WBAI Chapter 12

Xie An’yu tucked the four hundred yuan he withdrew from the bank into the innermost hidden pocket of his backpack, then locked it in the storage cabinet. Someone tapped his shoulder, and when he turned around, Yue Lai was standing behind him.

Yue Lai pointed outside, then at him, as if asking what had happened between him and the boss.

Xie An’yu shook his head and took out his phone to communicate with Yue Lai.

【Do you know where I can buy a sleeping bag?】

Yue Lai looked at the phone with confusion in his eyes.

【A sleeping bag? I’m not sure. Supermarkets probably wouldn’t sell them, right? You can probably find one online】

【Do you know how to shop online? I’ll give you the money—could you help me buy a sleeping bag?】

Yue Lai opened a shopping app, searched for sleeping bags, and showed the results to Xie An’yu.
Xie An’yu frowned slightly.

【Too expensive. Are there any cheaper ones?】

Yue Lai filtered by price, and the cheaper options were around thirty or forty yuan.

Xie An’yu pointed to the one priced at 36 yuan. Yue Lai looked up at him. He nodded in confirmation, then transferred 36 yuan to Yue Lai via WeChat.

Yue Lai asked Xie An’yu to fill in the shipping address. Xie An’yu didn’t want to use the restaurant’s address, nor his aunt’s home address. After hesitating for a moment, he took out his phone and asked Yue Lai.

【Can I have the sleeping bag shipped to your place? I’ll come pick it up when it arrives. Is that okay with you?】

Yue Lai smiled and nodded.

Xie An’yu made a fist with four fingers, raised his thumb, and bent it slightly twice—this was the sign for ‘thank you’ in sign language[mfn]T/N: So, I didn’t know this before, but it turns out that sign language differs depending on the country. Obviously, XAY and LL use CSL (Chinese Sign Language) here, while the English equivalent for sign language is ASL (American Sign Language). Here’s the video link.[/mfn], something he’d learned online.

Yue Lai gestured ‘you’re welcome’, then typed on his phone to ask: 【Why are you buying a sleeping bag?】

【It’s useful】

Xie An’yu didn’t explain the purpose of buying the sleeping bag—after all, he couldn’t tell Yue Lai that he was now homeless and planned to sleep under a bridge with it. When he went to the bank earlier, he had already scouted out a suitable bridge. The weather wasn’t too hot or cold right now, so there would be no mosquitoes, and he wouldn’t freeze to death.

The spot was quite remote, with few people around, so he wouldn’t have to worry about theft or robbery at night. And even if someone did try to rob him, he didn’t have anything valuable on him anyway.

In any case, he absolutely couldn’t stay at his aunt’s place any longer.

Fortunately, Yue Lai didn’t press further. He just stared at Xie An’yu for a few seconds before nodding and going about his own business.

By 8:30 in the evening, the restaurant was mostly empty of customers. This was also the time Xie An’yu and the others had dinner—usually a couple of dishes stir-fried by the chef, along with leftover soup from the kitchen.

Xie An’yu had a big appetite, but he always saved about half a bowl of rice, poured some soup over it, and took it to the back door to feed the little white dog.

The little white dog would wait at the back door right on time, still soft and fluffy. Over the past few days, it had grown noticeably bigger, its paws thicker.

Xie An’yu crouched beside it, watching it eat, and couldn’t resist giving its chubby little leg a gentle squeeze. He smiled faintly, lowering his eyes. He lifted the dog’s front paw, took a photo with his phone, and even recorded a short video, sending it to [Xiao Zhou Sails Away].

“Oh, so you’re dating now.”

The boss’s voice came from behind. Xie An’yu turned his head. Lu Yang stood with his arms crossed, leaning against the security door, and asked, “Sending videos to your girlfriend?”

Xie An’yu stood up and said, “Not a girlfriend.”

“Then a boyfriend?” Lu Yang asked with a smirk.

Xie An’yu glanced at him.

“Oh, not into that, huh? Did I… misunderstand?”

Xie An’yu stuffed his phone into his pocket. “Just a friend.”

Lu Yang withdrew his gaze from the phone and said, “You’ve been feeding dogs at the back of my shop every day. Even if there weren’t any dogs before, you’d attract them. This isn’t good.”

“I’ll feed them farther away from now on.”

“That dog is so clean and even has a collar—clearly it has an owner. Why are you so eager to play the charity card?”

“It came looking for me,” Xie An’yu said, staring at the ground.

“Can you look people in the eye when you talk?” Lu Yang retorted. “So if I come looking for you, you’ll extend your charity to me too, huh?”

Xie An’yu didn’t quite grasp the implication in Lu Yang’s words. He lifted his head slightly, looking puzzled.

Lu Yang jerked his chin toward the inside of the restaurant. “Didn’t you want to stay here? If I set conditions, would you still stay?”

“Thanks, Brother Lu, but I don’t need it for now.”

Since Yue Lai had already bought him a sleeping bag, Xie An’yu would rather sleep under a bridge than bow to someone like Lu Yang. Xie An’yu found his boss increasingly insufferable—his words often crossed the line, and the frequency had become truly irritating.

Lu Yang paused, his brows furrowing almost imperceptibly before he forced a smirk. “Overcame your difficulties that quickly, huh?”

Xie An’yu gave a noncommittal hum. “Thanks for your kindness, Brother Lu.”

Lu Yang said nothing more and turned to go inside. Xie An’yu glanced back—the little white dog had finished its meal and was sitting upright on the ground, watching him with plump hindquarters that looked especially sturdy.

“You really are chubby,” Xie An’yu chuckled, squatting down to snap another photo with his phone. “Go home now that you’re full.”

***

Yu Feng usually logged into his work account on WeChat during work hours. Today, he was editing photos at home late into the night and forgot to switch back to his personal account, leaving his phone neglected until he finished retouching the sample images before he finally remembered it. As soon as he switched back to his personal account, several messages popped up.

Xiao Dao had changed his profile picture to a small white dog—so abrupt that Yu Feng barely recognized it. Previously, Xiao Dao’s WeChat avatar matched the default one on his mini-program, both system default images, though from different platforms.

Yu Feng tapped to view the photos. One showed a hand gently holding the puppy’s front paw. The photo captured a hand and a portion of a wrist. The fingers were slender, the nails neatly trimmed, the knuckles distinct, and the veins on the wrist slightly prominent.

There was also a video. At the very end, a man’s voice surfaced—just as the clip cut off abruptly.

Yu Feng checked the timestamp: nearly 11 in the evening. These photos and video had been sent over two hours ago.

Yu Feng sent a reply, but Xiao Dao didn’t respond—likely already asleep.

***

Xie An’yu had been returning home late these past few days to avoid running into his aunt and her family. He even declined his aunt’s offer to take him clothes shopping on Saturday, using the excuse that the restaurant was too busy for him to take leave. He didn’t know how to face his aunt normally anymore, counting the days until his sleeping bag arrived.

During his afternoon break, Xie An’yu would take some time to log into the [Limited-Time Boyfriend] account. Perhaps because he hadn’t logged in at this time before, these past two days whenever he went online during daytime, orders would trickle in one after another. Most customers came after seeing the ‘New Staff Recommendation’ post on the official account, and their first question after adding him as a friend was almost always: ‘Is the photo in the latest staff recommendation really you?’

Although the number of daily customers wasn’t large, five or six were already enough to overwhelm Xie An’yu. Moreover, he also noticed that among these people, females were in the minority—more than half were men. As they chatted, he’d start to feel uneasy and couldn’t quite handle it. After logging in briefly, he would exit the account from the backend to prevent more orders from coming in.

Since male customers kept placing orders far outnumbering female ones, Xie An’yu couldn’t understand why. He even went out of his way to ask Customer Service 007 about it.

Customer Service 007: 【Based on the content of your application form, we’ve set your account preferences accordingly. Your account belongs to the [love is love] channel, so the likelihood of encountering homosexual users is slightly higher.】

Customer Service 007: 【Also, you were previously featured in a promotional article as a new staff member, which gave you a certain level of exposure. That’s why orders have been coming in more frequently lately.】

Customer Service 007: 【Would you like to adjust your channel?】

Xiao Dao: 【No, I was just asking.】

Customer Service 007: 【Understood. Having more male customers placing orders indicates you’re quite popular among men.】

Xie An’yu choked on air, caught off guard.

Customer Service 007: 【You could leverage your strengths appropriately—you might get unexpected gains.】

As they spoke, the latest customer’s WeChat friend request had already been accepted.

Lying: 【Hello, Student Xiao Dao】

Xie An’yu froze. Among all the customers so far, only Xiao Zhou had addressed him like that. For a moment, he felt disoriented.

Xie An’yu sent a ‘Hello’ sticker.

Lying: 【[Image]】

Lying: 【Is this you? The real you?】

Xie An’yu sent a ‘Nodding’ sticker.

Lying: 【md[mfn]T/N: Short for 媽的 (mā de) or 他媽的 (tā mā de), TMD. Lit. “[fuck] his mother’s” but frequently used as “Shit!” (lit. “his mother’s”; in the 1920s the famous writer Lu Xun joked that this should be China’s national curse word).[/mfn]】

Lying: 【You’re my type】

Xie An’yu sent a cute sticker. Over the past few days, he had figured out a trick—whenever he didn’t know how to continue the conversation, sending an adorable sticker would do the trick. It avoided awkwardness, kept the chat going, and made him seem approachable.

But precisely because Xie An’yu sent cute stickers so often, it led to misunderstandings.

Lying: 【0[mfn]T/N: In this context, 0 mean SHOU/bottom/receiver, while 1 mean GONG/top/attacker.[/mfn]?】

Xiao Dao: 【Mm?】

Lying: 【? You don’t understand?】

Lying: 【Hahahaha no way? Well, I’m pretty blunt—I’m just curious, are you a top or a bottom? If you’re a bottom, I’m not interested in chatting further】

These questions touched on Xie An’yu’s knowledge blind spot. He didn’t understand what the other person meant.

Xie An’yu didn’t reply for a long time, making the other person think his bold question had scared him off.

Lying: 【?】

Lying: 【I’m just confirming preferences. No other meaning—if we’re the same role, the conversation won’t flow】

Lying: 【Wait…】

Lying: 【You’re not gay, are you?】

Lying: 【Then why are you in the loveislove channel?】

Lying: 【Bi?】

Xie An’yu’s brain felt like it was overheating, unable to keep up with the other person’s train of thought.

Xiao Dao: 【Does ‘bi’ mean bisexual?】

Lying: 【…】

Lying: 【Just how old are you? Child labor isn’t a thing these days, you know】

Xiao Dao: 【Don’t worry, I’m already an adult】

Xiao Dao: 【I’m not entirely sure about my sexual orientation, so I don’t know how to answer you】

Lying: 【? Damn, you’re so innocent, I’m almost too embarrassed to chat with you】

Xiao Dao: 【Then, do you want a refund?】

Lying: 【Hahahaha oh my god, that’s great. Are you being serious or just messing with me?】

Lying: 【Student Xiao Dao, are you doing this against your will?】

Xiao Dao: 【No】

Xie An’yu thought the other person was quite cheerful, sending a string of ‘hahahaha’.

Lying: 【Why did your account go offline? My time’s almost up, and I can’t place another order with you】

Xiao Dao: 【I have something to do later, so I logged off first】

Lying: 【Alright, I’ll order from you another time then. I should’ve ordered a longer session earlier. How about you log back in now so I can place another order?】

Xiao Dao: 【I might not have time to chat with you later】

Lying: 【That busy, huh? Are you a college student? Got classes?】

After interacting with a few clients, Xie An’yu had gradually gained some experience—during chats, he couldn’t reveal his real circumstances entirely or answer every question thrown at him honestly. After all, the other person was just a complete stranger.

Xiao Dao: 【No, just have some things to take care of】

Lying: 【Alright, go ahead then】

Xiao Dao: 【[Mm hmm.gif]】

Lying: 【I’ll wait for you to come online】

Li Ying imagined the handsome guy on the other end sending him such an adorable sticker and felt a slight flutter in his heart.

Even though he knew nothing about the other person, just the photo alone was enough to appeal to his tastes. And now that they’d chatted, he found the guy’s tone neither warm nor cold, with a certain aloof charm.

He was clearly quite young, but his speech carried a hint of formality. Yet, every now and then, he’d throw in a cute sticker or two.

This teasing technique was probably part of his training—maybe even tailored to different client demographics.

Either way, Li Ying was totally into it. He didn’t like the type who spouted greasy compliments; he preferred this kind of distant demeanor.

***

Xie An’yu was growing anxious waiting for his sleeping bag. He originally thought it would arrive in two or three days, but Yue Lai said the store was slow with shipping. After multiple reminders, they finally sent it out, but it would likely take another two days to arrive.

Feeling frustrated, Xie An’yu headed home. These past few days, he had been going for an hour-long night run every evening before heading back.

***

Yu Feng jolted awake from a nightmare, his eyes snapping open. He fumbled for his phone on the bedside table and squinted at the screen.

Only eleven o’clock.

He pulled back the curtains. Beicheng was still brightly lit at eleven o’clock.

As long as there was no unfinished work, Yu Feng usually went to bed early. Tonight, he’d tried to fall asleep at eight o’clock. Though he’d managed to doze off, he was plagued by an endless stream of chaotic dreams.

Yu Feng put on his glasses and picked up his phone to send Xiao Dao a message.

Xiao Zhou Sails Away: 【Not asleep yet?】

Xie An’yu had just gotten home. He closed the door and replied: 【Not yet】

Xiao Zhou Sails Away: 【If you’re up, watch a movie with me】

Xie An’yu stared at his phone, momentarily stunned.

Xiao Zhou Sails Away: 【Watch it on the app. Download it; we can connect and watch together】

Xiao Dao: 【Okay】

Xie An’yu agreed without a second thought. Three days had passed—this was the first time Xiao Zhou had actively reached out to him since then.

Xiao Zhou Sails Away: 【Go online, I want to place an order】

Xiao Dao: 【Ah?】

Xiao Zhou Sails Away: 【Your mini-program account is offline right now, I can’t place an order. Are you gonna watch with me for free?】

It was then that Xie An’yu remembered that ‘online movie-watching’ was also one of the services item in the [Limited-Time Boyfriend]—no wonder Xiao Zhou had suggested suggested watching a movie.

Xie An’yu was worried about other people placing orders if he went online, so he messaged Xiao Zhou: 【Can you place the order immediately once I come online?】

Xiao Zhou Sails Away: 【What’s wrong?】

Xiao Dao: 【I’m worried someone else might place an order】

Xiao Zhou Sails Away: 【Business must be pretty good】

Xiao Dao: 【Not really】

Xie An’yu just didn’t feel like chatting with other people—he found chatting with strangers more exhausting than running five kilometers in one go.

Xiao Zhou Sails Away: 【Fine, go online. I’ll place the order now】

Xie An’yu downloaded the movie-watching app Yu Feng had mentioned. The app allowed users to watch films together while on a call, enabling real-time discussions about the plot.

Xie An’yu had just finished running several kilometers and hadn’t been home long before he started watching the movie with Yu Feng. His breathing still hadn’t settled.

Yu Feng lay on his bed wearing noise-canceling headphones, which amplified every sound detail—including breathing.

He could tell that Student Xiao Dao’s breathing was a little uneven.

Xie An’yu sat cross-legged on the floor, watching an old art film playing on the screen. He didn’t have headphones, so he had to use the speaker, keeping the volume very low to avoid disturbing others in the house.

As he watched, Xie An’yu’s mind began to wander. The small speaker icon in the upper right corner of the screen constantly reminded him that he was watching this movie with someone else. Unconsciously, his thoughts drifted back to the male customer who had asked him earlier if he was bisexual—and then, just as unconsciously, he wondered whether Xiao Zhou was a female or male client.

A sharp click—the sound of a metal lighter flipping open. Xie An’yu thought it had come from the movie, but when he snapped back to attention, he saw that the characters on-screen were still talking, and no lighter was in sight.

Xie An’yu was certain the sound had been real—if not from the movie, then from reality—

It had come from the person on the other side of the screen.

“Xiao Zhou,” Xie An’yu called out.

The other party didn’t respond.

Hesitantly, Xie An’yu asked, “Are you a man?”

Yu Feng’s lips paused around the cigarette. He took a slow drag, exhaling a plume of smoke as he tilted his head. Flicking ash into the ashtray on the nightstand with the cigarette still between his fingers, he finally spoke his first words: “Just realizing now? What’s the matter—can’t accept it?”

[dropdown title=”List of Idiom in Chapter 12″]
不冷不熱 (bù lěng bù rè): neither cold nor hot; lukewarm; tepid; indifferent; halfhearted; unenthusiastic; tepid; neither hostile nor friendly; take a lukewarm attitude; the temperature is neither too high nor too low, just the right temperature. It is also used to refer to a person’s average attitude towards others.

無論如何 (wú lùn rú hé): one way or another; whatever the case; in any event; no matter what; by all possible means; in any case; at any rate; whatever happens; come what may.

若無其事 (ruò wú qí shì): as if nothing had happened (idiom); calm; composed; uncaring; impervious; nonchalant.

猝不及防 (cù bù jí fáng): to be caught off guard; without warning; to be taken by surprise; be caught unawares; be caught on the hop; be caught off balance.

意想不到 (yì xiǎng bù dào): to be unexpected; to be unanticipated; to be unimaginable; previously unimagined; uncontemplated; beyond thought; something that happens beyond imagination.

平易近人 (píng yì jìn rén): amiable and approachable (idiom); easy-going; modest and unassuming; (of writing) plain and simple; easy to understand.

和盤托出 (hé pán tuō chū): lit. to put everything out including the tray; (figurative) to come clean; to reveal all; to reveal everything; to make a clean breast of it all; lay everything on the table; disclose fully; spill the beans; come clean; tell all; used to describe a person who tells everything he knows without reservation.

素昧平生 (sù mèi píng shēng): to be strangers to each other; to have never met before; entirely unacquainted; a complete stranger; not to know sb from Adam; completely unacquainted; unfamiliar; unknown to each other; one has never known another, or has never known someone.

不由自主 (bù yóu zì zhǔ): can’t help; involuntarily (idiom); to not be able to restrain oneself; to feel an irresistible urge (to do something); can’t help but; spontaneously; in spite of oneself.
[/dropdown]

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