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ONE

I had a friend who I played with very well in high school. We met in the film club, so we would always meet up on weekends to go to the movies. But at the end of the second year, there was a murder case that shocked the whole city of Dongguan. My good friend's parents were stabbed to death in the plastic pipe store they ran.

From the people who found the scene of the murder, we heard that the blood was everywhere in the store. The husband's body was lying inside the hallway, while the wife's body was curled up on the floor in the center, with blood flowing from inside the store to outside, startling passersby who happened to come by at the time.

My good friend's name was Huang Lieyun, and I admit I liked him a bit at the time. He had a baby-fat face and didn't smile often, but he had a different kind of cuteness because of that. After the case, he was taken away by a relative's family, and I haven't seen him since.

Two months after the incident, I took advantage of the holiday to find his family's plastic pipe store with the memory of the past. Located in the corner of an industrial park, you really can't find it without looking carefully. The gate was still cordoned off, but through the clear glass door, I caught a glimpse of the family portrait on one side of the store's locker. He was standing between his parents, smiling happily.

It was a hot summer, and I was sweating profusely as I looked at that picture, which was my last memory of him.

I turned my head sideways and looked at the man lying next to me, also a handsome face with a little baby fat. His eyes were closed, and his steady breathing indicated that he was asleep. Indeed, we are just tools to vent carnal desires for each other. Who will patiently listen to my stories of childhood?

It's been a year since I graduated from college, and my job is gradually getting on track, but the days are getting dull. This weekend, as usual, I had a hookup with a college student I met not long ago who studies at a university not far from my home. We met quickly, and without exchanging a few pleasantries, we hurriedly showered and went to bed to have sex, like robots controlled by a program.

Afterwards, I would always politely want to exchange a few pleasantries with them, and the story of Huang Lieyun was always on my lips. Some people are patient and give me two comments or even a hug after listening to me with rapt attention; others, like the college student in front of me, have no interest in my story as a human being. Perhaps I only have a physical body in this world to make sense to them.

I won't get angry, and I'll drift off to sleep with the sound of his breathing.

TWO

"Ajay, please rewrite the second part of this article. It doesn't seem appealing enough at the moment."

Less than half an hour before the end of the day, I received this message from my leader, and it looked like I would have to work overtime again. So, I quickly edited a text message to my sister saying I would be late for dinner.

My sister works very close to me, just four or five subway stops away, so we often meet for dinner. After sending the message, I grabbed my plastic water cup and walked to the pantry for a refill. I watched the water from the dispenser clatter into the old scarred cup and thought of my mom again.

My mother is a meticulous woman. The last time she came to my house and saw that my water cup was missing a piece, she came over for the second time and gave me such a water cup. I have to say, it works pretty well. Whether it's hot or cold water, it can keep the temperature stable for a long time.

At this time, a female colleague walked in. We have little communication. Occasionally we will say a few words when handing over the task. I remember the last company dinner when I heard another colleague say she was a single-parent child. I was about to leave when she suddenly spoke.

"Are you from Dongguan?"

I froze for a moment before responding, and I looked back at her, somewhat puzzled.

"Well, yes." Just when I was wondering why she knew about it, she said again.

"I lived in Dongguan for a while when I was a kid, and I also heard Ms Chen talk about it." Ms Chen is an HR colleague I am familiar with, so it makes sense. I immediately put down my guard and got up the desire to chat.

"Where are you from in Dongguan?" I asked her. 

"Zhangmutou." 

I opened my mouth slightly, and she didn't notice my expression but looked at the water fountain and began to receive water. 

"Do you know about the murder case in Zhangmutou seven years ago?"

I was so shocked that I could not say a word. I froze and looked at her back; for a moment, countless memories rushed to my mind. This is the first time I heard about it from the mouth of others. "I know. I wasn't allowed to go out by myself for a long time after that incident. And the murderer was never found."

"Me too." She was silent for a while, and her glass seemed to fill up. "I heard that the case was going to be reopened recently."

I raised my eyebrows, faintly surprised. "Why?"

"It seems that the couple's children complained about the police who were investigating at the time, and went around telling the media that the police were not doing their job well and putting a lot of pressure on the government, so now the case is going to be reopened to try to catch the person responsible for that incident."

I didn't care about the second half of her sentence. My mind was thinking about the kid, the boy I had been looking for six whole months, Huang Lieyun. I had an urge to check the news reports and see what he looked like now. But I quickly calmed down and looked at the female colleague. My heart's doubts intensified.

"Why are you telling me about this?" She looked at me to voice my doubts, lowered her head, and began to walk slowly toward the outside of the pantry. "I saw you when I was a kid when my dad was in charge of this case, and one time I went to the police station after school to see my dad, saw you being questioned by him."

Her back disappeared behind the door, and I could no longer collect my surprised expression, but then I remembered that dinner that day, the single-parent family that the colleague had spoken of, was a mother.

THREE

I didn't go home right after dinner with my sister, the daytime events had me thinking, so I bought a movie ticket to watch a night movie before I went back.

There weren't many movies to choose from, but one of them soon caught my attention: Bouquet of Love. The slightly overexposed screenshots reminded me of Iwai Shunji's Love Letter, a movie I like.

I chose a seat at the back. Watching the movie was one reason, but more importantly, I needed to collect my thoughts. I checked all the relevant news after leaving the pantry today, and did find something similar to the victim's family's request to reopen the investigation into the seven-year unsolved case, and was able to confirm that it was indeed the one I was thinking of, but couldn't find him anywhere.

Perhaps there was no identifying information or picture in order to protect the victim's family, and I could only combine his figure with the one described in the news from a vague memory.

Tonight I told my sister about it and she looked at me, a little puzzled, "Are you still in love with him?"

I was speechless for a moment, not knowing how to answer. I went to college these past few years and also exchanged to study abroad for two years, and have long been convinced of the idea that I am gay. And I understood that even if he lived a normal life, graduated with me and was in the same city, we would not be possible. Why do I say this? Maybe because I know him too well.

As I was sitting in the audience thinking this, a man arrived two rows in front of me at the entrance. By the faint light, I could only see the side of his face. He had a small nose, and above that, the curves of his eyes looked like they had been carefully carved, not pretty, but very comfortable to look at. Maybe it was just the low light, but he looked like my type.

The movie started and I took my eyes back to the big screen in front of me.

Perhaps I was too excited and surprised by today's news, and I fell asleep not long after the movie started. When I woke up, the movie was still playing. But I just felt dizzy. On the big screen in front of me, the man and woman were sitting opposite each other, seemingly eavesdropping on the conversation of the young man and woman next door, a scene that should have been heartwarming, and I could not understand why they were both shedding such sad tears.

The missed episode was nearly an hour long, and I began to be unable to understand the development of the later episode. I thought that maybe it was just an ordinary love story, where two people are together because of love and separated because their love has faded. I started to feel bored when I thought of this, and after turning around to make sure no one was behind me, I took out my phone and scratched up the dating app.

Coincidentally, the first person on the home page showed that he was only 0.03km away from me, so maybe he was in the same movie theatre. I clicked on his avatar, and it was a silhouette. I couldn't make out his features, only the outline of a side face. He looks young, with short clean hair and a blue sky in the background. Apart from some basic personal information, his homepage had no more photos or text. But I was already curious about him, so I sent him a message.

"Hello."

In fact, when I saw the distance location of this person, I had in expectation that maybe this person was the man who was late just now. People who would come to see a night movie alone would more or less be in a mood, right?

Unfortunately, it was not what I had hoped for, and I did not receive any response. The movie was nearing its end, and I thought, maybe that's it for tonight.

Just as I was about to leave the cinema, I received a reply. 

"Hello." 

I waited a minute longer to make sure he had nothing more to say, and then I asked. 

"Watching a movie?" 

"Um yeah." 

"Bouquet of love?" 

"Uh-huh yeah. Are you there?" 

When I saw that, I thought, maybe there's something there, and started inviting him for a drink.

It was just as I was starting to wonder if he thought I was being too pushy that he finally messaged me back. "Yeah."

I met him at the entrance of the cinema, and sure enough it was the man. By the light, I could also see his face. It was a very ordinary southern look, although the eyes or nose alone would be very good-looking, but somehow the combination is so ordinary, in addition the look is quite white, there are no advantages that can be said. But when I met his eyes, I froze. He did not smile, but his eyes were full of tenderness. Not that kind of deliberate gentleness, but a kind of deep hidden in the end of the eyes like gentle, dead water. Even though it was the first time I felt that he was someone I could trust.

The two of us ended up not going to the bar. After blowing the evening breeze in the street for a while I took him straight home. On the way, I tried to get some personal information out of him, but I don't know if it was because he was scared or something else, but he didn't give any useful information. Worried about scaring him away, I also simply stopped asking questions and looked out the car window at the receding space. In the present time, I share a space with him, but I always feel that he is like a phantom, may disappear at any time. This time and space does not belong to him.

This feeling is very familiar. I also had this feeling after Huang Lieyun disappeared. After that incident, I can understand that he left without saying goodbye to me, but after so many years, why is there still no news at all? Whenever I think about it, I start to think that maybe he is just a figment of my mind, a phantom. All these years I was just fooling myself. Today's news should have allayed my concerns, but now, the slightest hint of sweat permeated my back as it occurred to me that perhaps all this today was, once again, my brain playing tricks on me.

But soon, sexual desire took over my brain and body, and I began to enjoy the pleasure of the moment. We did it three times that night, and when I was about to pass out, I asked his name, but vaguely, the sticky sweat mixed with the distinctive smell of his body clouded my senses, and I didn't hear what he said and woke up the next day.

FOUR

After that, we saw each other a lot and could be considered dating, but we never talked about that either. He wasn't really the attractive type, but he was grounding. After every sex session at my house, we would go downstairs to the ramen restaurant for dinner. Occasionally two beers down, he will tell his story a little, but only a few sentences.

His name is Zhang Heng. He just arrived in the city not long ago. 26 years old, freelance. Whenever I started to ask questions about his family, he kept his mouth shut. After a long time, I also stopped asking questions, too, our communication may only stay at the physical level, which I am used to. But this time, there is vaguely a little resentful in my heart.

I didn't mention the case many years ago to him. Perhaps only when it becomes a thing of the past, I will have the courage to face it. Now it's like a thick dark cloud that looms over my head again, and I don't have the courage to lift my head to look at it. However, coincidentally, when my memory of it blurred up again, it appeared in front of my eyes again.

That time, I invited Zhang Heng to join an exhibition event held by our company, which is held regularly every year and invites some of the more famous writers and literary workers of the moment. Coincidentally, this year, a writer was invited, and Zhang Heng happened to like him very much, although this matter was also my guess. But in any case, he agreed.

I was in charge of hosting another writer, so I didn't go out to pick him up after receiving Zhang Heng's message, but let him wander around on his own first. Just as I was thinking of replying to his message in this way, the TV program in the lounge was suddenly cut to the news station.

I glanced at the narrator, and the writer was watching the news on the TV with a serious face, so I tried to find an excuse to leave for a while to go find Zhang Heng. However, before I could say anything, the news program was suddenly occupied by an urgent broadcast, which seemed to be a new development in some case. Coincidentally, it was the Zhangmutou murder case seven years ago.

The police announced their latest progress. They not only reopened the investigation, but also released the photos of the murderer seven years ago. The next second, I opened my mouth wide and could not say a word. The killer in the photo looks too young, like a high school student. And in fact, seven years ago he was just 19 years old. I just can't imagine why such a young boy would do such a thing.

Perhaps my expression was so exaggerated that the colleague next to me called out to me, but I didn't react for a while. "Ajay, I remember that you are from Dongguan, right?" Hearing these words, as if stimulated, I hurriedly turned my head to look at my colleague. However, my reaction amused him, and at the same time I felt the gaze of the writer on the side. After quickly calming down, I spoke.

"Yes, I was in Dongguan as a child. Sorry, the murderer is too young, I was a little too shocked all of a sudden." The writer was piqued by my remark and began to talk about the current state of social crime as if to comfort me, while not forgetting to mention his own work about how many years ago he had gone to prison to talk to criminals in order to understand the psychology of a crime.

After all, he was a guest, so I put on a serious face and pretended I was very interested in the topic. However, his subsequent story really piqued my interest. He said that most of the criminals he had studied had one thing in common, and that was that they didn't know what they were doing at the time of the crime. At first they were just very disturbed, disturbed about society, disturbed about the world, disturbed about themselves. After that, it only takes one fixed event to trigger all kinds of emotions in them, rage, greed, jealousy, and when their emotions are triggered, they have no idea what they are doing. They may remember, but many will deny, that it wasn't themselves.

I couldn't help but wonder what that boy was going through on a hot summer day like that, and why he might have cruelly stabbed a knife into someone, and those people, were someone else's mom and dad. When I first went to Zhangmutou, I was taken by Huang Lieyun to their family dinner, where his grandparents, mom and dad, and siblings were seated at the table. I was very happy, I felt I was treated like family by him, but at the same time, I was also very nervous. Perhaps because she could see my nervousness, Huang Lieyun's mother was taking care of me. She kept serving me food and making conversation at the right time, afraid that I would feel embarrassed at the dinner table.

I stayed overnight at his house that day, and the next morning, I followed him to his living room and saw the breakfast his mother had left for us. I also remembered that his mother had said that she treated me like another son. When I thought of this, blood rushed to my heart and a surge of anger was directed at the boy on the TV. I stared into those eyes, a pair of eyes that looked at nothing, without the slightest emotion. It was like I was in the center of a storm, everything around me became noisy and blurred, everything faded until the door to the lounge was opened and the event was about to begin.

When I recovered, I understood what had happened all at once. In that moment, I was controlled by my emotions.

In fact, I didn't have much to do after the event started, and I found Zhang Heng, ready to show him around. But on the way, he was more silent than ever, lowering his gaze, as if he couldn't take interest in the surroundings. I stopped and asked him a little impatiently, "Are you not interested?" 

He still looked at me and didn't say a word. 

"Sorry, I'm the one who got into it first, if you feel bored you can go back first ......" The words had not finished, Zhang Heng interrupted me with low voice.

"You are not afraid of your colleagues to find out the relationship between us?" I froze, a lot of things flashed through my head for a moment. He raised this question, which I really had not thought about carefully. "It shouldn't matter. Most of my colleagues won't care, as long as they don't show it to the big leader, and he's not here today." 

He nodded, and although he didn't make a movement, I think I saw him exhale a breath. 

"So what do you say, what is our relationship?"

My sudden question stunned him, he looked at me and didn't say a word for half a day. 

I laughed awkwardly. "It's okay, I'll just talk about it, don't get stressed." I turned my head to leave, but his voice came from behind. 

"Thank you for believing in me." I didn't understand what he meant by this statement and continued to walk forward.

Later, I was called back to work, but my mind ran elsewhere. Indeed, I had no idea about Zhang Heng, including where he came from, where his family was, or even what his specific job was, but I still trusted him. It was ironic. Maybe he was being sarcastic with that comment.

When Zhang Heng's favorite writer went on stage, I ran to the corner at the edge of the event venue to see if my guess was right. I remembered that I seemed to look at a person in the photo from TV, and then I realized that it was Zhang Heng. In fact, Zhang Heng does not look like the murderer at all, but in this one moment, I seem to see the murderer in Zhang Heng's eyes, the same indifference, the same absence of any emotion. It is also just a moment, I laughed, thinking how this is impossible, the name is not the same.

Although so thought, I know I can no longer use the usual gaze to see Zhang Heng. I need him to tell me everything about him personally.

FIVE

I argued with him after the event that night.

He still wouldn't tell me his old stories, so I left him behind and went home alone. It was almost time for bed when he sent me a message.

"Sorry."

I thought it might be over at this point, but he would continue to contact me anyway. I was soft-hearted and would always resist meeting with him again. After a few times, I thought, let's give him some more time.

This evening, I had a dinner date with my sister, but before I left work, I got a message from him asking if I wanted to meet up tonight. I was about to tell him my plans for the evening when it occurred to me that maybe we could have dinner together. After getting my sister's permission, I messaged Zhang Heng back.

According to his character, he would have refused, right? While I was thinking this in my mind he replied and he asked me the location.

"So how did you guys meet?" My sister asked as she ate. I glanced at Zhang Heng, who was very restrained at this point, silently eating the salad on his plate. 

"Sis, don't ask. There are only a few ways for us people to interact, and we all hide it, so don't ask such questions in public." 

My sister nodded and looked curiously at Zhang Heng, with what seemed to be a smile in her eyes.

"You just said you went to a friend's perfume store this afternoon?" I deliberately changed the subject. 

"Yeah." 

"Which one? How about his perfume?"

The dinner after that went pretty well, and Zhang Heng also occasionally struck up a couple of conversations for my sister's sake, so at least my sister's perception of him was pretty good. After the meal, my sister wanted to invite us to have a few drinks together, I did not even think about it and excused myself, pulling Zhang Heng to leave, my sister with a bad smile to see us off.

After we finished, I lay on the bed, looking at the ceiling, and said to Zhang Heng next to me, "I'll tell you a story, okay?" 

After a while, he rolled over and looked at me. "Okay."

"In high school, I had a very good friend, in fact, I kind of liked him, but then something happened to his family ......" I told him what happened in that case and also told him where I was in that case. I then looked into his eyes in the dim moonlight, I don't know what I was expecting, probably just to get some response out of it. "The police released his face a few days ago, but I couldn't connect a young face like that with a murderer, and I couldn't understand how anyone could do such a thing. It's impossible to be forgiven for something like killing someone, right?" I looked at Zhang Heng, but he did not seem to have any will to speak. In this moment, I wanted to tell him that I was disquieted, I wanted to know his past, I wanted him to share everything about him with me, but I didn't dare to open my mouth. I was even more afraid that once I opened my mouth, it would all become a phantom and disappear before my eyes.

After a long, long time, he reached out and rubbed my face, and I seemed to see teardrops in the corners of his eyes.

SIX

We never spoke again after that night. I did send him two messages, but no reply. While I was in pain and sadness, I became more disquieted. Was he really the murderer from seven years ago?

Whenever I thought about it, my sweat stood up and my past memories with him were tinted with a horrible frost. "I fell in love with my best friend's father's murderer?" Once the seed was planted, it took root in my brain, and my life felt like a film had been placed over it as I struggled with the limited air I had.

This Saturday, I visited a photography exhibition put on by a high school friend of mine, and I met with him at a coffee shop on the first floor of the art museum. "I thought you were going to bring that little boyfriend of yours over. But you ended up running over here by yourself, so selfish." 

I laughed and didn't pick up on that comment. "There's a picture of a telephone pole, the one taken in high school, right?" 

"You actually remember?" My friend had a surprised smile on his face. "It really is. I couldn't help it, I needed too many works for a solo exhibition, so I had to find some of my previous works to make up the numbers. Originally, I wanted to hang some photos of my high school friends, but you know, portrait rights, it's very troublesome."

I remembered that this old classmate of mine liked to wander around the campus with a camera and take pictures everywhere when he was in high school. By the way, if he has photos of high school classmates ...... "Do you have a picture of Huang Lieyun?" I looked at my friend with some urgency and expectation. 

"Huang... Lieyun?" He paused for a moment, "Who is it?" 

My eyes were rounded, and my breathing unnaturally quickened. I should have asked more questions, maybe he just suddenly didn't pick up the memory. But I got up and left the gallery, unaware of my friend's shouting.

I don't know how I got home. I lay in bed, and that feeling swept over me again, and I felt that everything around me was an illusion. Like a drowning man trying to catch something on the surface, I turned on my phone and tried to search for developments in the murder case. My fingers were trembling as I repeatedly typed in the wrong words. When I finally finished typing and clicked search, the little white circle indicating loading appeared in front of me. I stared at it for what seemed like a lifetime before I finally saw the relevant news.

The latest news was announced yesterday morning. "The prisoner is suspected of having had a facelift." In that moment, I seemed to forget how to breathe as I looked at the words and recalled everything that had happened before. I felt the sky spinning and I wanted to ask why, why did this happen to me? I threw my phone away and then put my arms over my eyes to block the blinding sunlight. I didn't even feel the tears sliding down the corners of my eyes.

"Could Zhang Heng really be the murderer? Why would he hide his past? If it wasn't him, why did he leave after I told the story?" All the questions were like a flood that came out of the dike and washed away my remaining consciousness and sanity. By the time I opened my eyes again, it was dark.

I turned to the bottom of the news, found the police report number left and called it.

SEVEN

Soon the police came to the door, took away many items and told me that I would have the identification results soon. I sat on the sofa as if I had lost my soul, and everything around me was irrelevant. I reacted long after the police had left, and I was alone again.

I was drained of energy, my body was a burden to me at this moment, and I dragged this burden to bed again, imagining that everything would turn to normal after I woke up. But the thoughts continued to come out of my every pore, and I was in pain, imagining that I was like a dying man lying in a pool of blood.

I don't know how I fell asleep, but it was my doorbell that woke me up the next day. I looked at the clock and it was after 12 noon.

At the door was a stout old officer, seemingly not from yesterday's group, and I didn't really know what that meant. I invited the old officer to sit down in the living room and he cut to the chase without pleasantries.

"Unfortunately, he's not the man we're looking for." My head went blank. After experiencing extreme uneasiness, perhaps it would take an affirmative answer for my emotions to find the right outlet. Yet it turned out to be a negative. It was then that I realized how much I had prepared and paid to believe that Zhang Heng was the murderer, and had even accepted and consecrated the idea like a religious believer. After a long time, I still could not accept such a fact.

The old officer remained equally silent, but soon after he finally spoke. "Actually, I know Zhang Heng." I stared at the old officer like an evil spirit, but his frank gaze made me feel groundless, as if all my thoughts were nowhere to hide in front of him, and I was overwhelmed with shame, tears desperately wanting to run out. The old officer did not wait for my reply and told me about Zhang Heng's life.

Zhang Heng's mother died when he was born, and his father, an alcoholic, was convicted of intentional homicide many years ago, and the old officer was initially in charge of the case. Zhang Heng lost his parents at a very young age, and no one was willing to adopt the child of a murderer, but the old police officer knew that Zhang Heng was not bad in nature and always visited him at the orphanage. After Zhang Heng left the orphanage, the old police officer never saw him again, but he received an unsigned New Year's card every New Year, which the old police officer knew was from Zhang Heng. He also knew that Zhang Heng did not like to talk about his past, so he was also often misunderstood. So the old officer would also take the trouble to help Zhang Heng speak again and again, whether it was in the past or in the present.

After sending the old officer away, I sat down against the door. I already understood why Zhang Heng had left. At that moment I suddenly remembered again what the writer had said that day.

"When you feel disquieted, the devil has already clutched your heart."

Chun-Chieh's short story won third prize in SVA's Annual Writing Contest in the spring of 2022. He is a Taiwanese independent filmmaker who directed and wrote his short film, Tulpa (2022), in Chinese. Tulpa was presented as a work in progress at the Museum of the Moving Image in Queens, NY, and was awarded the winner at many major film festivals. Inspired by Sci-Fi with philosophical depth, Chun-Chieh's works focus on internal conflicts, social issues, and Asian cultural customs by exploring the possibilities of combining moving images and literary criticism. He is currently working on Disquiet, a new film based on his prize-winning story. Chun-Chieh graduated from the School of Visual Arts in 2022.