Present
When Zhou Luoyang opened the door, he saw that Zhuang Li was not alone: Huang Ting had come with him.
Predictably, Huang Ting’s first words were: “Du Jing, how did you know that I’m following the KCR?”
Du Jing ignored him in favor of taking a shower, and Zhou Luoyang hinted to a puzzled Huang Ting not to ask. Huang Ting and Zhuang Li glanced at Du Jing and caught sight of the bite mark on his shoulder.
Huang Ting furrowed his brow and looked again to Zhou Luoyang.
“Why don’t you stay with us?” Zhou Luoyang eyed the black bundle Huang Ting carried—the sniper rifle. “Let’s work together. Have you gotten in contact with your colleague? Have you found anything yet?”
Huang Ting studied their room. “You guys are very well taken care of to be able to stay at a hotel-style guesthouse while on a business trip,” he commented. Then, “I was able to track down this gun by going off a message he left me, but I still haven’t seen him yet.”
Zhou Luoyang knew that Du Jing was not currently in a state where he could think rationally, so he figured he might as well invite Huang Ting to stay with them. He’d initially thought that things might get easier once Huang Ting found his colleague. He hadn’t expected that Huang Ting would still be operating on his own.
Oh well. Maybe the international police had their own way of doing things.
“Then please pardon the intrusion. Xiao Zhuang and I can bunk together. Why don’t we trade intel?” Huang Ting said.
Du Jing was wearing a white tee and shorts when he emerged from the shower. Zhou Luoyang and Huang Ting had already begun to exchange information.
“How did you get ahold of this information?” Huang Ting asked incredulously.
“You don’t need to worry about that,” Zhou Luoyang dismissed. “What about yours?”
Huang Ting unfolded a map of Ho Chi Minh that was marked in several places.
“The details of the money laundering case are pretty much evident to us,” Huang Ting said. “The ones who swapped out the Shiva sculpture are part of the Cultural Relics Association, but we aren’t sure who they are yet. In any case, they replaced it with a different statue and handed it over to a KCR driver, who covertly moved it to a transport point—the place where you set up surveillance.”
Du Jing irritably stabbed at the enter key a few times, pulling up the video feed. Under the mechanical bird’s watchful gaze, the unregistered van they were following sped into the forest. Its driver passed his cargo, contained in a suitcase, off to the armed guards.
“Heroin, artifacts, cash, and illicit goods,” Huang Ting said, “are trafficked via this route. There are a total of four of these routes in Ho Chi Minh…Boss Du?”
Huang Ting could sense that something was off about Du Jing. As soon as he spoke, Zhou Luoyang flicked the back of Du Jing’s hand with seventy percent of his full strength.
A small spot of red bloomed quietly where it had been flicked. Du Jing got the hint and pulled his hand away, the keyboard of the laptop no longer an outlet for his nerves.
Huang Ting marked out several transfer points.
“The information you obtained is more detailed than ours,” Zhou Luoyang said in Du Jing’s stead.
“That’s because we had someone working undercover in Ho Chi Minh for three years. You guys managed to track down one of their vehicles in just one day.”
Zhuang Li glanced at Du Jing, aware that something wasn’t quite right. But in all the time he’d known him and studied investigative work under him, there was always “something not quite right” about Du Jing. As his boss, Du Jing allowed him ample leeway—while he was ostensibly stern, he never minded when Zhuang Li expressed his opinion.
Though Zhuang Li was hopelessly inexperienced, Du Jing treated him as a fellow colleague. Zhuang Li never feared that he might say something that offended his superior, nor did he need to suck up to him.
“If they can use this route to smuggle drugs, arms, and artifacts,” Zhuang Li summoned the courage to say, “then that means they can smuggle…”
“Humans,” Zhou Luoyang finished.
“Correct,” Huang Ting said. “I think that from here on out, the situation is relatively straightforward. I need to find whoever bought the Shiva sculpture and the other relics. They’re the main force behind the money laundering scheme.”
Finally, Du Jing spoke.
“Are you planning on detaining him? We can’t help you there,” he said coolly.
“No,” Huang Ting responded. “What I want to get out of him are the names of those within China who are participating in his money laundering activities. As long as I can find him, my colleagues will naturally take over from there.”
The trio watched Huang Ting.
He continued, “Your objective is to rescue that Xiao Wu guy, and, if possible, any others. That is, if they’re still alive.”
Zhou Luoyang had nearly forgotten what their task was. He nodded. “Yes.”
“So going forward,” Huang Ting said, “we can work together. Everyone agree?”
He looked at the rest of them. Zhou Luoyang said, “You’re a leader in your organization too, aren’t you?”
“A minor one. What do you think?”
The three in Du Jing’s party were, of course, headed by Du Jing, but he was visibly holding himself back from saying anything at the moment. After a moment of deliberation, Zhou Luoyang spoke for him: “We agree.”
Thus, they ironed out the details of their plans for the next day. Zhuang Li ordered delivery, and after dinner, everyone trickled back to their own rooms.
“Will you be able to work tomorrow?” Zhou Luoyang asked.
“I want to go bungee jumping. Go bungee jumping with me,” Du Jing said.
“My god, where would we go bungee jumping at this hour?”
Du Jing closed his eyes and placed his hands behind his back, standing in front of the floor-to-ceiling glass window. The last rays of twilight sun dipped under the mountains.
“Every vein in my body is about to explode,” Du Jing proclaimed gravely. “It feels like there’s this force constantly pounding against my chest and trying to break out.”
“Have you taken your meds?”
“I have,” Du Jing answered. “Maybe I’ll get better tomorrow, but right now I want…I want…”
He closed his eyes. “I want to break this glass and jump off this cliff.”
The guesthouse was situated midway up a mountain; Du Jing gazed out the window. This was one therapeutic strategy: when the mania was hard to curb, imagining what you really wanted to do in place of actually doing it could serve as an appropriate catharsis. It was akin to diverting one’s attention when experiencing nerve pain.
But the body’s pain could not be relieved. Du Jing’s condition had indeed worsened.
“Would you like to walk around together? Can we do parkour around here?” Zhou Luoyang wondered.
“I can’t run,” Du Jing said. “I have almost no energy left. Bring a chair here.”
Zhou Luoyang: “……”
He didn’t disobey. He left the room to grab a chair made from Chinese juniper. His hands shook as he set it down.
“What do you want to do?” he asked.
“Blindfold me and tie my hands behind me. Lock the door.”
Zhou Luoyang found a strip of black cloth and fastened it over Du Jing’s eyes, just as he was told.
Du Jing knelt on the wooden floorboards in front of the massive window, facing the mountains cocooned in burgundy light.
“Hit me with the chair,” he said, voice low. “Hit me until it breaks. I can’t hit back because my hands are bound, so don’t worry.”
Zhou Luoyang walked closer to Du Jing instead of replying. Du Jing remained kneeling and silent, until finally: “Did you hear me?”
Zhou Luoyang got to his knees in front of Du Jing, eyes red-rimmed. He stroked Du Jing’s cheek, gazing at the striking scar below his blindfolded eyes.
“Hurry.” Du Jing’s lips parted as he spoke.
“Don’t move. I’m holding you,” Zhou Luoyang replied.
Zhou Luoyang knew that the pain Du Jing was going through stemmed from lack of an outlet for his overstimulated psyche, which unconsciously made him aggressive.
“Hang in there. You’ll feel better soon,” Zhou Luoyang murmured.
Du Jing buried his face in Zhou Luoyang’s shoulder, smothering his nose and mouth and emitting pained, muffled wails. Through it all, Zhou Luoyang held him tight. As Du Jing continued to scream, Zhou Luoyang clasped his arms tight around him.
The noises came in starts and stops, like the cries of a tormented beast. And as they continued, Du Jing began to struggle restlessly. Zhou Luoyang reached behind him and untied the rope that bound him.
Du Jing’s hands were shaking. He lifted them, struggling to find a place for them, before gently returning Zhou Luoyang’s embrace.
The screaming tapered off. Du Jing was covered in sweat, and even Zhou Luoyang’s T-shirt was soaked.
That all lasted a mere ten minutes, yet it felt like a century had passed.
There was a knock on the door. Huang Ting asked, “What are you two doing? Are you alright?”
Zhou Luoyang immediately replied, “We’re fine. We’re having a pillow fight.”
Huang Ting hummed in acknowledgment. Du Jing, spent, let his hands fall to his sides. Several seconds later, he raised them once more to gently hug Zhou Luoyang.
At once, Zhou Luoyang understood the message: it was over. The worst of Du Jing’s pain had passed.
“You should take another shower,” Zhou Luoyang said. “You need to drink more water.”
Du Jing agreed, and Zhou Luoyang removed the blindfold. Today, he felt, had been even more tiring for himself than for Du Jing. He turned on the water in the bathroom for Du Jing, then went to the parlor to pour him a glass of water.
Huang Ting was reclining on the couch. He glanced at Zhou Luoyang. As if nothing was amiss, Zhou Luoyang asked, “Why are you sleeping out here?”
“That kid is video chatting with his girlfriend,” Huang Ting said. “I didn’t want to disturb them or cause any misunderstandings.”
“You are pretty gay. You’re the type of gege that young men like.”
Huang Ting smiled. “My brother is. I’m not.”
Zhou Luoyang grabbed a liter-sized bottle of water and poured it into a large cup. Huang Ting suddenly asked, “Boss Du is mentally ill, isn’t he?”
Zhou Luoyang paused and looked at Huang Ting. He knew he wouldn’t be able to hide the truth from him.
“BP?” Huang Ting then asked. “Manic episode. Am I correct?”
“It won’t affect his work.”
“It’s already affected his work to some degree. You know that in our occupation, you can’t allow for a single slip-up,” Huang Ting said grimly.
This had occupied Zhou Luoyang’s thoughts all along. Du Jing could find any other job; why did he insist on becoming an investigator? Bipolar disorder had relatively little effect on other jobs, but for an investigator, the consequences of experiencing an episode while on assignment could be deadly.
“There won’t be any slip-ups,” Zhou Luoyang said.
“Forgive me for being blunt, but he’s not suited for this line of work,” Huang Ting said. “His disorder is quite serious; you ought to persuade him to find work in a different field. That would be the responsible thing to do, not just for him, but for others, too.”
“I can’t change him, nor do I want to change him. I respect every one of his decisions.”
“Is living not better than dying? What could be more important than one’s life?”
“Don’t be like this,” Zhou Luoyang said. “Officer Huang, you don’t know what we’ve been through. I’m not sure why he chose this occupation, either, but don’t you think he knows? Everything we’re discussing now, he must understand better than anyone else, must have thought about more deeply than anyone else.”
Huang Ting stopped talking.
Zhou Luoyang continued, “That he’s still at it must mean there’s a reason for it. As for what that reason is, well, since he hasn’t told me, I won’t ask. I trust him. I trust him unconditionally.”
Huang Ting was silent for another moment. Then: “An intimate conversation for two people who just met. I overstepped.”
“You didn’t overstep,” Zhou Luoyang protested. “Thank you.”
Zhou Luoyang meant it. It pleased him that there existed someone other than himself who cared about Du Jing, especially when Huang Ting hardly knew him.
But Du Jing was indeed in worse condition than before. Even medication could not make him better.
This frightened Zhou Luoyang. He feared that one day, not even he would be able to control Du Jing, and then Du Jing might really die.
Du Jing had finished showering and was laying in bed, spacing out.
“I’m feeling much better,” he said.
Zhou Luoyang inspected his pill box, making sure that he had taken his meds. Du Jing said, “I’ll take some more.”
“No,” Zhou Luoyang refused. “Since you’ve made it through, you don’t need any more meds. Will you be able to fall asleep tonight?”
“Not sure,” Du Jing answered. “I’m a bit…a bit…hyperactive right now.”
Zhou Luoyang glanced at Du Jing. Du Jing immediately turned away, avoiding Zhou Luoyang’s eyes.
Zhou Luoyang suddenly began to laugh. He wrapped one fist around air and began to jerk it up and down, an eyebrow raised in question. But Du Jing put his hand up, stopping him.
“Go to sleep.” Du Jing took a deep breath and turned over so his back faced Zhou Luoyang. “We have a big day tomorrow.”
Zhou Luoyang switched off the light. In the dark, he breathed, “I wouldn’t be scared.”
“I know,” Du Jing replied, picking up their conversation from the afternoon. “With me you’ve never once worn an expression of disgust or fear.”
“That’s because I got used to you a long time ago.”
“No,” Du Jing said sternly, flipping onto his back on the shadowed bed. “Ever since the first time we met, you never minded. You accepted all that I was.”
Zhou Luoyang didn’t say anything after that. He turned to look at Du Jing. Though he couldn’t see him, he knew he was really sleeping next to him. The quiet could not steal away his breathing. The dark could not conceal his handsome features.
“Good night,” he murmured, “Du Jing.”
It rained the next day. It was one of those rare occasions that Zhou Luoyang did not want to get up; he was too exhausted.
“Hey.” Zhou Luoyang nudged Du Jing. “Boss, wake up.”
It was also a rare occasion that Du Jing was still fast asleep. While sleeping, he looked like an overgrown child. When Zhou Luoyang woke him up, he looked mystified.
“What time is it?” he asked. “Why didn’t you wake me?”
“It’s 10:30. It’s time to go. We agreed on eleven.”
Du Jing leapt out of bed like a gust of wind and went to wash up. Zhou Luoyang went to prepare breakfast, but then remembered that they were on vacation, so he did not have to serve Du Jing three meals a day.
Huang Ting was up and was reading the Chinese newspaper in the parlor. “Zhuang Li has already gone to keep watch.”
Zhou Luoyang hurriedly apologized. After putting on his watch, Du Jing joined them. It was blistering hot in Vietnam, so he wore only shorts and a T-shirt; the Eye of Forseti was particularly eye-catching on his wrist. Huang Ting stole several glances at it.
“Lovely thing,” he commented. “Where did it come from?”
“It’s my wife’s dowry.” After a night, Du Jing had recovered fully. He sipped his coffee and began to leaf through a French newspaper.
“Can’t you eat any faster?” Zhou Luoyang asked rudely.
“Then I won’t eat,” Du Jing said. “Let’s leave right now.”
Zhou Luoyang immediately said, “No, don’t. Please, won’t you finish your food a little quicker? We’ll be late.”
“You care that much? Do you want to save his life?”
“What else? Should I watch him die?” Zhou Luoyang asked incredulously.
Huang Ting more or less understood their back and forth. “There’s still time. Take your time eating.”
Zhou Luoyang spread butter on Du Jing’s bread and handed it to him. Du Jing took it, put on his brass knuckles, and began walking as he ate. “Let’s go.”
Outside Mariamman Temple, Zhuang Li was purchasing freshly squeezed pomegranate juice. The off-road vehicle came to a stop, Du Jing and Zhou Luoyang got out, and Huang Ting drove away.
Zhuang Li, who was on surveillance duty a short distance away, sent Du Jing a picture of Lu Zhongyu and the little priest entering Mariamman Temple, taken from behind.
Just as his abductor wanted, Lu Zhongyu had been lured to Ho Chi Minh City, where he spent the night at a hotel and the following day exploring its tourist attractions with his companion.
From behind, it appeared that the two were holding hands as they entered Mariamman Temple.
Du Jing strolled past the vendors on the side of the road. When he spotted the cigarette vendor, he thought for a moment, then bought Zhou Luoyang a bag of candy, just like the day before.
“Let’s take a look inside,” Du Jing said quietly. “The results will be announced soon.”
Zhou Luoyang wasn’t sure why he was nervous, but he had the niggling feeling that he was being watched.
Du Jing took Zhou Luoyang’s hand and held it in his own. In his other hand he held his phone, ready to snap a picture. He peered at their surroundings, looking for all intents and purposes like a tourist on vacation.
Nobody spared them a second glance. Zhou Luoyang was dragged into Mariamman Temple. Several Hindu monks walked through its courtyard.
He could now see the little priest. The little priest, entirely by accident, spotted them too, and promptly nudged Lu Zhongyu. Lu Zhongyu was in the midst of admiring the temple’s architecture, but when he turned their way, he grinned, astonished.
“Hi!” he called. “What a coincidence.”
“Hi.” Zhou Luoyang pretended to be surprised as well. “You’re here, too? That’s crazy!”
“Groot!” the little priest exclaimed, just as astonished.
Du Jing politely nodded. “Fate brought us together1.”
The four of them stood facing each other in the courtyard. Lu Zhongyu continued marveling at the coincidence, while Zhou Luoyang continued pretending to be surprised and laughing. The only difference between them was that one was genuinely surprised, and the other was feigning it.
“Where are you planning on going next?” Zhou Luoyang asked.
“The Temple of Mazu. You?” Lu Zhongyu hadn’t even considered the possibility that they would be here, but the moment he spotted Zhou Luoyang, he made a tiny movement:
He let go of the little priest’s hand.
“I still don’t know your name,” Zhou Luoyang said to the little priest, smiling.
“I’m Ruan Song,” he said.
He was nervous and soon would not be able to hide it anymore. Evidently, he had not anticipated running into anyone he knew here, and he felt the stirrings of fear.
“Let’s take a selfie together,” Lu Zhongyu suggested. “Want to get dinner together tonight?”
“We’re going to Nha Trang tonight,” Ruan Song reminded him.
“Are you guys going there, too?” Lu Zhongyu held up his phone to take their picture. Ruan Song’s eyes were glued to Du Jing’s phone, but Du Jing and Zhou Luoyang didn’t take pictures with their own phones. Seeing this, Ruan Song relaxed: there would be no trail, and so there was still hope.
The four of them each made hand signs, Du Jing’s face as stony as always, as they took a group photo.
“I haven’t decided yet,” Zhou Luoyang said. “This is more of a spontaneous trip. We haven’t planned anything in advance.”
Lu Zhongyu said, “We haven’t either. We’ll go where the wind takes us. Where are you staying?”
Together, they exited Mariamman Temple. One after another, tourists opened their umbrellas. Du Jing held up a large umbrella, tilting it toward Zhou Luoyang. Ever since Zhou Luoyang had found out that Lu Zhongyu wasn’t the abductor but rather the victim, he’d let go of any bias against him.
“East,” Du Jing said.
Ruan Song constantly looked back at the two of them distrustfully, as if trying to ascertain their relationship.
“Is it just the two of you?” Lu Zhongyu asked, pulling up his hood against the rain.
“Yes,” Du Jing answered firmly. “It’s just us two. Speaking of, I need to thank you.”
“Thank me for what?” Lu Zhongyu asked, grinning.
Zhou Luoyang was baffled too. He turned toward Du Jing. “Thank him for what?”
But Du Jing held the umbrella aloft with one hand and looped his other arm around Zhou Luoyang’s shoulders. He dipped his head slightly and kissed Zhou Luoyang on the lips.
Zhou Luoyang thought, !!!
He stiffened immediately, unconsciously grabbing the hand Du Jing had wrapped around the umbrella handle. But Du Jing didn’t let him put up a fight. He suddenly pulled him close and, right in front of Ruan Song and Lu Zhongyu, gave him a heated kiss.
Zhou Luoyang: “……………………”
He was afraid to move. The clamor of Mariamman Temple instantly faded into nothing. Damp leaves danced in the breeze before landing on their umbrella with quiet tip-taps.
His mind was completely blank. All his attention was focused on Du Jing’s soft lips, his wet tongue. Du Jing’s kiss was tender but endless. It wasn’t teasing; it could not have felt any more natural, any more rational. In a mere instant, Zhou Luoyang’s body was awash in a strange, gentle force.
It seemed to last a century; it seemed to last a mere three seconds. Zhou Luoyang’s eyes slipped closed without his noticing. When he opened them again, he met Du Jing’s intent gaze and saw that scar beneath his eyes, so close he could touch it.
They pulled away. As if still hungry for more, Du Jing pressed a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth.
He turned to face Lu Zhongyu. Lu Zhongyu recovered quickly, bursting into laughter.
“Congratulations!” he said.
“Thank you,” Du Jing replied.
Finally, Zhou Luoyang regained his mental faculties. He looked at Du Jing in disbelief, but Du Jing just nodded courteously and said, “See you later, if fate allows.”
Lu Zhongyu waved at them, still laughing himself silly. “See you later! See you later!”
Zhou Luoyang: “…………”
Umbrella in hand, Du Jing crossed the street. Zhou Luoyang was about to go mad. “What are you doing?”
“It’s not like you haven’t kissed me before. Is such a strong reaction necessary?” Du Jing asked mildly.
He turned his head, looking past Zhou Luoyang toward the entrance of Mariamman Temple. Ruan Song was haggling with some unregistered cabbies while Lu Zhongyu stood in the rain with the hood of his running jacket up.
After agreeing on a price, Ruan Song led Lu Zhongyu into a car.
Du Jing looked now to Zhou Luoyang’s face.
Saigon’s fine rain descended. Their cheeks were gently flushed.
They stood face to face. Zhou Luoyang wanted to say something, but he had no earthly idea what to make of the previous events. Even worse, the longer the silence stretched between them, the weirder the mood got. By the time thirty seconds had passed, there was nothing he could say that would not inevitably come across as awkward.
“Wipe the corner of your mouth,” he said finally.
Du Jing let go of Zhou Luoyang’s shoulders and rubbed his mouth with his thumb as if nothing had happened. They arrived in front of their car. Zhuang Li was curled up in the driver’s seat, asleep. Du Jing prodded him with his foot.
“Get out and get to work,” he ordered impassively.
Bleary-eyed, Zhuang Li hurried to comply. Du Jing rolled the windows up and put on some music.
Zhou Luoyang sat in the passenger seat. The music started up. The car peeled away from the curb and drove toward the transfer point.
Footnotes:
- This footnote is for the nerds! To be exact, Lu Zhongyu says, “这么有缘?” (lit., “We have so much yuan”) and Du Jing replies, “有缘” (lit., “[We] have yuan”). By yuan, they are referring to yuanfen, the idea that their paths are predestined to cross and that fate will have the tendency to bring them together in their lives. It sounds very esoteric, but it’s a very popular concept in Chinese culture. (Back)
Translated by beansprout. Edited by opal.
beansprout translates 
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