#langcai

There was someone who used to be his ‘tail’.

It was not like that person was stalking him; no, it was not like that. That boy was not a stalker, thankfully. It was just that, whenever both of them met, that boy’s attention was always zeroed on Lang Junxia. That boy would look at him with sparkles in his eyes, but never really talked unless Duan Ling prompted him.

That boy would always be there with Duan Ling after school.

And then one day, Duan Ling–his charge, the little boy next door he had babysat for a long time ago–stood alone in front of the school gate with head lowered down. His eyes were puffy, his nose slightly red.

As if he had been crying for a long time, that day.

(and the truth was, he did)

(apparently, Duan Ling cried his eyes out when the news of his friend’s death was told by their class teacher)

(from that day on, Lang Junxia never saw that boy again)

.

.

“His name is Cai Yan,” Duan Ling started, a year after that day. Lang Junxia walked next to him, their destination somewhere unknown. “He was not a goody two shoes, and often lost his focus. It was like, he’s spacing out? Like looking at something invisible?” Duan Ling was not sure of himself. He halted his steps right before a gate, and then inhaled deeply.

While Duan Ling was busy preparing his own self, Lang Junxia looked up.

Above the gate, the cemetery’s name was carved.

This was that boy’s final resting place, according to information given by Duan Ling’s teacher.

They walked a little bit further until they found a photo of a familiar face.

Duan Ling talked a lot. He cleaned his friend’s grave. He put the bouquet of flowers in front of the black and white photo.

Lang Junxia, however, was staring at the ‘person’ sitting cross-legged next to the tombstone.

And that ‘person’, his head slightly tilted to the left, also stared back at him.

He was sitting close to Duan Ling, but Duan Ling could not even hear him saying, “You can see me?” at Lang Junxia.