up and replied with a slight shrug, "I don't remember."
The man paused, as though reluctant to continue with this topic. He looked at the boy sitting across the simple plastic table. "Your acting is rather commendable. I thought you really got into character."
He Yu pressed the tip of his tongue to the back of his teeth, then smiled slightly. He smiled often, regardless of whether his mood was good or bad, gloomy or sunny. In his case, a smile was not an indicator of his state of mind. Rather, it had been forged into the mask that he was accustomed to wearing when he interacted with people—an extremely alluring hallucinogen he employed at will to prevent others from discovering his true self.
"No, I'm not that stupid. It's a script written by someone else. Who would take it seriously?"
"Then how did you act it out?"
"It's just like lying. Haven't I been faking it all these years?" He Yu stared at Xie Qingcheng. His voice was so soft that the other man could just barely hear it. "I have an illness, but I pretend to be a normal person."
He Yu leaned back and fiddled languidly with the earbud on the table, spinning it as if it were a top.
"I thought that perhaps something had happened to you and this was all just an outlet to vent your feelings about it," said Xie Qingcheng.
He Yu raised his head and gazed at Xie Qingcheng. "Is my acting that good?"
"It's not bad. How's the burn on your wrist?"
He Yu subconsciously touched his wrist before quickly letting go.
He calmly, casually, almost carelessly revealed it to Xie Qingcheng.
"It's fine. But I can't have too many scars showing on screen. They took care of it, sorta."
The makeup artists had drawn some delicate tattoos onto his arm, many of them in Sanskrit. The solemnity of the Buddhist texts blurred and entwined with the brashness of the tattoos in a way that suited the character's introverted, gloomy personality quite well.
"Does it look good?" He Yu asked.
"It looks terrible. It looks even worse paired with your school uniform."
"He doesn't have tattoos in high school, so when we change costumes in a bit, they'll have to redo the makeup and find a way to cover the scars," He Yu explained. "Are you going to stay and watch? The shoot will probably go on till pretty late."
"I'm not watching. I've seen you in a school uniform for almost a decade. My eyes have had more than enough."
But although he said he wouldn't watch, Xie Qingcheng still asked, "What are you shooting tonight?"
"An exam scene." He Yu said with a hint of a mocking smile, "There's not much to see. Why don't you help me bring these things over to the hotel? I'll give you my room card." He Yu paused for a moment, then asked, "Are you staying at the same hotel as the cast and crew tonight? Don't worry about it if you're not. I'll just bring them back myself after I'm done filming."
Xie Qingcheng checked the message with the plans that Xie Xue had sent him earlier.
"I'm in 8062."
"That's right next door to me."
Xie Qingcheng accepted He Yu's request. Since he had confirmed that He Yu's illness wasn't acting up, he took the room card He Yu passed to him and stood up to head to the hotel and rest. After all, he still needed to catch an early train tomorrow to make it back for his class.
When Xie Qingcheng swiped the key card and entered He Yu's room, he didn't notice anything unusual.
The room was what one would expect from a male college student: there were a few unwashed articles of clothing tossed onto the bed, a basketball in the corner, a couple pairs of athletic shoes, and some books lying on the table.
Xie Qingcheng placed the box of pastries beside He Yu's desk, then returned to his own room next door to take a shower. Dressed in the hotel's loose-fitting white bathrobe, he was in the middle of towel-drying his hair while walking over to the writing desk when his phone began to ring.
It was Chen Man.
"Xie-ge, I came to visit t you at your dorm; why aren't you home today?"
"I'm in Hangshi."
Surprised, Chen Man said, "You've only just recovered. What're you in Hangshi for?"
"Checking on a patient."
"What patient? Didn't you stop being a doctor a long time ago?"
Xie Qingcheng lit a cigarette, glad he could finally smoke now. "A little devil around your age," he said, then paused. "A little younger than you, actually."
For some reason, Chen Man was silent for several seconds on the other end of the line.
Then, very abruptly, he asked, "Male or female? Ge, how come you went out of your way to visit them?"
Xie Qingcheng breathed in a lungful of smoke. He found Chen Man's behavior baffling, but still he responded, "Male. His father and I know each other, and I used to treat his illness. Otherwise, I really couldn't be bothered. Why are you so curious?"
Inexplicably, Chen Man's tone relaxed once more. With a laugh, he said, "I'm just asking for no reason."
"So, why did you come looking for me at my school?"
"Oh, I wanted to give you some of the crab roe sauce my mom made. It's really good mixed with noodles."
"You can leave it with Xie Xue."
Alarmed, Chen Man said, "No way! She has such a huge appetite, there's no chance there'd be any left over for you. Forget it, I'll just wait till you get back."
"Very well."
"Ge, you sound pretty tired. I'll stop bothering you so you can have a good rest…"
Xie Qingcheng said indolently, "Mm."
He didn't bother with pleasantries with Chen Man either and ended the call.
Chen Man wasn't this clingy in the past, but after his brother passed, he was depressed for a long time. Xie Qingcheng often went to see him during this period of mourning. Later, after Chen Man recovered, he would come over to Xie Qingcheng's house from time to time. It was only when Xie Qingcheng started to find him annoying that he finally stopped somewhat.
But Chen Man was right. After spending an entire day rushing about, he really was a bit tired. And so, dressed in a bathrobe, he lay down in bed and closed his eyes to take a short rest.
That short rest turned into a long nap. When he woke up, the digital clock on the table read 11:10 p.m.
He Yu should have already been back for a while, but Xie Qingcheng must've been sleeping too heavily to hear him return.
There was no other option—he was leaving first thing in the morning and He Yu began filming early as well, so it was difficult to say whether they would be able to run into each other again. After a moment of contemplation, Xie Qingcheng picked up the thin key card from the table and headed over to He Yu's room next door; in any case, he should make sure to return the key.
Xie Qingcheng knocked on the door several times, but there were no signs of movement inside He Yu's room. Recalling that He Yu had spent the evening repeatedly filming scenes in the torrential downpour, Xie Qingcheng supposed that the boy had fallen asleep from exhaustion. He lowered his hand and crouched down, intending to slide the key card under the door and then send He Yu a message to tell him so that he'd see it when he woke up in the morning.
But before he slid the key card under the door, Xie Qingcheng suddenly realized…
The lights were on in He Yu's room.
It wasn't very bright—only one of the floor lamps was on—but he could still see very clearly through the gap at the bottom of the door and confirm that the lights in the room were indeed on inside the room.
Xie Qingcheng inexplicably started in surprise. He straightened up and, sensing something amiss, instinctively knocked a little louder, "He Yu, are you in there? I've come to return your room key."
There was no response.
Xie Qingcheng took out his phone and dialed He Yu's number. A moment later, he heard He Yu's ringtone through the door.
Xie Qingcheng couldn't shake his anxiety about He Yu's condition. He knocked a few more times on the door, then raised his voice and called out at the tightly closed grayish-brown door, "He Yu, if you don't respond, I'm going to open the door and come in."
There was no response.
"Can you hear me?"
Still no response.
Xie Qingcheng pressed the rather worn-out key card to the sensor of the lock and, with a light beeping sound, the door opened.
The thick curtains were drawn, and a heavy smell of alcohol permeated the room.
Xie Qingcheng was immediately overcome with an ominous feeling.
He swept his eyes over the room and spotted the boy, curled into a ball in the corner.
The worst of his fears had come true. Xie Qingcheng was so angry he didn't even know where to begin. "…You!"
Like a little dragon in a cage, the boy shifted slightly but did not respond any further.
Xie Qingcheng finally saw through He Yu's disguise. His intuition had been correct: He Yu had indeed not come all this way for this role and to waste time with this production team for no good reason. He came here to find an outlet, a vent for his troubled mind.
In fact, He Yu's illness had begun to flare up ever since he found out that Xie Xue liked Wei Dongheng. However, it hadn't yet reached its peak and could still be controlled.
Upon realizing that he was unwell, He Yu had immediately gone to the hospital to get a new prescription before joining the production team in an effort to distract himself. But although he could pretend to be calm and collected when he was in front of others during the day, he could not control himself when he was alone at night. He ended up self-medicating by randomly taking all the various medicines he had brought to prevent his illness from worsening. And when that didn't work, he turned to drinking alcohol. Thus, when Xie Qingcheng entered the room, he was greeted by the sight of wine bottles—as well as pillboxes—strewn all over the floor.
He Yu was popping pills indiscriminately.
Xie Qingcheng had expressly informed He Jiwei of the importance of strictly controlling He Yu's drug usage before he left his job. If these medicines were to lose their effectiveness, the only option left when He Yu's illness worsened would be to physically restrain him at a hospital.
He didn't even mention the word "treatment."
Because he would end up in the exact same situation as the patients at Cheng Kang Psychiatric Hospital—forcibly subdued, tied down with restraints, subjected to electroconvulsive therapy, imprisoned—none of it would lead to recovery; it would only make him deteriorate into a vicious beast and force him into manacles and a muzzle so that he couldn't harm others.
He Yu would become a madman through and through.
No doctor could bear seeing a patient ruin themselves like this. Xie Qingcheng walked over to He Yu and said with a voice tinged with anger, "…He Yu."
No response.
"He Yu."
Still nothing.
"HE YU!"
The boy finally moved, and his beautiful almond eyes shifted beneath long, thick lashes. His gaze slowly inched over to the halo of light cast by the floor lamp where Xie Qingcheng stood in a bathrobe. "It's you," he muttered.
Before Xie Qingcheng could respond, He Yu leaned his head back against the bedside cabinet and said softly, "Tsk, seriously… What did you come in here for?"
Xie Qingcheng ignored him.
"I'm just exhausted from work and drank a little wine. It's nothing, okay? You can go."
The alcohol allowed him to control his violent bloodlust, but it also caused his mind to become befuddled; the normally intelligent He Yu suddenly found himself unable to spin up any good lies. In fact, he was so tired that he no longer wanted to continue making up stories at all. "Go, stop poking your nose into my business."
What he received in return was a hand wrapping painfully around his wrist as he was forcefully yanked up off the floor. Before he could come back to his senses, he was tossed onto the armchair. Looking around hazily, He Yu could only see Xie Qingcheng's familiar and severe face.
A pair of peach-blossom eyes.
As though he'd been stabbed, He Yu immediately turned his face away to stare fixedly at the completely innocent and uninvolved decorative painting hanging in the corner: Van Gogh's Starry Night.
He Yu's voice sounded very congested when he spoke, despite his best efforts. "Xie Qingcheng, I said that I'm fine, so what are you still doing here? Are you gonna monitor my drinking too?"
Xie Qingcheng said, "Do you think I want to monitor you? Just look at yourself right now—what kind of behavior is this?"
He Yu didn't bother responding to him and covered his eyes with his hand instead.
It was at this very moment that Xie Qingcheng was able to finally get a good look at his wrist under the dusky glow of the dim floor lamp.
The tattoo that had been drawn on top of it, as well as the concealer the makeup artist used, had already been washed away, revealing a deep and recent gash on He Yu's naked wrist.
Xie Qingcheng's heart sank immediately.
"You're fucking cutting yourself again!"
"Is that any of your business?! It's not like I'm cutting your wrist!"
Xie Qingcheng truly didn't want to make it his business.
But considering psychological Ebola, considering what He Jiwei had said to him before, Xie Qingcheng nevertheless said through gritted teeth, "Fine. I won't argue with you. I won't argue with you, okay?"
He walked over to He Yu's desk, on top of which there lay a box—a box of pills.
Xie Qingcheng returned from the desk with a big cup of hot water. He took out the two pills that he'd selected, the type with calming properties, and passed them to He Yu, who was still sitting on the ground in a fetal position. "Hurry up and take them," Xie Qingcheng ordered.
He Yu turned his face slightly to the side.
"Are you going to take them yourself, or do you want me to force them down your throat?"
He Yu stayed silent.
"Take them. Once you're done, I'll keep out of your fucking business."
He Yu seriously didn't want to seem pathetic in front of Xie Qingcheng, especially since he was a bit dazed from drinking so much. He looked up wanly and took the pills and water from Xie Qingcheng's hand and swallowed them with a gulp of water from the cup he was holding.
"I've taken them. Now can you get out?"
But Xie Qingcheng was not the type of gentleman who kept his word no matter what, so he grabbed He Yu by the wrist. "Sit down."
He Yu yanked his hand back with an icy expression.
"I said, sit down," Xie Qingcheng firmly ordered.
"Didn't you say you'd leave me alone after I took the pills?!" He Yu leaned back against the wall with his face upturned, his Adam's apple bobbing.
Xie Qingcheng didn't respond to him
He Yu closed his eyes. "…Just let me calm down like this by myself, okay?" His long eyelashes fluttered, and the jut of his throat bobbed up and down. "Just stop bothering me."
It seemed as though he was truly depressed. A dying fish would still flop around when they had the will to live, but at this moment, He Yu seemed to have completely resigned himself to fate, just waiting for his final breath of air to slip out of his lungs.
Xie Qingcheng grabbed He Yu's wrist and looked down at him through peach-blossom eyes. Sternly, he asked, "What happened to you?"
He Yu gave no answer.
Xie Qingcheng said, "You have a mental illness; there's nothing to be ashamed of. The fault lies with the disorder and not with you. It's been seven years, He Yu—I thought that by now, you wouldn't hide your troubles and refuse to seek help anymore, yet you degrade yourself like this."
He Yu remained silent. He simply sat there, brows furrowed, face upturned, and wrist still firmly in Xie Qingcheng's grip. His heart struggled against the effects of the alcohol and medication, pounding so fast that it was practically skipping beats.
Xie Qingcheng could feel this increasingly erratic pulse through his hands around He Yu's wrists. Like countless times in the past, Xie Qingcheng's intuition and knowledge of He Yu pierced directly through his facade to see all the thoughts and symptoms he tried so hard to hide.
Sensing that he couldn't continue like this, He Yu instinctively began to struggle and tried to yank his wrist out of Xie Qingcheng's grasp. The two of them began to tussle, but as the effects of He Yu's drunkenness overwhelmed him, he leaned back against the wall and gazed upward while panting.
"Xie Qingcheng, you're refusing to let go?"
The boy tilted his face away. By the time he turned back, the rims of his eyes were blood-red with a mix of intoxication and hatred. He sneered, "You're right, I am unhappy. I am upset. I can't control myself. Everything is just as you said. You predicted it all. Are you satisfied now? You wanted to have a good laugh. Are you laughing now?"
With a dark expression, Xie Qingcheng calmly replied, "You really think you're that entertaining? I'm looking out for you on your dad's behalf. I'm worried you'll get into trouble."
"You're worried I'll get into trouble?" He Yu said, his voice tinged with mockery and his eyes bloodshot. "Our doctor-patient relationship is over, so why are you doing this, huh? Has he paid you to look after me? You're letting my dad screw you over!"
He Yu withdrew his hand with a vicious jerk. This time, he managed to extricate himself from the slightly stunned Xie Qingcheng's grip.
Xie Qingcheng didn't know what "screw you over" meant in the modern youth lexicon. Momentarily infuriated in his misunderstanding, he scolded He Yu sharply, "What the hell are you saying?! Screwing? He's your dad! What kind of imagination do you have?!"
"You're so obedient to my dad, you do everything out of consideration for his reputation. If that's the case, go look for him—come back after he pays you. After all, I sure can't afford your service." He Yu was deeply drunk and extremely depressed. He sneered and stared at Xie Qingcheng. "If you insist on babysitting me, then I can only screw you over. 'Screwing over' means not paying, Doctor Xie—you cool with that?"
Xie Qingcheng looked into He Yu's eyes without speaking.
They were wet, empty, and filled with ridicule for them both. Despite being hidden by such thick lashes and the dimness of their surroundings, those eyes could still show such conflicting emotions. He Yu tilted his head back and turned his face to the side. Xie Qingcheng thought he saw tears brimming at the corners of his eyes, but it might have been a trick of the light.
He Yu leaned back haphazardly and glared at Xie Qingcheng as he asked, "It's not worth it, is it? Xie Qingcheng? You won't do it, right? So what's the point in poking your nose into other people's business…? Cutting my wrists won't kill me, so why can't you just let me let loose a little without feeling guilty? I've already tried my hardest—I didn't kill anyone or set fire to anything, so why can't I just fucking cut myself? Does my depression get in your way? Do you all want to fucking hound me to death?! Haven't you had enough?!"
He Yu's mind grew increasingly muddled. His sense of awareness was visibly slipping away. Usually, he didn't have much to say to Xie Qingcheng—it was only when he got drunk that he became irritable and talkative.
Xie Qingcheng looked down at him, and just like this, listened to him for a long, long time before he suddenly reached up and covered He Yu's eyes.
The unexpected action stunned He Yu for just a moment, but then he forcefully grabbed Xie Qingcheng by the wrist.
His voice was almost whisper-soft as he said, "Xie Qingcheng?" The lips visible beneath the palm that covered his eyes parted. "What are you trying to do?"