Difficult To Control

Chapter 5: “A Snow Mountain Waiting to Be Conquered”

July 9th, Cloudy Weather

The results of the mock test came out. It was as terrible as ever, and the end-of-year exam next week probably wouldn’t be any better.

This afternoon Liao Jinxue found out I was stalking him. Will he come and warn me? If he was going to why didn’t he say anything today, maybe he actually didn’t put it to heart.

It rained after school, and I forgot to bring an umbrella, so I could only wait until the rain had passed to go back, and I got scolded by mom when I reached home.

Rain is awful, as awful as Liao Jinxue.

The summer of year 2 brought about rolls of heat waves into Xu Qi’s life. The dry heat only made things upsetting.

He was a stubborn and weird person that would, without reason, reject everything in his surroundings that was not in line with himself, especially summer. He hated popsicles, hated air-conditioning, hated ocean waves, and hated the never-ending rain that came with summer.

Summer vacation and wonderful never go hand in hand.

Chen Fang could not bear to look at Xu Qi’s grades anymore and signed him up for a math class in hopes that the latter would stop sauntering around, all while saving those grades that had already fallen into the mud.

Life during holidays wasn’t very different from during school days, Xu Qi went for tuition in the afternoon and went back home for dinner. During the renovation, a total of 3 bedrooms were freed up, leaving little to no space in the living room. All these years the Xu Family had always been using foldable tables that were sitting in a corner of the living room.

During dinner, Chen Fang and Xu Shan would sit at opposite ends of the table, and the television would always replay the same series every year. They’ve gotten bored of hearing it. Directly facing Xu Qi was a mahogany altar. The colour had been chipped off its edges. The incense stick that stood in the incense burner had already been burnt halfway. The black and white photo behind the milk and oranges stared directly at him; the child in the photo looked no more than 8 years old.

It was as if they had purposely left this seat for Xu Qi.

Xu Qi forever kept his head low as he ate, so fast it seemed like he didn’t have to chew, gulping down his food whole until signals of satiety were sent from his stomach. Then he would close the door heavily amidst Chen Fang’s criticisms. This scene would play out every day.

The classrooms for 3rd Years had been shifted to the 3rd floor. On the bottom right of the blackboard was a countdown of the days to Gao Kao, and every day a class committee member would come and wipe it off to change the number. Xu Qi stared at the digits that would change unpredictably. His dumb brain sometimes couldn’t even remember what he did yesterday, and the days passed by in a blur.

Writing diaries is a good habit, it helps Xu Qi to not forget all those important things. This habit started when he was fourteen; a few of the filled diaries were hidden in the tiny gap between the mattress and headboard, away from Chen Fang’s eyes.

On the nights he couldn’t fall asleep, Xu Qi would start flipping through those diaries. He would often marvel in his heart that he actually did those kinds of things before. At times he would take the wrong diary that he was still filling up, and a hateful name would always pierce his eyes.

It wasn’t that Xu Qi hadn’t thought of correcting that horrible hobby of his. He tried for a day, but his line would sight would always follow Liao Jinxue without control. Just like how the nature of a plant was to creep towards the light, he chases after Lin Jinxue. It was within expectations that it ended with failure.

The moment someone starts getting addicted to something, danger signals were no longer far away. Xu Qi comforted himself that it was Liao Jinxue who was unlucky. Even if someone else sat in that same seat, Xu Qi would likewise be unable to suppress his voyeuristic desires. It wasn’t because a certain person had become special.

It can only be blamed that Lin Jinxue was too unlucky.

A new school term started. Lin Jinxue didn’t turn his head to look at him like before, and Xu Qi couldn’t tell if he felt relieved or irritated. It didn’t matter if Lin Jinxue noticed the figure behind him or not, Xu Qi still felt extreme unease. He would even walk closely behind the former on purpose, and with an uncertain mind, he hoped for Lin Jinxue to spot his tail yet at the same time was afraid that he actually would actually do so.

A month or so passed by, and Lin Jinxue had grown taller yet again. The uncut tail of his hair jabbed against his collar, and when he lowered his head his nape would be revealed; the only colour between black hair and uniform was attracting others’ gaze.

Maintaining a 3-person-wide gap, Xu Qi followed behind Liao Jinxue, within the stream of people in the corridor. In half a term, he had already memorised every corner and arrangement of the class. If he could use this kind of memorising capabilities in his studies, perhaps he would be having a different kind of life now.

The moment his attention was divided, an accident happened in a flash. When the pain in his shoulders had subsided, Xu Qi’s body had bashed against the pile of books. The fallen books already ended up under many people’s feet, and the crowd automatically formed a circle around the now-desolate accident site.

A chubby boy scanned the mess and without a care for how the accident truly occurred, he began pushing all blame onto Xu Qi with his rough voice. “Are you even watching your steps, when you knock down other people’s things don’t you know how to apologise?”

“Sorry.”

Countless watchful eyes pierced into Xu Qi’s body; some spectators were there for fun, and others just gave a casual glance. He squatted down, desperately trying to make his figure appear smaller. One by one, he picked up the books that had already been stepped on before and didn’t argue against whether he was truly the one who bumped into others.

The boy seemingly muttered a ‘unlucky me’. The on-lookers had started moving once again and automatically overlooked this insignificant accident.

Xu Qi picked up the textbook on the floor and patted away the dust. On the cover printed a man who raised his camera to point at the scenery behind him. He didn’t know what country it was, that occupied half the page with its majestic and beautiful snow mountain; the mottled blue wrapped around the white of the mountainside, harmonising such that it seemed almost undistinguishable and inseparable, presenting a different kind of beauty, stunning and divine. Xu Qi paused for a long while, forgetting what he had been doing moments before.

“Are you done?”

“… almost.”

The boy’s hustling brought Xu Qi back to action. He stacked the books in his arms and calmly put a lid on the emotions that gushed over just now. The books in his arms became heavier and heavier, dragging Xu Qi’s small and thin arms down. When he got up, half the books fell onto the ground with a pitter-platter; all the hard work minutes ago was now wasted.

“You…” The chubby boy wanted to act up again, but paused suddenly. Fragmented streaks of white flashed across Xu Qi. Just like images that would only appear in dreams, the snow mountain on the book cover stood erect in front of his eyes. Fluttering snow landed on his hair, his shoulders, and his shoe; it felt so cold he shuddered a little, as he gazed at Lin Jinxue’s slowly approaching face.

Lin Jinxue bent down and picked up all of the sprawled-out books with ease, and delivered them into the arms of the boy who was just watching in a daze. Lin Jinxue wasn’t looking at him, yet Xu Qi felt as if that pair of cold stern eyes were talking to him.

“Don’t get distracted when you walk.”

All anger within the chubby boy dissipated in a single moment. Without a single wisp of heat left, he guiltily said, “Thank you.”

Liao Jinxue raised his eyelids and sized up the man. Beneath the gaze seemed to hold a sense of judgement. Within a few seconds, the opposing party started to look down helplessly; every single one of his secrets was seen through. Xu Qi, previously the target of the audience’s criticism, was now sitting on the spectator seat. He dug his nails into his palms and tried his best, barely suppressing the urge to go and look at Liao Jinxue’s expressions excessively.

It was obvious; everyone was the same. Humans, dawning the same cheap school uniform, coming to school, learning from the same old boring textbooks. Yet Liao Jinxue was seemingly different from the people around him. He sat high up above. If below his feet was a snow mountain, then they were like explorers beneath the mountain, harbouring the delusion of conquest. Some didn’t even get any training before they were pushed to participate in this dangerous activity. The only ending that would befall them was either being swept away by an avalanche, or being buried under the thick piles of snow.

Xu Qi felt as though he was also one of those under Lin Jinxue’s examination; whatever thoughts he had in his heart could not be hidden away. It was the first time Liao Jinxue was close enough for him to reach his hand out to touch, yet he seemed to be far in the horizon.

That moment, he felt a blooming impulse to grab Lin Jinxue.

The way he looked down with condescendence was too penetrating. He didn’t want to continue lifting his neck. He didn’t want to continue hiding in dark places, peeping coldly from the shadows. If he could also roll in the mud pit like him, get stained with dirt, and become unable to fly back to the top, maybe then Lin Jinxue wouldn’t seem so hatable.

The chain of memory broke off. The pen tip lay on the diary’s snowy white page, leaving ugly blotches of black.

Some of his thoughts appropriately stayed in his head, and what Xu Qi ultimately wrote on the paper, was ‘busy body.’

The district near 13th Street wasn’t big, and many of the old houses still stood tenaciously. Neighbours living within were also those that he had met since birth. Others could always find a companion to go home with, while Xu Qi was always alone.

He wasn’t sure why, but the photography studio that he usually paid no mind to was especially eye-catching today; with a square signboard that wrote ‘Uncle Liang’s Photography Studio’, it stood along the path that he had to walk through.

Xu Qi passed by the narrow doorways of the studio. From the corner of his eyes, he could see the mottled and worn-out walls, and pasted messily on it were many advertisements for repairing water and electricity. The glass cabinets displayed a wide array of cameras and photo frames, and it was as if they had some sort of weird magic; Xu Qi would often stop as he looked at them, his thoughts unsure of where to fly.

“Do you like it?”

The voice that came from above caused Xu Qi to jump like a distressed bird, his feathers puffing up in defence. He glared closely at the unfriendly-looking man that was leaning against the door. “… what?”

Uncle Liang took out the cigarette bud from his mouth, and Xu Qi couldn’t tell if it was because it had burnt to the end, or because he didn’t want to smoke in front of a high school student. He put out the flame and tossed it on the floor before turning his head to the camera within the glass cabinet. He raised his chin. “You’ve been looking at that for the past few days, doesn’t this mean you like the camera inside? Here, I’ll lend it to you for a day.”

“Really?” Xu Qi’s eyes had brightened without himself realising.

“What are you thinking of,” Uncle Liang grabbed the frame of the door and started laughing, “it’s such an expensive item. If I were to lend it to you group of immature high school boys, it won’t be until the second day when I can’t even find your shadow. I run a photography studio, not a charity.”

The joke felt like one of those pranks that Jiang Yue and his gang would pull to make a fool of him, but strangely, it didn’t hurt to hear it. Xu Qi could instinctively tell that the man in front of him didn’t have any ill-intents toward him.

“I see…”

Xu Qi gripped the corners of his shirt. Whenever he was nervous his hands wouldn’t stop fidgeting. He revealed his deepest thoughts to the other party without reserve, showing a naivety and purity that was unlike his age.

Uncle Liang glanced at him and said, “Are you crying? I was only joking, why is a big man like you crying.”

It could be that Xu Qi’s pale complexion gave an impression of crying no matter what expression he made, which caused Uncle Liang to have that misconception.

Before Xu Qi had the chance to explain himself, Uncle Liang unlocked the glass door and took out a camera with a silver-grey outer shell. “Forget it, it was immoral for me to make a high school student cry, I can’t watch my mouth. Take this camera and return it at this time tomorrow. Don’t run away.”

Xu Qi took the bulky camera from Uncle Liang. The cold, delicate texture of the metal that fit against his palm, latches onto his wrists, and pulls his soul down along with it.

“Did you say you won’t lend it to high school students?” After a long while, Xu Qi asked choppily.

“You brat, why are you being so difficult?” Uncle Liang clicked his tongue. He raised his sharp pointed eyes that lay below his thick brows, looking fierce and menacing. “You look like an honest person, and I thought I could make an exception. You live on the streets up front, right? You would have to pass by this alley every day, figured you probably wouldn’t be able to fly off somewhere.”

Xu Qi replied with an obtuse ‘oh’. That logic was true; if he wanted to go to school he had to pass by the alleyway Uncle Liang’s studio stood in, and likewise when he went back home. Embracing the brand new camera now in his hands, Xu Qi felt dizzy. He was hit by a grand prize that fell from the sky, and it felt like a dream as he muttered, “thank you…”

“My name’s hanging right in front of the shop’s door.”

“Thank you, Uncle Liang.”

Uncle Liang laughed, “That sentence is pretty pleasant to hear.”

The weight of the camera in his bag surpassed the weight of all his books combined. Xu Qi walked briskly as if he was about to take off into the sky. Every step he took floated on cloud nine.

Throughout the entire night, he carefully examined this rectangular metal box. He wasn’t sure which button he had pressed, but the screen lit up, and in its little frame reflected a tiny version of his room, shrunk by many times.

An unfamiliar excitement pierced through every pore, engulfing Yu Qi. The metal casing started heating up as he played with it. He pointed his camera at a cramped corner of his room and placed his fingers on the shutter. But he hesitated at that moment.

The first photo shouldn’t be so desultory.

The amount of time he had with the camera was limited to a single day. The next morning, Xu Qi carefully placed it in his bag. Using his textbooks, he piled up a tiny space to prevent the camera from being crushed. Every two steps he took, he would stop and check whether it was damaged. What was stored in his bag wasn’t an eraser, nor was it a ruler, but instead a genuine, high-quality camera.

No matter if it was during class or after class, Xu Qi would be thinking about the camera in his desk. He was worried someone would flip his table as a prank if he went away, and cause the camera to be damaged accidentally. Hence, Xu Qi didn’t leave his seat for the entire morning.

He endured until the afternoon break when he could finally stuff the camera into his shirt, and enter the forest behind the school.

Usually, he hated this place, but other than this place, there wasn’t a second spot on campus that had scenery pleasant to look at.

The scent of the artificial lake rushed into his nose from far away. Xu Qi endured the discomfort and pointed his lens at the clear blue sky, then shifted to the 2-3 sparrows that perched on the branch, and lastly to the fake mountains and pavilion beside the artificial lake. These seemingly lucid sceneries, the moment they appear on screen all become dull and lifeless. Xu Qi wanted to capture the most beautiful scenery as his first picture.

But there weren’t any so-called ‘beautiful’ scenes here.

There were only a few hours left before he had to return this hard-earned camera; even the blade of grass on the side of the road was something Xu Qi wanted to capture. But when he looked at the screen, this burning urge would be put out until there wasn’t a single thread of it left. He blindly turned his camera around, tilted his head slightly, and widened his lens to enter a scene different from the one before.

Summer was about to pass, the scent in the air signalling autumn’s arrival. The afternoon wind pressed down against the low blades of grass. The windows of the classroom on the third floor were wide open; Liao Jinxue sat beside the window, flipping over the page of his mock test. The corners of the page fluttered along in the wind. He remained calm and focused from start to end, making people inadvertently want to become those pages in his hand and immerse themselves in his attention.

Gulping, Xu Qi tightened the fingers that were on the shutter.

Ka-cha.

Caught him.