A Lucky Coin

Yan Hang’s mood really was quite poor. To be honest, it was very easy for him to slip into a low mood; he could space out for twenty minutes and then find himself down in the dumps.

His emotions were extremely fragile, so he’d usually try not to stir them.

After he’d said what he had earlier that day, he’d thought that he would feel a sense of relief. At the very least, he’d finally thrown the question before his dad, instead of the silent avoidance they had practiced all these years—the tacit understanding to forcibly ignore the thorn between them.

But he didn’t feel relieved. Instead, he felt even more restless and uneasy.

“Why didn’t you go home for lunch?” Yan Hang studied Chu Yi as he carefully cut into his steak.

“I w-wanted to t-treat you to lunch,” said Chu Yi, his eyes downcast.

“Then why didn’t you say so yesterday, or this morning?” asked Yan Hang.

Chu Yi said nothing. He stuffed a chunk of steak into his mouth and pretended to be fully engrossed in chewing it.

“Someone blocked you?” Yan Hang tsk-ed.

“No,” Chu Yi said, shaking his head. “A-avoiding a b-block.”

“Was it that Li Dahao or whatever?” asked Yan Hang.

Chu Yi glanced at him. “Zi.”

“Right.” Yan Hang really didn’t remember the boy’s name; he kept thinking of him as Lowlife Number One.

“Not him,” said Chu Yi. “Don’t need t-to avoid him.”

“Someone else?” Yan Hang sighed.

“Next, block,” said Chu Yi. “Riff-raff, d-disappeared, came back.”

Yan Hang stared at him. After a moment, he finally asked, “And he’s giving you trouble?”

“He’d p-probably, p-play around with me, if h-he sees me,” Chu Yi said calmly. “Not if he d-doesn’t.”

“Forget those useless classmates of yours,” said Yan Hang, “but if this guy gives you trouble, let me know.”

“When you f-fight,” Chu Yi took a gulp of his drink, “do you, always, win?”

“I’ve never lost before.” Yan Hang smiled. “I’d probably call my dad over when I start losing.”

“Oh? U-Uncle helps you f-fight?” Chu Yi was a bit shocked.

“Mhm.” Yan Hang leaned back in his seat and lifted his head. “Sometimes we’re just too bored.”

Yan Hang had never met the “riff-raff” Chu Yi mentioned, but when he went to the minimart after work for groceries, he picked that person out of the crowd in a single glance.

Perhaps he had been to too many places and seen too many people; it only took a fraction of his attention to notice what kind of people had what type of look in their eyes, or air to their mien. It was just that most people were in such a rush that they never stopped to observe.

This riff-raff was tall and thin, squatting by the road to smoke with a few of his friends. They looked no different from any other group of loitering youngsters.

But when Yan Hang glanced at them as he walked past, a few of them suddenly glared at him all at once.

As if to growl in unison: the fuck are you looking at? Wanna fight? Come on then!

Yan Hang looked away and walked into the shop.

It was quite natural that Chu Yi would avoid riff-raff like these guys. They were on a different level from the lower secondary kids who still attended lessons in that strictly run school.

These weren’t people that Chu Yi could just bear with in silence.

Yan Hang had finished work early today. Bringing the groceries home, Yan Hang checked the clock: it was almost time for Chu Yi to finish school.

He looked out the window.

“What’s up?” Dad was playing the card game dou dizhu [1] on his phone and asked him absently, “Watching for Chu Yi?”

[1] See here.

“He might get into trouble if he goes home right now,” said Yan Hang.

“Go wait for him at the corner of the street, then,” Dad said, “O Great Hero Yan.”

“Wash and cook the rice.” Yan Hang turned to look at him. “We’re having rice [2] today, I’ll fry up a few dishes.”

[2] As in the normal Chinese meal where plain rice is the main, and you help yourself to the dishes (usually 3 dishes and 1 soup). See here.

“I want Western,” said Dad.

“You can just say that you don’t want to cook rice,” said Yan Hang.

“Our prince is a sharp one,” Dad laughed. “Nothing escapes him.”

“I want to eat dishes with rice.” Yan Hang stood firm.

“Fine, fine, I’ll cook after I lose this round,” Dad said. “You forgot to buy drinks.”

“Yeah, I’ll go get them now.” Yan Hang looked out the window again, then opened the door and walked out.

There were already a few students passing by the neighbourhood at this time. Yan Hang looked over at the shop again; the riff-raff wasn’t squatting there anymore, but strolling towards the corner of the street with a few of his pals.

Yan Hang really didn’t like the way he swaggered like a crab that had gone lame in one leg, as if he was afraid that people couldn’t tell he was riff-raff if he walked with his legs tucked in a little.

Two boys who appeared to be upper secondary students walked past. The crab flicked his cigarette at the face of one of them.

The boy looked over, slightly annoyed. The crab and his friends quickly turned, obviously excited; if their target showed the least resistance, they would pounce immediately.

The boy’s schoolmate pulled him back. The two walked off.

Since his provocation didn’t escalate, the crab probably wasn’t too pleased. He cursed under his breath and continued to fling his legs out as he walked.

Yan Hang reached the street corner before they did. More and more students were walking home now. Yan Hang searched for Chu Yi in the crowd.

He didn’t have to look at the ones in groups; Chu Yi would only be there if he were being bullied, and since Li Zihao and his crew hadn’t been bothering him lately, he was definitely walking alone.

But after looking for ages, he still didn’t see Chu Yi.

Either Chu Yi hadn’t come, or he was too short and passed by unnoticed.

The crab had reached the street corner too, leaning against the signpost as he chatted with his friends.

The street was quite wide, so the crab didn’t see Yan Hang standing by the side. Otherwise he probably would have come to aggravate him out of boredom.

Just as he was about to call Chu Yi, his phone beeped. He had a text.

It was from Chu Yi.

[why are you standing there?]

Yan Hang raised his brows. Did this kid turn invisible?

He raised his gaze and looked around him. He was standing at a T-junction; the street joined at a right angle to that fancy main road, where there were many people and cars. Chu Yi could only be hiding somewhere across the road, but after a long inspection, he still couldn’t find him.

“Are you invisible?” Yan Hang sent a voice message over.

[I’m behind the tree]

The tree? Yan Hang stared blankly at the row of trees across the road. As he squinted at the fourth one, an arm extended from behind it and waved.

“The fuck?” Yan Hang couldn’t help but laugh. He put his phone back into his pocket and crossed the road.

Chu Yi didn’t want to clash with the crab. As long as the crab didn’t come looking for trouble himself, Yan Hang didn’t plan to fight him for Chu Yi either. Which was why after he crossed the road, Yan Hang stood by the tree and looked straight at the display window of the shop before him.

“How long were you planning to stand here?” he asked.

“I w-would’ve left ages ago. W-waited for you.” Chu Yi faced the tree.

“Where are you planning to go?” asked Yan Hang.

“A detour, s-somewhere far.” Chu Yi cocked his head and looked at him. “G-grocery shopping?”

“I’m done shopping, I came out for a walk,” said Yan Hang. “Let’s go together then, I want to see where your detour leads to.”

Chu Yi didn’t speak. A pair of eyes emerged from behind the tree and glanced over at the crab. Then he turned and walked down the road.

Yan Hang followed. “Are there any supermarkets round this way? I need to get alcohol in a bit.”

“Yeah, I’ll t-take you.” Chu Yi nodded.

Yan Hang followed Chu Yi as he gave the housing area a wide berth and went back to the road they usually passed on their runs together.

“This is the detour?” He looked around him.

“Pretty m-magical, huh,” said Chu Yi. He pointed. “Supermarket.”

“You keep avoiding him every day. When will it stop?” Yan Hang went in and bought two bottles of erguotou [3] liquor.

[3] Sorghum liquor, about 50% alcohol. See here.

“When, I g-graduate.” Chu Yi grinned. “I’ll go w-work.”

“Child labour is illegal these days,” said Yan Hang. “You’d need a fake ID, but anyone can see you’re underaged, so it won’t work.”

“Oh.” Chu Yi was stunned.

“At least finish your upper secondary education,” said Yan Hang. “Even a vocational or technical school would be fine.”

“M-makes sense.” Chu Yi suddenly seemed excited. “I’ll g-go to a vo-cational school, f-far away, just as long as n-nobody knows me.”

“What’ll you study?” asked Yan Hang.

“D-dunno.” Chu Yi didn’t seem to care very much about what he studied.

Yan Hang sensed that as long as he left his current environment, he wouldn’t even mind if you made him study how to carry loads.

After spending a moment blissfully lost in thought, Chu Yi pulled something out of his pocket. “Here, have a, a-a look.”

“Have a look?” Yan Hang took it. “I thought you were giving it to me. There’s really an art to your stutter.”

“I c-can’t give you s-something s-so pa-thetic,” said Chu Yi.

Yan Hang looked at the tiny thing in his hand. It was a small black rock, polished into a hexagon. The polishing was rather fine, in fact.

“Damn, nice.” Yan Hang scratched the rock with his fingernail. It was quite hard. “What did you polish it with?”

“The ground,” said Chu Yi.

“…You squatted on the ground polishing this?” Yan Hang was quite shocked. “You sure have a lot of time.”

“I p-polished it for, a whole w-week’s worth of s-self-study periods,” laughed Chu Yi.

“What’s your classroom floor made of?” asked Yan Hang.

“Out-s-side,” said Chu Yi. “When the t-teacher isn’t t-there, I g-go out.”

“Oh,” Yan Hang responded. He could sort of guess why Chu Yi would.

“Do you l-like it?” asked Chu Yi, hesitating slightly.

“Didn’t you say you weren’t giving it to me?” said Yan Hang.

“It’ll l-look good once I p-polish it some more.” Chu Yi scratched his head.

“Then give it to me once you’re done polishing it,” said Yan Hang. “I’ll punch a hole in it and wear it as an anklet.”

“Okay.” Chu Yi nodded happily, then glanced at his ankle.

“What are you looking at?” Yan Hang lifted his pant leg, revealing his ankle. “It’s a perfect ankle, it’d look good even if I wore a bottle cap on it.”

Chu Yi didn’t speak, simply applauding him.

“I’m gonna beat you up,” Yan Hang said, pointing at him. Then he patted his shoulder. “Alright, it’s safe now, so hurry on home.”

After waving goodbye to Chu Yi, before he had even rounded the bend, Yan Hang’s mood immediately took a sharp dip, sinking into a restless nadir.

But when he reached home, alcohol in hand, the first thing he saw when he entered was Dad preparing the vegetables at the sofa. The house was filled with the fragrance of cooking rice. He suddenly felt more secure.

The way his anxiety and relief intertwined made him feel a loss of control.

“Baobei, can you make meat patties again?” asked Dad.

“Sure.” Yan Hang put the drinks on the table and went into the kitchen.

“With curryyy—” Dad drawled from the living room.

“Alriiight—” Yan Hang replied.

He wasn’t sure when he started to like cooking. It didn’t matter whether it was Chinese or Western; when he stood at the kitchen counter looking at the ingredients, which ones had what flavours, how this one and the other would go together, what colours they would take on when mixed, whatever taste one desired, he could predict and grasp them all.

It was much simpler and clearer than most things in life.

Today’s stir-fry was fairly straightforward. Before long, three dishes and a soup were served up.

Curry meat patties, sanbei chicken [4] , sweet-and-sour ribs; aside from the seaweed egg-drop soup, everything was meat.

[4] See here.

Dad grabbed two glass teacups [5] and poured out the liquor.

[5] Chinese teacups are about the size of a shot glass.

Yan Hang sat down. He picked up a rib with his chopsticks. Just as he put it in his mouth, Dad downed his teacup of liquor.

“Slow down.” He glanced at his dad.

“Eat with big bites, drink with big gulps,” Dad chuckled. “That’s how I’ve lived these decades.”

“Aren’t we aiming to live for a century or so?” Yan Hang picked up his cup and took a gulp of liquor.

He preferred beer over erguotou, but Dad loved erguotou, especially the cheapest kind.

Dad smiled and drank another mouthful, before finally picking up a piece of meat to eat. After a long while, he said, “I’ve made you wait so long.”

This non sequitur made Yan Hang’s outstretched chopsticks pause midair. “Why do you make me sound like a daughter that couldn’t marry off?”

Dad laughed and looked at him. “It’d be nice if you were a daughter.”

“Why not have two kids back then? Maybe the second one would’ve been a girl,” said Yan Hang.

Dad’s smile froze in an instant. Yan Hang realised that his words were possibly not the most appropriate thing to say, but he didn’t know how to take them back.

All he could do was lower his head and drink.

“True.” Dad raised his cup. “Thing was… we didn’t have the chance.”

Yan Hang stared silently at the liquor in his cup.

“When your mum died, you weren’t even two yet. We wanted to wait till you were a bit older, but in the end there wasn’t enough time.” Dad smiled.

It looked like Dad wasn’t planning to eat at all tonight. He would just drink.

Perhaps to speed up the “chat” progress, he ate a small portion of a meat patty, then finished most of his liquor before refilling his cup.

“You really take after me, holding it in for so long,” Dad said. “You only asked after all these years.”

Yan Hang didn’t speak. He took two gulps of liquor and continued to eat.

“When I was young, life was hard,” Dad said. “I don’t even remember where my parents came from. All I know was that every day I’d be fretting about how to live on. I’d do anything for money.”

“If only you knew how good your life would be now, you needn’t have worried,” said Yan Hang.

Dad laughed and reached over to smack him on the head. “Brat.”

He downed another mouthful of liquor and sighed. “Is life good right now?”

Yan Hang stayed silent.

“Your mother wasn’t very good-looking, actually.” Dad pursed his lips. “Tall, fair, and really not much to look at.”

The change of topic was sudden, without the slightest warning. Yan Hang raised his head and looked at Dad.

All his life, this was the first time he had ever heard Dad talk about his mother.

The waves of emotion in his heart were hard to describe. There was some excitement, but not the excitement he imagined he would feel. He hadn’t the slightest memory of his mother, nor strong emotions of any kind; rather, he seemed to have a curiosity, as if investigating the life of a stranger.

But beneath this, there was still an inexplicable undercurrent.

This tall, fair, not-much-to-look-at woman was his mother, his closest relative.

Everything changed when he thought of that.

He suddenly felt close to tears.

“But she had a really interesting personality, like a wild mule.” Dad laughed.

“Isn’t it a bit inappropriate to describe your own wife that way?” Yan Hang laughed too.

“It’s fine, I told her that to her face too.” Dad lifted his cup; another half-cup of liquor went down. “Wild, stubborn…”
Dad lowered his voice. “She really, really wanted to marry me.”

“Shameless,” said Yan Hang.

“I didn’t need shame,” Dad said in his low voice, “not when I had her.”

Yan Hang didn’t speak.

Dad’s voice seemed to tremble.

After a long while, he finally raised his head and downed the rest of his drink. He poured himself more and continued to speak, his tone stable once again. “Your mother’s parents were very good to me. I was moving goods at the supermarket downstairs from them, so I helped them move a broken refrigerator— that’s how we met. They were academic folk; tried to fill me with knowledge when they caught me, forcing me to borrow books from them.”

Yan Hang laughed at this. “That’s how you came by all that rubbish your head’s stuffed with?”

“Yeah. Your mum was an airhead, she didn’t want to read. I had to read all the books in her house,” Dad said, laughing too.

“And then?” asked Yan Hang.

“And then we fell out, never to reconcile even in death.” Dad’s smile disappeared. “I guess that bit came true.”

“Why?” asked Yan Hang.

“Because I married your mother,” Dad sighed. “If I only hadn’t. She wasn’t even pretty. If I just steeled myself and didn’t marry her, everything would’ve been okay.”

Yan Hang glanced at the glass in Dad’s hand. His knuckles were white, and thin waves rippled across the surface of the liquor in the glass— his hand was shaking.

“You want to know how your mother died?” Dad asked.

“Yeah,” Yan Hang replied softly. He suddenly felt regret.

“That day, you were sleeping so soundly, the two of us thought we’d take the chance to have skewers. When we were on the way back,” Dad tilted his head and looked at him, “there was a stabbing in the street. Someone’d been mugged.”

Yan Hang’s heart dropped.

“Your mother ran straight over. She was always pretty aggressive; I shouldn’t compare her to a mule, she was even more stubborn than that,” Dad said, chuckling a little. “I rushed over, too. It was only right for me to handle it.”

Yan Hang froze in his chair, hearing his father’s laughter slowly fade.

“I was stabbed a couple of times,” Dad said. “When I woke up, your mum was next to me. I held her hand. She was already cold…”

“Did you catch them?” Yan Hang asked, somewhat strained.

“No.” Dad met his eyes. “But I remember what they looked like.”