Page 95 of From Beijing, With Love

“Yangyang,” his dad mumbled as Yang sat him down in bed. “I just want what’s best for you. You … you know that, right?”

Yang gave that drunken question more thought than it rightfully deserved. He sat down on the edge of the single bed, the springs creaking under his weight. “You want what you think is best for me.”

His dad wanted him to be a certain way, to meet certain expectations. And for his whole life, Yang had done the right things and stayed on the right path. He’d worked hard and stayed in line. He’d hidden his differences like they were mistakes—defects in how he was built. He’d allowed himself to be erased. But by permitting that erasure—by actively participating in it—in the name of serving his family and his career, he’d been left with bastardized versions of both that weren’t worth fighting for.

Did he really want a career that demanded so much when he wasn’t even doing the research that truly mattered to him? And did he really want a family that didn’t want the real him?

“I just want you to be happy,” Ba said with a sigh.

Yang knew that to be true despite everything, but it didn’t make it better. Far from it.

How can you be happy if you can’t be yourself? The voice inside Yang’s head sounded a lot like Daniel. It was the type of thing Daniel would say, and he would say it with a stubborn certainty, like the world owed him that much.

Being yourself.

For a long time, Yang had considered this idea to be a Western mentality, full of self-indulgence and impracticality. After Shanqi, he’d even feared the idea. Then, when he started falling for Daniel, he’d thought of it as a luxury he couldn’t afford.

And now, with Daniel gone, he realized the truth—it’s a necessity. He needed to be himself if he wanted a shot at ever being happy in this lifetime.

“If you truly want me to be happy, then I need to be myself.” The words slipped out of his mouth before he could stop them.

“You are twenty-six. You are a child. You don’t even know who you are.” Ba pushed himself up in bed, his voice taking on a brash edge. “Is this because of him?”

“It’s not about Daniel,” Yang said, saying Daniel’s name because his dad wouldn’t. Even without Daniel, without Shanqi, he would still be this.

Be who he was.

“Don’t you want what your ma and I had?” his dad asked, almost to himself, as he glanced at the old mug on his nightstand. The one he’d held on to for almost two decades.

“Do you know what Ma kept telling me in the weeks before she died, when you were too withdrawn to show up for her, for us?” Yang’s voice cracked, filling with the weight of resentment—resentment he hadn’t known he’d held on to all these years. He remembered his mom’s pain, her fear. “She asked only one thing from me—to be brave.”

But Yang hadn’t been brave, had he? If he had been brave, he would have tried harder to find Shanqi. He would have been honest with his family—with himself—about who he was. He would have stood his ground and done the research that mattered from day one. And he would have shown up for Daniel on their last day.

He hadn’t always been brave when it mattered, but now was a good time to start. He took a deep breath and met his dad’s eyes. “I like men. I always have. That’s the simple truth. You can either accept that or you can’t.”

You can either accept me or you can’t.

The silence that followed was loaded with the burden of hope. Yang wanted his dad to understand him. To see him. To accept him. Maybe that was too much to ask, but for once, he wasn’t willing to settle for less.

“I … How can I?” Ba’s shoulders hunched, like he was crushed by the weight of Yang’s ask. He took off his glasses and looked at Yang, his eyes red rimmed. “For you to be this way … what did I do wrong?”

The question cracked Yang’s heart cleanly in half.

“If that’s the question you are asking right now, then everything.” Yang stood and cast a last glance down at the broken man slumped in bed.

And he walked away.

CHAPTER FORTY-TWODaniel

“Did you know Sensō-ji is the oldest Buddhist temple in Tokyo? This right here is the Thunder Gate, or Kaminarimon.” Daniel struggled through the word as he pointed to the massive red gate flanked by two imposing statues. He checked his notes. “The next gate is Hōzōmon, or the Treasure-House Gate.”

“Nerd looks good on you.” Poppy patted him on the shoulder before sauntering through the gate, walking below the enormous chōchin lantern bearing Japanese characters.

“Everything looks good on me.” Daniel winked. He’d woken up early (for him) and done his homework on Sensō-ji so he could play tour guide. After all Poppy had done for him, she deserved to just sit back and be the passenger queen on this leg of the trip. “Do you want to hear about the legend behind the temple?”

“Not if I don’t have to,” Poppy said as she took in the bustling shopping street stretching ahead of them. Daniel knew that look. He was about to lose his best friend to … well, consumerism.

“You have no appreciation for culture,” Daniel said, but Poppy wasn’t listening. He caught up with her as she ducked into the first shop.