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Chapter 126: I wish you good luck, a happy new year, and good fortune.
Many years later, Chen Wengang still remembered that this was the first Spring Festival he spent with Huo Niansheng.
In the morning, after the nurse’s rounds, Chen Wengang had a bit of a fever and fell back asleep without noticing. This second sleep was interrupted by a knock on the door. Still groggy, someone opened the unlocked door without permission, and through the haze, against the light, he saw the tall silhouette of a man.
Huo Niansheng, bringing in a gust of cold air, slowly thawed after entering the room. “Still not awake?”
Chen Wengang woke up completely this time. “You really came?”
He lifted the quilt and swung his legs off the bed. Huo Niansheng bent down and placed a pair of cotton slippers at his feet.
Chen Wengang was stunned, but Huo Niansheng didn’t think much of it and just smiled. “I said I would come; why wouldn’t I?”
“Doesn’t your family have to prepare a New Year’s Eve dinner and ancestral worship?” Chen Wengang got up to pour him a glass of water.
Huo Niansheng, with his hands in his pockets, looked around. “The old man is gone. Lighting a couple of incense sticks is enough to pay respects.”
Chen Wengang understood what he meant. A few years ago, Huo Kaishan passed away. His grand funeral shook Jin City, marking the end of the life of a legendary figure. After that, the third household of the Huo family took the helm, which was Huo Niansheng’s third uncle.
There was a notebook on the bedside table with a pen on it. Huo Niansheng saw it and moved the pen aside.
It wasn’t anything private. Chen Wengang just glanced at him without stopping him. Huo Niansheng picked it up and flipped through it, seeing page after page of sketches drawn with a black pen. Some pages depicted landscapes, while others showed various poses of different people.
“You drew these?”
“I’m out of practice.”
“Still, I can tell you’ve had training.”
“I only learned a bit as a kid. Did you have to learn music and draw when you were young?”
“Yes, of course. How could I not?” Huo Niansheng laughed. “It was useless though. I played the violin like I was sawing wood.”
Chen Wengang, infected by his laughter, also smiled. This comment brought back memories of their lessons. The Zheng family’s children were close in age, forming a small class that was taught together in the study. Zheng Maoxun couldn’t sit still, always fidgeting as if there were nails on his chair. Zheng Baoqiu liked to draw little flowers, grass, cats, and dogs. Mu Qing always stayed on his own, doodling without interacting with others.
Zheng Yucheng was the oldest of the group. He could sit still, but he had no talent for drawing. His shading was always too dark.
But Chen Wengang had once loved this feeling. He could sit quietly all afternoon, shading the light and shadow boundaries of plaster casts with a pencil.
He observed how the objects he drew appeared under different lighting, taking in the subtle changes in the world. As the lessons progressed, the subjects changed from cubes to wine bottles and then to plaster busts. The tutor once praised his drawings for having spirit.
Huo Niansheng flipped through the notebook, which was already more than half filled. He recognized the figures of doctors and nurses among the sketches.
The earlier drawings had often interrupted lines, indeed showing signs of difficulty, with many started and then abandoned halfway. In the latter half, as he regained his skill, the figures and landscapes became more fluid. Suddenly, Chen Wengang asked him, “Is the perspective in my drawings correct?”
Huo Niansheng said, “It seems correct.”
Chen Wengang covered his right eye, examining the world. “It’s different seeing with one eye compared to two. I’m always unsure if I’m perceiving correctly.”
Huo Niansheng looked down. “It’s correct.” He then asked, “Why aren’t there any drawings of me? Draw one of me too.”
The winter sunlight was not strong. It spread into the room plainly, illuminating the dark grey patterned fabric of Huo Niansheng’s suit.
He leaned sideways against the table, with his hands back in his pockets, watching as Chen Wengang’s pen moved on the paper.
Chen Wengang propped his head with one hand, drawing casually, sketching the folds of his arm with a few strokes.
During the New Year, everything feels renewed. Even the air seemed filled with a light and peaceful atmosphere. As he drew, he chatted with Huo Niansheng. “I’ve been thinking lately that if I practice enough, I could take a stool to popular spots and draw portraits to see if I could make a living.”
Huo Niansheng took the notebook he handed over, seemingly satisfied. “Then I won’t get a freebie. How much? Two hundred?”
Chen Wengang said, “Fifty will do.”
Huo Niansheng actually pulled out a red envelope from his pocket. “Here’s a token for good luck. Happy New Year, wishing you great fortune.”
Chen Wengang was taken aback, then laughed, accepting it and thanking him.
They continued to chat for a while, aimlessly, speaking whatever came to mind.
They first talked about the local customs of ancestor worship during the New Year. Then Huo Niansheng talked about how the Chinese communities abroad celebrated the festival, mentioning the lantern-decorated Chinatowns and the Chinese food that had become quite Westernized in flavor. Chen Wengang didn’t talk much; most of the time, he just listened. He watched Huo Niansheng’s face, listening to him describe the ancient campuses of foreign universities, the magnificent but costly-to-maintain castles, and the pigeons waddling in the squares, fed by tourists.
When Huo Niansheng spoke, he liked to tilt his head slightly, with the corners of his mouth curving upwards. Unless he intentionally put on a stern expression, his face always carried a slightly cynical smile. Fortunately, Chen Wengang, having spent so much time with him, was now immune, no longer feeling particularly intimidated or awkward. He had known that Huo Niansheng had spent a few years abroad but knew little about the details.
This was the first time Chen Wengang learned what kind of life he had lived and where he had been.
Huo Niansheng lowered his head to look at Chen Wengang, one of his light-colored eyes also catching the light, reflecting a resin-like sheen.
The sound of their conversation gradually weakened and then stopped. Suddenly, the room fell silent, and neither of them spoke anymore.
Huo Niansheng caressed Chen Wengang’s neck, bent down to find his lips, and kissed him.
After lunch, they went for a walk by the artificial lake. There, they encountered another patient who hadn’t gone home for the New Year.
Chen Wengang had seen the man several times before; it was Professor Lu from Room 403. The elderly professor was quite old, with white hair and wrinkled skin. His eyes were cloudy, and he sat in a wheelchair, pushed by a nurse, his wrinkled hands drooping on the armrests. It was said that his children were all abroad, and his wife had passed away, so there was no need for him to apply for discharge since no one would be at home.
Chen Wengang waved at him, and after a while, the old man slowly raised his hand and waved back in response.
Chen Wengang turned his head, watching the nurse push him away. “Before the New Year, only a few students came to visit him.”
Huo Niansheng asked, “What illness does he have?”
“Esophageal cancer.”
“No wonder he’s so thin.”
“I heard from his students that he had major surgery a few years ago. Last year, his wife passed away, and he didn’t recover from it, so the cancer relapsed. So, in one’s life, even if you have countless students and high moral standing, there might still be no one by your side in the end.”
Huo Niansheng turned around, and Chen Wengang bumped into his arms.
Huo Niansheng pushed him away a bit and extended his hands to wrap the coat over Chen Wengang’s hospital gown more tightly, buttoning it up to the collar to block out the cold wind. “You’re too young to be lamenting these things.”
“Oh, I can’t lament?”
“If you start lamenting now, what about me, being older than you? Should I start considering when to go to my grave?”
Chen Wengang couldn’t help but laugh, and Huo Niansheng kissed his hair. As they talked and walked, Chen Wengang’s fingertips brushed against Huo Niansheng’s. His fingers were cold from the wind, so Huo Niansheng grabbed his hand and tucked it into his own large pocket.
It wasn’t until after the Lantern Festival that Chen Wengang was discharged and went home.
After the New Year, Aunt Meng returned as well, bringing homemade pickles from her hometown—small cucumbers that were salty, sour, and crisp. They were used as a side dish with porridge and lasted on the dining table for over a month. By the time the jar was empty, the New Year’s atmosphere had already faded away.
Downstairs at the apartment building, the scene was as bustling as ever.
Every day, professional men and women poured out of the subway entrance, heading towards the office buildings in droves. In the evening, this crowd flowed back into the subway, leaving the CBD area brightly lit. Everyone walked with hurried steps, clearly knowing where they were going.
Sometimes, Chen Wengang stood by the subway entrance, wearing a mask, watching these white-collar workers go to and from work, feeling a sense of isolation from the world.
In fact, there were still people outside who were thinking about him, such as Zheng Baoqiu.
She had called Huo Niansheng many times but was always brushed off by him. In this matter, he respected Chen Wengang’s wishes, even if he teased him in private, saying he was just trying to avoid the situation and calling him indecisive.
Chen Wengang just listened silently, not arguing with him. Besides, he was right.
Later, through Huo Niansheng, he sent a message to Zheng Baoqiu, saying he was fine and that she should take good care of herself.
Another one was Zheng Yucheng. After their chance meeting at the restaurant, he had sought out Huo Niansheng again. Chen Wengang didn’t even know about it. Huo Niansheng had retorted to Zheng Yucheng, asking where he had been all this time. His face looked disheartened, but he didn’t argue with him or give a proper answer.
It was easier to deal with Zheng Yucheng. Now that he had a wife and child, he had to be more cautious and couldn’t make a big fuss over an old lover. Huo Niansheng sent a message to Zheng Bingyi through his aunt, and Zheng Yucheng had quieted down on his own before the New Year.
But then, one day, Huo Niansheng called Chen Wengang, saying that Zheng Bingyi’s lawyer, Cao Rongsheng, wanted to see him.
Chen Wengang was at his desk drawing with a pen, but his sketch had gone wrong again.
He hesitated for a moment and agreed.
Lawyer Cao was efficient. As soon as he said he would come, he arrived within a couple of hours, following Huo Niansheng, bringing several documents and an assistant. The assistant carried two cases. When they opened the latches, there was nothing else inside—just stacks and stacks of cash.
Huo Niansheng didn’t avoid suspicion and didn’t treat himself as an outsider. He just watched from the side, letting out a chuckle, which made Lawyer Cao glance at him.
Leaning against the bar counter, Huo Niansheng asked, “What era is this? Why bother with all this trouble? Why not just transfer the money through the bank?”
Lawyer Cao, maintaining his composure, pretended not to hear Huo Niansheng’s comment. He focused on explaining the situation to Chen Wengang.
The personal assets originally under Chen Wengang’s name had been seized to pay off compensation after he took the fall for someone else, leading to his current penniless state. The money before him was the Zheng family’s way of returning it to him, albeit indirectly.
Chen Wengang had complicated feelings towards Zheng Bingyi, his adoptive father, who had nurtured him, used him, and then abandoned him. After his release from prison, they hadn’t met, and they probably never would again.
Now he realized this was a clean break, a final severance.
Lawyer Cao and his assistant left, and the two boxes remained on the carpet, securely locked.
Chen Wengang felt a throbbing pain in his temples, and his head ached as well. He was overwhelmed with mixed emotions and instinctively looked at Huo Niansheng, waiting for him to say something, even if it was a sarcastic remark.
Huo Niansheng wore a watching-the-show smile. “Why are you looking at me?”
He pointed to the boxes on the floor with his mouth. “So much cash, you can’t just leave it there. Want me to help you deposit it?”
As he spoke, Huo Niansheng leaned his elbow on the bar counter. Chen Wengang hesitated for a moment and then walked over to lean against him.
Huo Niansheng put an arm around him, and they stood side by side, looking at the two boxes on the carpet.
Chen Wengang exposed his bluff. “They don’t want to be seen having financial dealings with me. You just had to ask why they didn’t transfer the money.”
Huo Niansheng patted Chen Wengang’s hair, but responded irrelevantly, “You have a white hair—just one.”
Chen Wengang made a sound of surprise and let Huo Niansheng fuss with his hair, plucking out the lone white strand.
Huo Niansheng pulled it out gently, causing only a slight tug on Chen Wengang’s scalp, which wasn’t painful but rather a bit itchy. Chen Wengang couldn’t help but rub his head. Huo Niansheng handed him the strand of hair. “Look.”
Chen Wengang saw it was indeed fully white, crystal clear. He let go, letting it drift to the ground.
Huo Niansheng patted his back, telling him not to overthink. Then he casually took off his jacket and headed to the bedroom. His tone was so light-hearted, as if nothing that happened, even if it were a huge crisis, would be a big deal. Chen Wengang found himself a bit envious of his attitude. He followed Huo Niansheng, his hands suddenly full as Huo Niansheng tossed his jacket to him, asking him to hang it up.
Chen Wengang took a hanger and carefully hung up the jacket.
Turning back, he saw that Huo Niansheng had already yanked off his tie, tossing it carelessly on the back of a chair like a cheap piece of rope.
Unable to stand it, Chen Wengang picked it up and put it away properly. Huo Niansheng teased him for being so domesticated. Usually, if Chen Wengang was in a good mood, he’d respond to such playful remarks. If he wasn’t, he might just stay silent, something Huo Niansheng was used to and didn’t mind.
Today, Chen Wengang didn’t respond to the comment either, but he turned his head to stare at Huo Niansheng for a long time.
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