Rain Beyond the West Window

● The next novel, opening May 14: “How Did I Get Pinned by a Beautiful Opera Star?!” Add it to your reading list! More realistic small-town stories in the same vein are coming soon: “Our Neck of the Woods” and “129 Degrees East.” [Character setup] A flirtatious, long-haired beauty with a foxlike, teasing streak, living in an urban village, is the bottom; the younger top is a police officer’s son, overflowing with a sense of justice, and a devoted, protective wolfdog type. They are each other’s first love and only partner, with no side couples in the story. [Blurb] On Yan Hang’s first day after moving into the urban village, the plum-rain season had turned the roads to mud, and the farther he walked, the more irritated he became. On the way home, he even came across a household that had forgotten to turn off the stove. The pot was about to burn dry. Thanks to his police-officer father, the justice-filled cool guy vaulted over the security gate and stopped a fire from breaking out. A long-haired man grabbed him by the waistband and dragged him into an alley. In the rainy lane, with moss slick underfoot, the man teased him softly as he gave him a beating. During the Qingming season, with fine rain drifting down, all Yan Hang could remember was that the man had a pert rear and a slender waist, his long hair winding around Yan Hang’s wrist. Grinning shamelessly, he was just like a brazen fox spirit. “Hey, cool guy.” Yu Qian sat on his abs. “We’re fighting here. Could you stop staring at my butt?” Yan Hang was embarrassed, flustered, and annoyed. Damn it. If he ever meddled in other people’s business again, he’d shave years off his life. * Yan Hang had lived in the urban village for a year. The stern-faced cool guy took a pair of silver handcuffs from behind his waist and, without a word, snapped one cuff around the old fox’s wrist. The other end he gripped tightly in his own hand. Veins stood out on his forearms. They clung to each other in a tangled embrace, and even their kisses felt like fights. With his back to Yan Hang, Yu Qian’s long hair brushed the tip of his nose, tickling him lightly. “You said meddling in other people’s business would cost you years off your life.” Yu Qian tilted his head back, his voice full of amusement. “This is the urban village, a place that gives even the police a headache. Are you sure you want to get involved with a menace like me?” Green branches layered the western window, while the rain pattered softly beside them. The man behind him didn’t hesitate for a moment. “I’ll look after you for the rest of my life.” “And I want to give you a home.” #Rain falls at the western window tonight. May you sleep well. #May I become rain and cloud, and lean against the western window at night. A rainy-season story, realistic setting, mutual healing, comforting, devoted love and only each other. [Bonus scene] Yu Qian had a years-old tattoo on his wrist: “YH.” Yan Hang had asked him a few times, pretending to be casual, what it meant. But the shameless menace kept playing dumb, giving a different answer every time. The first time, Yu Qian said, “Yonghui Supermarket. It reminds me to buy groceries.” The second time, he said, “The bank. It reminds me to save money.” The third time, he said, “Cigarette ash. It reminds me to quit smoking.” The fourth time… Yan Hang decided to try asking somewhere else, perhaps on a damp, breathless night of rain. He would tear open Yu Qian’s soaked, translucent white T-shirt, bite his wrist like a wolfdog, and question him again while staring into those dazed, unfocused eyes. Next novel: “How Did I Get Pinned by a Beautiful Opera Star?!” [Blurb] Liang Xiyan is, in the eyes of netizens, a bona fide Beijing prince. His family is rich and idle, his grandfather is a renowned scholar of Chinese classics at an art academy, and he lives in a courtyard house inside the Second Ring Road. He speaks with a Beijing accent. Though he does have a job, if he’s in a bad mood one day, all it takes is a glare and a bristling mustache for his boss to get lost. This irreverent Beijing playboy does, however, have a rather refined hobby: listening to Peking opera. Every few days, whether he has a reason or not, he heads to the opera house and sits there for three hours, staring at the stage in a daze every time. But if another opera fan asks, “Young Master Liang, which part of the opera did you understand?” He can’t say a single word. Liang Xiyan knows he’s a complete philistine. To put it plainly, he has no interest in those drawn-out arias that take forever to finish a single sentence. The only reason he keeps going to the opera house is one particular person. A famous dan performer, stage name Chi Qiurui. The first time Liang Xiyan saw Chi Qiurui, he was performing The Unicorn Purse onstage. Beneath a gauzy red robe, a graceful waist took shape. A red hairpiece adorned with twin phoenixes crowned his head, his phoenix eyes lifted at the corners, his lips red as vermilion. He moved with tiny, measured steps, and one casual glance or flick of his sleeve was enough to steal half of Young Master Liang’s soul. Liang Xiyan wanted to befriend the beauty, but Chi Qiurui was so aloof and distant that he never showed his face after leaving the stage. * After turning thirty, Liang Xiyan was forced to move in with Shang Zhedong after his grandfather arranged it. As they spent time together, Liang Xiyan became certain he absolutely did not like Shang Zhedong. They were the same age, but Shang Zhedong was rigid and old-fashioned. He didn’t drink or smoke and had not a shred of humor or charm. He spoke and acted with impeccable propriety. To outsiders, he was a refined and talented young man, but to Liang Xiyan, he was a phony. Worst of all, the guy stole the show in front of Liang Xiyan’s grandfather. So Liang Xiyan glared at him, gave him a tongue-lashing at every opportunity, and hoped he’d take the hint and get lost. But for some reason, Shang Zhedong was more stubborn than a donkey and kept insisting on staying by his side. Then, out of nowhere, the guy went completely nuts and confessed his feelings. Liang Xiyan said, “Whoa, don’t have a fit, buddy. Even if the Front Gate Tower collapsed, we’d still never happen.” * One day, Liang Xiyan came home late at night, reeking of alcohol after drinking with his buddies. In a daze, he saw Shang Zhedong standing in his study, holding all the opera tickets, stage photos, and limited-edition autographs of Chi Qiurui that he had collected. Liang Xiyan sobered up instantly. He rushed over to snatch them back and shouted, “Do you have any idea how many people I had to call in favors with to get a single limited-edition Chi Qiurui autograph? Touch my stuff again and I’ll kill you!” Shang Zhedong looked at him quietly. “You like Chi Qiurui?” Liang Xiyan’s eyes widened. “Like him? I’m crazy about him! He’s the love of my life. What about it?” Shang Zhedong sighed and turned away. When he turned back, the usually stern, unsmiling face had transformed. His eyes shimmered, his every glance was captivating, his gaze curved like a crescent moon, and his singing voice rang clear as a spring leaping through a mountain stream. One look was all it took to steal half of Liang Xiyan’s soul again. Drunk and weak-kneed, he collapsed straight into Shang Zhedong’s arms. The next morning, after being ferocious all night, Shang Zhedong was still full of energy. He calmly picked up a washable marker, gave a soft chuckle, and signed “Chi Qiurui” across Liang Xiyan’s lower back. Then he bit his ear and whispered, “I can give you as many autographs as you want. The Front Gate Tower hasn’t collapsed, either. So, do we have a chance now, Young Master Liang?” Young Master Liang buried his face in the blankets. His butt still hurt, and he was too embarrassed to show his face. He let out a world-shaking curse. This was a real shocker. He’d spent the whole night getting pinned by the beauty who swayed like a willow onstage and captivated everyone in the audience! Damn it. [Coming soon] A realistic Northeastern story in the same style: “Our Neck of the Woods.” A quick-witted, warmhearted, streetwise Northeastern top, Zhao Kai, vs. He Mingfeng, a refined young master who seems sweet on the surface but is actually a dangerous obsessive. [Blurb] On the eve of his engagement, He Mingfeng followed his husband to the Northeast for a business deal. In the middle of the night, he discovered that his husband might be cheating. Trembling, he found the only phone-repair shop still open in the entire county and got into his husband’s phone. The evidence of infidelity was undeniable. As he stepped out of the shop, the pale, harsh light stretched his shadow long across the silent, desolate snowy night. It fell in a broken, scattered mess over the deep snow and patches of ice. Overwhelmed with emotion, He Mingfeng was expressionless and composed one second, then dropped onto the snow and burst into tears the next. At the same time, the repair-shop employee who had just unlocked his husband’s phone was outside. The tall, crew-cut young man had a cigarette between his lips and wore a black down jacket. He was poking at the thick snow hanging from the eaves with a broom handle, where it drooped like a heavy cap of milk tea foam. When He Mingfeng suddenly burst into tears, the young man’s hand jerked. Snow came tumbling down and landed all over his head. “Aw, hell! Who’s there? You scared the bejesus out of me!” He Mingfeng heard him shout in a booming voice and was so startled he forgot to cry. Frost clung to He Mingfeng’s eyelashes as he breathed white clouds into the snowy night. He blinked and stared at the young man, whose head was covered in snow and whose face beneath it looked both baffled and ridiculous. Three seconds later, the young man said, “Look at that pitiful face. You’re a real looker, so why are you such a dingus?” * He Mingfeng’s former fiancé braved a heavy snowstorm to come to the Northeast and try to manipulate him into going back and getting married. In this land where the cold wind cut to the bone, A line of burly men, each taller than a scallion, stood outside the little repair shop. The young man put an arm around He Mingfeng and laughed recklessly. “Brothers, grab your gear! This blind idiot’s come to steal my wife. We have to beat him up today!” “Got it!” “Here in our part of the Northeast, nobody gets to bully our Mingfeng! We’ll rip your hat clean off!” * “He Mingfeng, why are you so darn lovable? You’ve got me completely smitten.” “What does ‘smitten’ mean?” “It’s a local saying. It means I like you, I love you, and I feel restless all over if I don’t see you for a day. You know, our part of the Northeast is famous for producing tops in danmei stories.” [Bonus scene] In a tiny Northeastern county where everyone ran into everyone else, He Mingfeng went out one day and turned a corner, only to see his fiancé kissing the mistress he kept on the side. Zhao Kai had his hands in his pockets and watched with glee. “Aw, hell, you seeing this? They’re making out right in the middle of the street, like they’re gnawing on a pork knuckle. Good thing it’s not snowing now. If it got any colder, their mouths would freeze together. You believe that?” He Mingfeng turned to stare at him. “You kiss me too.” “Huh?” Zhao Kai laughed. “What are you playing at? What kind of relationship do we have that we’d be kissing, Mingfeng? Use your head.” He Mingfeng raised his sharp, narrow chin slightly, the corners of his eyes reddening. “Just tell me if you’ll kiss me or not.” Zhao Kai stopped laughing. Feeling guilty, he froze for a long moment, then shut his eyes. “If you… really want a kiss, fine.” * People born in the freezing north, raised beneath the red flag with their feet planted in black soil, have a fire in their hearts that never dies. Only in the Northeast did He Mingfeng learn that as long as you have someone by your side, there’s no obstacle you can’t get past. Northeasterners are tougher than icicles in the bitter cold. They never back down. A story set in a Northeastern county, with the scenery of the northern frontier and an underlying grayness. They are each other’s first love and only partner. “The Northeast is an aging mother. Steam, steel, black soil, and the countless upright pines of the Greater Khingan Mountains nurtured a new world beneath the red flag. But now, old and faded, she watches in despair as her children follow the rushing waters of the Songhua River and never return. All that remains is endless snow, and desolation wherever the eye can see.” “129 Degrees East” A tender, tough-as-steel veteran is the top; a beautiful, strong yet tragic foreign boy is the bottom. Gentle older top, mutual healing, happy ending. Seventeen-year age gap, not for readers who dislike that. [Blurb] “By the field, beside a little stream, the red berries bloom. I walked beyond the woods with a young boy, but in the end we had to part. My heart was full of words of farewell, but I couldn’t say them.” Liao Yuan has two special skills. 1. Making egg and green pepper noodles with gravy. 2. Repairing cars. His parents died in the line of duty, leaving him an orphan at six. After leaving the military, he couldn’t find a wife because he looked so fierce. So he opened an auto repair shop in the small border city of Yanchu, in the fictional country of Hua. He planned to grow old alone and make do with whatever life brought. Bian Changyan suddenly appeared one winter. In Liao Yuan’s memory, he was always wearing an old-fashioned factory worker’s uniform from the last century. His Mandarin was poor, and he often blurted out a word or phrase in the northern language without realizing it. He was always covered in scars. This beautiful, mysterious boy was much younger than Liao Yuan and called him “ge.” Whenever he showed up, he only did two things. 1. Eat a bowl of Liao Yuan’s egg and green pepper noodles with gravy. 2. Make love to him behind the auto shop’s metal door until dawn. “129 degrees east is the deep divide that lovers cannot cross.” “My beloved is on the other side of the border.” “Bravely fight to defend the motherland. Katyusha’s love will always belong to him.” Reader’s note: The country, era, and policies are fictionalized. The story does not involve political issues. Theme: Holding fast to one’s ideals and convictions.