Love Gene Defect - Chapter 8

Ji Zhaoyuan’s daily routine was usually regular, and he consistently slept well, but he couldn’t sleep that night.

Chu Jiuge had already fallen asleep. He held the pillow clamped between his legs, and his upper body was pressed tightly against Ji Zhaoyuan. His fine, soft curly hair occasionally brushed against Ji Zhaoyuan’s neck.

Kang Laili, a woman from his office, would always add a citrus fragrance containing borneol molecules to the communal diffuser whenever she stayed up late working overtime. She claimed it had a stimulating effect. Ji Zhaoyuan thought that the reason he couldn’t sleep was probably because of the ‘big orange’ beside him.

Chu Jiuge made a soft humming sound in his sleep and nudged closer to him, his warm breath tickling the hollow of his neck. Ji Zhaoyuan felt as if he’d fallen into a juicer full of fresh oranges. His brain, which had only just begun to feel slightly drowsy, became fully alert once again.

He glanced at the clock on the wall, feeling somewhat anxious. He pushed Chu Jiuge’s head away, then closed his eyes, forcing himself to enter short-wave sleep.

After the consistent tossing and turning, Ji Zhaoyuan’s biological clock was disrupted. When he woke up, he checked the time like usual: 6:25, five minutes later than his normal wake-up time.

There was also a more serious deviation from his routine than waking up late–someone was lying sprawled out beside him. Ji Zhaoyuan tried his best to suppress his discomfort, then stood and went to wash up.

Ji Zhaoyuan made breakfast: chicken broth tofu pudding, crisp cucumber salad and scallion egg pancakes. Chu Jiuge’s stomach was once again completely conquered. For the first time, he felt like he could understand the feelings of those girls online who passionately scream ‘I want to marry him!’ at their male idols.

So delicious, Chu Jiuge thought. Seriously…makes me want to marry him.

Last night, Chu Jiuge had watched Ji Zhaoyuan put the ingredients on a low heat to simmer just before bed. He watched as the man evenly mixed the coagulant with filtered soy milk. Ji Zhaoyuan then placed a large-holed, grid-patterned steamer rack on top, and, finally, put the marinated chicken on it.

It simmered slowly over the low heat. The savory chicken juices dripped down first. Then the chicken meat, which had been gradually broken down by the steam, fell shred by shred through the holes in the rack, mixing into the tofu pudding as it set.

For Chu Jiuge, the taste of the chicken broth tofu pudding had existed only in his childhood memories until now. At the gate of the large compound, an old vendor would push a small cart with a large insulated container mounted on the back. The children would fall over themselves, scrambling to snatch the last bowl.

“Ah,” Chu Jiuge let out a long sigh, somewhat nostalgic. “If only you’d sprinkled a little diced zhacai on top¹, then it’d be delicious enough to make me cry!”

“Why would you cry if it’s delicious?” Ji Zhaoyuan didn’t understand.

Yesterday, Chu Jiuge had briefly looked up autism, but he’d only just begun to vaguely understand what ‘being unaware of others’ emotions’ meant. It wasn’t just saying things bluntly, like he’d previously thought. Autistic people tended to understand words literally, judged based only on logic, and generally didn’t consider any symbolic meanings. They are often confused by proverbs, irony, figures of speech, innuendo and sarcasm.

Chu Jiuge didn’t think it was funny. He liked teasing Ji Zhaoyuan, liked seeing how Ji Zhaoyuan retorted with a cold expression, in a formal, bookish manner. Still, he didn’t want to make jokes about Ji Zhaoyuan’s difficulties.

He pursed his lips, summoning all of his lifelong language expertise to explain. “You know the phrase ‘tears of joy’, right? When you take an adjective and add cried after it, it just means super, super, super great. Great to the absolute limit. Like, for example, if I said ‘I’m handsome–cried’, it just means I’m very handsome. Or, for another example…”

Ji Zhaoyuan considered this for a moment, before saying, “You’re stupid–cried.”

Chu Jiuge was momentarily speechless, before he gave Ji Zhaoyuan a wry smile and a thumbs up. “Already applying what you’ve learned, huh? Smart–cried.”

The other man nodded slightly, accepting Chu Jiuge’s compliment with a blank expression.

Originally, Chu Jiuge had wanted to share a bit about his ‘glorious’ childhood with him, but he wasn’t in the mood anymore. He reluctantly licked the rim of the bowl. “Make this again tomorrow, okay? So delicious.”

“This is Tuesday’s breakfast.” Ji Zhaoyuan finished his meal, stood up and smoothed the wrinkles from his pants. “You do the dishes. The stew pot I used today is stainless steel–it came free with a purchase–so wash it with the rest.”

Chu Jiuge replied unenthusiastically, “O–kay–”

Ji Zhaoyuan glanced at his watch. “You have fifteen minutes. When you’re done, come upstairs and find me in the study.”

Later, Chu Jiuge got into the same Audi SQ5 as yesterday with practiced familiarity. He was lost in the music playing on his headphones, swaying to the beat, until Ji Zhaoyuan raised his voice to call his name for the second time. Only then did he react.

“What did you say?” Chu Jiuge asked, pulling down his headphones and looking at the other man.

“There are many restaurants around the campus; sort out lunch and dinner yourself.” Ji Zhaoyuan switched on the turn signal, slowing down and turning the corner. “Memorize this route so you can get home on your own after class finishes.”

Chu Jiuge twisted a lock of his fringe and lightly blew on it. “Can’t you just come pick me up?”
His nonchalant attitude slightly displeased Ji Zhaoyuan. “Why should I leave work early for you?”

“How should I know?” He shrugged. “Ask the you from yesterday.”

Ji Zhaoyuan, his face darkening, didn’t respond, as if he were angry at himself.

In contrast, Chu Jiuge seemed indifferent. He quickly raised his eyebrows, before sliding his headphones back on and continuing to listen to music.

The language school was run by a person of Chinese descent and was located on a quiet street. The storefront faced the road, a blue sign hanging down. It wasn’t much different from those quirky cram schools back in China.

The class that Ji Zhaoyuan enrolled him in was a small, yet expensive, one. Including Chu Jiuge, there were only five students in total.

The short boy sitting at the very front wore round glasses, seemed withdrawn and wasn’t talkative. Two girls sat side-by-side in the middle. The slightly chubbier one immediately came up on tiptoe trying to pinch Chu Jiuge’s face, which really annoyed him. The other girl looked quite shy, so he just smiled briefly at her and considered that introduction enough.

Chu Jiuge then noticed the Chinese boy at the back. The boy was wearing a light gray short-sleeved shirt and was silently reading his book. His left wrist was pressed against the edge of the desk, holding a dumbbell in that hand. This was an exercise that Chu Jiuge was pretty familiar with; his coach said that it could strengthen his wrist power, which was useful for ball control. Chu Jiuge, notoriously lazy, had only kept at it for a few days before letting it peter out.

He glanced down at the boy’s feet: KD8 EP².

Chu Jiuge walked over and patted his shoulder. “Hey man. You play basketball too?”

The boy was actually quite talkative, and they soon started chatting casually. He said his name was Qi Wei, he was the nephew of Teacher Zhang from the cram school, had just received an offer from UCLA, and was working there part-time during the holidays, helping Teacher Zhang, since he had nothing better to do.

“We have a game at the lakeside park this weekend,” Qi Wei said enthusiastically. “You should join us.”

Chu Jiuge seemed slightly embarrassed. “My English isn’t very good, so it’ll be pretty awkward playing with a bunch of foreigners.”

“Don’t worry about it. If you interact with people more and practice a bit, you’ll soon improve,” Qi Wei said with a smile. “Several of the guys on the team are of Chinese descent too. Besides, it’s not like you need to talk when playing ball.”

After casually asking Qi Wei what team he supported, they both discovered that they were die-hard Thunder fans. Just as they were about to bond over their animosity towards that bastard small forward who had suddenly been traded out of the team, Teacher Zhang entered, wearing low heels.

Qi Wei gathered his things quickly, then said in a low voice, “Okay then, I’ll give you a call when it’s game time.”

Chu Jiuge fist bumped him and nodded. “Okay.”

He hadn’t expected that he’d play the worst damn game of his life on the lakeside park basketball court. Chu Jiuge was pinned to the ground by the opposing team’s small forward and was beaten senseless. Qi Wei, aware that the situation was rapidly getting out of control, called the police.
For the second time that week, Ji Zhaoyuan left work early. Ji Zhaoyuan listened with a displeased expression as the police officer recounted the cause of the whole situation. Chu Jiuge watched, feeling that the other man was already impatient enough and was about to slam the documents into the officer’s face at any second.

But Ji Zhaoyuan didn’t.

Instead, he signed page after page, looking up only occasionally to shoot Chu Jiuge an icy glare. It wasn’t until Gris whistled nonchalantly that the fingers holding the pen began to tremble slightly.

“I was just teaching him a lesson. What about it?” Gris taunted, flipping Ji Zhaoyuan off.

Ji Zhaoyuan didn’t respond. He turned over two pages of the document he was holding and carefully re-read the requirements that would let him haul Chu Jiuge away.

[An immediate family member of the party involved refers to a person who is directly related to them by either blood or marriage.]

Since Ji Zhaoyuan didn’t respond, Gris became even more brazen. “Still going to sue me? Who are you to him, anyway?”
Ji Zhaoyuan looked at Chu Jiuge. He carefully capped his fountain pen and placed it on the desk. His expression didn’t change at all as he said, “Spouse.”

Looking back toward the officer, Ji Zhaoyuan handed him the signed documents. Then, he dragged out Chu Jiuge, who was squatting in the corner, completely dumbstruck.

After the prenuptial agreement was signed, Ji Zhaoyuan left with a cold, aloof stride, but Chu Jiuge slept very restlessly. The faces of Ji Zhaoyuan, Gris, his parents and the little old lady took turns appearing in his dreams, one after the other in quick succession. His head throbbed, as if overcrowded, and his neck was sore where the sofa dug into him.

Suddenly, something slightly cold brushed against his cheek, and he woke up instantly.

Ji Zhaoyuan stood before him, silhouetted against the light. His expression was the exact same sullen face he’d made in the dream. For a moment, Chu Jiuge struggled with distinguishing dream from reality. He blinked slowly, trying to clear his head.

In the ten days he’d been in California, Chu Jiuge had made friends, played basketball, been arrested, and even…gotten married.

The man in front of him handed him the object he was holding–the latest model iPhone. “New phone,” he said. “The SIM card is already installed.”

Although Chu Jiuge was aching all over and starving, as he cradled the phone all he could feel was gratitude. His dad had frozen his cards and transferred all the money directly to Ji Zhaoyuan, saying that he would manage it now.

Chu Jiuge was completely penniless now. Receiving a gift made him feel as if he were ready to pledge his body and soul to Ji Zhaoyuan in return.

No. He’d already pledged himself.

Chu Jiuge sniffed a few times, tilting his head back. “Thank you.”

“No need. It’s being deducted from your living expenses.”

¹. Pickled mustard stem.
². A specific model of Nike basketball shoe (Kevin Durant 8, EP version