Morning and Evening Chapter 4

Chang Ming’an asked, “Are you alright?”

He Mu subconsciously touched the bruise on his cheekbone, then withdrew his hand and said, “No.”

Chang Ming’an adopted the tone he used when speaking to students and asked, “You live alone? Where are your parents?”

He Mu reacted as if his tail had been stepped on: “What does this have to do with you? Who are you?”

Chang Ming’an asked, “Is your mother’s surname He? Did she used to live here?”

He Mu opened his mouth slightly, looking surprised and uncertain. After a long while, he frowned and asked, “You… you know her?”

Really.

Chang Ming’an finally solved this mystery that had been bothering him. He said, “I used to live nearby and met your mother. How is she now?”

He Mu’s eyes dimmed for a moment, and he asked, “Are you very familiar with her?”

We only exchanged a few words.

A cool autumn breeze blew in through the wide-open window. He Mu sneezed, sniffed, and gathered his messy long hair behind his head, saying, “She’s gone. You don’t need to look for her anymore. You can go.”

Chang Ming’an wasn’t quite sure if “gone” meant what he was thinking, so he tentatively asked, “Are you having any difficulties and need my help?”

He Mu seemed to have been stung and flinched. He had heard such words far too often.

This child is so pitiful, how could he be so miserable? This mother is so heartless, why don’t we help him? He had hoped for this, but all his concern ultimately came to nothing; all the good intentions were for ulterior motives.

He lowered his head and said, “It’s none of your business.”

His tone and posture made He Mu seem like a stubborn child, yet he was still wearing that dark purple women’s silk nightgown, its front open, revealing his thin chest, the loosely tied ties outlining his slender waist, and his two long legs exposed at the hem. A contradiction clashed within him, causing a strange sense of unease.

Like seeing a stray cat shivering on the street, Chang Ming’an’s heart skipped a beat.

He righted the chair that had fallen to the ground and saw that He Mu was barefoot again. He Mu always seemed to like going barefoot; the arch of his foot was delicately curved, his ankle bones were slightly protruding, and his toenails were painted bright red. Chang Ming’an had no choice but to pick up the broom leaning against the wall and sweep the teacup shards into the corner.

He Mu stood beside him with his arms crossed, his guard up again, as if Chang Ming’an were a monster that could breathe fire at any moment, and all his well-intentioned concern was just a sugar-coated bullet.

Chang Ming’an went to the kitchen to find a garbage bag to collect the broken pieces. The pots and pans in the kitchen were cold, as if they had never been used. A wilted yellow scallion lay in the sink. He searched around but couldn’t find what he was looking for. When he turned around, he saw He Mu following behind him. The two almost bumped into each other. He Mu’s eyes were still wide open, like a small animal whose territory had been invaded.

Chang Ming’an took a step back, feeling a little embarrassed. He suddenly noticed that He Mu had a slightly raised red mole on his chest, a vermilion color that stood out vividly against his fair skin.

“What exactly do you want?” He Mu asked, utterly puzzled.

Chang Ming’an patiently explained, “Don’t do anything. The shards will cut your feet.”

He Mu stepped forward, placing his bare feet on Chang Ming’an’s casual leather shoes, the white and black clashing against each other. He suppressed all his emotions, straightened his collar, and responded to this sudden concern and attentiveness in the way he knew best. He reached out to pull Chang Ming’an’s hand, which was hanging by his side, and with his other hand wiped away the smudged lipstick. He said, “Really not going to do it…”

He Mu’s hands were cold, and Chang Ming’an subconsciously pulled away, then grabbed his wrist and sighed helplessly, “What’s wrong with you? You keep bringing up whether you’ll do it or not. Are you still in school? Which university? Or are you already working?”

He Mu placed his other foot on Chang Ming’an’s shoe, leaned closer, and whispered, “If you don’t want to do it, what are you dawdling about here? Tell me, how do you want to play? Do you want me to change my clothes…”

Here we go again, Chang Ming’an thought with relief. He gripped He Mu’s shoulders and pushed him away, but didn’t dare to use too much force. The first time he was treated like this, he felt offended, but now he only felt that He Mu was like a mischievous child, deliberately provoking him with what he thought was maturity and effortless charm. “Tell me, how would you like me to call you? Brother? Husband? Or… Dad?”

Chang Ming’an had never tried anything so blatant before. His ears burned, and he gently pushed He Mu away, taking a few steps back. He said solemnly, “I don’t have those kinds of feelings for you, and I have no right to interfere in your private life, but…”

He Mu leaned against the kitchen sink, looking at him expressionlessly with a hint of mockery in his eyes.

“Your mother is a good person, and I would be happy to help you if you have any difficulties.”

Chang Ming’an took out his wallet from his pocket, pulled out a business card, and handed it to He Mu. He Mu kept his arms crossed and didn’t intend to take it. Chang Ming’an put the business card aside, turned around, and left.

He Mu stood still, hearing the door open and close. He hesitated for a moment, then picked up the thin business card with two fingers to look at it.

Chang Ming’an, Associate Professor, School of Economics and Management, University A. His mobile phone number and email address were attached below.

He Mu chuckled, though it was unclear who he was laughing at—Chang Ming’an or himself. He opened a drawer, tossed the business card haphazardly into a kitchen drawer used for miscellaneous items, and slammed the drawer shut.

As Chang Ming’an walked through the alley at night, he glanced back and saw that He Mu’s bedroom light was on, casting a blurry, yellowish glow.

He suddenly remembered when he was eight years old, just starting elementary school. He had gotten a very low score on his math test for some reason. He wandered around outside, too scared to go home, and only slowly walked back home at night, his eyes red and swollen from crying. He had no idea that his parents were searching for him all over.

He encountered Miss He for the last time at the corner of the alley. She was wearing a plain cheongsam, without any makeup, and had almond-shaped eyes almost identical to He Mu’s, red as if she had been crying.

Little Chang Ming’an didn’t dare to speak to her first. Instead, Miss He smiled at him and said in a hoarse voice, “The night will be good.”

Seeing Chang Ming’an’s puzzled expression, she cleared her throat and said in Mandarin, “Good evening.”

Little Chang Ming’an nodded nervously and whispered, “Are you unhappy? Why are you crying?”

Miss He smiled at him: “And you?”

Chang Ming’an thought of his exam paper, his nose twitched, and tears welled up in his eyes again. Miss He quickly said, “Don’t cry, oh dear, what’s wrong?”

Chang Ming’an pouted, desperately trying to hold back his tears. Miss He wanted to give him candy, but realized she didn’t have her bag, so she could only pat his head. Seeing Miss He’s equally red eyes, Chang Ming’an hiccuped and said, “You shouldn’t cry either.”

Miss He chuckled and said, “I’m not crying, I’m happy, I have a baby!”

Chang Ming’an’s eyes widened, and he said in surprise, “Really?”

Miss He nodded.

Remembering the hawthorn slices Miss He had given him last time, Chang Ming’an quickly took off his backpack, reached out and pulled out a piece of candy he had been saving for a long time, and stuffed it into Miss He’s hand, saying shyly, “For, for the little baby.”

Miss He gently touched her lower abdomen and smiled, “The baby says thank you.”

Chang Ming’an nodded like a little adult and said, “You’re welcome.”

At the other end of the alley, Chang’s father and mother called his name anxiously. Upon hearing this, Chang Ming’an felt a surge of guilt. He quickly slung his schoolbag over his shoulder and prepared to go home. After running a few steps, he turned back and said, “Goodbye!”

“Goodbye,” Miss He said with a smile.

That was the first time Chang Ming’an had ever been beaten in his life; his father beat him so badly that his buttocks were bruised and battered.

Through the thin curtains, Chang Ming’an saw He Mu leaning against the window.

That was also the first time he had met He Mu, he thought.