Work Text:
It had been so promising right up until the end. The mystery novel had an unsatisfying ending, and clues that did nothing to ultimately help the hero. The man had struggled so far only to lose- who wanted to read that?
Compounding his frustration, Lu Guang brought his hand up to block the sun’s obnoxious glare. It was golden hour in the studio, and rich light swam on the walls and through each of the photos, brilliantly cascading. Towards the back of the studio, the couch was spared the light from the window; it was covered in a velvet and sullen blue of a shadow.
He would have moved somewhere less blinding had Cheng Xiaoshi not been sitting on the couch already. He was on his phone, playing one of his mobile games.
Lu Guang frowned, thinking. He had to concede that playing a video game was more difficult with a harsh glare than reading a book. So he said nothing to Cheng Xiaoshi, and oriented himself into a less comfortable but sun-free reading position as he plucked the next book he decided to read from the coffee table.
The afternoon quickly presented itself as frustrating and strange. The time didn’t sweep them up in the lazy current of page turns and an empty studio. That day, his book felt flimsy in his hands. The couch felt more lumpy than usual, and his shirt too hot and too loose. The scene had shifted to being incorrect, like a circle trying to fit into a triangle-shaped cutout, and the hunch tugged at Lu Guang’s peace. Righting himself, he scanned his surroundings but found nothing amiss. The sun was still splaying itself all over the room, and Cheng Xiaoshi was still tapping away.
Lu Guang furrowed his brow. ‘Maybe I’m just hungry,’ he theorized.
To the right of him, Cheng Xiaoshi’s finger had stopped moving, a lazy smile no longer fitting his face. Lu Guang didn’t notice.
Lu Guang combed through his options for dinner. He didn’t want to leave the studio, not when anxiety had all the sudden come upon him. ‘I’ll probably just give Cheng Xiaoshi my card, and he can get us takeout,’ Lu Guang thought, pleased with the idea.
“Hey, Lu Guang,” Cheng Xiaoshi said. “Wanna grab those beef noodles from the place downtown? I’m feeling hungry.”
Lu Guang scowled as if he’d stubbed his toe. Beef noodles -and beef noodles alone- were the only food he insisted on eating fresh. They got soggy, otherwise. With Cheng Xiaoshi’s malicious interjection, Lu Guang squarely craved those beef noodles, meaning he’d have to actually leave the studio.
Accepting his fate, Lu Guang stood. His body creaked like an old wooden antique piece after lounging so long, so he stretched with a wide, cat-like yawn.
Cheng Xiaoshi must have found it entertaining because the man was staring at Lu Guang like he was a painting in a museum.
“What?” Lu Guang demanded.
Cheng Xiaoshi was lethargic in hiding his attention, almost like he didn’t care if Lu Guang made fun of him for staring too much. He shrugged. “Come on, we should go.”
Lu Guang wanted to change into better clothes, but Cheng Xiaoshi was already out the door. Lu Guang clicked his tongue and followed hastily without putting his novel away.
Outside, the air was warm and the wind gentle. Lu Guang had to lock the door, and Cheng Xiaoshi had the nerve to keep walking without waiting for him.
“Hey, wait up.”
“You have long legs; walk faster.” Cheng Xiaoshi waved his hand in the air.
Lu Guang rolled his eyes, cursing his craving for beef noodles.
It really was a picturesque sunset. The silhouettes were an artistic black against the amber and lavender colors of sunset. People were out and about, kids and couples and students coming from school. Lu Guang and Cheng Xiaoshi had to walk close to each other to make enough room. The silence between them was comfortable, and Lu Guang noticed that fact with satisfaction.
A bit later, Cheng Xiaoshi took an odd turn, diverging from the usual route.
“We’re heading to the usual place,” Cheng Xiaoshi explained. “Just taking a different way.”
And before Lu Guang could ask exactly why they were taking a different route, Cheng Xiaoshi said, “to avoid the glare and the crowds. It’s pretty annoying.”
Lu Guang piped down, finding himself strangely satisfied with Cheng Xiaoshi’s rationale for once.
“You’re smart today,” Lu Guang said. For an odd reason, there was an anxious need within Lu Guang to hear a clownish, classic response from Cheng Xiaoshi.
On cue, the man turned around with a smile full of teeth and said, “Hey! I’m smart everyday! You’re just too dumb to see it.”
It was exactly the answer he would have expected Cheng Xiaoshi to give, down to the inflection and the way his pace of walking changed as he joked. Frustratingly, Lu Guang still felt uneasy. He narrowed his eyes. Since Cheng Xiaoshi walked ahead of him, he couldn’t make out the man’s facial expression very much. He only managed to catch a quick glimpse of his side profile to address his worry. The tilt of Cheng Xiaoshi’s lips was wrong, and that the needle-tiny scrunch under his eyes was a warning.
Cheng Xiaoshi kept walking. Lu Guang didn’t. The distance between them grew.
“Come on, Lu Guang! Don’t want the line to get any worse!” Cheng Xiaoshi called with a wave of his hand.
Lu Guang felt dumb, standing there with his arms hanging simply, suspecting Cheng Xiaoshi of what exactly he didn’t know. He again decided he must’ve been hungry and cranky. So Lu Guang shook it off and picked up his feet. He caught up to Cheng Xiaoshi right as they emerged from the side path into a busy main street. The sudden sun was almost blinding.
His hand was grabbed in a tight hold.
“We can’t lose each other in this crowd if we wanna beat the dinner rush.” Cheng Xiaoshi said.
Cheng Xiaoshi’s fingers dug into Lu Guang’s palm, perspiring. He practically dragged Lu Guang through the crowd, weaving through throngs of people. Lu Guang now couldn’t see Cheng Xiaoshi’s face at all. It felt as if they’d crossed some sort of enemy line.
Lu Guang glared at Cheng Xiaoshi’s unyielding grip. It was almost like he expected someone in the crowd to rip Lu Guang away.
They finally stopped at a crosswalk and Lu Guang felt out of breath. The light hadn't even turned yet when Cheng Xiaoshi walked ahead anyway. Lu Guang didn’t yell at Cheng Xiaoshi to stop, or to wait, because a moment later the light had turned.
Ahead of them, there was a mom with two crying children. Cheng Xiaoshi pulled Lu Guang aside right before one of the children squeezed their juice too hard and it exploded everywhere.
Despite the awkwardness, Cheng Xiaoshi never let go of Lu Guang’s hand. He didn’t face him, either. He walked ahead of Lu Guang, not at his side. Yet Lu Guang knew that a shadow resided on his face, and one not to be ignored.
Like waking from an enchantment, Lu Guang ripped his hand away- or he tried to. He only succeeded in stopping their march.
Cheng Xiaoshi’s head jutted out, like his head was independent from his body and they could keep walking forward. With a chilling metallic silence, he pivoted and led them into an alley.
Cheng Xiaoshi stood in front of Lu Guang, blocking his exit.
Now being able to see his best friend’s face fully, Lu Guang could tell the conviviality earlier was a face, and it fell quickly in the dim alley. Cheng Xiaoshi’s cheeks became concave and his mouth settled into a zombie-like slack jaw. His eyes were the worst- those had given up their luster in exchange for a dark, dogged and brutal focus. Those windows to the soul were difficult to look into, especially for Lu Guang.
“Let go of me,” Lu Guang heard himself say.
Cheng Xiaoshi shook his head. “I don’t want to hurt you, but if I let go this ends with you running. I’m sorry.”
CHeng Xiaoshi’s voice didn’t sound human. It was as if a director had asked him to read the same line for the hundredth time, and every artistic possibility had been exhausted. The director was just being unrealistic and brutal.
“Are you even-”
“I’m Cheng Xiaoshi,” he interrupted. His head fell, his eyes locked on the ground as he continued. “You’re gonna ask where I started. I don’t remember where I started this dive from anymore. And then you ask why I’m diving alone. You aren’t with me in the future. And, yes, that means I’m diving alone. Qiao Ling is okay, well at least physically. I’m doing this to save someone. Yes, we would have actually gone for noodles if you hadn’t realized. Er, I always forget what question you ask after that…”
Lu Guang barely stopped himself from stumbling back. He felt as if someone had read his mind, as if someone had defiled his futures and his choice- the sanctity of which he hadn’t grasped until now. Cheng Xiaoshi wouldn’t-
“And yes,” Cheng Xiaoshi finally looked Lu Guang in the eye. “I’m not deceiving you; I’m the real Cheng Xiaoshi. So.” Cheng Xiaoshi’s gaze grew stronger, more rigid, and it pierced Lu Guang’s. “What gave me away this time?”
“You- You’d think I’d tell you?” He balked.
Amidst his anger, Lu Guang could tell how Cheng Xiaoshi sorted through the files in his brain- of which words would be the most efficient at getting Lu Guang to open up. Files not acquired by speculation but field research. Thousands of dives, if Lu Guang’s gut had anything to say about it.
Lu Guang was exposed; that silence was unbearable. He tried to take his hand back again, but Cheng Xiaoshi held fast. “Why are you trying to change the past?!” He spat. “Who could be worth diving like this to save?! Even after Emma?!”
The alley echoed his fury. A few passersby gave them curious looks before hurrying on.
“...Emma?” Cheng Xiaoshi looked up at the sky, mouth lamely open as he tested the name in his mouth, searching for the memory. “Oh. Oh, yeah, Emma.” Cheng Xiaoshi shook Lu Guang’s hand playfully as if Lu Guang had made a funny comment not quite deserving of a laugh. “What about it?”
Lu Guang, while not wont to unrealistic dreams, wished in that moment.He wished this was a dream. Then, if this couldn’t be a dream, he wished Cheng Xiaoshi was possessed. And, if Cheng Xiaoshi couldn’t be possessed, he wished Cheng Xiaoshi would let go of his hand so Lu Guang could run.
The man before him was Cheng Xiaoshi. The brash and burdened man with golden morals, who dove into every picture with all the care one could ask for. Someone who should have allowed his heart to rust a long time ago, yet kept it polished and endured the pain so that he could keep it beating for others.
The man before him wasCheng Xiaoshi. His shoulders could only hang low on his torso, too tired for anything else. Without his clown smile, Lu Guang could make out the soreness in his expression, like something ground in a mortar and pestle over and over again. His eyes were weary and pyrite, a sick joke of the Cheng Xiaoshi Lu Guang had first. A paper-thin facsimile of the man who cried as another girl missed her parents’ cooking.
Cheng Xiaoshi, the one in front of him and the one in his memories, were one and the same.
Lu Guang took shuddering breaths.
How many times had they played this out?
How many times had they gone for noodles?
How many times had the sun set on this golden hour?
To wear down Cheng Xiaoshi to such apathy, who could be worth this truly endless torture?
Yes, Lu Guang wished to run.
“Lu Guang? Hey, Lu Guang!” Cheng Xiaoshi shook Lu Guang’s shoulder. Lu Guang felt an ill and sour satisfaction at a weak disturbance on Cheng Xiaoshi’s mask of apathy. All because he was worried about Lu Guang.
It made him sick.
“How many times?” He heard himself say.
Cheng Xiaoshi pulled away with Lu Guang’s question, giving him space. He wasn’t surprised. Lu Guang figured that Cheng Xiaoshi had heard that question many, many times.
Who? Who could be worth it?
Then a knife dug into his soul with a thought. But Lu Guang knew that thought was correct. That, all too soon, the mystery in this detective novel had revealed its horrible ending. Something no one liked.
“Let me put it this way: how many times have I died?” Lu Guang asked.
Cheng Xiaoshi didn’t say anything. Regret became him once more as he accepted this dive held nothing for him, anymore. The brittle hope this golden hour had brought was rusted and worthless. He covered his face with a hand, sinking to a hunched crouch.
He let go of Lu Guang's hand.
Cheng Xiaoshi pulled out his phone in preparation of another dive, and shadows vied for space on his face again. “One more time, then.” Cheng Xiaoshi chanted the words like a prayer he didn’t believe in, anymore.
Lu Guang grabbed Cheng Xiaoshi’s hand desperately. Once Cheng Xiaoshi went back, this time would cease. This time where Lu Guang knew Cheng Xiaoshi’s pain. He couldn’t let him dive. Not yet, at least.
Cheng Xiaoshi seemed afflicted with a dull ache, not a sharp pain, as if he’d grown used to this part of the script too. “It doesn’t matter if you smash it or try to stop me; I always find a way to come back again.” He had a bitter and brittle smile. ”But go ahead if it’ll at least make you feel-”
Lu Guang turned his hand over to grab Cheng Xiaoshi’s wrist. He yanked him up before wrapping his arms around him in an unyielding embrace.
At first Cheng Xiaoshi struggled. He must’ve thought this was a retaliation from Lu Guang, one that he hadn’t seen, yet. But Lu Guang held tight.
“Just calm down, would you?” Lu Guang muttered. “Please.” His voice broke.
“What are you doing?” Cheng Xiaoshi said, the edge of his voice cracking. “I’m telling you, it doesn’t matter what you do. I will always find a way to come back. I’ll rewind however many times it takes until you live. So don’t try and stop me; don’t- don’t lecture me about how I’m changing the past! You’re wasting both of our time, time that I have to spend figuring out how to save you. I know it’s wrong! I know it’s…” The tedium in his voice had given way to pain. “I’ll save you.”
His head slumped forward onto Lu Guang’s shoulder.
Lu Guang had asked, ‘how many?’, but when speaking in terms of the human mind, is there much difference between one thousand or one hundred thousand? The mind isn’t built to perceive such quantities. The mind isn’t built to live such quantities.
At first, he wanted to help Cheng Xiaoshi think of ways to save Lu Guang while subtly influencing him to stop this madness. But surely other iterations of him had already done those things, somewhere in another time. So what could he do now? In this small little space where the curtains were lifted and the lights were off and it seemed the two of them were on the same stage together again, facing down the same problem.
The answer was clear: simple novelty. So then, the question became what would be the last thing Lu Guang would do? The thing no other version of himself would ever act upon? A ray of novelty to save Cheng Xiaoshi for one more dive, at least.
Lu Guang didn’t have to think too hard. He found himself nervous.
“Then just this once, just on this dive,” Lu Guang muttered, hardly believing himself. “Let’s actually go for noodles.”
“What?”
“When’s the last time you had a good meal?”
“I don’t-”
Lu Guang stopped stalling. With Cheng Xiaoshi’s guard down, he cupped the man’s face between his hands. He tilted his head up to kiss him.
Lu Guang pulled away, catching and holding Cheng Xiaoshi’s gaze. And seeing it, he knew Cheng Xiaoshi was golden again, at least for another moment.
Though there were still eyebags accompanying eyes that had trouble focusing, and a face that had run out of expressions, and while virulent determination for his mission was still buried deep, his face finally displayed vibrant surprise. Like the haphazard weather of a sweltering summer at the ocean, or the rambunctious joy of impulsiveness, he shone with life. His mouth hung open, cheeks a blazing red, and eyes wide. He had never lived this before.
“Are you…really Lu Guang?”
Lu Guang found it in himself to chuckle.
“You’re asking me that? The one who’s wrapped up in some crazy Russian nesting doll of dives?”
Cheng Xiaoshi gave a half-laugh, and seemed shocked by the sounds that came out of his mouth. There were a million things to say, a million things he probably knew that Lu Guang didn’t, but he settled on saying “You always tell me to stop trying to change the past. That’s all you ever say.”
Lu Guang shook his head, dismissing it. For this hour, at least, Lu Guang would give Cheng Xiaoshi his aid.
Lu Guang walked out of the alley, looking behind and saying, “Come on. Before the restaurant gets too busy. You look like you haven’t eaten in decades-”
But before Lu Guang could step out of the alley, he felt Cheng Xiaoshi grab him, arms wrapping around him.
Lu Guang didn’t have the heart to struggle or to question Cheng Xiaoshi. “You’re gonna have to let go eventually,” he said, mirth somehow finding its way to his voice.
“Not yet,” Cheng Xiaoshi insisted, a creak in his voice. There was a sniffle. “Not yet.”
Eventually, the sun went down as the world insisted truth and fate to Cheng Xiaoshi once more, and so Cheng Xiaoshi dived once more.