Ch 25 Return
"I hate to release you." said the head nurse as she straightened up the new uniform on Wang Yao. "Out of all the patients, you gave me a peace of mind. You don't complain about the pain, or swear at people…or roll cigarettes behind my back. Ach, I'm almost in love with you!"
The head nurse was around ten years older than him, like a big sister, and she always poked fun of him when they talked. To hide the embarrassement, Wang Yao tried to divert his attention to the image in the mirrior. Half a year without mirror, he looked thinner than before. The contour of his face hardened and there even grew a line between two eyebrows—what else did the frontline lifestyle bring to him? Could it be a faint ironic smile on his face…
"But breaking a couple is just not me. Your sweetheart would be so heartbroken." the head nurse proudly declared, then secretively drew closer to him. "Let me guess, your sweetheart is probably in the army! These days you always stare blankly in the direction of the front, was it a lovely nurse? Maybe that girl Natasha?"
At first, Wang Yao felt embarrassed about the first half of the sentence, but hearing the last part, he couldn't hold back his amusement, "If that was the case, a lot of people's hearts would be broken."
"Then tell that silly girl: don't be so pretentious! She clearly wants to be in love, but won't admit it! Seize the day and enjoy while she can!" sighed the nurse, "Who knows how long this war is going to be. Youth is short…"
Even when Wang Yao got on the truck, the head nurse's words still chased his ears. Who was those words intended for? Anyway, he wouldn't tell Natasha about that—he didn't want to be on the receptive end of her knife-like piercing look of reproach.
As the truck drove to one kilometer away from their unit, he hopped down. He ran towards them, couldn't hold back the excitement of reuniting with his fellow soldiers after the prolonged parting. Everyone yelled "ura" in exhilaration, eagerly hugged him and threw their hats up to the sky. "You pick a great day to come back! There's no mission these days anyway, why don't we celebrate our 1942 at night!"
After he finally accepted everybody's greetings, it was almost noon. The only person he didn't see was that Ivan Braginsky who claimed to have transferred to their infantry unit. But Wang Yao knew where to find him. "Whoever Wang Yao wished to find can all be found!" said to himself, mimicking Ivan's typical tone.
The field of Russia was never short of magnificent and beautiful forest!
Wang Yao loved the forest, because he loved biology. Ivan Braginsky also loved forest, because he was the son of the forest.
When Wang Yao stepped into the poplar woods, and there, he saw him.
Ivan was sitting under a tall white poplar tree, his back against the trunk and a piece of paper on top a cardboard lying on his legs. He was drawing intently with a small piece of pencil. Cold and clear sunlight climbed over layers of branches and rained down to him from the dazzling blue winter sky, falling onto his light blonde hair and turning it into warm amber and honey. As if the sunlight was answering the nature's pleading, it decended from up high and crowned this beautiful god-like man.
Wang Yao quietly stood behind another tree. What he was seeing was the face of concentration leaning before the drawing paper with a hint of smile—the one Wang Yao saw in the hospital's mirror this morning.
In his earliest memory, there was also a piece of woods under the sun. It was his grandmother's funeral when he was two or three years old. He couldn't remember his grandmother's face or the relatives' crying, but the treetops swaying above the graveyard, rustling and gleaming, remained in his memory forever. While nature presented him death, it also showed him life's extraordinary enchantment. Years later at this very moment, he felt the sunlight on Ivan was rushing towards him like a stream, poured into his chest and turned into a pair of wings coming out beneath his shoulder blades. Like a gift nature granted to the young child—the gift of eternal youth and life. And it was exactly this "forest god" young man who single-handedly grabbed his youthful life from death…
Right then, the "forest god" put aside the drawing board and got up unhurriedly:
"My naughty little white horse, who long are you planning to hide there?"
All of a sudden, Wang Yao felt like a child being caught of his fault. He tried to maintain a soldier's stance and walked towards Ivan, but discovered nowhere to place his confounded hands—so he cleared his throat like all the big men did before talking. Chit chat about their parting? Thank him for saving his life? Nothing seemd appropriate. Ever since Ivan carried him back in his arms, he couldn't find anything deemed "appropriate".
A happy little spark jumped in Ivan's eyes:
"The medic tent isn't a suitable place to live afterall!" Ivan laughed loudly, "All your scouting skills are gone. You thought you could sneak up on me, but I sensed it the moment you came here!"
His words stirred up Wang Yao's discontent and playfulness. To prove himself as a competent scout all the same—and also to practice on someone after his long rest—Wang Yao grabbed Ivan's shoulder, planning to "teach him a lesson". But the surrounding whirled in front of his eyes and he discovered that the person been thrown on the ground was himself.
Maybe it shouldn't be called a throw, since Ivan's shoulder and arms had always carefully surrounded Wang Yao's back to prevent him from touching the cold hard ground. Then, Ivan held his back and legs and swung his body into his arms, like the way he carried him back in the snow field.
"Apologies to you. You still got some stuff." whispered the grinning man into his ears. The warm breath gave him a shudder, "But don't you forget that I can catch captive too!"
As the body sank into the broad solid arms, suddenly all the trees bursted out green leaves and behind all the new leaves echoed the bird chirps, whistling at Wang Yao's ears like twirling wind. He lay there absent-minded for a second until hearing the word "captive", then instantly blushed in anger and shame. Without a word, he tried to break loose of Ivan's clampdown, but found out that this embrace was more forceful than he imagined.
"You're like a grizzly bear!" he finally opened his mouth and complained. "Where'd you get all the strength!"
"You were wounded that night." Ivan lowered his head looking at him, "But now you know. Even if you're fully recovered, you still can't get away."
The unreasonable tone along with a hint of ridicule really annoyed Wang Yao. Just as he was attempting to break loose with all his strength, Ivan looked at him straight in the eyes and pronounced word by word:
"If you keep behaving like this, I'll carry you back to the base right now."
"If you dare, then don't expect me to ever talk to you again."
"Ah~ah~" Ivan stretched his voice, staring at him with mockery. "Then let's wait and see. The whole division knows that I carried you in my arms all the way back that night."
Wang Yao suddenly ceased struggling or making a sound. He didn't know if he could never ever speak to Ivan again, but he knew that Ivan would dare to carry him to the base. He turned his face to the side in despair and shut his eyes, but Ivan's jovial laughters still came into his ears.
"Oh you…" Ivan was finally willing to put him down, letting him lean on the white poplar tree and placing two hands on his shoulders, still laughing breathlessly. Suddenly without a sign, Ivan placed his lips on his and kissed with desperate ardour for a long time, like that night in the snowy woods.
Wang Yao didn't know how long this kiss lasted; in fact, he didn't remember much after Ivan started kissing him. All he remembered was that Ivan finally released him, looked at him, then suddenly bursted into laughter again, until running out of the woods, still laughing.
Wang Yao stood under that white poplar. He picked up the drawing board Ivan left on the ground and found his own face on there, staring at him with a faint smile.
"Why are you laughing? What are you laughing about!" He sat down, holding that piece of sketch in front of him and fuming in secrecy.