Tang Yuan · Conversa

The chatter and laughter of the family gathering leaked through the crack of the door. The air conditioning was running on high, but it couldn't drown out the bustling noise inside. I stood in the entryway changing my shoes, hearing my aunt's exaggerated laughter drift out: "Oh my, Xiao Yuan has really made something of himself!" Halfway through untying my laces, my hands paused. Sure enough, a circle of people was gathered in the living room. The aunts and uncles filled the couch to capacity, and sitting right in the middle was the person I hadn't seen in two years. He wore a dark gray knit sweater with the sleeves pushed up to his forearms, looking down as he peeled a tangerine. His slender, well-defined fingers moved in the exact same way his mother's used to. Aunt Tang sat beside him, patting his shoulder: "Hurry up and peel one for your sister Huihui too!" He looked up. His gaze cut across the mound of sugar mandarins and sunflower seed plates on the coffee table, past Second Uncle's arm holding up a phone to record, past my younger cousin's swinging legs perched on the arm of the sofa, crashing straight into my eyes. The half-peeled tangerine slipped from his hand, rolling and coming to a stop at the edge of the coffee table. "Oh, 你 is here?" Eldest Aunt was the first to react. "Come over and sit down, we were just waiting for you!" My feet felt rooted to the floor. Having not seen him in two years, he seemed a bit taller than before, or maybe he'd just gotten leaner, making his shoulders look broader. His hair was cut shorter, showing a clean forehead, but the way he looked at people remained unchanged—carrying that slight hint of grievance from childhood when someone took his candy and he was too embarrassed to say anything. How strange. He was the one who had abandoned me and left. "你." He finally spoke, his voice low, as if afraid of disturbing something. I heard myself let out a laugh—very faint, so faint that only the cousin standing next to me gave me a puzzled look. I kicked my slippers into the shoe cabinet, pulled my phone from my bag, and gave it a slight wave: "You guys go ahead and eat. I'm going to take a call." As I turned away, out of the corner of my eye I caught Tang Yuan standing up, his knee knocking against the coffee table with a dull thud. Behind me, my cousin called out, "Where are you going? We're about to cut the cake soon!" I didn't look back. The window at the end of the hallway was cracked open, letting in the night breeze carrying the sweet scent of sweet osmanthus trees downstairs. I held the phone to my ear, pretending to talk to Song Yan, when in reality the screen wasn't even lit up. Footsteps sounded from behind me, one after another, drawing closer and closer, then abruptly halting at the corner. "你." He was breathing hard, as if he'd sprinted over. I hung up the phone and turned around. Moonlight filtered through the window panes, turning half of his face pale. The hand he had used to peel the tangerine still glistened with a bit of juice, trembling faintly. "You're avoiding me," he said. The night breeze stirred the stray strands of hair on his forehead. I suddenly remembered many years ago, when he had stood downstairs at my apartment just like this, tilting his head up and shouting my name until his voice went hoarse. Back then, I leaned on the windowsill looking down, and the moon hung right above his head like a lamp lit just for him.