A Peach Wood Comb

A surreal silence enveloped the car as they left the city, driving up the winding mountain road lined with sturdy junipers towards the summit. Xie Jiayi reclined his seat and lay back like a drifting leaf. Through the tinted window, the outside world looked gray; with a press of a button, he could see clearly in seconds, but he found he lacked the courage. He lacked the courage to seek the truth; a visit back home could reveal if Aunt Yun’s illness coincided with their argument. If so, how would he deal with this answer that was four years late? Forgetting the harm Lai Fei had caused him was something he prided himself on. When he had crawled out from under the influence of cigarettes and alcohol, cleaned himself up, and stood before others, he felt everyone should praise him: look how hard he had tried! He had always thought so, believing his cool-headedness, rationality, and quick recovery from wounds were his pride. When he met Lai Fei again after returning to the country, he forgave her from the perspective of the wronged, feeling he deserved commendation for his magnanimity. But if it turned out he was just fooling himself, what would become of his pride? How laughable would his magnanimity be? He had no desire to hate himself. Let’s just pretend we know nothing! With that thought, he started the car. At the junction, the signpost directed left to the city center, right to the airport highway. His heart swung like a pendulum, left, right. He felt sick; he had convinced himself after so much psychological preparation, only to waver at the sight of a signpost. He decided not to give himself the chance to regret, turned the steering wheel right, and merged onto the city route. But after driving for just a minute, he slammed on the brakes, reversed back, called his secretary to retrieve his car from the airport, and then sped off towards the airport.