Solace

Chapter 8

After showering before bed, Lin Xigu lay sprawled on top of She Xiao in his pajamas, pestering him about how his plan to get into a master’s program worked. She Xiao initially refused to answer, but Lin Xigu squirmed on top of him, even tickling his sides as an interrogation tactic.

She Xiao seized both of his hands, his voice a little breathless with laughter. “Behave yourself.”

“Oh, so you won’t tell me, and I’m also not allowed to tickle you? You want to have your cake and eat it too, huh?” Lin Xigu nipped at She Xiao’s chin before sliding down to latch onto his Adam’s apple with his teeth. She Xiao swallowed, and Lin Xigu could feel something hard press against his leg.

He grinned, his eyes curving. “Still not going to tell me?”

When She Xiao looked at him with hooded eyes, Lin Xigu purposely ground his hips against She Xiao and whispered, “If you won’t talk, I’ll keep doing what I’m doing, and then I’ll make you deal with it by yourself.”

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She Xiao couldn’t help but laugh and was left with no choice but to gently bite his cheek. Lin Xigu was all smiles. “She Xiao, am I being annoying? Are you sick of me yet?”

She Xiao kissed the spot he’d just bitten, “I’m not.”

“Then tell me already,” Lin Xigu coaxed.

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“Huh?” Lin Xigu was still confused. “What kind of exams?”

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“The Self-Taught Higher Education Exams,” She Xiao said quietly, their noses almost touching. “You’re allowed to take them in prison.”1The more you know! The Self-Taught Higher Education Examinations (STHEE) are tests that students can write after completing their undergraduate studies through self-study without enrolling in a formal post-secondary program. Inmates can write their STHEE while incarcerated. The bachelor’s degree conferred by passing the STHEE is no different from a bachelor’s degree awarded by a typical post-secondary institution.

Lin Xigu’s brain clocked out completely. It took him the rest of the night to even begin processing the surprising news.

He had no idea that that was even possible. Lin Xigu had been under the impression that She Xiao would have to start over as a college freshman after being discharged. But now, She Xiao was telling him that not only did he have a bachelor’s degree, but he had a dual degree in two different fields, and the degree was from a rather prestigious university at that.

Sure, it wasn’t quite on the same level as the schools She Xiao would’ve originally attended, but to Lin Xigu, this was the best surprise he could have received. The prestige of the university didn’t matter. It might have if he were heading straight into the workforce, but it wasn’t important for pursuing graduate studies as long as he qualified for the entrance exam.

Lin Xigu didn’t know how to put his feelings into words. He suddenly was reminded that She Xiao was still She Xiao, no matter where he was. Even behind bars, he shone just as brightly. Nothing could dim his light.

The soft, amber glow of the bedside lamp blanketed the room with warmth. Lin Xigu turned onto his side to face She Xiao, his voice hoarse as he said, “She Xiao, how are you always so… incredible?”

She Xiao turned to face him too, his tone gentle. “Are you happy?”

Lin Xigu gave a firm nod. “So happy. So proud.”

She Xiao smiled faintly, lifting his hand to graze Lin Xigu’s face. His thumb tracing the line of his lips, he said softly, “All I wanted… was to make you happy.”

Lin Xigu blinked, then suddenly turned over, burying his face in his pillow. When She Xiao pushed inquisitively at his shoulder, he didn’t lift his head, so She Xiao rolled over and lay next to him, draping his arm over Lin Xigu’s waist. “Sleep,” he murmured. “You have to work tomorrow.”

“I don’t want to sleep…” Lin Xigu’s voice came muffled from the pillow. “You’re just trying to make me fall even harder for you.”

The sound of She Xiao laughing rumbled in his ear, and Lin Xigu felt himself nearing the point of swooning.

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That night, She Xiao stroked Lin Xigu’s back steadily. With the person he loved by his side and basking in the warmth from She Xiao’s hand on a night that felt peaceful and content, Lin Xigu couldn’t fight the pull of sleep any longer and finally drifted off.

Even in sleep, he carried his immense sense of pride like a torch. It was just like how he had felt in high school every time he looked up at the scarlet poster to see She Xiao’s name at the very top. It was the same feeling he had whenever he bragged to others that “My partner gets a 30-point bonus on his Pek U application because he won a math competition.” The feeling that “My boyfriend is the most brilliant person in the world” had never faded. Not then, and not now.

The timelines in his dream were warped. He dreamt that he and She Xiao were attending the same university and the two of them were walking to the cafeteria for breakfast. She Xiao stood out in the crowd. It almost put a hop in Lin Xigu’s step just to walk beside him with his hands in his pockets.


On Monday, during his lunch break, Lin Xigu sent She Xiao a text: 

Lin Xigu rarely used “ya” in his messages. It felt too childish, like something a boy no older than ten would use. He only reached for it when he wanted to act cute, like he was doing now to flirt with his boyfriend.2呀 (ya) is a modal particle or sentence-final particle which are flavour words used at the end of sentences to indicate mood or attitude. Other examples include 吧 (ba),呢 (ne),哟 (you),哇 (wa),嘛 (ma),etc.)

His boyfriend, naturally, loved it. A few minutes later, She Xiao replied:

Lin Xigu rested his chin on the desk, his fingers tapping lightly on the screen, smiling to himself.

A little while later, Lin Xigu made a post to his WeChat feed.

The picture was of a little boy he had drawn who was lying on a pillow, fast asleep, his eyes little semicircles of bliss.

He’d captioned it with: “All I wanted was to make you happy. ❤️❤️”

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Once he made the post public, he lay down to nap—lunch breaks were precious, after all, and there was a pile of work waiting for him in the afternoon.

He only slept for about half an hour. When he woke up, his WeChat had blown up.

Lin Xigu had been using WeChat for years to keep in touch with friends, but this was the first time he had ever made a post, though he would occasionally ‘like’ his friends’ posts. Now that he had posted something without trying to be subtle about it, the comments section was buzzing with activity.

There were people asking what was going on and if he was in a relationship. People like his college roommates who knew about his boyfriend started teasing him to “get a room.” 3虐狗 (nuegou) lit. “dog abuse” is a non-malicious slang term used to joke about couples performing PDA in front of singles, i.e. 单身狗 or single dogs. Others just filled the comments with red heart emojis.

Lin Xigu smiled as he read through the comments and responded to a few of them.

Li Balei had commented: “So, are you happy?”

Lin Xigu replied, “So happy.”

His former tongzhuo for a brief time in high school, Meng Tong, also dropped a comment: “Tch.”

Lin Xigu clicked into his profile and browsed his feed. The most recent post was from three days ago—an almost pitch-black photo with heavy shadows that made it impossible to make out any particular subject. The caption read: “Sunshine, dog blood, blue wine.” Meng Tong was studying art in France and would occasionally make unintelligible posts that no one could understand. It seemed a bit like he had a screw loose, but they were cool, he’ll give him that.

Lin Xigu still kept in touch with him and they would exchange messages every now and then. Once, he had commented, “Is it an art kid thing to compulsively slap on a filter and blur out all the text before posting a photo?”

Meng Tong had replied, “Yeah, it’s honestly such a f*cking pain. If you don’t do that, how would anyone know you’re an artist? Life’s already so exhausting, might as well do it for the clout.”

Lin Xigu had ‘liked’ the reply.

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A little while later, Meng Tong sent him a private message, “He’s out?”

“Yeah,” Lin Xigu replied.

“So what’s the plan now? With his history, are you going to have to support him financially?”

Well, I wasn’t going to brag, but since you insisted on bringing it up… He calmly typed back: “We’re on the same footing. He has a dual degree, and he’s going to be taking his master’s entrance exam this winter.”

Meng Tong was silent for a moment.

Then he asked: “What kind of lifehack is this??”

Lin Xigu was laughing so hard he felt like stomping his foot, continuing, “It’s all self-taught. But honestly, it wouldn’t matter either way; he’s got the brains after all.”

Meng Tong took a long time to reply, sending only a thumbs-up emoji and the words, “F*cking slay.”

The conversation ended there.

Lin Xigu smiled and locked his phone. Time to get back to work.


Lin Xigu’s good mood persisted over the next several days. Even the way he walked seemed lighter. It wasn’t just because of She Xiao’s brilliance or the news that he would be able to continue his studies—it was because of the way She Xiao had looked at him with such gentle eyes when he said, “All I wanted was to make you happy.”

The special warmth that only She Xiao could give always had a way of effortlessly consuming him whole.

Lin Xigu had gone home with She Xiao once already, but it wasn’t the same house as before. His mother now lived in a two-bedroom apartment by herself. The apartment was clean, comfortable, and peaceful. One of the rooms was She Xiao’s, and though he rarely spent the night there, it was outfitted with everything he would need if he did.

That year, She Xiao had been arrested, and that man had died. Since She Xiao was his killer, he had no rights to his inheritance, but his mother did.

At the time, the incident had caused a stir in the community. While the news hadn’t yet gone viral on the internet, there had still been a small buzz online, although the locations and names of the people involved had been anonymized. Lin Xigu didn’t want She Xiao to become a topic of public discussion, didn’t want to hear people calling him a murderer.

Every mention of that person or incident had been painful to overhear.

During that time, Lin Xigu had secretly visited She Xiao’s paternal grandfather, to no one else’s knowledge. He didn’t tell anyone of his plans; if his dad had known, it would’ve probably given him a stroke.

It was just after She Xiao’s sentence was handed down. Lin Xigu had sat with the idea of six years as penance, and the fever had set in after his tensed nerves finally loosened. Burning and feverish, he had gone to meet the rest of that family.

“I don’t know what kind of twisted family you all are,” he had said to them, his voice hoarse. “Honestly, I can’t even imagine it, and I don’t care to try. A Gaokao champion turning into a murderer—news like that, no matter how old, would make a killing if dug up and turned into a tabloid scandal. Your family’s full of prominent figureheads, so let’s not make it worse. Here’s my one request: you stay in your lane, we’ll stay in ours. No one needs to make anyone’s life worse.

“In any case, we have nothing to fear. There’s only one thing I care about when it comes to burying this story, and it’s that She Xiao doesn’t like being the center of attention. He doesn’t like it when people stare at him. If you do end up stepping on toes, it’s no skin off our backs. A few years from now, when he’s out, we’ll just leave the country. Who would recognize him then? Anyway, She Xiao only got six years but if someone really started digging, who’s to say that some of you won’t end up with more?”

In truth, even if he hadn’t said anything, both sides were in unspoken agreement. No one on either side wanted the news to gain traction. The school kept it quiet, Lin Xigu’s father did the same, and She Xiao’s paternal branch worked all the harder to keep the news under wraps.

So, the inheritance that was meant for She Xiao’s mother was handed over quietly without a cent missing, and no one came looking for trouble. Both sides had become completely estranged, and their paths never crossed again.

She Xiao’s mother never touched the money; she’d meant to save it for She Xiao all along. She instead made a living teaching piano lessons to children and earned a decent income that was enough to support herself. She had been the one who had dealt the first blow but in the end, it was She Xiao who had paid the price.

No matter how much Lin Xigu resented fate for being unfair, he never once blamed the kindhearted woman. She had already exhausted everything in her power to protect She Xiao. Although She Xiao had gone to prison while she had regained her freedom, it was in reality those who were left behind who carried their guilt for life. She would never truly be free. The weight of guilt would never lift, and she would never make peace with her past. All the memories hooked into her would constantly remind her what it was like waking up in the morning to yet another day of hell.

She Xiao would have never allowed her to take the fall, and Lin Xigu didn’t want that either. He wanted She Xiao to be truly free when he was released.

Lin Xigu was grateful to her for securing She Xiao’s freedom for the remainder of his future. No more chains, no burdens, no guilt for owing a debt so great that it could never be repaid.

Over the years, Lin Xigu stayed in contact with her, and he went over to her apartment after almost every visitation, asking if She Xiao needed anything, whether he’d lost weight, if he was sick, if he was happy.

He couldn’t see him with his own eyes but hearing She Xiao’s words through her mouth was almost as good.

So when She Xiao and Lin Xigu walked in together, his mother was smiling, but her eyes were red.

The emotions Lin Xigu held for her son had too much gravity. It was impossible not to be moved by someone she had personally witnessed sticking it through year after year.

Lin Xigu smiled as he greeted her, “Ayi! I’ve been so busy with work lately that I haven’t had the chance to visit. Are there no kids around today?”

“One’s just left,” she replied. “If you’d shown up ten minutes earlier, you would have been just in time to praise him. He’s always hoping someone will compliment his playing.”

“Then we’ll come early next time!” Lin Xigu promised.

She Xiao reached up to pluck a tiny piece of lint from Lin Xigu’s head and fixed his hair.

Lin Xigu watched him, smiling, his eyes sparkling with a thousand little lights.


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