Translator: HillarybyHillary
Editor: Eric Rasputin
Quality Check: Isalee
First Published on Chaleuria
“Don’t go…” Zhang Zhun suddenly called out, “Don’t go!”
Surprised by Zhang Zhun’s pleading tone, Chen Hsin hesitantly turned back, yet his eyes still held the same look of blatant adulation from a year ago. Zhang Zhun was helplessly drawn in, his limbs felt numb, and his heart pounded like it was about to jump out from his chest as he took giant strides toward Chen Hsin. Just like a taut string stretched to its limit or an arrow on the verge of release, Zhang Zhun trembled as he rushed toward his final destination — his home1. At that moment, they heard loud voices coming from the corridor. It seemed like someone was singing their praises and passionately discussing the film plot. The audience must have been filing out of the theater during the half-time break.
Five reporters came into the corridor one after another. Their press badges and cameras were a dead giveaway. When the reporters saw that they stumbled across the two main leads, they quickly began adjusting their lens and proceeded to take numerous pictures of the two. Not long after, more people walked in — several of whom were well-known film critics. They immediately made their way over to shake Chen Hsin’s hand and began chatting with him amicably. But surprisingly, the film critics paid more attention to Zhang Zhun than the renowned ‘King of the Silver Screen’ standing right next to him. They took the initiative to greet him and praise him endlessly, “Zhang-laoshi, you’re so beautiful. You’re not only our greatest surprise this year but also the greatest surprise of the entire Chinese film industry!”
Zhang Zhun was stunned. Suddenly, he was bum-rushed by a group of enthusiastic and unfamiliar faces. Zhang Zhun became flustered as he didn’t see a way out. Just as he was looking for a lifeline, he spotted Chen Hsin between tightly packed shoulders giving him a light smile before stubbing out his cigarette, clearly about to leave.
“Don’t go!” Zhang Zhun called out recklessly. The smoking room instantly became silent.
Chen Hsin turned back with a look of confusion. Surrounded by all these people, he had no other choice but to act indifferent, “Don’t worry, we’ll talk when we get back to our seats.”
When he saw that Chen Hsin insisted on leaving, Zhang Zhun instantly pushed the so-called ‘professional critics’ aside and ran after Chen Hsin. “Chen Hsin!” Zhang Zhun called out again as he loosened his tie, unbuttoned his top button, and pulled something out from around his neck. He lifted the object up to eye level as he choked out, “Am I too late?”
A platinum chain swayed in the air like a pendulum, on the end of the chain was a small pendant that shone brightly in the light. Chen Hsin recognized it. Of course he did, since he had picked it out himself after all. Without looking, he knew the delicate line engraved on the inside of the ring: “Tiger in My Love.”
“Am I too late?” Zhang Zhun asked again, this time more desperately than the last. Chen Hsin locked eyes with the other man in astonishment, watching as tears welled up in those big and timid eyes and fell freely down his cheeks. This scene was so picturesque that they would break down in tears for no reason if one were to see it.
Chen Hsin scanned the room nervously. He knew he should’ve given an ambiguous answer, or at least considered the many eyes watching them, but at that moment, he couldn’t help but answer honestly. “No,” he said with a kind of excitement like he was about to get everything he ever wanted. “No, you’re not!”
Zhang Zhun rushed toward Chen Hsin without a second thought, grabbing him by his bow tie as he pulled the other man in to meet him halfway. Their lips violently and painfully clashed together before slowly morphing into a sweet and passionate kiss. Chen Hsin held the man in his arms as if he was holding onto his most prized treasure. Like a blind or deaf man, he couldn’t see or hear anything except his lover’s voice and exquisite features. The world continued to turn, and the universe continued to turn. But even with the numerous camera flashes going off around them, all they cared about was holding the other person in their arms. Subtly, the elegant tune of the ending song being played by an orchestra drifted into the room.
The credits rolled through the screen in the theater — thanking the production team, director, actors, etc. Lastly, two words — styled like the silent film era — filled the large screen:
-The End-
***
“Am I too late?” Zhang Zhun asked again, this time more desperately than the last. Chen Hsin locked eyes with the other man in astonishment, watching as tears welled up in those big and timid eyes and fell freely down his cheeks. This scene was so picturesque that they would break down in tears for no reason if one were to see it.
Chen Hsin scanned the room nervously. He knew he should’ve given an ambiguous answer, or at least considered the many eyes watching them, but at that moment, he couldn’t help but answer honestly. “No,” he said with a kind of excitement like he was about to get everything he ever wanted. “No, you’re not!”
Zhang Zhun rushed toward Chen Hsin without a second thought, grabbing him by his bow tie as he pulled the other man in to meet him halfway. Their lips violently and painfully clashed together before slowly morphing into a sweet and passionate kiss. Chen Hsin held the man in his arms as if he was holding onto his most prized treasure. Like a blind or deaf man, he couldn’t see or hear anything except his lover’s voice and exquisite features. The world continued to turn, the universe continued to turn. But even with the numerous camera flashes going off around them, all they cared about was holding the other person in their arms. Subtly, the elegant tune of the ending song being played by an orchestra drifted into the room.
The credits rolled through the screen in the theater — thanking the production team, director, actors, etc. Lastly, two words — styled like the silent film era — filled the large screen:
-The End-
Fang Chi placed the book down. He wasn’t sure whether it was because the book was too touching or if the pain was too much to bear, but the corner of his eyes was slightly damp. Lowering his head, Fang Chi watched as the Latin American tattoo artist skillfully maneuvered the electric tattoo needles around his pubic bone.
“Have you finished?” Gao Zhun asked, briefly glancing up to look at the other man. He was also lying on a bed next to Fang Chi, reading another copy of the same book. His trousers sat low on his hips, revealing the top of his ass as another white tattoo artist worked delicately on his pale skin.
Fang Chi nodded, then asked, “Where are you up to?”
“Nearly done,” Gao Zhun replied, then frowned deeply as a sudden sharp pain pulsed at the base of his spine. Droplets of blood oozed from the intricate lines on his lower back while the tattoo pen hummed evenly and a faint burning smell swirled the air around them. After the discomfort faded, Gao Zhun added, “Zhang Zhun is such a coward.”
“You wouldn’t say that when you’ve finished reading it.” Fang Chi’s eyes followed along the exposed curve of Gao Zhun’s back down to the top of his ass. He loved it when Gao Zhun lay in this position, leisurely lazing there with his waist curved down and his plump buttocks seductively curved up. “But I really like him,” said Fang Chi.
“I think Chen Hsin is better,” Gao Zhun commented before he noticed Fang Chi’s line of sight. He quickly glanced at the two tattoo artists, then looked back at Fang Chi as he scolded, “What are you looking at? You pervert.”
The corner of Fang Chi’s lips curled up as he asked, “I’m a pervert?”
Embarrassed by Fang Chi’s teasing, Gao Zhun ignored his question and instead said, “Go tell your friend that she hasn’t written you truthfully.”
“That’s because she spent all her effort on you.” Fang Chi looked over with a gentle and loving expression. “She cried so many times as I told her our story, and every time it was for you.”
Gao Zhun blinked a few times. Some subjects were too heavy to bring up; he didn’t want to relive that pain again so he consciously avoided getting near it and swiftly changed the subject. “Taiwan really is better. Even books like this can be published over there.” He flipped through the pages aimlessly. “It’s so detailed though… Did you tell her all that too?”
Obviously, Fang Chi felt a little guilty as he smiled widely and said in a flattering manner, “No, that was all her creative imagination.”
Another sharp pain throbbed at the top of Gao Zhun’s ass, causing a low groan to slip from his lips. His eyes teared up unwillingly as he turned back to aim a fierce look at the tattoo artist. The way Gao Zhun looked at that moment was like a beautiful yet torn lotus, or a dainty falling snowflake. Fang Chi got a little excited by the alluring sight before him.
“Hey man!” The Latin American tattoo artist stopped the machine at once and raised his hands above his head helplessly. He clumsily jumped up from his small round stool and said carefully, “Cool down, okay?”
The white towel draped over his lower body had tented — Fang Chi was hard.
When the Latin American tattoo artist saw that he wouldn’t be able to continue for a while, he went to the long table in the corner of the room to pour himself a cup of coffee. He leaned against the edge of the table and sipped away slowly.
Fang Chi blushed from ear to ear as he glanced at Gao Zhun embarrassingly. Gao Zhun was also a little embarrassed as he bit his lips trying to suppress a smile.
The atmosphere was a little awkward. No one spoke and only the regular humming of the tattoo needles could be heard. Suddenly, the other tattoo artist who had been concentrating on his work chuckled and said without lifting his head, “This is an open world my friends, don’t be shy!”
“Don’t be shy.” The words resounded in their heads as Fang Chi and Gao Zhun exchanged glances. It wasn’t clear who gave the signal first, but the two started to lean toward each other as if they had come to a mutual understanding. With a one-meter distance between them, their lips met in the middle and turned into a passionate and lingering kiss.
The unfinished tattoos stretched with their bodies. Although it wasn’t complete, it was clear what the colorful penmanship was aiming to recreate. On Fang Chi’s hip was the character ‘Zhun,’ and on Gao Zhun’s back was the character ‘Chi.’
The book slipped off the bed and hit the floor with a light thud. The plain cover faced up as a light breeze from the window flipped over the first pages to land on the title page. The novel’s title was printed vertically2 on the baby blue cartridge paper — Deep in the Act.
Footnotes:
- Home/A place to return to – (归宿) The metaphor used here compares Zhang Zhun to an arrow. He is rushing towards his ‘home’ like an arrow released from its bow — it can only fly toward one specific destination. Here, the word ‘home’ holds a more profound meaning than the traditional character for ‘home.’ It connotes somewhere you will always return to, a final destination.
- Traditional Chinese (as well as Japanese and Korean) literature is written vertically from top to bottom and right to left, with each new paragraph starting to the left of the preceding one.