A Peach Wood Comb

Jia Yi slumped on a bench in the corridor, the lights casting a sterile glow on the spotless floor, the room numbers obscured by a haze. At the corridor’s end, it looked like a gaping maw of a nightmare, swallowing light and spewing darkness, sinking into his eyes, penetrating his heart. His chest felt dark, pitch black, just like everyone else’s. Jia Yi looked up with a wry smile, understanding why people fear darkness—it’s because they see what’s inside themselves. He laughed silently, his face marked with countless lines of smiles, clear as tears, painting a face full of pain. It wasn’t until a hand rested on his shoulder that he stopped laughing, turned his head, and saw Lai Hui standing in the backlight, her figure ethereal. He lifted his hand, wanting to hold onto her, but when he opened his hand, he saw it was covered with bloodstains. It turned out that his palm had been scratched and bled by his nails at some unknown time. “Lai Hui, who exactly was in the wrong?” he asked with a bitter smile. “Everyone says I was wrong! Lai Hui, I’m just someone who loves you and can’t forget you. Maybe in your future life, I might be insignificant, but I still want to love you because it’s not something I can decide. Even if I am wrong a hundred times, I still want to love you! Do you understand? I can only love you, I can’t love anyone else!” He cried, tears like melting ice, dripping onto his blood-stained palm. The transparent tears seeped with red threads of blood, shallow wounds, deep pain, and helpless sorrow—his pain, isn’t it someone else’s pain too? Lai Hui took out a tissue and silently wiped the blood from his hand. As soon as she cleaned it, tears fell onto his palm again, making it unclear whose tears they were. Hospitals are a place where sadness is appropriate; people coming and going do not stare at the grieving. One can cry freely, release freely, but once you leave, you lose the right to be sad. However, the time for sadness isn’t long. “Let’s go!” Lai Hui said, looking down the quiet corridor. Jia Yi wiped the tears from her face with his thumb and nodded. “Let’s go!” The two walked silently side by side on the grass. At night, the hospital only had lights along the path, leaving the rest dark and quiet. Stepping on the wet grass, their footsteps made a “sizzle” sound now and then. As they approached the light, Jia Yi suddenly turned to block Lai Hui, startling her. Already flustered by what she had heard in the corridor, she didn’t know why he was blocking her, so she kept her head down, not daring to look at him. “Let’s walk back!” he said, very close to her; his breathing was somewhat rapid, as if reprimanding his own impulsiveness. She didn’t pay attention, pretending not to understand. “Aren’t we almost at the parking lot? Why walk back?” Jia Yi, ignoring her refusal, responded along with her words, “I have something to tell you!” “Oh, you can say it here; it’s the same!” She didn’t want to walk back with him; once the path was walked, there was no need to turn back, adding more nostalgia and trouble. “You want me to say it here? Are you sure you want to listen with your head down?” His tone was somewhat entangled and roguish. Lai Hui quickly turned and walked ahead. “Say it now!” She guessed what he was going to say and didn’t want to stop him from speaking. Whether she guessed right or not, she hoped he would say it himself, confirming her guess or surprising her. As for what to do after hearing it, she hadn’t thought about it yet. “I broke up with my friend!” His voice carried a hint of shame. Lai Hui’s grip on her bag tightened subconsciously, expecting him to continue, yet also wanting to cover her ears. What would she do if it was as she guessed? She asked herself again. “Lai Hui, if I say we should start over now, you’d definitely think I’m shameless!” He paused, sensing her surprise in the darkness, and after thinking, continued, “So I won’t say it, well, not now. Zhou Yuqian won’t let you go, so I can only wait. During this time, I’ll prove to you that I’ve changed, that I won’t be as unappreciative as I was before!” She bit her lip without speaking; indeed, just as she had guessed, he actually said it. She used to think he would regret it, and now he did, but her mood was not as triumphant as she had imagined; not even a bit of vanity was stirred. “If I hadn’t seen you again, I might have married just anyone, living a mundane life, but I saw you again. Let’s count, we’ve only met five times since we reconnected, and each time I bring your shadow home, letting you stir up trouble in my life…” “You’re being unfair; don’t blame your breakup on me!” Lai Hui interrupted him, not wanting to hear more; she already regretted listening. The more she listened, the more chaotic she felt. “You know I’m not shifting the blame. Think what you want; you can imagine me as worse, but as long as you don’t have someone else, I will still try.” He took her hand and pressed it to his cheek. Her fingertips touched his cold skin; she wanted to pull away, but he held tighter, and she heard him sigh, saying in a muffled voice, “You don’t know, after you left me, I went crazy looking for you. This is all my doing; I can only blame myself, but I always thought, if those things hadn’t happened, we would have lived a simple life. No matter how we argued, we wouldn’t have parted.” Lai Hui withdrew her hand, coldly saying, “How do you know we wouldn’t have parted? So many people like me ended up separating.” “I know, think about it, why did I work so hard to earn money in college? I saved money just to buy a house, planning to marry you after graduation. From my sophomore year, I started planning. Lai Hui, do you remember how even our arguments were like those of an old married couple? I thought no matter how we argued, we’d be like a normal couple, always together. No matter what happened, you were supposed to be by my side. I was so sure, but I never thought you’d disappear completely.” He couldn’t go on; his throat tightened, and his chest began to ache again. Lai Hui still kept her head down, recalling their college days. Many times, half-awake, she saw him studying under a dim light, his head nodding sleepily, nearly hitting the table several times, until he couldn’t hold on anymore and would splash cold water on his face. Day after day, just to earn money for her living expenses, so her mother wouldn’t have to send so much money. He was always rushing around, working hard, a top student at school, yet he had to humble himself to ask for favors and build connections for money. She remembered clearly the time he brought her to a gathering with his colleagues. Everyone pretended to toast him, making him drink it all at once, while they sipped their drinks. He knew he was being mocked but played along, finishing his drink with a fake, ingratiating smile until he was drunk unconscious. She struggled to help him back to their tiny rented room, and as soon as they entered, he pushed her away, rushing to the bathroom to vomit his heart out.