The Ballad of Buck Ravers

Contrary to his expectations, Viktor didn't advocate for distance between Ruìsāng and Vince; rather, he suggested keeping him close. Ruìsāng’s gaze dropped, a slow nod acknowledging the advice. Here, in this sanctuary, he could confess his desire to hold onto Vince, despite the (il)logical part of his mind screaming for separation. It seemed absurd now, the idea of pushing Vince away, when everything within him gravitated towards keeping him near.

Viktor’s candid thoughts on Ruìsāng’s mother prompted a heavy sigh. There was no rebuttal, no fiery defence to offer. He longed to counter Viktor, to defend his mother against any criticism, yet the words wouldn’t come. He knew, deep down, that Viktor was right. His resistance to accepting this reality came from a twisted sense of loyalty.

Their conversation drew to a close, and Ruìsāng offered his gratitude. “Thanks for putting up with me, Shīfù,” he said. The term ‘Shīfù’ held a nuanced meaning for Ruìsāng — while it primarily signified ‘master’ or ‘teacher’, the potential interpretation of ‘father’ in its composition was not lost on him. In their unique bond, this nickname felt appropriate.

Viktor’s parting words, to keep Viktor informed and Vince close, elicited a chuckle from Ruìsāng. “I’ll make sure you get an invite to the wedding, old man,” he quipped lightheartedly. Stepping out the door, he knew he did have a lot to think about.