Beijing Comrades (7 page)

I wasn't wild about the idea of Lan Yu working, but he still had the two home-tutoring gigs. He said his pupils were the kids of Huada University professors, that the jobs were already in place, and that he couldn't back out now. This, I thought, was reasonable, but I was adamant about his not taking on a third student. When I asked him about it, however, he became quiet, not wanting to answer the question. What was he so worried about? Next semester's living expenses?

One night after a tutoring session with a high school student, Lan Yu got home late. All throughout Beijing you could hear the celebratory sound of fireworks exploding; New Year's Eve was just two days away. He had gone to China Telecom to call his family after work, but the line was long and he had had to wait forty-five minutes. I told him to stop going there to make calls, that he could make as many long-distance phone calls as he wanted from Country Brothers or from Ephemeros.

Still, the call home made me curious about Lan Yu's family, whom I knew nothing about.

“I was beginning to think you were raised by wolves,” I joked. “You're like the Monkey King: born by jumping out of a stone!” I was referring to Sun Wukong, the popular character in
Journey to the West.

Lan Yu gave a resigned laugh but quickly became serious. “My mom died a few years ago. I still have my dad but I don't want to go back to visit. That woman—the one my dad married—doesn't want me to either.”

“So your dad's still alive?” I pressed to find out more.

“Yeah, alive and well. I have a three-year-old half sister too.” His eyes burned with the deep distress he had, not always, but often. It was as if he was lost in some memory, but he would never say what it was.

On New Year's Eve I insisted that Lan Yu come with me to my parents' house, where I always spent the holiday. It was risky bringing home a lover, but I couldn't bear the idea of him being on his own. As I had expected, my family treated “my friend's little brother” very well. Especially my mother. She had always been the warm and loving one in the family—in this respect I liked to think that I took after her. My two younger sisters, Aidong and Jingdong—“Love Mao Zedong Thought” and “Respect Mao Zedong Thought”—were more like my father: cold, distant, fake. Later Lan Yu would tell me that he never knew a family of high-ranking cadres could be so kind. It was gratifying to hear, but I knew it was only because my aging father had long since lost his iron-fisted control over the family. When I told Lan Yu this, he told me I should be grateful for the family I had.

It was nearly midnight and the Beijing night sky was saturated with the sound of exploding fireworks. Standing on the sidelines of the action, I watched Lan Yu as he lit fuses with Jingdong, the younger of my two sisters, and Aidong's husband. I watched my mother as she walked toward me, a big smile on her face, and thought: if they knew the truth about my relationship with Lan Yu, I'd be dead to them.

Six

Spring had arrived and everything was perfect. I had made an enormous sum of money from a recent deal and had a new associate—a major player in the industry—with whom I'd be collaborating. And I had met a new guy, a drummer in a band.

Things were in full swing for Lan Yu, too. The new semester had long since begun and his schedule left him only enough time to see me once every two weeks or so. A few days before his classes started, I sat him down on the living room couch and gave him a bankbook, an account with Â¥20,000 in it. He opened it up and timidly peeked inside, then set it down on the rosewood tea table before us. “I still have two hundred left from that five hundred you gave me back in September,” he said, staring at me blankly. There was the faintest tone of protest in his voice.

“Quit worrying so much about saving money,” I insisted. “If you need to spend it, spend it.”

“Well, what I was thinking was . . .” He gave an uncomfortable
smile. “I was thinking I would pay you back when I have the money.”

“Don't be ridiculous!” I said. “What kind of person do you think I am? Besides,” I joked, “if you were to pay me back, I'd have to charge you interest. That five hundred you took from me? I'm gonna need a thousand for that!” Lan Yu looked at me with a smile, but stopped short of laughing. I didn't like to see him worry.

“Listen, really,” I said, looking at him gravely. “Don't worry about it. One day when you graduate and start working, you can pay it back. But,” I continued to jest, “don't say I didn't warn you about my high interest rate!”

Lan Yu remained seated on the couch, the bankbook resting in his lap like a rejected lover. Somehow, inexplicably, he was reluctant to take it. My temples throbbed in irritation. What the fuck is wrong with this guy?

The drummer's name was Huang Jian. He was only okay looking, but he was great in bed and we had fantastic sex. He was more than a little willing to cozy up to me—so willing, in fact, that he agreed to my altogether unreasonable demand that he get, not just an STD screening, but a complete physical before I slept with him.

The thing about Huang Jian was that he liked to put on a little makeup before sex. I don't know why, it was just this thing he was into. He especially liked purple eye shadow, which he would apply with great care while gazing at his reflection in the mirror. I myself wasn't so keen on the whole thing. After all, I liked men because of their masculinity and women because of their femininity. Somehow, though, Huang Jian managed to pull it off in a way that didn't entirely disgust
me, and besides, he liked having sex with the lights dimmed so I couldn't really see it anyway.

Huang Jian had two personalities, and sex with him always proceeded in one of two directions. When he wanted to be my dirty little whore, he would sit at the foot of the bed and gaze at me with a teasing, slutty look. Then he would crawl toward me on his hands and knees until reaching his target—my cock—which he would tease with his tongue before moving downward to lick my balls. His tongue was so tender, like a thousand ripples of water gently massaging me. Meticulous and considerate, he would roll my nuts around in his mouth, taking great pains to ensure his teeth didn't get in the way. Finally, he would dive back onto my cock, swallowing the entire thick length all at once. He was a very patient cocksucker, extremely focused on his work, and never tiring or, worse, complaining. I had to push him off of me periodically to keep from coming too soon.

When Huang Jian was in his other mood he was like a man possessed. Full of aggressive energy, he would rapidly change positions while sweating bullets and yelling out obscenities. I would kiss his body all over sometimes, but rarely gave him head and never let him fuck me. I had always refused to be penetrated; my stubborn nonreciprocity disappointed no small number of my lovers. Huang Jian didn't mind, though: he was truly submissive and loved serving men. When I fucked him, it was always with him on his knees, ass perched up high, begging me to pound him harder and harder as he reached back to grab my forearm and pull me in deeper.

Huang Jian conjured up from within me a powerful urge to conquer. It was only after meeting him that I realized just how easy it is to dominate a woman. Dominating men is much harder, and only some of us can do it right. I can't deny that when he climaxed, it left me with a strong feeling of triumph.

Early one morning, I woke up feeling unusually groggy. There was Huang Jian, hovering over me and giggling at the red streaks he'd left all over my body the night before. That was one of his favorite things to do: put on heavy red lipstick, then kiss me from head to toe.

“You're fuckin' twisted,” I said with a yawn.

He nuzzled into my chest like a spoiled child.

“You fuck me so great!” he said. “I'm not kidding—the more you fuck me, the better my drumming gets. Sometimes I think sex is the only thing that helps musicians get better.”

“That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard,” I mumbled, still half-asleep.

Huang Jian and I joked around for a while, then he took a shower and headed home.

It was the end of April and I had wanted to call Lan Yu for some time. With Huang Jian out of the apartment I couldn't resist the temptation any longer. I picked up the phone and called Lan Yu's dorm building. I had been encouraging him to let me get him a cell phone or at least a pager, but he said there was no way he could be that flashy at school; it would just be too awkward.

The phone rang for a full five minutes before someone picked up. When I finally got Lan Yu on the phone, he said he had midterms that week but would be able to see me on Saturday after he was finished. I said okay and hung up, disappointed. I wanted instant gratification. And I wasn't used to being rejected.

When Saturday came around, Huang Jian gave me a call saying he wanted to come over in the evening. That makeup-wearing drummer must have put some kind of spell on me because I had completely forgotten that I had plans with Lan Yu.

When Huang Jian arrived, I went into the kitchen wearing
nothing but a pair of underwear and poured a glass of wine. He sat on the couch and popped a porn video into the VCR.

“Look at that position!” he yelled, pointing at the screen as I returned to the living room. “We're
definitely
trying that later.” I looked at the TV. One guy was lying on his back while the other guy sat on his dick and rode him. But instead of facing each other, the guy on top turned around so they were facing the same direction. As Huang Jian had suggested, it was an impressive stunt.

“Hey, by the way,” he said excitedly. “I went and saw that drum set today. It's awesome! It's from West Germany.” In addition to everything else I had bought him, Huang Jian now wanted a $4,000 drum set. He had also made it more than clear he wanted a car, but I hadn't agreed to that one yet.

Out of nowhere the doorbell rang. I figured it was probably the delivery that Huang Jian had ordered: some kind of American food, unclear to me exactly what. All I knew was that Huang Jian absolutely worshipped the West and ate nothing but Western food, sometimes Japanese. Japanese I liked, but the other stuff? I had no idea what he saw in it.

“I'll get it!” Huang Jian shouted. Wearing the bathrobe he had changed into, he got up from the couch and swaggered toward the door in his typically pompous way.

“Chen Handong, please.” It was Lan Yu's voice.

“Fuck!” I muttered under my breath as I jumped to my feet. I darted into the bedroom to throw on some clothes, then rushed toward the door.

The look on Lan Yu's face when he saw me wasn't so much anger as bewilderment. This reaction wasn't the least bit lost on Huang Jian, who threw his competitor a bitchy look before sneering at me and walking into the bedroom.

I considered pushing Lan Yu back into the hallway so we
could talk, but I didn't want to lose face by seeming too eager to placate him, so we continued standing there, facing each other in the doorway.

“What are you doing here? Why didn't you call first?” I sounded like I was lecturing a child.

“I told you I was coming over today after I finished my midterm examinations,” he replied, enunciating each syllable as if to make sure I understood what he was saying.

“Okay, but you should still call first.” I had completely forgotten about our rendezvous, but was determined to make it sound like it was his fault.

“I didn't know you—anyway, you're busy. I'll just go back to campus.” Lan Yu hesitated for a moment, then turned around and left.

I wanted to stop him, but didn't. That night, I didn't feel like having sex and wouldn't have been able to get hard anyway. Huang Jian, for his part, took the opportunity to deride me for being so inept at planning my affairs. He didn't care that I was fucking someone else; he just wanted me to do a better job juggling all the pieces.

I didn't have any contact with Lan Yu for a month after that. Again and again I thought about calling him, but each time I persuaded myself to hold out. Nor did I ask Liu Zheng to contact him for me. For some reason, I no longer felt that he or anyone else should be involved in what we had. Finally, it was Lan Yu who called me first.

“How are you?” I was determined not to lose my chance to get him back.

“Okay,” he replied in perfect Beijing Mandarin.

“How've you been?”

“Okay.”

“How are your classes?”

“Fine.”

“I've been worried sick about you, Lan Yu!” This was true, but I only said it because I wanted him to hear it; I needed verbal ammunition if I was going to win him over.

Silence.

“Your summer vacation is coming soon.”

“Yeah.”

I needed the conversation to move forward. “Hold on,” I said. I put the phone receiver down on my desk and got up to shut my office door. I returned to the phone and lowered my voice.

“I've missed you so much, Lan Yu,” I said in a desperate whisper. “I've never been like this before. Remember how I said that with this kind of thing, if we want to be together—I mean, maybe you hate me, but—” I took a deep breath and continued. “Listen, if you only want to be friends, that's fine. But you don't have family here in Beijing and I took you home to meet mine and—I mean, I really regard you as my little brother.” At this point I was beginning to sound a little dramatic. But it was real.

Lan Yu remained silent, but at least he hadn't hung up.

“Look,” I said. “I've been staying at Ephemeros. Just me, no one else.” That was a lie, since Huang Jian was sleeping there almost every night at that point. But if Lan Yu was going to be coming over, I'd make sure Huang Jian was gone, purple eye shadow and all.

I told Lan Yu I'd wait for him at Ephemeros at six. He didn't say whether he would be coming, but before I had the chance to ask him, I heard one of his dorm mates in the background saying he needed to use the phone. Lan Yu hung up, and at five thirty I left the office to go home and wait for him.

A little before seven, Lan Yu showed up at my sixth-floor
apartment looking just as vexed as the day we had met. When I opened the front door, he walked inside without so much as a greeting and sat down on the couch. A period of awkward silence ensued, until I realized I had to do something to make him feel at ease. I sat next to him and tried to think of something to say.

“I didn't think you would come.”

In lieu of a reply he stared at the floor.

“Why did you run off like that the other day?”

I was stalling. I needed time to figure out what I would do in the event that he started throwing accusations at me. Far from condemning me, however, what Lan Yu did next caught me so completely off guard that it took me a moment to realize what was happening. Without removing his eyes from the floor, he reached across the empty space between us and took my hand in his. He moved closer to me and embraced me, kissing my lips, my cheeks, my forehead. I was so stunned by what he was doing that I had almost no reaction.

Wordlessly, he began peeling away my clothes. Wherever his hands went, his lips followed closely behind, planting kisses on my skin where the clothes had been. He got on his knees and was about to pull off my shoes when he stopped and looked up at me, eyes full of expectation. It was like he was waiting for me to answer a question he couldn't articulate, no matter how urgent. Unable to bear the tension any longer, I lifted him back up to the couch, wrapped my arms around him tightly, and began frantically kissing his mouth, his cheeks, his eyelids. Never had a kiss infused me with so much passion. We kissed endlessly, stopping only when we were both exhausted, out of breath even. I felt as though the world around me had gone black; there was nothing else, only us.

He had the clean, soapy smell typical of young men. Taking
my hand, he stood up from the couch, pulling me with him, and it occurred to me that he was exhibiting dominant behavior for the first time since we'd met. I wanted to run my hands along his body, but my fingers shook uncontrollably, leaving me no choice but to anchor them forcefully to his shoulders. Lowering myself, I unbuttoned his pants, pulling at his underwear and kissing his abdomen. Reaching up, I tried grasping at his chin with my thumb and forefinger. I fumbled; he was too far away. Lan Yu looked down at me with yearning in his eyes. My body burned. “Handong!” he called out in a heavy, trembling voice.

Sex with Huang Jian and with Lan Yu was equally intense, but they were intensities of very different kinds. With Huang Jian, it was raw physical intensity. With Lan Yu it was this as well, but my body wasn't the only thing that was engaged. My psyche was, too.

After making love, Lan Yu said he was exhausted and wanted to sleep. He rested his head in my lap and I tousled his hair.

“Your hair is so stiff,” I said.

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” he mumbled, eyes closed.