CH 53.2

A while later, Bai Yao asks, “why is he scared of you?”

The sounds in the room die down even further, leaving only the ticking clock’s tocks.

“The argument I had with him was intense. I said things I could not take back,” Mu Yi pauses before continuing, “I suppose he’d… hate me.”

As for what things he could not take back, Mu Yi does not explain.

Instead, he continues, “you want to know why I argued with him.”

A statement. Not a question.

Bai Yao shrugs, “not really. I don’t really think Mu’er hates you. That’s not how he is; it’s much more likely he just doesn’t remember you anymore.”

He leans back on the sofa and grabs a pack of cigarettes. He bites on one before asking, “you don’t mind?”

Mu Yi glances at the pack itself, but says nothing. Instead, he retrieves a silver pack from his own pocket. It’s clearly a high-class product that one would not use unless they have some deep-seated grudge with money.

Mu Yi grabs one, and asks, “can I borrow your lighter?”

Bai Yao smiles, and lights Mu Yi’s cigarette for him.

The faint smell of nicotine fills the air. The white whiffs of smoke roll and combine, until they disappear after rising to the ceiling.

After he’s smoked half of his cigarette, Mu Yi says, “don’t smoke too much. It’s bad for your lungs,” then he continues smoking, and exhales slowly, “our parents divorced when we were still young. Our mother got our custody. When I was nineteen, she was diagnosed with cancer. She left us less than two years later.”

Bai Yao is a little surprised, and he looks up and down the man sitting opposite him on the sofa once more.

Sentient beastkin have been generally unwilling to look for another of their kind to reproduce. First, they need to find the same species as they are, rare as it already is; and second, their children will be a sentient beastkin just like they are, and so they will also have to live with and hide the secret.

The beastkin are much more willing to look for human partners instead, because then, at least their own children will be normal. They can live in human society without fear that their most important secret will be revealed.

This means that in the rare case that two sentient beastkin of the same species married, they would seldom divorce. Most will be with each other for life until death.

The world is a harsh place for those that stand out. Never mind ‘humans’ that are merely anthropomorphised from their original animal forms.

With divorces already unheard of, it’s only more absurd that such a family divorced while they already had two children.

Of course, Bai Yao is not in a position to cast judgement from the simple sentence on either Mu Mu’er’s parents or anyone else.

“My younger brother has always been very well-behaved, except one thing. He really loves his original form. Whenever and wherever, if I don’t keep an eye on him, he’d turn back into his sea otter form. It’s been this way from his infancy to his teenage years,” Mu Yi is smiling as he recounts.

His smile isn’t as infectious as Mu Mu’er’s. It’s quite restrained, with only the slightest hint of curving motion at the corner of his mouth and eyes. Still, it softens his colder features quite a lot.

“I’ve always felt that I wasn’t caring for a younger brother, but a sea otter pet instead. I have to keep him hidden, too, if I don’t want something like PETA knocking on my doors to take him away.”

Bai Yao couldn’t help but chuckle a little at the description here. Mu Mu’er hasn’t changed at all after all these years. He’s still a simple, sweet soul who doesn’t care how others would see him.

It’s true that, for them, it’s the most comfortable to be in their original animal forms; yet, most sentient beastkin will only dare to transform without a care in the world when they are very young. When they grow up, they soon learn that they are discriminated and even in danger if they reveal their original forms to different people. They find themselves discouraged, and they begin to dissociate and dislike the act. They try to be human, just like everyone else around.

In fact, when some sentient beastkin spend enough time living as humans, they slowly forget about their animal origins after many years pass. The secret lies buried deep within their memories.

Mu Mu’er is an adult, but he still transforms without caring for what the world thinks. Of course, his mental capacity may play a role here, but even so, the frankness is quite valuable and moving.

“He often transforms into a sea otter and lies on the door of my room to give me a shock. When I tell him not to, he acts like he doesn’t understand, and keeps making sea otter ‘aroo’ noises to argue,” Mu Yi turns the glass in his hand, “it’s really troublesome to care for a younger brother, but I would give anything in the world to keep being his older brother.”

“He’s all that I have left.”

Mu Yi’s glass is empty. Bai Yao pours for him.

He thought he knew Mu Mu’er quite well after two months’ cohabitation. He knows when he likes to sleep, what colours are his favourite, which kinds of seafood are his favourite and which animals he’s scared of.

Now, though, he’s hearing of a completely different side of the story from who is basically a complete stranger. Now, Mu Mu’er is no longer a simple, childish sea otter in his mind. He also has his own family, his own world, and people who are willing to protect him as family outside of himself.

Also, he never knew that there would be someone who unequivocally knows more about Mu Mu’er than he does.

He didn’t even know Mu Mu’er’s real name. How many more things are there that he doesn’t know about?

Bai Yao flicks his cigarette in the ashtray. He continues looking at the man opposite him through the smog wafting through the room, and finally asks, “why did you argue?”

After asking, he leans back on the sofa again, and spreads his long legs out.

Mu Yi remains silent and hesitant for a very long time before finally answering. He is looking elsewhere when he speaks, much lower in tone than before.

“One day before Mu Mu’s birthday, he told he he wants a present. He never asked me for anything in the past, so I agreed without the slightest delay,” Mu Yi then leans forward to snuff out the cigarette in the ashtray, “I asked him what he wanted, but he said he has to tell me something first.”

Mu Yi’s eyes are looking at the wall, but also not. They’re unfocused.

An impatient Bai Yao is almost on the verge of asking when Mu Yi finally continues.

“He told me he likes boys. He can’t change, he doesn’t want to change. He wants to look for a boyfriend in the future.”

“I’m not sure how exactly I felt back then. Maybe, disappointment,” Mu Yi’s tone sinks even further. He sounds slightly regretful, “in the heat of the moment, I said something. It was quite ugly what I said in the end, I told him to… leave. He pushed me away, ran outside, but I did not go after him.”

Mu Yi pauses, and grabs the glass, then empties it in one go.

The bitter alcohol flushing into his stomach does not make him flinch the slightest.

“If only I went after him. Why didn’t I do it?” His smile turns as bitter as his drink, “I waited the whole night for him. And the next day, and the day after that. He didn’t come back. I was looking for him, but I couldn’t find him. I called the police, sent everyone I could to look for him, but no one could find him.”

“I know I’m a bastard. I know.”

“Really, what he wanted… So what? It’s just a gender.”

“He’s my younger brother. I accept him, whatever his preferences.”

Mu Yi is finally looking back at Bai Yao with a complicated expression. Perhaps, he’s looking to see if Bai Yao would begin chastising him, or his younger brother.

But Bai Yao thinks that he’s finally said something sensible. So what if he likes boys? Like is like, regardless of gender or biological sex.

Maybe it’s a simple urge to express; maybe Bai Yao really feels like seeing Mu Yi’s cold and distant expression twist into something else. He makes a slightly playful smile, and pulls his cigarette out, holding it with his fingers, saying, “what a coincidence. Just like your younger brother, I also like men.”