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Zhao Xie Speaks -Day Eight - Afternoon and Evening

"Professor, you have a visitor," a grad student stuck her head in Zhou Zishu's open door.  He glanced up, frowning, from his work.

"Who?  A student? A Master?  Details, woman."  She grinned impishly.

"Hard to tell.  A man, gorgeous, young, business type.  Just asked for you."  He sighed.

"Send him in and shut the door.  Don't waste my time."  He stood to greet the unexpected guest and blinked in surprise when Zhao Xie entered the spacious room.

"I hope you might spare me a few minutes of your time," he hesitated.  He clasped the outstretched hand and pumped twice.

"Please, sit," offered Zhou.  "I'd be happy to talk to you.  May I offer you tea, or water?"  The other declined and they faced each other across the paper strewn desk.  Zhao cleared his throat.

"I came to you to break a confidence, or possibly more, because I care about someone deeply.  And I thought it might benefit you both to know some things about him."  He paused, uncertain and uncomfortable.

"That person being Wen Kexing," Zhou guessed.  He examined the miserable face, the restless hands.  "He's someone you love," he added gently.  Zhao swallowed and turned his face toward the window.  Sunshine highlighted the smooth cheeks and full sensuous lips.  Moisture glistened on the tips of long lashes.

"Yes," he agreed at last.  "But he never loved me.  He loves you.  We are just friends with benefits, as the saying goes."  He met the teacher's questioning gaze.  "But before I say anything, I need to be sure of one important fact from you."  He waited for a nod.  "Do you love him?  Truly love, not just desire.  Soul aching love."

"Yes, I do," stammered Zhou.  He hesitated to even articulate it.  "The overwhelming emotion surprised me, right from the moment I met him.  The first time I heard his voice, I cared unreasonably; but the more I saw of him, the greater my conviction that we belonged together."  His eyes closed as the longing for Wen raced through him.  How many hours until he held and kissed him?  Too long.  The other examined him closely and decided.

"I elected to share some of what I know about him, to make it easier for you both.  So much I learned through painful experiences.  You met his family, so imagine growing up in that atmosphere.  Trust comes hard for him.  No one loved him, growing up, except Lian, but they certainly abused him, either actively or by passive disregard.  They demanded obedience, perfection, and duty.  Never expressed any positive emotions, never praised.  He understands love and does feel it, but only for Lian, and possibly his mother-in-law.  He does have several close friends from school and his mentor, whom her reveres."  He stared out the window.  "The warmest thing he said to me was that he valued me as a friend.  If he could love, it would be me." 

He sat utterly sit, the fat tears escaping and tumbling to the downy cheeks, dripping from his chin unnoticed.  His throat worked, the knobby Adam's apple sliding down and up, breathing in little gasps, suppressing the sobs.  Zhou watched in silence, confused about what to say or do.  His throat ached in sympathy; companion tears leaked and slid down the side of his nose.  Nothing he thought about could ease the pain of the other man.  In time Zhao realized their plight and wiped his face with the back of his hands.  He retrieved a tissue from a pocket and tidied himself.

"Why are you revealing this? questioned Zhou.  The rejected lover regarded him steadily with his beautiful liquid eyes.

"Because I love him, and I tried to be what he needs.  I never can be.  But I think you are the person.  I recognized in the restaurant, the way you looked at each other.  I have dreaded meeting you for so long, and I wanted to hate you.  You and Kexing belong together.  And I believe that I will eventually find someone who loves me as I deserve.  So, I came to offer some advice.  Although he will feel it betrays his trust."  He smiled a little.  "He bites the inside of his mouth until it bleeds, when he spends time around his mother.  His way of repressing his anxieties.  He recognizes perfectionism as a way to gain approval and resists it, but it creeps in, as well as feeling inadequate.  That's a difficult balance.  His therapist encouraged him to voice his feelings.  He does, mildly, until they push his limits and then his frustrations boil over, and he speaks more forthrightly.  They act surprised and hurt, gaslighting him."  Zhou remembered the funeral.  At least he stood up for himself.