Chapter 25
Time passed quietly when one was unaware, sedimenting with the years. The love that faded with time was like old ebony furniture, pressing down heavily in one corner of space. A faint, cold scent of wood permeated subtly at the junction of the eyes and the soul. From the day Xiao Yu moved into Jia Yi’s house, he developed a heart ailment, sometimes triggered by something Xiao Yu said that felt familiar, or a gesture that felt intimate, or by reading a novel Xiao Yu wrote where he found his own shadow. This condition grew more frequent after Xu Ya moved in, initially occurring every half month, then weekly, and eventually several times a day. The emotional life between him and Xiao Yu entered a barren phase, often silent when together. Xiao Yu was a professional writer, her mind filled with fairy-tale plots, while Jia Yi was a pragmatic man, focused on how much money was in his pocket. Friction was inevitable, and with Xu Ya’s presence, conflicts escalated. On Saturday, Xiao Yu’s 23rd birthday, she had subtly hinted to Jia Yi a fortnight earlier that she hoped for an unforgettable birthday. From then on, she counted down the days, anticipating Jia Yi’s surprise. The day before her birthday, Jia Yi had his secretary book a table at the Friday Western Restaurant. Xiao Yu spent the whole day shopping for clothes. The next day, Jia Yi called her after work. “I’ll head to the restaurant first; you can come with Xu Ya.” Xiao Yu’s heart sank. Why would Xu Ya be there for her birthday with her boyfriend? Fortunately, Xu Ya drove her to the restaurant, sensed her displeasure, and tactfully left after making an excuse. The lightbulb was gone, but throughout the meal, Xiao Yu saw no surprise. The meal was ordinary, not even a lover’s menu, no candles or flowers; unfolding the napkin revealed no necklace, and neither the soup nor the dessert hid a ring, and the waiter didn’t announce they’d won something like car keys. When Jia Yi paid the bill, she consoled herself, thinking perhaps the surprise was planned for after dinner. So when Jia Yi asked what she wanted to do after dinner, she replied, “You decide!” Jia Yi decided to go home because Xu Ya had bought a cake. Xiao Yu had once told him about a bakery in the south of the city known for its delicious and creative cakes, especially a heart-shaped one made from rose petals of the same size. Jia Yi had listened but forgotten, overwhelmed by work. Thus, the cake was just an expensive, unimaginative whipped cream cake. Xiao Yu’s heart grew colder as she reluctantly blew out the candles. At eleven, Jia Yi, fresh from a shower, handed her a gold card. “This card has a limit of 100,000; buy whatever you want with it.” Xiao Yu felt as if she’d fallen into an ice cellar. Trembling, she took the shiny card. The accumulated disappointment of the evening reached its breaking point; she snapped the card in two and threw the pieces at Jia Yi, shouting, “Xie Jia Yi, what do you take me for?” After her outburst, she ran out of the apartment in tears. In novels, after a fight with her lover, the heroine would go to where they first met or a memorable place, or to a nearby park or rooftop. Xiao Yu’s first meeting with Jia Yi was at her cousin’s house, which was out of the question; there were too many places of significance, and Jia Yi couldn’t possibly check them all. So, she went to the rooftop. The deep autumn night was chilly, with a breeze carrying a hint of melancholy. Someone with a touch of talent might feel overly sentimental at such a time. Xiao Yu, curled up in the corner, her tears dried by the wind, mourned her dark birthday, vowing never to forgive Jia Yi, her mind filled with classic lines to verbally assault the man who didn’t value her. The night was as cool as water, and the rooftop was not a place to linger in the deep of night. The wind grew fiercer, and the temperature dropped suddenly in the early morning. She looked towards the entrance of the rooftop, which remained empty, with no one coming to find her. Her heart and body grew colder, yet she stubbornly held on, her arms wrapped tightly around her knees, looking pitiful. Her thoughts did not stop; she doubted if Jia Yi could really find her. She began to regret not bringing her phone. She imagined waking up the next morning, sick with a high fever from the cold, fainiting here, someone finding her on the rooftop, rushing her to the hospital, and then informing Jia Yi. She fantasized about Jia Yi’s pained expression when he saw her in the hospital, sick. She forgot this was life, not her novel where the female protagonist could get a terminal illness and then miraculously recover. In real life, illness was a disaster that could make one’s life worse than death. By the latter half of the night, unable to bear the cold, she hesitated for half an hour before going downstairs and returning to the apartment. Life was the sternest teacher; on her 23rd birthday, Xiao Yu grew up, realizing that even if she couldn’t be with Jia Yi in the future, she understood that after a fight, no one would come looking for you if you were hiding. In this world, if you choose to escape, no one will bother to find you! If you torment yourself, no one will pity you!
Back at the apartment, Jia Yi sat gloomily on the living room couch. As soon as Xiao Yu entered, she heard his faint sarcasm, “Decided to come back?” It wasn’t that he hadn’t tried to find her; on the contrary, he had driven around the city with Xu Ya, asking at every relative and friend’s place where Xiao Yu might be. He would never have thought that Xiao Yu would be so dramatic as to hide on the rooftop. He, who never watched soap operas, simply lacked that kind of imagination; his lifestyle was straightforward. Seeing his cold demeanor, Xiao Yu, who had suffered on the rooftop, had no outlet for her grievances and was choked up for a long time but couldn’t cry. In her logic, at this moment, Jia Yi should be embracing her, apologizing profusely. She had prepared a bunch of lines for not forgiving Jia Yi, but now they were all stuck in her throat, and what came out was just one sentence, “I’m back to get my things!” Jia Yi stood up abruptly.
“Isn’t one night of drama enough? Don’t you know how bad the security is in City A? Going out so late? I looked for you all night? And you come back just for your things?” He wasn’t unworried, unanxious, or unafraid. Jia Yi searched every street and alley, and when he couldn’t find Xiao Yu, he couldn’t help but think she might have met with foul play. Exhaustion, worry, and anxiety tortured him, and all he got was “I’m back for my things,” so naturally, he was furious. Xiao Yu had fantasized all night, and now she had no more expectations for Jia Yi, just coldly looking at him. “Don’t worry, I won’t trouble you anymore. I’ll take my things and leave!” With that, she walked straight to the bedroom, opened the wardrobe, and started packing. Jia Yi followed, put her suitcase aside with a kick, locked the door, and pulled her onto the bed. Too tired to argue further, he spoke softly, “Stop it, I’m exhausted, and I have a lot of work tomorrow. Let’s sleep!” Xiao Yu, used to writing late at night, was too angry to sleep and struggled for a long time without breaking free from Jia Yi’s grip, only managing to bite her lower lip and glare at him. Perhaps, saying she would leave was just an angry outburst; her struggles were half-hearted. She hoped Jia Yi would realize his mistake.
