Chapter Two: The Lonely Undead (Part One)

A barrage of furious knocks wrenched Shi Jun from his deep, sweet slumber. When he opened the door, to his surprise, it was Hu Hai. Shi Jun couldn’t help but ask in amazement, “Aren’t you supposed to be with that pretty girl? What brings you here?”

Hu Hai strode in, brimming with indignation. “If you didn’t open up, I was about to call the police!”

Shi Jun yawned, his eyes still heavy with sleep as he joked, “Didn’t know you missed me this much.” He shuffled leisurely back to his bedroom, switched on his computer with a click, and only then wandered lazily to the washroom to wash up.

Hu Hai followed closely, silent, startling Shi Jun. “Is something wrong with you?”

“That’s what I should ask!” Hu Hai retorted. “Where have you been these past couple of days? You skipped class, your phone was off, and when I went to your classroom, no one had seen you. I thought something happened to you, so I rushed over as soon as class ended—only to find you hibernating like a bear!”

“Don’t exaggerate,” Shi Jun rolled his eyes. “What do you mean, a couple of days? My phone just ran out of battery, and since I couldn’t reach you, I just came home. It’s not like I’d stay in a monastery forever. I just took a nap. What time is it anyway?” He poked his head out and glanced at the clock in the living room. “It’s only been a few hours since dusk… I’m starving; let’s head out for something to eat in a bit.”

“A few hours?” Hu Hai stared in disbelief at Shi Jun, whose mouth was still foamy with toothpaste. “Do you even know what day it is? It’s Tuesday! So after coming down the mountain, you skipped class and just slept for two days straight?”

“…”

How could that be? Hadn’t he only gone to Mount Shura this morning? He hadn’t even been that tired—no reason to sleep for so long for no reason… Shi Jun sensed something was off, but couldn’t put his finger on it. A faint unease stirred in his heart—something wasn’t right—but he couldn’t say exactly what. He had an inkling it might have something to do with the enigmatic Chan Zhen monk he’d met on Mount Shura.

Yet Shi Jun was not the sort to easily voice his innermost thoughts, especially when he himself wasn’t sure of them. So the words stalled on his lips and he swallowed them back.

* * *

Both Shi Jun and Hu Hai were freshmen, majoring in Civil Engineering and Architecture at a renowned technical institute in the city. Shi Jun commuted—his home was nearby and he wasn’t fond of crowds. After all, the campus was teeming with people, and he was too lazy to spend time figuring out who was who. It was easier to leave right after class and enjoy his freedom.

Hu Hai’s family was from another city. He, too, was used to a free-spirited life, so instead of living in the school dorms, he rented an apartment off-campus—he claimed it was to facilitate his gaming. The two of them were in the same department but different classes; initially, they didn’t know each other. But both loved online games, especially “StarCraft,” and they often played all night together. As time passed, they became close friends, later teaming up for “Diablo” and other games, their cooperation seamless, and thus their bond deepened.

Though Hu Hai was a few months older, Shi Jun seemed more mature and steady, while Hu Hai was enthusiastic and impulsive. When together, it was easy to mistake Shi Jun as the elder of the two.

Shi Jun grew up in a single-parent household—he had never known his father. His mother, Qin Xiaoya, was an emergency room doctor at the municipal hospital, always busy saving lives. Mother and son depended on each other. Qin Xiaoya never spoke of Shi Jun’s father, and as he grew older, Shi Jun wisely stopped asking—who wants to revisit old wounds? Perhaps that was why his mother became so reserved, pouring her energy into work and never mentioning matters of the heart.

Day in and day out, his mother worked late, as if at war. Shi Jun often felt a deep sympathy, yet never knew how to help. He loved his mother dearly, though both were reserved in expressing their feelings and cared for each other quietly, seldom showing it openly.

* * *

Even after pondering for a long time, Shi Jun couldn’t figure out why he’d slept for so long without reason. Was it just an unusual bout of oversleeping? Did it have anything to do with that Chan Zhen monk? He even considered visiting Fo Guang Temple, but dismissed the thought—perhaps it was all just a coincidence. After all, life is full of such accidents, and oversleeping was no big deal. Why make a fuss over nothing?

In the following months, Shi Jun’s life returned to its tranquil routine: classes, games, soccer, home—everything utterly normal. Nothing strange happened again, and the odd incident faded into a sealed corner of his memory.

Hu Hai, on the other hand, had become secretive and often disappeared. Only later did Shi Jun learn the truth: Hu Hai had found love—somehow, he’d succeeded in wooing Chen Ya. The two were inseparable, a pair of lovebirds, which left Chen Ya’s many former suitors gnashing their teeth in envy. Chen Ya, once the aloof goddess, now wore a perpetual smile of happiness and clung to Hu Hai like a devoted little bird. Their romance was so intense that Hu Hai even frequented internet cafés less and less, all to spend more time with her. When he did visit Shi Jun, it was usually with Chen Ya in tow, the two of them shamelessly displaying their affection.

Seeing this, Shi Jun wisely left them to their own devices, choosing instead to stay home and browse the internet alone, not intruding on their world of two.

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The days slipped by in quiet monotony, and the weather grew steadily warmer. The school soon let out for summer, and Shi Jun’s birthday approached.

* * *

August 13th marked Shi Jun’s eighteenth birthday—a date that always puzzled him. His mother, Qin Xiaoya, was usually indifferent to such occasions, never even celebrating her own birthday. Yet she paid exceptional attention to her son’s birthday, treating it as if preparing for battle.

For as long as he could remember, every birthday was spent confined at home—windows and doors sealed, and Shi Jun forbidden to go out. Fortunately, his birthday always fell during summer break; otherwise, he’d have to make up excuses to skip school.

To keep Shi Jun from sneaking out, Qin Xiaoya, who never took a day off for anything, would always arrange to be home for his birthday, keeping him company all day, never letting him out of her sight. Luckily, Shi Jun wasn’t especially mischievous and could amuse himself at home with TV and games, even if he never got a reason for this peculiar ritual.

Thus, every birthday felt to Shi Jun like a luxurious prison sentence—he’d sleep in, read, watch TV, while his mother—having prepared all his favorite foods the day before—would busy herself cleaning, washing, dusting as if it were a family cleaning day, never taking her eyes off her son, watching him with a mixture of intensity and evasiveness.

Shi Jun noticed all this every year, finding it both puzzling and amusing, though he pretended not to know.

* * *

This year was no exception. On August 13th, Qin Xiaoya prepared all her son’s favorite dishes and set them on the dining table. She glanced outside at the heavy clouds threatening rain, silently praying that the day would pass safely and uneventfully.

She tiptoed to her son’s bedroom, paused, and listened—he was breathing evenly, fast asleep. A wave of tenderness washed over her, and smiling to herself, she quietly set about her chores.

Shi Jun was already awake, but didn’t want to get up—with no class and no chance to go out, why not stay cozy in bed?

Last night, Hu Hai had called. The guy, smitten with his girlfriend, hadn’t even gone home for the holidays, instead flying—at Chen Ya’s expense, of course—to Xishuangbanna with her.

Their relationship seemed to be progressing fast, but Shi Jun remained skeptical. He believed Chen Ya’s sudden change in attitude toward Hu Hai was entirely motivated by money—

Hu Hai’s parents, it turned out, were among the first wave of intellectuals to make their fortune in Shenzhen in the 1980s, now multimillionaires and, rumor had it, the heads of a listed company. No one, including Shi Jun, had known this until after the Mount Shura trip, when Hu Hai’s parents visited the city—ostensibly for a business acquisition, but mainly to see their son. At school, they happened to run into one of their business partners, who was also the father of Shi Jun’s classmate, Hong Tian. Thus, Hu Hai’s “princeling” status was revealed. From then on, Chen Ya’s demeanor changed overnight from proud princess to gentle companion.

Last night on the phone, Hu Hai gleefully recounted his day’s highlights, repeatedly emphasizing the touching moment when Chen Ya “especially” and “personally” picked out a jade Buddha pendant for him as a token of her affection.

“Well, that’s just acting on expectation,” Shi Jun had laughed.

“You’ve got no sense of romance! This is true love—priceless!” Hu Hai protested.

“I think you’re pretty easy to buy off. Anyway, I don’t understand love. Just be careful,” Shi Jun replied.

Thinking of this, Shi Jun sighed. Hu Hai was simply too naïve, seeing everything in black and white. Then again, was Shi Jun really any better?

Sometimes, he didn’t like his own pessimistic view of human nature and wished he could believe in the reality of all those beautiful ideals. In fact, Shi Jun’s own experiences had been mostly positive—even without a father, he’d grown up without much emotional baggage. Yet, for some reason, he was allergic to sentimentality, developing what his mother called a “passive and pessimistic” outlook on life.

---

Though this gray mood was always cloaked in a mask of cynicism, it inevitably showed in subtle ways—the ever-so-slightly upturned corner of his mouth, as if in a perpetual, mocking half-smile, signaling a cool detachment and lack of enthusiasm. Why was this so? Who could say.

One thing was certain: Hu Hai was his friend, a good man, and Shi Jun didn’t want to see him hurt. But who could predict matters of the heart? Hu Hai had clearly “fallen in,” and Shi Jun doubted it would end well, but knew there was nothing he could do.

* * *

After these tangled thoughts, Shi Jun reluctantly crawled out of bed and glanced at the gloomy sky, feeling even more listless. He considered opening the window, but remembered his mother’s stern warning the night before—no opening doors or windows today. She was surely already busy in the living room, keeping a watchful eye on his every move; better to behave.

Suddenly, there was a loud crash from outside, followed by his mother’s muffled groan. Alarmed, Shi Jun rushed out of his room in three quick strides.

Qin Xiaoya lay on the floor, clutching her lower back, cursing her luck. On such an important day, why had she decided to stand on a stool to remove the curtains for washing? One careless slip, and she’d fallen, straining her back…

She tried to get up, suppressing the pain, worried her son would hear, but the effort only made her collapse again.

Shi Jun, seeing this, was alarmed. He quickly helped his mother onto the sofa. Having learned some home remedies from her, he fetched a cold towel for her back and dug out the family’s medicine box to apply ointment.

Despite Shi Jun’s insistence, Qin Xiaoya refused to go to the hospital, agreeing only to rest on the sofa—she dared not return to her bedroom, afraid her son might sneak out if she wasn’t watching.

“Oh, come on, what would I be sneaking out for at a time like this? You really are too much!” Shi Jun joked, handing her the TV remote. “Just take the opportunity to rest today—let me handle the chores, unless you think I’ll mess them up.” Seeing his mother wasn’t seriously hurt, Shi Jun relaxed and set about the housework.

“Brush your teeth and wash your face before you do anything else. There’s time to eat before chores,” Qin Xiaoya said gently.

“Hm? Good point!” Shi Jun scratched his head, flashed a smile at his mother, and went to wash up.

“He’s just like him,” Qin Xiaoya thought, watching her son’s back, her eyes suddenly moist for no reason.

The day passed without further incident. In the evening, Shi Jun helped his mother to bed before retreating to his own room.

The sky had been overcast all day, but not a drop of rain had fallen. Even with the fan on, his room was stifling; the heavy humidity pressed down oppressively. Shi Jun’s allergy to air conditioning was severe, so even in summer, no matter how hot, he never used it.

So he opened the window and sat at his desk—each birthday, he always felt chest tightness and a pounding heart, but had no choice but to endure in the nearly sealed house for his mother’s sake. This time, since she was asleep, he figured she wouldn’t know if he opened the window.

For him, nighttime was always the most pleasant and free. Alone in the dark, he could enjoy the tranquility, fragrance, and embrace of the night, as if the whole world belonged to him, everything so effortlessly comfortable. Outside, it felt as if something was calling to him, as if he could sense a mysterious connection to some unknown, otherworldly force.

But he had no idea what lay behind his mother’s unusual concern every year on his birthday, nor what opening the window tonight might signify.

With the strong beat of his heart, this leisurely, peaceful life drew to a quiet close as his eighteenth birthday arrived.