Chapter 47
It is hard to say precisely what caused Yang Siguang to become so abnormal.
*
Perhaps it was because of his younger brother?
In certain aspects, young children are much like animals, constantly using various methods to establish their status within the family.
And the method his younger brother chose was to provoke and irritate Yang Siguang through all sorts of foolish antics.
His mother always remained indifferent or naturally biased toward the younger child. Even when the boy tore up the homework Yang Siguang had just finished and poured cola all over his textbooks, his mother would merely spare a quick glance at the silent man sitting in the living room, and then impatiently pull out two banknotes and hand them to Yang Siguang, telling him to go buy another copy.
"Your brother is still young..."
The boy would hide behind his mother's back, grinning broadly and making faces at Yang Siguang.
Yang Siguang said nothing.
*
Of course, it could also have been his schoolwork?
The teachers at school always held a subtle attitude toward Yang Siguang. During group project discussions, he seemed to be intentionally or unintentionally pushed out, becoming the only person left without a team. This was obviously a tricky annoyance for the teachers, causing the young instructor to instinctively frown whenever looking his way.
"Interpersonal relationships are also very important, Student Yang. If only one person is pushing you away, it might be their problem, but if everyone is pushing you away, perhaps you should consider whether the problem lies with you?"
"Oh, by the way, you dropped another seven places in this diagnostic exam..."
*
It could also... be Li Chen.
*
Ever since that conversation, Yang Siguang would frequently dream of that afternoon bathed in the crimson glow of sunset, dreaming of his own utter helplessness and the unfathomable expression of the child sitting on the steps.
Upon waking, he would feel distressed for a long time.
Yet high school was not that large; no matter how careful he was, encounters were inevitable.
A handsome, tall boy with exceptional grades was always the focal point of the crowd. Even knowing that the gentle smile hanging on those features was merely a polite disguise, the subtle sense of detachment emanating from his very bones made people flock to him all the more eagerly.
Yang Siguang was no exception.
He would unconsciously lurk in the shadows, secretly watching that person... except that he was truly terrible at peeping, and almost every single time, Li Chen would catch him red-handed.
And Li Chen would always pretend he had seen nothing at all.
His coldness toward Yang Siguang grew increasingly obvious—so obvious that ridiculous rumors even began to circulate in their grade.
The few friends Yang Siguang had were also gradually drifting away from him before he even realized it.
...
...
...
In short, by the time Yang Siguang snapped back to reality, something inside his body had completely mutated and rotted away.
And in the beginning, it was merely a misdelivered parcel.
Yang Siguang had originally thought it was a test prep booklet he had ordered, and had unthinkingly opened the lightweight cardboard box.
What met his eyes was a strip of narrow fabric, strange coarse ropes, and suspicious straps, which initially left Yang Siguang blankly bewildered. But like any adolescent boy, he quickly grasped the special purpose of these items without needing to be taught.
Yang Siguang had indeed thought about simply throwing those filthy, sordid things straight into the trash at the time...
Except that nobody was home that day.
*
Impelled by some mysterious urge, Yang Siguang's fingers brushed against that small patch of lace fabric, cheap to the point of transparency.
*
When wrapped in those soft fabrics, his skin grew exceptionally sensitive and shivering. His heart began to race wildly, pumping blood through his entire body, and as his skin grew hot, his entire field of vision seemed to darken. Black straps bound him tightly, leaving deep impressions on his sweat-dampened skin. It was not a comfortable sensation; at the time, he was far too inexperienced and could almost be said to have directly hurt himself. Yet the moment the sharp pain struck, his mind suddenly went completely blank.
Those formless things, things he could neither name nor explain even to himself, suddenly receded from his body.
All that remained lingering on his skin and limbs was the purest form of sensation.
The belt bound him tightly—a sharp sting at first, which gradually turned into numbness, followed by an even heavier, dull ache that washed over him in waves like the tide. His muscles began to tense and spasm uncontrollably, while those tiny pieces of lace, barely large enough to cover his palms, rubbed ceaselessly against his skin, bringing a fine, lingering, tender pain.
Of course, the most important thing had never been the physical sensation; that could hardly be called a pleasure at all.
On the contrary, because his first attempt was exceptionally clumsy and crude, Yang Siguang had hurt terribly.
Yet, inadvertently, he caught sight of himself in the full-length mirror.
Kneeling there was a dazed shadow, dressed in an exposed and vulgar manner.
His own shadow.
That figure possessed his face, yet looked like a cheap whore—so unfamiliar, so bizarre...
...and so alluring.
Yang Siguang had never known that the emaciated, pale flesh he so loathed could become so beautiful when wrapped in those straps and lace.
Wet and hot, radiating an intoxicating, warped charm.
That afternoon with the sound of cicadas ringing outside the window, his body grew exceptionally feverish, and he seemed to plunge headlong into a sudden, high fever. Dizzily lightheaded and with a muddled mind, as if possessed, he carefully scrutinized and played with his own familiar yet unfamiliar body in the mirror.
When Yang Siguang finally recovered his sanity, he found that his entire body was completely limp and exhausted.
In stark contrast to his extreme physical fatigue was his state of mind; his soul seemed to have melted away during the previous self-indulgence, stripping the dark, heavy burdens off into some corner he could no longer find.
*
Yang Siguang grew infatuated with this effortless sense of relief. Of course, he knew his behavior had completely strayed beyond the bounds of normal human rules. Or more accurately, he had turned into a pervert. That overly intense stimulation had struck him at the most inappropriate time, warping both his psychology and physiology.
He knew that continuing down this path would lead to disaster, but he could not rid himself of that toxic craving.
...
The only saving grace was that aside from those exposed lace garments and the fetish for tight binding, Yang Siguang had not the slightest interest in anything else.
He had never harbored the desire to expose himself, nor did he intend to engage in deeper interactions with anyone of the same sex.
All his joy was restricted to the locked room when no one else was home.
It was a tiny stress-relief game belonging solely to him in front of the mirror.
*
The only exception perhaps occurred a few years ago during a social mixer.
Amidst the drunken crowd, he spotted Li Chen at a glance, surrounded by people. The tall, handsome boy looked calmly at the delicate, pretty girl standing before him, accompanied by a large group of busybodies stirring up mischief.
Yet another public confession farce; Yang Siguang had already seen similar scenes countless times on the forums.
People around him giggled, half-jokingly and half-enviously remarking that Li Chen's suitors were as numerous as crossing carp, wondering who would finally manage to win him over.
Yang Siguang smiled and didn't join in.
He believed his heart was as still as stagnant water, entirely unruffled, yet he drank a bit too much that night. On the way home, as alcohol seemed to scorch his brain, Yang Siguang had no idea what came over him in the dead of night when everyone else was asleep; he stripped off his clothes in his room and put on the filthy, sordid straps buried deep in his wardrobe.
Then he took faceless photographs of himself and, amidst the swirling fumes of alcohol, used the secret alternate account he usually used to peer at Li Chen to send them to the other boy.
*
He would probably be cursed out as a pervert.
The next day, waking up with a hangover, Yang Siguang clutched his head with a pale face, staring at his phone for a long time before finally gathering the courage to unlock it.
His hands had been trembling violently while he was drunk, and the photos were taken quite hastily. In the blurry image, his skin looked like porcelain fired from a corpse's ashes, covered in a thin layer of moisture in the chilling night, beneath which lay intertwined ropes and the deep red marks they had left behind.
Thank goodness he had at least remembered to crop out his face.
Yet he could well imagine what sort of expression he would have worn had he been captured on camera—distorted, obscene, nauseating.
Looking at the words "sent successfully" on his mobile screen, he stood frozen as if plunged into an icy cave.
...
However, Li Chen gave no response whatsoever to that near-sexual-harassment message.
Yang Siguang spent an agonizingly long week in a daze, observing Li Chen with even greater care and dread than before.
The latter behaved exactly as usual, without the slightest change. It was only later that Yang Siguang realized, given Li Chen's popularity, things of that sort probably filled his inbox in abundance. The photos Yang Siguang had sent were merely an inconspicuous speck among countless harassing messages.
The only one affected, tortured to the verge of a breakdown by self-loathing, was Yang Siguang himself.
*
Later on, Yang Siguang went to the psychiatric department for new medication and deleted that alternate account.
He forced himself never to think of the matter again, and in truth, he had almost succeeded.
Until today.
He had begun performing under the gaze of another person.
This was his first time, and perhaps precisely because of that, he was wetter and hotter than ever before.
"Hey, do I look good?"
Staring into Li Chen's eyeballs, Yang Siguang asked with a silly giggle.
"..."
Silence.
The smile on Yang Siguang's face faded bit by bit.
"Do I really look like such a pervert..." He took a deep breath, straightened his posture, and muttered earnestly to that single eyeball.
"Though sometimes I think I'm quite pretty..."
"Ah, if it were you, you'd definitely find it disgusting."
...
In the quiet summer, only the recurring chirps of cicadas outside the window answered Yang Siguang's neurotic soliloquy.
[Not disgusting.]
[You are beautiful.]
Perhaps from staring too long, in a momentary trance, Yang Siguang's peripheral vision swept across the full-length mirror in the corner, and a strange shadow seemed to be reflected within it.
Yet there should only be himself in the room right now—
Yang Siguang suddenly shivered and whipped his head around to look at the mirror.
Everything was as usual.
The mirror showed only himself before the desk, pale-faced and red-eyed.
The cup by his hand was also normal, save for the bright, glaring eyeball belonging to someone else resting inside it.
The shadow he had just seen must simply have been the curtains swaying in a draft.
And that small fragment of Li Chen's corpse remained imprisoned by Yang Siguang inside the crude glass cup. Thinking of this, Yang Siguang suddenly felt a pang of cowardice, involuntarily averting his gaze from the stare of that eyeball.