WHF Ch 46 – “Your kissing skills are terrible. Who taught you?”

So that’s how it was.

So that’s why he went to the mountains to find his grandma—it was about his grandma. Yu Tianbai walked at the back of the group, thinking to himself.

The sky was already darkening, the mountains and fields cloaked in a vibrant layer of blue. In the distant village, gray-white smoke rose faintly. Old Seven walked ahead, his steps lighter than the smoke.

Ten minutes ago, at Grandma Tu’s grave, they had performed a splendid martial arts show. The performer was Xiu Ma, the host was Yu Tianbai. There were no swords, spears, or staffs; Old Five had found a flagpole stuck in the ground. There were no suona or drums, only Old Seven’s hands clapping. Facing the deep mountains, the audience was Old Five and Old Seven, along with countless wandering spirits in the hills.

When the performance ended, Old Seven was delighted. He said his grandma was delighted too. As for how he knew the thoughts of an old woman who had been sleeping underground for over a decade, Yu Tianbai didn’t dare ask or think too deeply about it.

Back in the village, the streetlights came on, enveloping the mountain village in its characteristic sense of emptiness; even the sheep’s bleats grew quieter. Yu Tianbai grabbed a bottle of water from the small shop, stood at the door, and rinsed his mouth first. He stopped Xiu Ma, who was about to enter, twisted the cap back on, and handed it to him.

“Rinse your mouth,” he explained.

Xiu Ma took it but didn’t unscrew the cap or drink, looking puzzled. “Why rinse?”

“You just spent the evening hanging out with the dead. Now you’re stepping into the land of the living.” Yu Tianbai pointed toward the forest, then patted Xiu Ma’s arm holding the bottle. “It’s the rule. Hurry up, do it.”

Yu Tianbai had a mix of street smarts and superstition—neither fully grounded in reality nor entirely mystical. Xiu Ma didn’t mention any taboos about such rules and was willing to follow them. He turned the bottle in his hand, but the issue was the water—it was the one Yu Tianbai had already sipped from.

Didn’t that count as kissing?

Sounds came from outside the courtyard; it seemed the uncle and nephew had arrived. Without hesitation, Xiu Ma unscrewed the cap, brought it to his lips, and gulped it down.

When they entered, the flat-roofed house was already lit. Bright bulbs hanging from the beams made the small house feel much warmer. Mrs. Tu came out holding a bundle of firewood, likely to heat the kang. When she met the group, her face broke into the same kind smile as when they first arrived.

“I’m so sorry. There’s no kang in the small house, and we don’t dare use a charcoal brazier for fear of poisoning. If you get cold tonight, you can squeeze into my kid’s room.”

Not sleeping in the sheep pen was already a good deal; who had time to care about a heated kang? Yu Tianbai quickly waved his hand, saying hardworking folks had enough body heat and weren’t used to sleeping on a kang. That wasn’t true—Yu Tianbai felt his face was so frozen it didn’t belong to him anymore, and he only hoped the blankets would warm him up.

While he chatted with the lady of the house, Xiu Ma stood silently nearby, his eyes fixed on a portrait of a great leader on the wall, his fingers brushing his lips.

The water had no special taste—obviously, if water had a taste, it wouldn’t be water. But he had expected the bottle to offer some unique flavor or sensation. In reality, there was nothing.

While he was lost in thought, Yu Tianbai kept talking with the hostess. She even turned on the water heater in the flat-roofed house, telling them to wash up soon if they wanted to warm up.

Seeing Xiu Ma quietly staring at the scenery without speaking, Yu Tianbai smiled, agreed, and gave him a slap on the back. Xiu Ma snapped out of it and hurriedly said, “Yeah! I’ll drink.”

Drink what? Bathwater?

The whole house fell silent. Yu Tianbai laughed loudly three times to break the quiet, pushing Xiu Ma inside while covering up the fact that the kid had just zoned out with a flurry of polite words.

Back in the room, with the door closed, Yu Tianbai dropped the smile he used for small talk. The lady was too chatty, and his face felt stiff from talking—cold and stiff. In contrast, Xiu Ma’s expression was much more normal, almost otherworldly in its calm.

“What are you thinking about?” Yu Tianbai muttered to himself.

He called it muttering because he didn’t expect Xiu Ma to answer. The room was quiet, too quiet, with just the two of them. Even an extra breath could be heard.

“I’m going to shower,” he said, heading for the door—an excuse.

The lady wasn’t outside, nor were Old Five or Old Seven. Only a dim incandescent bulb glowed in the firewood room they’d just passed. Yu Tianbai glanced at his phone; it was only eight p.m. He looked out the window. If Northeast cities still had lights for passersby, this mountain village had none, because there were no passersby. Someone like Yu Tianbai was, at best, a hapless wanderer, akin to the ghosts outside.

At that thought, he stopped looking out. The window facing the mountains didn’t even have curtains. He feared a few more glances might reveal a bull-headed or horse-faced spirit, or the Black and White Impermanence. He locked his phone and slipped into the square-tiled bathroom.

When he came out, even the hallway light was off. Yu Tianbai hunched his shoulders and slipped back into the room. Xiu Ma was sitting on the bed’s edge, staring blankly, still wearing his jacket from earlier.

Yu Tianbai was used to this scholar’s phone-free zoning-out mode but couldn’t help asking, “Why are you spacing out again?”

As he got closer, he noticed Xiu Ma holding his phone, as if he’d just ended a call.

“Who?” Yu Tianbai asked.

He’d already guessed who it was when he asked. In Xiu Ma’s detached social circle, only one person would call him.

“My mom,” Xiu Ma answered, tossing the phone onto the bed and straightening his shoulders slightly, but not standing.

If Xiu Ma wasn’t standing, Yu Tianbai was sitting. He swung one leg up, plopping heavily onto the bed. The hard bedframe jolted him, making his teeth chatter for a few seconds.

When the ringing in his ears faded, only the hum of the incandescent bulb remained. Yu Tianbai tilted his face up, squinting at the chattering light. Behind him, Xiu Ma’s gaze settled on a drop of water at the tip of his hair.

“Was the water hot?” The droplet fell onto Yu Tianbai’s white undershirt, and Xiu Ma asked.

“Not hot at all. Freezing,” Yu Tianbai replied.

Even without saying it, Xiu Ma could tell. There was no warmth on him like after a hot shower; the air near him was cold.

“Look,” Yu Tianbai suddenly turned his face halfway, “can’t you just not answer her calls?”

“She’s my mom,” Xiu Ma said, meeting his eyes, voice low.

“I know,” Yu Tianbai didn’t look away. “The money for her nanny comes straight from your dad’s card, right?”

Just like that Ferrari of Xiu Ma’s.

Xiu Ma fell silent. Yu Tianbai swung his leg onto the bed, turning to face him directly.

“I don’t mean anything by this. Since the money’s spent and the suffering’s done, why can’t you just live your life well?”

This was something Yu Tianbai had always wanted to say.

His own upbringing wasn’t smooth, but he wasn’t ungrateful. He knew that compared to many, his seemingly ordinary courtyard life was enviable. That envy reminded him constantly of how badly Yu Tianbai had played his life’s cards. That mess made him ruthless toward himself and others, and toward the world. Some things just shouldn’t be done.

So was advising someone one of those things? Yu Tianbai chose to trust his gut.

“You’re still young, so you can’t help but feel pity. When you’re older, or my age, you’ll realize many people aren’t worth your sympathy.”

Like me, like you, like everyone. Yu Tianbai looked quietly at Xiu Ma, realizing for the first time that the kid could stare at him so long without moving.

Xiu Ma’s expression didn’t change. Compared to his usual lively brows and eyes, he was stiff today, like a dull doll at a market. After another silence, he tilted his head slightly. “Then do you pity Old Five and Old Seven?”

That question stumped Yu Tianbai. If he pitied them, he’d be a lone hero, tossing a million or two under the pillow or into the firewood pile and slipping away in the dark. But if he didn’t, he wouldn’t be here at all. He’d be on the road, in his usual car, leaving the uncle and nephew to stew in the detention center.

“It’s different,” he said, using the classic adult line when cornered by a kid. “The two can’t be compared.”

Seeing Xiu Ma hadn’t spoken again, Yu Tianbai turned away, continuing to justify himself. “I know she’s your mom, and it’s because she’s family that she can hurt you so much. Look past it. One day she’ll leave you, so why not leave her first? After all, she did the harm first—”

Xiu Ma’s voice suddenly came from behind his head. “You say you don’t pity them, but you helped them. And now you’re trying to advise me. Can I take that as you pitying me?”

A pop sounded overhead as the incandescent bulb flickered. After the sound, the light remained unchanged, still bathing the room in bright, warm glow.

Yu Tianbai didn’t speak. He heard the person behind him stand, walk around the bed, and stop in front of him. Yu Tianbai didn’t look up. He sat, Xiu Ma stood, and he felt eyes boring down on him—a bad feeling.

A fight?

“Are you pitying me?” Xiu Ma’s question came from above, in the same direction as the bulb’s hum, but the voice didn’t feel warm.

Yu Tianbai took a deep breath, straightened his gaze, and forced a smile at Xiu Ma. “Wanna fight?”

“No,” Xiu Ma said, unmoved. “I want one-sided revenge.”

Revenge? Yu Tianbai’s smile faded as he searched his memory. He had made some promise.

Days ago, outside the glass factory, in Mudanjiang, in that eight p.m. van, he’d told Xiu Ma in the back seat, “Afterward, choke me, punch me, whatever you want.” The thrill of teasing young flesh was so exhilarating he’d felt it was worth dying for, not thinking much of it.

He hadn’t expected the kid to come collecting with fists.

“Fine,” he accepted. “Go easy.”

The moment the words left his mouth, he felt Xiu Ma’s hand on his neck. Choking? Not a great choice—definitely not. Yu Tianbai was prepared for a beating, not suffocation, so he instinctively grabbed Xiu Ma’s hand, about to say something.

But his mouth was blocked—by Xiu Ma’s mouth.

Yu Tianbai felt like a tree in a cold snap or a fish under ice. A piercing chill crawled up his spine, numbing half his face. Xiu Ma’s hand slid from his neck—one pressed his shoulder, the other rested on the bed. To manage this, one of Xiu Ma’s legs was already on the bed. Yu Tianbai was pushed back, tilting down. Xiu Ma angled his face, closing the last gap between their lips. Through it all, Yu Tianbai’s eyes stayed open.

It was a reckless, direct probe, practically crashing into his face. Yu Tianbai furrowed his brow, feeling Xiu Ma pry at his mouth—warm, soft, relentless. He saw Xiu Ma’s eyes crack open, pale irises like some inhuman creature.

A strange sensation surged—survival instinct, but also a desire to win. He wrapped his hand around Xiu Ma’s neck, opened his mouth, and met him head-on.

Too clumsy, too childish. When their tongues touched, Xiu Ma flinched, so hanging onto his neck was the right move—neither could escape. Yu Tianbai chuckled through his nose, his thumb rubbing Xiu Ma’s earlobe. He shifted his mouth’s angle, tongue and fingers playing until Xiu Ma’s throat made gasping, desperate sounds. Only then did Yu Tianbai pull back, but not fully—his lips still grazed Xiu Ma’s, the perfect angle to catch the shimmer in those pale eyes.

“Your kissing skills are terrible. Who taught you?” he asked, voice low—not on purpose, but no one’s voice stays clear after that.

Xiu Ma was still panting, his hot breath hitting Yu Tianbai’s cheek, stirring a fire inside him. Yu Tianbai’s fingertips brushed the soft hair at Xiu Ma’s nape, listening as his breathing slowed.

“No one taught me,” Xiu Ma said, lips pressed, voice muffled. “You know that.”

Yu Tianbai nodded, very pleased. “Of course I know.”

Then he dropped the hand around Xiu Ma’s neck and shoved his chest hard. Xiu Ma stumbled back a few steps, standing straight. Under the light, his ears and lips were flushed.

“Am I giving you too much face?” Yu Tianbai asked.

Xiu Ma wiped his mouth with his hand. “You’ve never given me any face.”

Yu Tianbai shut his mouth. The 200-watt bulb blazed above, his body cooling. Moments ago, he’d been thrilled, but now the story wasn’t fun anymore.

“I’ll sleep on the sofa,” Yu Tianbai said, nodding toward the plush sofa by the bed.

Xiu Ma didn’t answer, turning and walking to the door. Seconds later, a sharp click of the door closing rang out. Then, only the bulb’s whining hum responded to him.