E | Chapter 8

“How about coming back to school with me today? A few of my single colleagues are having a movie night in the dorm.” On the evening of August 30, as he drove, Zhao Sibei casually suggested this to Yang Ke.

He steered out of the gates at the end of the shaded path, leaving the large estate behind. Pressing a button, he opened the sunroof, letting the gentle wind flood into the car, creating a noise that, though loud, didn’t bother Yang Ke. From the corner of his eye, Yang Ke could see Zhao Sibei’s white short-sleeved shirt flapping in the breeze.

“What movie?” Yang Ke asked.

“Rear Window,” Zhao Sibei replied, then asked, “Do you want to watch it?”

Yang Ke said yes.

Zhao Sibei was Yang Ke’s biological father.

As far as Yang Ke knew, his mother had passed away not long after he was born. Yang Zhongyun used his favorite underhanded methods to gain custody of Yang Ke and immediately forced Zhao Sibei out of the family. Since then, Zhao only got to visit Yang Ke once a month for two days on the last weekend of each month.

Originally, Zhao Sibei held a teaching position in sociology at Ning University, where he was the youngest associate professor. After his wife’s death and due to interference from Yang Zhongyun, he had to leave Ning City and accept a position at a prestigious university in the neighboring province’s capital.

But every month, rain or shine, he would drive hundreds of kilometers to Ning City to visit Yang Ke, just like today.

The visits were short, so they couldn’t go far. He would take Yang Ke on nearby outings, visiting museums or taking him to his home in Xin City. His home was a small, cozy apartment assigned by the university, tidy and warmly furnished.

He hadn’t remarried and kept a wedding photo of himself and Yang Ke’s mother, Yang Nian, in the house, though he rarely spoke about her to Yang Ke.

Sometimes, in their conversations, Zhao would tell Yang Ke that he reminded him of his mother. In those moments, he would share a bit about the past.

Mostly, it was about their relationship.

He once told Yang Ke that his mother would sneak out on weekends to meet him, waiting until his shift ended, reading his textbooks until she fell asleep. She studied marketing at Ning University, two years his junior, and wasn’t very good academically. Her grades teetered on the edge of failing. She was quiet but loved to sleep.

Once, Zhao Sibei confided in Yang Ke that they hadn’t originally planned to have a child; Yang Ke was a surprise. Initially, they considered not keeping him, but once they were at the hospital, Yang Nian changed her mind.

This backstory made Yang Ke feel a bit unwanted, but Zhao, unlike him, was empathetic and openly expressive. He told Yang Ke, “It was just a little detour; your mom loved you very much.”

When he was with Zhao on these nights away from home, Yang Ke would sometimes think about moving out after he turned eighteen, living on his own, perhaps closer to his father. But it was only a thought.

“Anything new happening lately?”

As they entered the highway leading to Xin City, the sunset had nearly faded, and the sky grew dark. Zhao played one of his favorite old albums, casually asking Yang Ke, “Just now, I think I saw a boy I didn’t recognize, standing by the stairs.”

“Yes,” Yang Ke told his father, “he’s a student my grandfather is sponsoring from a poor mountain area. His name is Yu Zhinian.”

“Your grandfather? Sponsoring a poor student?” Zhao’s tone was surprised, as if, like Yang Ke, he couldn’t fathom why Yang Zhongyun would suddenly turn into a philanthropist. “Is he a top student or something, living in the house?”

“Well, not exactly a top student,” Yang Ke commented, thinking of Yu’s dark under-eye circles and the accent he’d overheard when he muttered vocabulary words to himself.

“How old is he?” Zhao thought for a moment, then asked, “He looks pretty young.”

“He’s in my year.” Yang Ke paused briefly, then told his father about the time Yu received an envelope of cash and how recently, every night, his grandfather would call Yu into his study to keep him company.

For some reason, Zhao was silent for a long time, as if carefully choosing his words. He finally said, “Yang Ke, keep an eye on that kid. Try to find out what he and your grandfather do together.”

“He just makes him sit and read,” Yang Ke said immediately. “Nothing else.”

He knew this because every night, Yu would message him, venting about the dullness, listing the homework he had done, the books he read, how many hours he had sat there, and how he’d fallen asleep only to be woken up by Yang Zhongyun. It gave Yang Ke the impression that Yu wasn’t only a poor student but also overly chatty and perpetually sleepy.

On the way to Xin City, Zhao continued asking about Yu, but Yang Ke, being indifferent to him, had little information to share besides the fact that Yu was poor.

The movie night was held at Professor Lin’s house. As soon as they arrived, the movie started playing. Shortly after, Yang Ke received a message from Yu, saying that his grandfather hadn’t returned that night, so he might not need to sit in the study. He asked Yang Ke if he was out, whether he could borrow the pool to practice swimming.

He sent a few more messages, explaining that he had chosen swimming as his PE class this semester but had never learned it.

During a break in the movie, Yang Ke replied, “Out,” giving Yu permission to use the pool and letting him know he wouldn’t be back that night.

Yu then asked where he was, but Yang Ke didn’t respond.

The next day in Xin City, Zhao took Yang Ke and a few colleagues to a camping site.

Professor Xu, one of Zhao’s colleagues, had two sons, eight and ten years old. As Yang Ke set up the tent, they crowded around him, watching but staying mostly silent, seemingly intimidated by him.

In the evening, they brought out chairs and mosquito lamps, sitting under the night sky, chatting and stargazing.

The two boys fell asleep while watching. Professor Xu, suffering from back pain, had Yang Ke carry the boys into the tent. He praised Yang Ke to Zhao, calling him mature, well-mannered, and different from the unruly teenage students he taught at a private school.

The weekend passed quickly, and on Sunday afternoon, Zhao drove Yang Ke home.

Strangely, the sunny Saturday had given way to a stiflingly hot and overcast Sunday. The villa’s lush greenery was meticulously groomed, but the leaves looked wilted.

As Yang Ke got out of the car and was about to head inside, he noticed the pool lights were on, as if someone was using it. He walked over to check. Passing through the corridor and pushing open the door, he saw Yu flailing in the water, with a coach on the side instructing him on how to breathe.

Yu’s balance was poor, and his arms flailed clumsily in the water. Seeing Yang Ke enter, he stopped and looked up, calling, “You’re back!”

Yang Ke responded with a quiet “Hmm” and stepped closer. Yu’s face was wet, his eyes wide as he gazed at Yang Ke. The dark circles from his late-night study sessions were still prominent. With a tinge of envy, he asked, “Where did you go? You didn’t reply to any messages.”

Spending time with his father was fulfilling, so Yang Ke hadn’t checked his phone much. He ignored Yu’s question and instead asked, “How’s the swimming?”

“It’s hard,” Yu said, gripping the ladder and wiping his face, “and tiring.”

The coach sighed behind him, looking a bit helpless, and told Yang Ke, “It’s been a while since I’ve taught a total beginner.”

Yang Ke found it amusing. “You’ve never swum before?” he asked Yu.

“No,” Yu replied pitifully, adding, “When will I be able to swim as well as you?”

“How long before I get muscles?” He started asking strange questions.

Yang Ke didn’t respond, but the coach laughed first. “Focus on your breathing first.”

Yu pulled a face and sank down in the water.

His skin was already pale, and the parts untouched by the sun were even whiter. His upper body, looking untouched by exercise, bobbed half in the water and half out, the pool’s ripples wrapping around his arms like melted cream in a jar.

“Yang Ke,” he called, seemingly trying to avoid continuing his practice by finding something to talk about, “How old were you when you started swimming?”

“Forgot,” Yang Ke replied.

Yang Ke was just there to check on the pool and wasn’t interested in chatting, so he was about to leave when Xu, his grandfather’s assistant, walked in. She hurriedly told Yu, “Zhinian, Chairman Yang is back from his trip.”

Seeing Yang Ke, she paused, then smiled. “Young master, back early this time? Want to practice?”

Yang Ke didn’t answer, just glanced at Yu and asked Xu, “Grandfather wants him?”

“Yes,” she confirmed, though she didn’t elaborate.

Yu obediently climbed out of the water, took the large towel handed by the coach, wrapped himself in it, and said, “I’ll change quickly,” before running to the locker room.

Yang Ke watched him disappear, then casually asked Xu, “What does Grandpa want with him?”

Xu hadn’t expected Yang Ke to ask and hesitated as if weighing her answer before saying, “I’m not exactly sure; maybe it’s about his studies.”

Yang Ke didn’t ask further and left the pool.

When he reached his room, he received a message from Yu, a crying-face emoji saying, “I just got out; did you leave already?”

Yang Ke replied that he had, then asked what his grandfather wanted him for. After a moment, Yu responded, “Probably to keep him company while he works.”

After unpacking, Yang Ke felt an inexplicable urge to step out onto the balcony and glance outside.

His room was further from the corridor, but about thirty seconds later, he saw two small figures hurrying away from the pool. The one behind seemed to be Yu, looking flustered and uncertain.

Yang Ke could imagine the nervous look on Yu’s face as he rushed, only to look timid and hesitant before Yang Zhongyun soon after.

Trusting Yang Zhongyun and taking his “help” came at a price. Whatever Yu’s price would be was unclear, but he had likely made the wrong choice.

As Yang Ke thought about the Shih Tzu his grandfather once kept, the fleeting lovers he brought home, and the countless subordinates bowing to him—people and things that briefly entered the villa before leaving forever—he came to this conclusion.

From his experience, he believed that to his grandfather, Yu was likely more like a beloved pet dog than a lover. Yang Zhongyun had endless affection for pets, but he didn’t show much respect for lovers. But his grandfather was unpredictable and never acted according to expectations, so Yang Ke wouldn’t draw any conclusions.

Yet, every time he saw Yu’s endless messages or his rushed, anxious demeanor under Xu’s commands, Yang Ke couldn’t help but feel a brief flicker of pity.