Chapter 6
LET US REVIEW:
The first person to move into No. 7 Riverbay Road was Zheng Weize. He brought his many belongings with him and made quite a racket as he squeezed them into his room. The next day, he crammed the washer and dryer in the garden so full of his eccentric clothes that the machines gave up the ghost.
It was the first time the laundry had tripped the circuit breaker.
Being familiar with the house, Zhang Yuwen rolled up his sleeves, got behind the washer, opened the cover, and fixed the problem in no time.
“Sorry,” Zheng Weize said.
Zhang Yuwen wiped his sweat. “It’s fine. When the load is too heavy, the water can’t drain properly, and if it splashes onto the socket, it’ll cause a short circuit. I’ve already fixed it.”
Zheng Weize looked at him gratefully, thinking that men who could repair household appliances exuded powerful pheromones. His fondness for Zhang Yuwen clicked up several notches.
Chang Jinxing, the photographer, moved in the same day. His luggage comprised only a backpack and a suitcase. He bounced over to greet them, finding Zhang Yuwen on one knee before the washing machine and Zheng Weize nearby. His looks knocked Zheng Weize on his ass, but Zheng Weize was realistic: An Adonis of this caliber would never be interested in him.
“Hi.” Chang Jinxing held out his hand with those long, fair, slender fingers and shook hands with Zheng Weize.
“Done.” Zhang Yuwen turned on the circuit breaker and glanced to the side, but Zheng Weize’s attention was no longer on him; he was transfixed by Chang Jinxing, staring up at him with blatant yearning.
“Ahem.”
This little hint from Zhang Yuwen snapped Zheng Weize back into reality.
Chang Jinxing, long accustomed to such gazes, was unfazed. He flashed them both a smile alluring enough to make a person fall in love with him on the spot. “Have the others moved in?” he asked Zhang Yuwen.
“Let me think… Another guy will be moving in later this afternoon, so there’s one left after him, I guess.”
Chang Jinxing nodded. “Why don’t we hang out together on the weekend, once everyone has moved in?”
Zheng Weize seconded this idea. “Sure. Where should we go?”
“Up to you guys.” Chang Jinxing grinned. “I’m good with escape rooms, murder mysteries, fishing, or board games.”
Chang Jinxing was a gregarious person. Zhang Yuwen hadn’t even known him for two days and they were already well on the way to becoming close buddies. As the landlord, he was curious about the other two tenants, so he readily agreed. “Let’s wait for Yan Jun to come, then I’ll ask.”
“Is he the homeowner?” Zheng Weize whispered to Zhang Yuwen.
“No, no,” said Zhang Yuwen, snapping back out of his thoughts.
“He’s a tenant, just like you.”
“Oh.”
At first glance, Zheng Weize found Chang Jinxing tall, handsome, and vibrant. Sure, he wore overalls and a jacket, but carrying a camera, he looked like he was born with a silver spoon in his mouth. Only rich people could afford a hobby like photography. The quality of the guys in this place is so high, Zheng Weize thought, wondering what the other two tenants were like.
Having fixed the washing machine, Zhang Yuwen returned to his desk and worked on his manuscript until Liu Jingfang brought him his lunch. Zhang Yuwen ate simply every day: a small plate of vegetables, a portion of meat, sometimes steamed fish, and a bowl of soup from the same pot that was used to prepare both dinner and lunch. He had inherited these eating habits and brought them with him from his grandparents’ house. Liu Jingfang and the other housekeeper arrived every morning at ten and left at seven in the evening, taking care of all aspects of Zhang Yuwen’s daily living: from shopping to picking up deliveries, from cleaning to doing the laundry.
As Zhang Yuwen ate, Chen Hong moved in too, bringing with him bags of odds and ends and exercise equipment from his defunct gym. He greeted Zhang Yuwen.
While Chen Hong passed by the dining room, Zhang Yuwen extended an insincere invitation. “Have you had lunch? Join me?”
Chen Hong declined the offer, also insincerely. “No thanks. I’ve already eaten.” In truth, Chen Hong hadn’t eaten, and his stomach was growling in protest. “I’m trying to burn fat at the moment, so I can’t eat too much. What are you having? Let’s see… Refined carbs? Nope, glycemic index is too high. Don’t eat too much of that.”
Zhang Yuwen nodded. “Makes you feel sleepy after lunch.” He eyed Chen Hong’s belongings, hoping the guy wasn’t about to start recruiting members at home.
In fact, Chen Hong had been living in his gym all this time, and now that he couldn’t afford its rent, he had to find another alternative. He had lots of belongings that he planned to bring over and take his time sorting through.
“The washing machine is in the garden,” Zhang Yuwen said.
“Weize will teach you how to use it.”
“Who’s Weize, the housekeeper?” Chen Hong asked, carrying the dumbbells into his room.
“Huh?” Zheng Weize’s voice rang from the garden. “Did someone call me?”
Chen Hong went over to greet him. By the time Zhang Yuwen finished his small plate of steamed fish, he could hear them laughing heartily from the garden; they must have gotten acquainted. And when he began drinking his soup, they were playing with water, so presumably they were now good friends.
After lunch, Zhang Yuwen took his laptop with him and left for the publishing house to receive another round of admonitions. He had a car parked in the underground garage, though he rarely drove. He wasn’t a skilled driver and was afraid of scratching the car, and there were always traffic jams in Jiangnan. Driving just wasn’t as convenient and fast as taking the subway, where Zhang Yuwen could put on his headphones and think about plotlines.
It was a fine, sunny day, and Zhang Yuwen was sitting across from the deputy editor at the publishing house.
“How should I put it… Your novel is very…”
“Contrived?” Zhang Yuwen asked the deputy editor sincerely. The bespectacled deputy editor looked to be no more than thirty and had the air of a sadistic, ascetic elitist. He was also blunt with his words.
“Very…arrogant.” The deputy editor found the right word. “Right.
Arrogant and haughty. Your writing is uncomfortable to read. It’s like you’re up on a pedestal, looking down at a bunch of animals.”
Zhang Yuwen humbly accepted the critique. He’d learned his lesson this time and sent a preview to the publishing house instead of a completed work, just in case his effort was wasted again, but the beginning of the novel still received harsh criticism.
“It’s a kind of unsympathetic, mocking attitude,” the deputy editor continued. “Reading through this opening, it feels like you’re making fun of people with disabilities, using the hardships of your characters to flaunt your supposed wit. Have you been reading Maugham recently?”
Startled, Zhang Yuwen quickly distanced himself from Maugham.
“Nope, not a fan. I don’t read Qian Zhongshu either,” he added.
The deputy editor flipped through the printed copy of the first 30,000 words again and sighed. “Compassion and empathy are essential if you want to write a good book.”
“I understand. I’ll reflect on it when I get back.”
The deputy editor pushed up his glasses, which glinted deviously.
“You’re going to keep submitting manuscripts?”
“Of course. I want to be a writer.”
“Then start by understanding the hardships of others. It sounds simple, but it’s easier said than done.”
Zhang Yuwen thanked him and left the publishing house. Camus won the Nobel Prize in Literature at forty-four, and Kafka published Metamorphosis at thirty-two. He still had plenty of time.
He also had dinner plans today with his childhood friend, another unapologetic fuckboy. This childhood friend, Liang Zheng, had known Zhang Yuwen for over twenty years and was his desk mate from elementary to high school. He now worked in the government sector.
Some guys didn’t stand out in looks or height but still possessed a strange aura that seemed to project: I’m looking for a partner. Potential mates threw themselves at guys like this in droves. Liang Zheng was one such guy. In the player circle, his overall score was only about 80 out of 100, and when they were in school, he ranked at “second-tier handsome guy”—the kind that wasn’t considered especially physically attractive but still held a certain appeal.
Liang Zheng was a habitual womanizer and had been since primary school. Fortunately, fate intervened when a girl dragged him by the ear down the aisle. Now, while he might’ve still had the inclination, he no longer possessed the guts to go around terrorizing respectable ladies.
He was as straight as they came, and Zhang Yuwen had never harbored any intention of changing that. They were too close for him to be interested in trying, and the types of moves Liang Zheng made on girls didn’t work on him.
Liang Zheng was dumbfounded when he heard Zhang Yuwen’s latest plan. His sunglasses slid down. “Are you serious?”
“The tenants have already moved in.”
“Are you out of your mind?”
Ignoring Liang Zheng’s incredulity, Zhang Yuwen went on, “If the tenants start getting suspicious, I’ll need you to make a guest appearance as the homeowner. Just say you occasionally return from abroad to stay at home for a day or two.”
Liang Zheng erupted into laughter. “Ha ha ha ha ha!”
Zhang Yuwen looked at him expressionlessly. “Be serious. This plan is key to my transition.”
“What?” Liang Zheng didn’t catch it the first time. “Transition?
Transition to what?”
“I want to be a writer.”
Liang Zheng had heard something even funnier now. “Ha ha ha ha ha!”
Zhang Yuwen remained silent, not knowing quite what to say to that.
Liang Zheng laughed so hard his stomach hurt. Trailing Zhang Yuwen out of the restaurant, he apologized.
“Can I meet your tenants?” Liang Zheng asked.
“No!” Zhang Yuwen blurted. “At least not now. I’ve already gotten a scolding. The publisher said I lack empathy, so I need to reevaluate my views of other people.”
Liang Zheng, who had wanted for nothing since childhood, possessed a modicum of empathy, but not much. He opened the car door.
“You’re already doing them a huge favor renting the place to them at such a low price. What more do you want?”
“To respect them from the heart, I guess,” Zhang Yuwen said.
“Honestly, the deputy editor is right. I’m too arrogant, and that’s not a good thing.”
“You’re overthinking it. Other people don’t necessarily respect you, either.”
“Well, they’re not trying to become writers…” Liang Zheng got into the driver’s seat and drove Zhang Yuwen home.
Over at No. 7 Riverbay Road, Zheng Weize, Chen Hong, and Chang Jinxing introduced themselves to each other and became friends. Chang Jinxing made coffee by hand and shared it with the other two, and Chen Hong offered a few serious comments. Zheng Weize was interested in Chang Jinxing, but determined not to make it too obvious.
“Where’s Yuwen?” Chang Jinxing called out, topping up his fourth mug of coffee.
Housekeeper Liu, having already changed into casual clothes, replied, “He went out for a meal with friends. I’m getting off work now too.”
“Bye, Auntie.”
“See you tomorrow.”
The three guys bade her farewell. Everyone was very polite.
Zheng Weize was the first to share his opinion. “The landlord’s so rich. What does he do?”
He looked at Chang Jinxing expectantly, assuming, from Chang Jinxing repeatedly calling him Yuwen, that they were close with each other.
Chang Jinxing dodged the question. “You’ll have to ask him yourself.”
“He’s the sub-landlord,” Chen Hong put in. “The house isn’t his.
He’s just looking after it for someone else. The original homeowner is the one who hired the two housekeepers, too.”
“Oh.” Zhang Yuwen’s charm as a rich young master dropped several notches in Zheng Weize’s eyes. “Doesn’t he need to work, then?”
“He said his primary job is proofreading for a publisher,” said Chen Hong. “He just has to correct typos and grammatical errors in manuscripts when he gets them.”
“I saw him go out earlier with some manuscripts. He must have gone to the publishing house,” Chang Jinxing said as he made more coffee.
“The other tenant hasn’t moved in yet. How about we go out to celebrate and have fun together once he’s settled in?”
“Sounds good!” Zheng Weize said, even as he tried to work out how much money he had left. Guys like him would have their fun even if they had to skip meals. At worst, he’d just have to survive on instant noodles the rest of the month.
“Sure,” Chen Hong said. “What about hiking? I know a few scenic trails.”
“My friend runs an airsoft arena in the suburbs, like real-life Counter-Strike,” said Chang Jinxing. “It’s pretty affordable, and there are a bunch of us, so we can have a match.”
“Okay, let’s go with that. We’ll play airsoft first,” Chen Hong said.
“Is the landlord coming?”
“He’s—” Just then, Chang Jinxing heard a noise outside. “Oh, is he back?”
Because Riverbay Road was a quiet place with few vehicles passing by, the sound of anyone talking was audible. Liang Zheng dropped Zhang Yuwen off at the intersection. Zhang Yuwen declined his request to see the gay tenants and refused to let Liang Zheng walk him to the door; if his roommates saw Liang Zheng, it’d be harder to pass him off as the homeowner later.
Zhang Yuwen got out of the car at the intersection. He spotted a figure carrying a packaged piece of furniture and walking toward the end of the road, where Zhang Yuwen’s house was.
The figure in question was Yan Jun, who by now was feeling pretty nervous. He had come by in the past few days to observe on the sly, which was how he learned that Zhang Yuwen was more active during the day and retired to his room early at night. Usually, he did not appear again in the living room after dinnertime. The photographer typically returned after 10 p.m., and the other one, who seemed to be a live streamer, holed himself up in his room from seven to ten. He hadn’t figured out the fitness trainer’s routine yet, but he couldn’t wait until the middle of the night to move because he needed to pick Xiao-Qi up later. He had to take a chance.
Then someone tapped him on the back, startling him. “Hi!”
Yan Jun realized with mixed feelings that it was Zhang Yuwen.
“Hi.” He forced a smile in the darkness.
“Need help?”
“Nah, it’s fine.” Then, on second thought, Yan Jun said, “Actually, you can help me with the suitcase.”
“Are you moving in today?”
“Just moving some stuff over first. What about the others?”
“They’ve all moved in. What’s that?” Zhang Yuwen asked in -passing, referring to the object Yan Jun was carrying on his shoulder. It looked like a bookshelf.
Yan Jun thought about it and decided to tell the truth. “It’s a simple baby crib.”
Zhang Yuwen was taken aback at first, but then it dawned on him.
“Oh yeah, for your niece.”
Yan Jun nodded. His plan had been to move in secretly while no one was around. He couldn’t let anyone see this crib. But just as he feared, he ran into Zhang Yuwen on arrival. At times like this, Yan Jun knew he had to be honest—sure enough, Zhang Yuwen readily accepted it.
“I still have to go to my brother and sister-in-law’s place later,” Yan Jun told Zhang Yuwen. “I’ll move in a few days after.”
“Are you staying at their place?” Zhang Yuwen asked.
“Yeah. They’re in Jiangnan…” Zhang Yuwen scanned his fingerprint to open the door and was greeted by three people sitting on the sofa and drinking coffee.
“Hello!” Chang Jinxing, Chen Hong, and Zheng Weize chorused in unison, catching Yan Jun off guard. Once again, his crib was exposed under the bright lights of the living room.
“Whoa, what’s that?” Chang Jinxing asked.
Everyone hurried over to help Yan Jun unload. Abandoning himself to despair, Yan Jun was forced to let them scrutinize him and the socially humiliating crib.
“Are you having a baby?” Zheng Weize asked, sounding curious.
“Ahem!” Zhang Yuwen tried to hint to him not to dig deeper, but Zheng Weize, who had low emotional awareness and zero social experience, didn’t get it. He shot Zhang Yuwen a confused look.
Yan Jun shook hands with them and realized he hadn’t introduced himself. “I’m Yan Jun. Nice to meet everyone.”
“What were you guys chatting about?” Zhang Yuwen asked, changing the subject.
“Hanging out,” Chang Jinxing said. “It’s Thursday today. How about we play real-life CS this Saturday? Yan Jun, are you free?”
The question mystified Yan Jun. He’d never met anyone so convivial. Instinctively, he threw Zhang Yuwen a glance: Did you guys plan this beforehand?
Zhang Yuwen’s first impulse was to agree to Chang Jinxing’s proposal. After all, it would be a great opportunity to observe his subjects and gather material for his novel. But then he wondered if he needed to maintain his own façade. “How much per person?”
This question reminded everyone: You haven’t paid your rent yet.
Chang Jinxing automatically bypassed the subtext about the rent.
“One hundred, and that includes dinner.”
Yan Jun, who had by then retreated to his room with his belongings, listened to the discussion outside. Since the crib had already been discovered, he figured there was no point in continuing to be secretive, so he set about assembling it.
So cheap? Zhang Yuwen thought, but he couldn’t make his reaction obvious, so he nodded. “I see.” Turning to Yan Jun, who was doing his own thing and not taking part in the conversation, he asked, “Yan Jun, are you going?”
“Are you?” Yan Jun returned through his partially opened door. “I’ll go if you are.”
Eh? Everyone looked at Zhang Yuwen. What kind of maneuver is this? Zhang Yuwen thought.
“All right,” Zhang Yuwen said, “then let’s go together?”
So it was that the group came to a consensus. Come Saturday afternoon, they would play airsoft and have dinner together after.
Chen Hong put down his coffee mug and went over to help Yan Jun assemble the crib. “Let me help you!” Yan Jun didn’t have any tools, not even a screwdriver or a wrench, so Chen Hong retrieved some from the odds and ends he’d brought over from his bankrupt gym. Everyone pitched in with suggestions, and finally, Xiao-Qi’s crib was set up.
“I have to babysit my niece sometimes, just for the time being,” Yan Jun explained to Chen Hong, “but I won’t bring my brother and sister-in-law here.” Chen Hong nodded in understanding.
Yan Jun thanked everyone and left without telling anyone where he was going. He didn’t return the entire night.
Zhang Yuwen found it intriguing. Why would Yan Jun say, “I’ll go if you are?” He sensed a barely perceptible undercurrent. Was it because Zhang Yuwen was the only one in this house Yan Jun was willing to trust?
Or was Yan Jun just giving him face?
This was a subtle emotion that Zhang Yuwen had rarely touched on in his writing.