Chapter 3167: Chunshu Lane Bitter Summer 07/08

Jin Chen couldn't bring the clay figurine home that day.

Chenshu said the clay wasn't dry yet, and taking it forcefully would deform it, so he told Jin Chen to come back tomorrow; Jin Chen looked at the figurine for a while and solemnly agreed.

Before bed, Jin Chen pulled the curtains shut, set his alarm ten minutes ahead, thinking of getting the clay figurine early tomorrow, and thus felt excited.

He lay in bed, the fan whirring squeakily, blowing warm wind onto his face, closed his eyes, and the image of Chenshu lowering his head to shape the clay figurine appeared in his mind.

Jin Chen turned over, buried his face in the pillow, and felt a bit happy inside.

The next morning, Jin Chen was awakened by noises from the living room; half-asleep, he opened his eyes and heard a man's voice shouting loudly, his tone loud and overbearing with anger.

Jin Chen's consciousness was mostly clear; he listened for a while and realized Zhang Jianguo was scolding Jin Xiumei, saying the gift he had prepared for his nephew's schooling was too shabby, that such a small thing was embarrassing to produce, and he had suddenly decided to come back for money to buy something more presentable himself.

"Taking that shoddy gift out isn't it throwing away the face of our old Zhang family? I'm telling you, we must add money, add another two thousand!"

"Can't add." Jin Xiumei's voice finally rose, trembling, "Yue Yue just signed up for cram school; the tuition alone is several thousand, where would we get extra money for you to save face?"

"Don't give me that cram school excuse! Does your nephew's medicine not cost money? You keep a crazy person at home all day, and all the money's gone on him!"

Jin Chen's eyelids drooped slightly, his gaze somewhat numb.

He lay motionless on the bed, staring at the long, thin crack on the ceiling, hearing those voices like water filling his ears; he wanted to pick up the headphones by the pillow and put them on, but the headphone cord had somehow tangled into a knot, twisted messily together.

Jin Chen sat up, slowly loosening the tangled knots, when suddenly a pained cry from Jin Xiumei came from the living room.

Jin Chen's eyes turned cold, he threw off the blanket and rushed out of the room.

The living room was in utter disarray.

The cup on the coffee table was swept to the floor; Jin Xiumei was shoved by Zhang Jianguo into the wall corner, one hand covering her arm, tears still on her face. Zhang Jianguo stood in the middle of the living room, face red and neck thick, still shouting, spit flying.

Jin Chen shoved Zhang Jianguo aside; though thin, he was tall and stood half a head taller than Zhang Jianguo, his gloomy gaze fixed on Zhang Jianguo, standing there in oppressive silence, shielding Jin Xiumei behind him.

Zhang Jianguo stumbled back two steps from the push, steadied himself, saw it was Jin Chen, his anger flared, face red and neck thick as he charged forward to hit Jin Chen, shouting nasty words.

Pervert, lunatic, jinx.

Jin Chen's gaze grew agitated, his fingers clenched involuntarily; he grabbed Zhang Jianguo's fist and jerked it back hard, Zhang Jianguo lost his balance, fell onto the coffee table, his lower back striking the edge, pain shooting through him.

"Jin... Jin Xiumei!" Zhang Jianguo clutched his waist, fear flashing across his face, "He's had another episode! He's going to kill me! Look what kind of thing you're raising!"

Zhang Jianguo howled, braced on the coffee table trying to get up to strike again, Jin Chen's chest heaved, his eyes dark and heavy, his fingers still trembling.

"Why are you having another episode!" Jin Xiumei rushed forward and shoved Jin Chen in the chest.

Jin Xiumei shouted at him, "He's your uncle! Not your enemy! Do you have to ruin this family before you're satisfied?"

Jin Chen's clenched fists slowly relaxed; he lowered his eyes to look at Jin Xiumei, at her face distorted by anger, the premature white hairs at her temples.

He lowered his gaze, "... Aunt."

"Go inside!" Jin Xiumei pushed Jin Chen into the room, "If your uncle can't see you, he won't lose his temper! You're not allowed to come out!"

The door slammed shut behind him.

Jin Chen stood behind the door, weakly leaning against the panel, hearing Zhang Jianguo still cursing outside, the voice muffled through the door, while Jin Xiumei spoke softly, probably soothing.

Jin Chen leaned against the door, head bowed, numbly biting the inside of his lip, tasting blood; the salty, metallic tang of iron rust spread across his tongue.

He thought, perhaps because he really is mentally ill.

So he couldn't understand why Jin Xiumei could tolerate Zhang Jianguo, that man who drinks heavily, hits people, and calls her a worthless woman.

Nor could he understand why Jin Xiumei always treated him so badly.

Now Jin Chen won't be beaten by Zhang Jianguo anymore; he's grown taller and stronger than Zhang Jianguo, who can't overpower him. But Jin Chen can't control his stress response—whenever Zhang Jianguo appears or his voice is heard, Jin Chen's body remembers the pain before his mind does.

A few seconds later, Jin Chen rushed to the nightstand, opened the drawer, and searched for medicine.

But this month's medicine had run out, with three days left until month's end, meaning he still hadn't managed to control his emotional outbursts this month; the doctor had said that if he took his medicine on schedule, his mood would stabilize considerably, but he couldn't restrain himself, always having episodes when he shouldn't and finishing the medicine early.

Jin Chen's hands shook violently; the medicine bottle slipped from his grasp and rolled to the floor.

He bent over to pick it up, but his vision began to blur and double, everything swaying like an unsteady water surface.

Jin Chen could only lean on the nightstand, gasping heavily; a foul, damp, sour odor mixed with oil and sweat hit his nostrils—the smell that clings to Zhang Jianguo's clothes and skin from driving his big truck, lingering year after year.

He had just fought Zhang Jianguo, surely brushing against his clothes…

So dirty.

"So dirty…"

Jin Chen murmured, shaking his head, fingers rubbing his arms hard, as if trying to scrub off the skin soaked with that smell; the room was stuffy, the fan's wind hot and laden with the odor, making him unable to catch his breath while his body felt cold, as if cool air were seeping out from his bone cracks.

He began to take off his clothes, standing naked in the middle of the room, his garments piled in a dirty heap on the floor.

A sudden urge to vomit welled up; his stomach clenched violently, Jin Chen covered his mouth and bent over to retch, but nothing came up, his throat dry and sore.

Moments later, he felt his nasal passages flooded with dirty water, breathing becoming difficult, each inhale like drowning; the veins at his temples throbbed, as if something wanted to burst out, wishing he could drive nails in to override this inescapable agony with sharper pain.

The small room's window was shut, curtains drawn halfway, a single slit of light falling on the floor, landing beside Jin Chen's feet, illuminating his ankle and a bit of his lower leg, pale and bare.

Jin Chen stumbled to the bedside, half-kneeling, upper body slumped over the bed, his long, pale fingers gripping the sheet, knuckles protruding, fingertips whitening, spine deeply arched, he fumbled for the sleeping pill bottle on the nightstand, twisted the cap, poured the pills into his mouth, swallowed them dry, the tablets catching in his throat, he forced them down with effort.

Afterwards, Jin Chen felt as if all his strength had been drained, collapsing like a fall from a cliff, his hair spread across the pillow, sweat-damp strands sticking to his forehead and cheeks, his brows knotted in painful strain, his breathing growing shallow and rapid, his chest rising and falling, feeling himself plummeting as if from a great height, his consciousness dissolving in anguish.

Chenshu didn't see Jin Chen come in the morning.

Chenshu collected his thoughts from the sculpture, glanced at the blinding white sunlight outside, and felt something was off.

Jin Chen had promised properly yesterday, saying he'd come this morning to get the clay figurine; he wasn't the type to casually break an appointment, so after waiting another ten minutes, Chenshu grew restless, wrapped the figurine in a clean cloth, and decided to deliver it himself.

He wanted to see Jin Chen's expression upon receiving the figurine, imagining those lovely eyes lighting up with liking; just picturing that scene made Chenshu feel good.

Chenshu walked to Jin Chen's door, knocked twice, "Xiao Chen, are you home?"

Chenshu raised his hand, palm lightly pushing against the door; it swung open easily, which seemed odd—Jin Chen had said only he was home these days, so if he'd gone out, why would he leave the door unlocked?

Chenshu cautiously entered the entryway, shocked by the living room's disarray—messy, as if a quarrel had occurred; his heart sank, he hurried inside, glanced around, and saw no sign of Jin Chen.

"Xiao Chen?" his voice tinged with urgency.

Chenshu passed through the living room, went to the tightly shut door at the end of the hallway, and turned the handle.

A wave of heat hit him as he entered the room; the windows were sealed tight, curtains half-drawn, outside it was thirty-five or thirty-six degrees, the room likely hotter still, like a steamer.

Chenshu blinked to adjust to the dimness, then made out Jin Chen on the bed.

Jin Chen curled up in the blanket, only half his face showing; his face was abnormally red, his cheekbones and the corners of his eyes flushed with a moist red, his brows slightly furrowed, even in his sleep he was restless, his breathing shallow and rapid, his lips dry and cracked, yet his color was very red, as if burned through.

Chenshu quickly walked over, squatted beside the bed, and reached out to touch Jin Chen's forehead, "hiss…"

It was scorching hot.

He again pressed the back of his hand to Jin Chen's neck and cheek; they were equally hot, and Jin Chen's exhaled breath was damp and hot, brushing against Chenshu's wrist.

Chenshu's heart suddenly surged with an uncontrollable pity; the boy lay there alone, running a high fever, doors and windows shut tight, and if he hadn't come looking, no one would know how long the fever would have lasted.

"How did you end up like this?" Chenshu murmured, lightly brushing Jin Chen's cheek and pushing back the damp hair stuck to his forehead.

Chenshu hurried home to get fever medicine, pulled out the medicine box, found the fever reducer and thermometer, then rushed back to Jin Chen's room. He put the water cup on the bedside table, sat beside the bed, and carefully half-lifted Jin Chen, letting him lean against his chest.

At that moment, Chenshu discovered that beneath the thin blanket Jin Chen's body was naked, flushed with an strange ruddy glow, like a work of art. He stared for a few seconds.

Jin Chen's body was limp, with little strength, his head resting on Chenshu's shoulder, his scorching forehead rubbing against Chenshu's neck, leaving a burning sensation.

"Xiao Chen, take your medicine." Chenshu said softly, pushing the fever-reducing pill to his lips.

Jin Chen showed no response, his brows furrowing tighter, so Chenshu had to pry open his jaw, push the pill into his mouth, then give him a sip of water.

Administering the medicine was harder than imagined; the first gulp came right back up, Jin Chen choked on the water and coughed violently a few times, and Chenshu looked down at his soaked shirt, smiling helplessly.

He had no experience caring for the sick, his technique clumsy; he could only adjust his posture to steady Jin Chen's head, then give a second mouthful—Jin Chen swallowed most of it, and finally managed to swallow the pill whole, but then he bit down on Chenshu's finger that was delivering the pill, unconsciously pressing his lips together.

Soft lips closed around his fingertips, the tip of his tongue lightly grazing the pads of his fingers, Chenshu's heart skipped a beat, and he couldn't help but rub Jin Chen's lips.

"Even asleep you're not honest." Chenshu said quietly.

After a while, he finally got up, walked to the window, and opened the tightly shut window.

Fresh air poured in, carrying the scent of afternoon sunlight and camphor leaves, dispelling the room's accumulated stagnation; he also turned the fan to its highest setting, letting the wind blow away the indoor heat and that faint trace of sickness.

In Chunshu Lane, cicadas chirped in waves, and birds could not fly past the power lines tangled around each house.

——

It was not until after noon that Jin Chen regained consciousness.

He opened his eyes; his gaze was heavy with gloom, as if he had struggled out of a deep, deep dream and had not yet fully returned to reality, his vision scattered for a few seconds before he slowly turned his head and saw the mud figurine placed beside his pillow.

Jin Chen pushed himself up with his elbows, the blanket sliding off his chest to expose his bare upper body, and he met the gaze of Chenshu, who had entered holding a water cup.

Chenshu noticed that Jin Chen's look was unlike his usual calm—it was unsettled, even hinting at a dangerous wavering—but he wasn't intimidated, and gave Jin Chen a warm, gentle smile, saying, "Awake? Good, the water's hot; have a sip."

He walked over, handed the water cup to Jin Chen, and naturally reached out to feel his forehead for temperature, saying, "It's not that hot now; good thing I came over today to deliver the mud figurine and found you feverish, otherwise, with the windows shut, you'd overheat in here."

Jin Chen suddenly lifted his hand, his fingers brushing over Chenshu's smiling eye corners, and said, "You always look at me like that."

Chenshu slightly tilted his head, his eye corners rubbing against Jin Chen's fingertips, and asked, "How so?"

Jin Chen tugged at the corner of his mouth, as if he were something worth admiring.

Jin Chen's rationality was already teetering on the brink.

His impoverished emotional history was not enough for him to understand why Chenshu treated him so well. His aunt's kindness came with conditions—he had to be obedient, normal, and not cause trouble. Zhang Jianguo's kindness toward him had never existed at all.

And the things he couldn't figure out made him feel uneasy, leaving him breathless.

Thus, a distorted self-destructive urge gained the upper hand: since he couldn't understand, he wouldn't think about it; since he didn't know what he wanted, let him take it—anything would do, after all, he had nothing to lose.

Jin Chen also didn't know why, and gave a soft laugh, saying, "Do you need a model?"

Chenshu froze for a moment, seeming to catch the meaning in Jin Chen's words, "... you?"

Jin Chen threw off the thin blanket and rose, standing beside the bed with nothing but a beautiful black butterfly earring on his ear as his only adornment; unlike Moli's appearance, his body was naked, possessing a sparse sensuality, and the large bruises on his waist stood out ambiguously in the sunlight.

Chenshu found it hard to restrain himself from admiring; his eyes were like smoke and water, he stepped closer to Jin Chen, tilted his head slightly, let out a light sigh as if facing something difficult, and reached out to touch Jin Chen's cheek, saying, "Why must you be like this, Xiao Chen,"

"Looking at me with such a beautiful yet pitiful expression makes things very difficult for me."

"... You don't need me?" Jin Chen stared at him, revealing those dark, unfathomable eyes.

He was slightly taller than Chenshu; when he lowered his gaze to look at Chenshu, his aura became weary and cold—this was not a tender, lingering confession, but a gloomy, distorted plea.

"I beg you. Please do something for me so I can know why you treat me well, so I can believe you truly want me."

Under Jin Chen's gaze, Chenshu turned and walked to Jin Chen's simple wardrobe, opened the door, rummaged inside, pulled out a long coat, brought it back, helped Jin Chen put it on, pulled up the collar, and smoothed it down.

The oversized windbreaker concealed Jin Chen's naked body, revealing his collarbone and the lingering high-fever flush above it, making him look even more frail yet also more handsome.

Jin Chen offered no resistance, continually lowering his gaze to Chenshu, his eyes following every movement, the Youyou pupils swirling with emotions no one could decipher.

Chenshu fastened the last button, wrapped his arms around, and embraced that figure who was taller than him but looked incredibly fragile.

He tightened his arms a little, letting Jin Chen lean closer, against him, his eyes crinkling with a smile, "All right, then, shall we go to my place?"

Jin Chen felt a kiss land on the side of his neck, damp and warm.

In a daze, Jin Chen almost felt that Chenshu's kiss was not on his skin but on the throbbing flesh beneath; otherwise, how could it be so hot?

Jin Chen's pupils trembled, he lowered his head to look at the person with light-colored hair in his arms, and his arms slowly, slowly tightened, coiling around Chenshu like a snake, constricting, drawing him into his embrace; the nausea churning in his stomach gradually gave way to an itching sensation.