Chapter Sixty-Nine: May I Love You? (Part One)

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Entertainment Around Us Without Pop-Ups
Date the story takes place: January 2006
Recommended song: "Glass Box" — Can I Love You?
Disclaimer: This story is purely fictional. Please do not take it personally. If there are any similarities, they are entirely coincidental!

The film opens with a wide balcony. Han sits on a wicker chair, his hair cropped short, wearing a school uniform. On his left wrist, a black band signifies a recent family bereavement. Han holds a guitar score, absorbed in reading.

In the distance, the morning sun gradually spreads across the sky, painting it a brilliant red. Bathed in sunlight, Han’s profile forms a shadow. His expressionless face seems tinged with loneliness. He glances at the sky, then at his watch, swiftly rises, and heads downstairs.

He stands before the altar in the living room, where the portraits of his parents rest. Han puts his hands together, bows respectfully, then takes his school bag and sets off on his bicycle.

Soon, another boy catches up. Han looks to the side and steers right to avoid him, but the boy draws closer. Han glances at him again, then turns away and accelerates. Unexpectedly, the boy keeps pace. “Hello, my name is Zai. What about you?”

Han seems not to hear, keeping his gaze ahead. Zai continues, talking to himself, “I moved here a few days ago. I live next door to you. I often see you, but you never notice me. I’ve wanted to say hello, but never had the chance. Are you going to school now? I’m transferring too. Which class are you in? I’m in Class One. Maybe we’re classmates. Hey, wait up for me!”

As he speaks, Han suddenly speeds up, widening the gap. After a moment, Zai realizes and chases after him.

Before long, they arrive at school. After parking their bikes, they walk one after the other toward the classroom. Zai soon discovers they are indeed in the same class—Class One. But upon entering, he notices the atmosphere is off. Everyone looks at Han with expressions of disdain, as if he carries some dreadful aura. Han, however, seems oblivious, heading straight to his solitary seat.

Zai hesitates, then stands at the podium to introduce himself. After surveying the classroom, he eventually sits beside Han. From the classmates, Zai learns the boy’s name—Han.

After a day of observation, Zai notices Han seems detached from everything around him, indifferent, always alone. Through conversations with classmates, Zai learns why everyone views Han this way: Han’s family died in a car accident not long ago, leaving only Han. Everyone considers him a jinx, avoiding him, even disliking him, but Han never argues back. Indeed, during these days together, Han has hardly spoken; at least, Zai hasn’t heard him. Gradually, Zai becomes intrigued by this enigmatic youth.

One day, Zai hears a melodious piano tune from next door. Following the sound, he finds Han’s door ajar, and in the hall, a grand piano. Han sits before it, playing an unfamiliar piece. Zai sees Han’s expression is gentle, even a faint smile graces his lips.

Soon, Han finishes and turns, noticing Zai.

Zai embarrassedly sticks out his tongue. “What song did you play just now? It sounded beautiful.”

After a pause, Han answers, “Down by the Salley Gardens.”

This is the first time Zai hears Han speak. His voice is low, slightly husky, but also clear and pure. It’s only that he hasn’t spoken in a long time.

“Will you teach me?” Zai suddenly requests.

Han studies his neighbor. These days, Zai has always been around him, adding a new color to his life. Han looks at the altar with its two black-and-white photos, then nods and sits again at the piano.

As time passes, Zai becomes Han’s friend—the only one. Han gradually speaks more, sometimes even smiles subtly when with Zai—so gentle, yet so sad.

Eventually, a classmate can’t stand it anymore, feeling Han doesn’t deserve friends, especially someone as outstanding as Zai—smart, handsome, enthusiastic, cheerful. One day after school, Han, unsurprisingly, finds himself cornered against a wall. A group begins to beat him. Before long, Han falls from lack of balance, and the kicks intensify. Han does not fight back; his frail body couldn’t even if he tried. He lifts his head, glaring fiercely at those around him, his gaze stubborn, filled with hatred and underlying sadness. Everyone is stunned.

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At this moment, Zai rushes over, shielding Han. The classmates, momentarily halted, raise their feet again.

After a while, the group disperses.

Seeing Zai injured just like himself, Han suddenly smiles, revealing gleaming teeth. Zai, seeing Han’s smile, pauses, then laughs as well.

Spring, summer, autumn, winter.

Han’s life now includes someone—a person with a hearty laugh. Han’s smiles become more frequent, but only when with Zai.

Today is Zai’s birthday. The whole family gathers together; even his father, rarely present, attends. Zai is full of joy. A table laden with delicacies, a massive cake, his mother’s smile, his father’s steady presence make Zai feel like the happiest person in the world. The dim light and laughter swirl around the room, creating warmth.

As the feast nears its end and the cake is mostly eaten, the family remains in their seats, chatting and laughing. Suddenly, Zai rises, as if remembering something, and runs out the door. His parents, still seated, look on in confusion.

Zai runs next door to Han’s house. The entire building is shrouded in darkness, except for a candle deep within the hall. Zai hesitates, then walks over; the door is unlocked, so he pushes it open. The smooth piano melody fills his ears again. Entering the hall, Zai sees Han’s slender back, sitting upright at the piano. From the side, his pressed lips, the shadow of his lashes, his prominent nose, and soft hair reflect a subtle sheen. With the music, Zai feels transported to another world. Perhaps the figure before him is an angel, his invisible wings slowly stirring.

Zai suddenly stops, noticing a cake atop the piano—a very small cake with a single candle. When the piece ends, Han lifts his head, looks out at the pitch-black night, then notices another person in the room. “Zai? Why are you here?”

“Han, is today your birthday?” Zai asks hesitantly.

Han turns, glances at the small cake, and smiles bitterly. “Yes.” The loneliness and desolation on his face are heart-wrenching.

Zai suddenly spins and runs out, leaving Han bewildered. Soon, Zai returns, holding something—a cake, not much left, but still much bigger than Han’s. Han looks at the cake in Zai’s hands, then at Zai.

Zai smiles. “Today is my birthday too. Let’s celebrate together.” He sits beside Han on the piano bench. “Though the cake isn’t whole, happiness is. I want to share my happiness with you.”

Han’s expression is a mix of surprise, disbelief, gratitude, and warmth.

“Come, let’s make a wish together.” Zai says cheerfully. The room remains dark, but now it’s less cold, filled with a touch of warmth and liveliness. Han turns to look at Zai’s profile—fair skin, defined features, closed eyes, fully immersed. Han wonders what wish Zai is making. After a moment, Han turns, closes his eyes, and clasps his hands.

“I wish someone will always be with me on my birthday,” Han says in his heart. A simple wish, but one that seems impossible. After wishing, Han sighs deeply.

Zai opens his eyes, gazing at Han, his expression tender. “I hope Han will never be lonely again, that someone will accompany him, make him happy, give him joy.” That is Zai’s wish.

Han finishes his wish, opens his eyes, and the two exchange glances, then smile in tacit understanding, blowing out the candle together. Han’s smile, long absent, is joyful, radiant, moving.

“Han, what was the song you played just now?” Zai asks. The melody carried a gentle sadness, making one want to embrace the frail boy before them.

“Don’t Want to Part,” Han says quietly. It’s a song he wrote himself, after his parents’ departure and Zai’s arrival, reflecting the warmth Zai brought and memories of their time together. With his parents gone, Han fears separation, for him, the word is too terrifying.

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Zai and Han sit quietly at the piano. Moonlight shines bright, wind rustles the treetops outside, filling the night with soft sounds. Such beautiful nights are hard to leave behind.

But Zai still left. His family moved again, forced to go.

Even though he hates separation, even though he doesn’t want to part, Han faces it once more. He stands where he is, watching the family next door move. Zai’s mother, aware of the situation between the two boys, sees Han’s sorrow and comes over, giving him a hug before leaving.

Zai stands before Han; neither speaks. Their faces reflect such sadness that one can immediately understand their feelings. At last, Zai closes his eyes, turns, and walks away. From behind Han, one can see the car receding, Zai’s head sticking out the window until he disappears.

Han’s silhouette is steeped in sadness. Turning to face him, a crystal tear drops down his cheek. Han bites his lip hard, struggling not to cry, yet the sadness on his face cannot be dispelled.

At this point, Jiang Yihan can vaguely hear people around him wiping their tears. Though he still feels his performance falls short, the audience’s reaction puts his mind at ease.

Han returns to solitary days—waking alone, playing the piano alone, cycling alone, going to school alone. As Han rides, the scenery changes; seven years pass in a flash. Han, once fifteen, is now twenty-two. He starts university, still living alone, playing piano alone, cycling alone, wandering the campus alone.

Han sits in the music room, playing the piano, singing his own song, “Journey.” As the music plays, Zai appears—he’s cycling, he’s at university, he laughs happily, only now there’s someone else beside him, Xi, a girl with a charming smile. Zai and Xi walk into the school, into the classroom, choose seats, chat during lessons.

“Journey” is lively and pleasant, accompanied by Han’s clear, transparent voice. Zai’s life seems so comfortable and happy: Xi’s companionship at school, his parents’ welcome at home, friends on the way to school; Han, always alone, from start to finish.

Several times, they pass each other, meet but don’t recognize. The audience sighs.

Han still prefers to come to the music room alone, playing his favorite pieces. Only then does his expression turn gentle. Today, the melody in his hands is familiar and beautiful—Down by the Salley Gardens.

On the campus path, Zai and Xi walk together. Suddenly, Zai stops, hearing the familiar tune. He looks around, finally locating the source, and runs, leaving a confused Xi behind. Approaching the music room, the melody grows louder. Zai, pressing his racing heart, hesitates at the door, then pushes it open.

The door swings wide, the piano stops abruptly. Zai sees the person behind the piano stand up—black hair lying softly, bangs occasionally lifted by the breeze, dressed in a white shirt, appearing so fragile. Zai wants to speak, but no sound comes out.

Han carefully observes the young man before him—sky-blue t-shirt, wavy hair, a stylish black canvas shoulder bag, but his expression is complex: excitement, doubt, sadness.

Finally, Zai speaks. “Han, is that you?”

Hearing the question, Han tilts his head slightly. Memories rush back in that instant. “Are you Zai?”

Upon receiving confirmation, Zai rushes forward, giving Han a big hug. Han’s face, once cold, now shows tenderness and a smile.

From that moment, Zai’s life, besides Xi, includes another person.

Broken Cat’s Rambling Time: Today I have two things to ramble about. First, please give your opinions on whether this book should be put on the shelf—vote or leave a comment in the pinned post of the review section. Thank you for your feedback.

Second, I’ve discovered an error. The Li Xuanmei in this book has no relation to Wonder Girls’ Li Xuanmei in real life. At the start of the book, Li Xuanmei is introduced as Jiang Yihan’s senior, older and already in her third year of university; whereas the real Li Xuanmei was born in 1992, seven years younger than Jiang Yihan in the story. So, they are definitely not the same person. This is my mistake—sorry, truly sorry. To clarify, I’ll change the name: Li Xuanmei in this book will be called Li Yimei. Sorry again!