Beijing Comrades by Scott E. Myers

pursued a business major—management or something like that.”
    â€œBut even though you didn’t, you still get to be the boss now,” he said cheerfully.
    â€œOh, I’m pretty much just muddling along,” I said, trying to sound modest. I got up from the bed and walked to the other side of the room to grab a Chunghwa from the pack on the table. I lit it and turned around to face Lan Yu. He was still lying in bed, naked under the blankets and watching my every move. When I looked at him he averted his eyes, laughing softly as if he had been caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to. I took a deep drag off the cigarette. I needed to clarify a few things before we went any further.
    â€œLook,” I began. “You and I were brought together by fate. The only problem is that you’re so young I feel guilty for even getting to know you. In the West this kind of thing isn’t a big deal, but in China we can be prosecuted for hooliganism. What I’m trying to say is you have to be discreet. This is between you and me. Don’t go talking to other people about it. Also, there are no strings attached, okay? With this kind of thing, if we want to be together, fine. But if it doesn’t feel right for either of us, then it’s time to move on.”
    Lan Yu listened with absolute concentration. I was trying to figure out how much I needed to spell out and how much he would be able to figure out on his own. I continued.
    â€œThe truth is, if two people get to know each other too well, the whole thing starts to get embarrassing. I mean, two guys!” I laughed. I was trying to give him the hint that I didn’t want him taking the whole thing too seriously. He continued staring at me like some kind of schoolgirl in love for the first time, but said nothing.
    Lan Yu and I saw each other a few more times after that conversation, but it never progressed to anal sex. I didn’t want to pressure him, and besides, I knew that it would only be good if we both wanted it. I’m patient by nature and, in fact, the suspense only compounded my interest in him. He neverasked for money or talked about his financial situation, and I never inquired. One time, though, I asked Liu Zheng to give him a call to find out if he had enough money for the semester. Liu Zheng reported that between financial aid and tutoring gigs, Lan Yu was fine.
    He really was stunning to look at. Rapidly acquiring the seductive charm of a young man, his only shortcoming was his appalling attire. His clothes weren’t even up to speed with what Beijing guys were wearing in those days, and that wasn’t saying much. So when my ex-lover Min went to Hong Kong—we had stayed friends—I asked him to pick up a dozen or so articles of clothing in a specialty store that carried designs for young men. Beijing didn’t have those kinds of boutiques yet.
    It was after Min came back to Beijing that things with Lan Yu got ugly. One night when Lan Yu was over I told him to go look in the closet where I’d hidden the clothes from Hong Kong. He opened the bags and looked inside, then mumbled something I couldn’t make out. That was it—not so much as a thank you. The following morning he got up at six, saying he had class at eight. I offered to give him a ride, but he said not to bother, that taking the bus was just as fast. When I asked him to take the clothes with him, he hesitated for a moment, then briefly rummaged through the bags before pulling out a pair of jeans and a bluish-gray jacket. “I’ll get the rest later,” he mumbled. He seemed to be speaking more to the closet than to me.
    I sat up in bed watching this scene in amazement, asking myself whether Lan Yu was turning out to be more trouble than he was worth. This was only the fifth or sixth time I’d seen him but already I was beginning to notice a kind of aloofness about him. Something fastidious, difficult to please. An