By Zephyria “Thank you.”
As soon as he sat up, Ling Xinlu bowed his head and thanked the man quietly, then wiped his body with the wet towel on the plate and got dressed. A stinging sensation remained where the moxibustion had been applied. He looked indifferently at the skin that would likely scar and began to button his clothes.
The old man sitting across from Ling Xinlu remained silent. Since there had been no improvement even after several months of treatment, he seemed concerned, even though Ling Xinlu himself said nothing. Or perhaps his parents or relatives were pressuring the old man behind Ling Xinlu’s back.
Ling Xinlu himself wasn’t particularly anxious or bothered.
It wasn’t that he was waiting with relaxed patience. He had already given up on his eye to some extent.
There were voices subtly suggesting he receive a transplant from someone else, but the mere thought of another person’s body part being mixed into his own made him uncomfortable, so he refused without a second thought.
He could manage with one eye. There were several inconveniences he had never imagined when he had two, but other than feeling more fatigued than before at the end of the day—perhaps because he was overworking his remaining eye—it wasn’t that difficult.
Besides, it had already been several months. He had tried every method except for a transplant, but the condition of his eye showed no improvement. Hearing the difference between whether it was as whitish as cream or as whitish as ivory only made him want to scoff.
Rehabilitation, treatment, medicine—everything poured into his eye felt untrustworthy and like a useless struggle.
However, he didn’t go out of his way to refuse the people who constantly searched for various methods. It wasn’t because he held onto hope. Rather, if it didn’t matter whether he did it or not, he didn’t want to be stubborn about refusing and reveal his twisted inner self.
After tidying his clothes, Ling Xinlu opened the sliding door.
Normally, Yuri would have been sitting there with straight posture, but now the spot was empty.
Yuri had been there when Ling Xinlu first started treatment. Looking at the shadow cast on the sliding door, he had imagined him sitting there with a straight back, looking down at the garden.
However, halfway through, he heard the sound of Yuri standing up and saying, “I will help you,” as if someone was passing by carrying a heavy load. Soon, the shadow disappeared from the sliding door and did not return.
Seeing that he hadn’t come back even though quite some time had passed since he left, he wondered if Yuri had taken on some other task at the place he had gone to help.
“I will take my leave now. I will see you again next week.”
After greeting the old man, Ling Xinlu stepped outside.
For a moment, he felt overwhelmed, wondering where to find him in this vast house. On the other hand, he wondered if there was any need for him to go looking. If he just waited in that spot, Yuri would eventually return.
But even while thinking that, Ling Xinlu decided it would be fine to look for him while taking a walk, since he had nothing to do anyway, and began to walk.
Finding Yuri wasn’t that difficult, even within this vast main house.
Since he stood out simply by being a foreigner, he only had to stop and ask a few people to hear that he had been seen somewhere just a moment ago.
This time, since he had been by the stone wall next to the side gate—a place people rarely frequented—he had to ask several people multiple times, more so than usual. However, when he hurried his pace, fearing he might have moved in the meantime after hearing the answer, he found that he was still in the same spot.
Seeing Yuri, whose identity was recognizable even from the back as he sat straight on a tree stump, Ling Xinlu slowed his pace as he approached. An old woman was sitting beside Yuri.
Seeing that the lid of a large jar next to the stone wall was open, it seemed she had brought some luggage to put something inside. It appeared that Yuri was the one who had helped her move the heavy load.
Ling Xinlu tilted his head as he approached them silently from behind.
The old woman sitting with Yuri was an employee who had worked for the ringa since before Ling Xinlu was born. Born and raised in the Western region, she had moved here long ago, but the Western accent remained strong in her speech; unless one was quite accustomed to talking with her, it was still difficult to understand her. If it were this hard for Ling Xinlu, there was no way Yuri—who only knew Putonghua among Chinese dialects, though he spoke it quite well for a foreigner—could understand her.
Furthermore, the old woman did not speak Putonghua. She only spoke the Western dialect or the local regional dialect, to the point where she often couldn’t even watch TV. Even when she did, she could only do so if someone beside her helped interpret.
Thus, while it was impossible for a conversation based on mutual understanding to take place between them, Ling Xinlu soon accepted it and nodded.
Just like with that old man who was slow of speech, this wasn’t the first or second time. Strangely, Yuri often exchanged words with people as if he were having a conversation, even with those who couldn’t understand him.
Just like now.
“So, it wasn’t until I was over fifty that the old man finally died. That man, always playing mahjong and racking up debts at the gambling dens, wore me down until I was sick, and then he just dropped dead. That old geezer, he died just right.”
“Did you play mahjong with your grandfather and get along harmoniously like that?”
“I married the old man when I was eighteen, so for how many years—forty years—my back bent from paying off his debts. When I was a maiden, people told me I was lovely, but I suffered so much because I met the wrong man, and by the time he finally died, I had aged completely.”
“So the old man cherished you for your loveliness until you grew old, even after marriage.”
“My old man, you know, looked a bit like this young man. His eyes were very gentle. That’s why many women followed him. Still, the old man didn’t cheat. …But what did it matter? That man just tripped while walking and suddenly choked and died. Aigoo, it was good that he died, good that he died.”
“I see. So he passed away.”
Ling Xinlu stopped completely, crossed his arms, and stared at the backs of their heads.
It was usually like this.
From a distance, it looked as if the two were having a friendly conversation, but listening closely, it was a spectacle. Since he couldn’t understand the words, whenever a familiar word or two popped up, he would arbitrarily guess the content of the speech.
Sometimes, it was nothing short of a comedy.
Ling Xinlu let out a small snort and perched himself on the low stone wall. He intended to listen in and have a laugh.
The old woman spent a long time pouring out her grievances. Whether Yuri understood or not, she seemed to have simply missed having someone to talk to.
Since she had worked for the ringa for so long, Ling Xinlu knew her circumstances to some extent.
She was a woman who had suffered immensely.
Having met a husband much older than herself, she had left her hometown and come far away, only to work day and night without her hands ever drying from water because of a husband addicted to gambling and accumulating debt. Consequently, as her body grew gaunt, her heart grew withered as well, and it was common for her to pour curses upon her husband every day. Then, her weak-willed husband would hesitate and sneak out to return to the gambling dens, and so their days passed.
Then one day, without any warning, her husband tripped while walking, hit his head the wrong way, and simply died. They had no children.
That was the end of the couple. It had already been over a decade.
“They say enemies from a past life are born as spouses in this one, and that old man truly was an enemy. Oh, that wretched man… if only he had died earlier when I was still young and lovely, I could have met someone new and lived. What has become of me because of that man, that damned old man…”
After lamenting for a while, the old woman seemed to have run out of things to say and began spitting out curses like a habit. Looking at the stone wall ripening in the yellow sunlight, she muttered, “You enemy, you wretched thing,” in a tired voice.
Beside her, Yuri, who had been sitting and gazing at her silently, suddenly spoke softly.
“You must miss him.”
The old woman fell silent, as if she had actually understood those words.
She hadn’t understood them. Yuri’s words no longer entered her ears. She lost her speech for a moment, immersed in memories of the past. Then, she merely muttered to herself, “He made me suffer so much, oh, that wretched man…”
Yuri gently took the old woman’s hand. The old woman, who hadn’t even realized who was holding her wrinkled hand while she listed her husband’s faults, let tears fall down her face, which was as wrinkled as her hand. “Oh, you useless man, you useless man,” she murmured repeatedly.
Ling Xinlu watched them in silence before standing up. He had watched intending to laugh, but the laughter didn’t come.
It wasn’t that he empathized with the old woman’s feelings—though he did think it was a foolish life—but he didn’t feel particularly good. Different from discomfort or repulsion, yes, a certain weight settled on his chest.
It took a moment of further thought to realize that this feeling was not because of the old woman, but because of Yuri.
Why?
The answer came after thinking about it even longer.
Yuri was truly having a conversation.
Even if the story continued haphazardly, he was clearly conversing with the old woman. Listening to what lay beneath the surface of the words.
—You must miss him.
Just as he had been looking into the depths of Ling Xinlu’s heart since the moment they first met.
He was conversing with others while knowing their hearts sometimes better than they did themselves.
“Are you alright?”
The hot towel, which had descended just above his eyelids, stopped at a position where it almost touched, as always. Only after confirming Ling Xinlu’s answer did the towel covering his eyes become perfectly hot.
Even though he must have already checked the temperature with his own hand, Yuri always asked Ling Xinlu before covering his eyes with the towel. Then, he gently placed his hand over it.
That hand, adding weight to the hot towel, lingered for a moment as usual before slowly beginning to rub over the eyelids as if stroking them. That sensation was, surprisingly, quite pleasing.
He liked the languid and warm sensation that seemed to relieve the fatigue not just of his eyes but of his entire body; it had been a long time since he started lying with his head on Yuri’s lap immediately after showering.
It was a man’s hand—rough, blunt, with prominent knuckles. However, the touch rubbing around Ling Xinlu’s eyes was as gentle and sincere as if it were stroking his very soul.
It felt as if it revealed the human being known as Yuri Gable exactly as he was.
Emotions as calm and gentle as water, subtly hidden within a detached and blunt face.
“Did you have a fun date with Grandmother Mei?”
Within the sensation of his heart unraveling languidly, Ling Xinlu asked with a low laugh. The hand rubbing his eyes seemed to stop for a moment, but with a short “Yes,” it soon began to move pleasantly again.
The old woman, having finished her long lamentation to Yuri, returned the way she came, accompanied by Yuri, who carried the empty jar on his back. And Ling Xinlu, unable to find a proper timing to intervene, followed them at a slight distance, leisurely.
Yuri noticed Ling Xinlu following him midway and looked back, but when Ling Xinlu gave a light wave to tell him to keep going, he silently carried the old woman’s jar to the end. Even while carrying it, the old woman continued to talk, and Yuri occasionally gave absurd responses to her words. That mismatched conversation sometimes continued like a comedy, making Ling Xinlu burst into low laughter from behind, but the hard-of-hearing old woman didn’t look back; only Yuri occasionally looked back with a slightly embarrassed face.
“Did you understand even a quarter of what Grandmother Mei was saying?”
Ling Xinlu asked, but no answer returned. Ling Xinlu simply let out a chuckle.
“Grandmother Mei and her husband were a couple with a large age gap, and they didn’t get along particularly well. Because the husband went out to play mahjong every single day and piled up debts, Grandmother Mei was frantic trying to pay them off. Because of that, the sounds of Grandmother Mei screaming and crying that she couldn’t live like this didn’t stop every night in that house…”
Though he had been very young, Ling Xinlu remembered hearing her crying once. He recalled his eyes widening because the voice screaming and wailing sounded just like a ghost.
“Then that grandfather died. He was on his way back from a funeral, tripped over a stone, and died absurdly. Since a perfectly healthy person died suddenly, everyone was flustered and hurried through the funeral, but the atmosphere wasn’t one of great sadness or regret.”
“…”
“It wasn’t because the grandfather was a bad person, but because he was already very old. He was nearly twenty years older than Grandmother Mei, so he was already over seventy at the time.”
He added that while seventy is still considered a prime age these days, it wasn’t like that back then.
Ling Xinlu hadn’t attended that funeral himself. Even if the ringa sent a representative to the funeral of an employee’s husband and gave a generous condolence gift, a member of the ringa family would not attend in person.
However, he had overheard the conversations the employees had while chatting afterward.
They said that since he was so old, they knew he would go first, they knew it would happen, and that’s why Grandmother Mei cried like that.
“…Even though he was a husband who spent a lifetime causing her heartache and anxiety, did you think she would miss him?”
Ling Xinlu asked with a smirk.
Recalling Yuri’s voice, which had quietly said, You must miss him.
After a moment of silent stillness, Yuri answered, “Yes.”
“He kept saying ‘old man, old man,’ so I thought she must miss him. No matter what words are used, continuing to talk about that person means that, in any case, they are curious and want to see them.”
Ling Xinlu fell silent. While gently rubbing his eyes, Yuri continued in a low voice.
“If she lived with someone with such a large age gap, every second and minute while he was alive must have been precious and regrettable… I think she spoke so much because she felt that sorrow.”
Because it was heartbreaking that she couldn’t properly enjoy those times despite knowing their value. Because she resented the husband who spent those times elsewhere, and because she regretted herself for wasting that time.
But now it was already in the past, and everything had flowed away. That was her life.
Silence flowed for a while. Suddenly, Ling Xinlu became curious about what kind of face this man was making behind the warm towel blocking his vision. But at the same time, he felt he knew what kind of face it was.
With a face closed off as calmly as usual, but with a gentle downward cast of the eyes and a quietly closed mouth containing sorrow for Grandmother Mei—he likely had his usual expression.
And suddenly.
Without any sign or reason, just abruptly.
Ah, yes. That is this man. That kind of thing.
Such a realization washed over him.
It was a very fresh sensation.
Ling Xinlu already knew what kind of person Yuri Gable was. He knew he wasn’t as blunt as his appearance suggested, and that he was actually a person of great affection and sensitivity.
And yet, despite it being a fact he already knew, it felt as if it had suddenly become a tangible realization in that moment.
Somehow, his heart felt an ache.
“Just a moment.”
The towel seemed to have cooled down.
Removing the towel that had covered Ling Xinlu’s eyes, Yuri dipped it into a bowl of warm water to heat it again.
Ling Xinlu gazed up at him as he wrung the water out of the towel with a calm, expressionless face, just as expected.
“Come to think of it… how many years older are you than me, Mr. Gable?”
A question he had never thought of before suddenly popped up.
As Yuri folded the towel neatly again, he tilted his head as if it were trivial, saying, “I wonder.”
“Twelve? Thirteen? It should be around that.”
“…You’re an ahjussi.”
“From the moment you were born, Mr. Ling Xinlu, I was an ahjussi to you.”
Having spoken bluntly, Yuri placed the towel back over Ling Xinlu’s eyes. His vision was blocked by blackness. This feeling, which had always been comfortable and cozy, felt strangely anxious in this moment.
“Later, when you have grown very old, Mr. Ling Xinlu, please talk about me sometimes then.”
Yuri said with a faint smile, like a passing joke. Whether it was a joke without much meaning, the question “Is it too hot?” soon erased those words and changed the subject. It was a story that likely held no meaning for him, one where he would probably say, “Did I say such a thing?” if Ling Xinlu brought it up again a few days later.
—Later, when you have grown very old, Mr. Ling Xinlu.
Because by then, he himself would likely no longer be in this world.
—Please talk about me sometimes then.
Because talking about a person means that, in any case, they are curious and want to see them.
“…—.”
Ling Xinlu clamped his mouth shut.
His heart grew cold.
The sensation that had been surging up froze coldly. What should he call that sensation? It was as if—.
“Since when is there an order to when people leave?”
How do you know who will die first? The voice that burst out unintentionally sounded, even to his own ears, like the most sulky voice in the world. Yuri’s hand rubbing his eyes hesitated for a moment, but a calm rebuttal soon returned.
“Still, if possible, one should go in order. That is the natural way of things.”
“Natural way, my foot. Just make sure you talk about me a lot, a lot later, Mr. Gable.”
Suddenly, he hated his own age. He became terribly anxious about a life that still had a long time left—at least ten years more than Yuri.
Seeing Ling Xinlu clearly displaying his displeasure, Yuri seemed puzzled as to why his mood had suddenly soured when he had seemed fine until a moment ago.
“…Is it too hot?”
“It’s not hot.”
“Does it hurt? Am I pressing too hard?”
“It doesn’t hurt. You’re pressing just right.”
Looking down at Ling Xinlu, who spat out his words sulkily as if he were dying of heat and pain, Yuri looked slightly bewildered but said nothing further. He seemed to think that something among the things he had said might have touched some bitter memory of Ling Xinlu’s that he was unaware of.
Ling Xinlu, who had been silently entrusting his eyes to his touch, suddenly asked again.
“Do you like younger people, Mr. Gable?”
“I do?”
A bewildered question returned. However, true to his nature of thinking seriously before answering no matter how absurd the question, a sincere answer came after a few seconds.
“I’ve never thought about it that way, but considering the present, it’s not a wrong statement.”
Hearing Yuri’s answer, adding that it wasn’t as if ‘younger people’ themselves were his preference, Ling Xinlu calmed his displeased heart a little.
But even so, he still didn’t feel very good. He felt anxious, uneasy, and eventually, even nauseous.
“…I like people who will stay by my side for a long time.”
Those words flowed out before Ling Xinlu even realized it. Abruptly, as if muttering in a dream, regardless of his will.
After a short pause, Yuri answered, “Is that so?” Then he fell silent again for a while.
He seemed to be thinking of someone. Someone he wished would stay by his side for a long time, but who in the end could not. And belatedly, Ling Xinlu’s thoughts also turned to the person Yuri was likely recalling.
No.
At least in this moment, the person Ling Xinlu thought of was not that person.
He even felt that perhaps Yuri thought of that man more often than Ling Xinlu did.
Ling Xinlu opened his mouth to say that wasn’t the case, but his words were blocked midway.
If not that, what else was there to say?
“…”
Yuri gently stroked Ling Xinlu, who had fallen silent once again. The hand rubbing the towel over his eyes occasionally brushed through Ling Xinlu’s hair. To be precise, it was less of a stroke and more of a fidgeting with a few strands of hair caught at the fingertips.
He didn’t dislike the touch. Normally, that sensation—like a light tickle through his hair—felt pleasant.
But right now, even that sensation felt somehow nerve-wracking. He wanted to seize that hand, which was softly touching and leaving his hair.
“I like people who will stay for a long time.”
Ling Xinlu murmured once more. It was less a statement to Yuri and more of a monologue spoken to himself.
It felt as if the unstable heartbeat, which he had forced himself to suppress and sink deep into his heart while trying to let go of someone who had become another’s, was slowly crawling back up to the surface of his consciousness. An emotion that clouded his reason.
Ling Xinlu took a long breath. He breathed deeply, filling his lungs to the brim to crush the unstable emotions seeping out from within his body.
Slowly, slowly, he exhaled. Then, the erratic thumping of his heart seemed to settle again.
“Are you alright?”
A low voice reached him from beyond the towel obscuring his vision. It sounded calm, yet there was a hint of worry laced within it. Even though he hadn’t shown it outwardly, it seemed Yuri had noticed that momentary instability.
The concerned voice came from right beside him. From the person right next to him.
His heart slowly calmed down. He could feel the man’s legs beneath his head and the hand covering his eyes. He was there.
Ling Xinlu let out a quiet breath. When he murmured that he was fine, Yuri quietly gauged Ling Xinlu’s state and, seemingly reassured, began to move his hand again.
Feeling that generous and soft touch vividly, Ling Xinlu remained silent for a while before whispering in a low breath, like a sigh.
“Yes, I like people who will stay for a long time. …If I come to like someone who isn’t, I won’t let them leave.”
[To be continued in Volume 2]