The note, wet with tears, crumpled and fell to the ground; she dared not pick it up. It was her piercing pain, and each touch would renew the agony. She hadn’t truly wanted him to leave; the memories of the past were not his alone to keep, she had them too, etched deeply in the most painful places, yet he had left before her. Their anticipated New Year’s Eve was ruined by her.
Yes, this was her choice, but who said it was what she wanted? After paying respects at her mother’s grave, Lai Hui helped her aunt prepare the New Year’s feast. Without Zhou Yuqian, the meal was much quieter. She habitually placed a piece of frozen tofu into the bowl next to her, only to be met with her little cousin’s protest, “I don’t eat tofu!” “Oh, I forgot!” she retrieved the tofu back into her own bowl, took a mouthful of rice, chewing a few times before swallowing it down along with the sourness in her throat.
She made several mistakes during the meal. Her uncle handed her a glass of boiled water, which she mistook for liquor, and she blurted out, “He can’t drink!” When eating fish, she picked off the skin with her chopsticks, only to remember she never fussed over food; she kept passing napkins to her cousin, saying, “You’ve got oil on your mouth,” to which he looked at her as if she were an alien, “Country folks aren’t that particular!” She couldn’t eat anymore. Country folks weren’t that particular, but he was; even in the dilapidated rural house, he maintained his grace. Perhaps he had long wanted to leave, and maybe her words the previous night served as his excuse to go. She thought ungratefully, but then found herself defending him in her mind. Throughout the meal, the arguments in her head raged on, and in the end, Zhou Yuqian always won; he had left, and she could barely eat.
Men are always more decisive than us, she thought. When they say they’re leaving, they’re still attached, but they say one thing and mean another. Even when they know they must leave, they’ll pack their bags but linger for a few more days, using the excuse of spending “the last moments.” Men, however, are always swift and decisive, even when they love, even when they can’t bear to leave, they won’t hesitate at the door, nor will they leave any trace of their footsteps.
Lai Hui thought, people are so contradictory, and men are so straightforward; while we struggle between love and forgetting, men just want results — if they love, they love, if not, they leave without a trace. Yet, she still loved the one who had gone far away, and he never reappeared. For three days at the beginning of the year, she sought ways to forget, but each memory brought more pain, and her haggardness grew worse than ever. She felt like she was spinning a cocoon of suffering for herself, hoping that the time of struggle would be short, and the day of transformation into a butterfly would come soon, ideally — the past would never look back.
On the fourth day, she returned to the city, and upon opening the door, she was taken aback. The living room was neatly arranged with new furniture, and several large framed photos of her with her mother hung on the freshly painted walls, still carrying the scent of new paint. Entering her bedroom, she found a snow-white wooden single bed covered with her favorite light green sheets, the curtains matching in color, with a new wall-mounted air conditioner next to it, and a hanging pot of unopened spider plant with its long tendrils trailing down the window frame. The appliances were all new and of the best quality. She circled the room several times, like a child on a playground. She had been worried about having to stay in a hotel when she returned, but now, all those troubles were solved. She could lounge on the couch watching TV when tired or take a nap when sleepy. Excited by her unexpected fortune, she leaned on the balcony railing, her head buried in her arms, feeling the warm sun on her neck like a soft scarf.
Then, she heard the sound of a key turning in the lock from the living room. Without thinking, she called out, “Jia Yi!” It was Zhang Lin who entered. Seeing Lai Hui, she paused, then hopped onto the balcony, laughing, “You’re back!”
Lai Hui felt guilty for rushing away the day before New Year’s Eve, leaving Zhang Lin waiting, “I’m sorry, my uncle came, I had to go to his place. Did you wait long that day?”
“Not really, just a little while, then Big Brother Xie came, and he got the key from me — this is what we set up. It’s nice, right?” Zhang Lin nodded with a smile.
Lai Hui nodded back, “Yes, nice. You must have worked hard!”
“I didn’t do much, just went around a furniture store with Big Brother Xie. He’s quite something, isn’t he? Getting craftsmen to work during the New Year and having the store open for business,” Zhang Lin said, her long golden bangs lightly brushing her cheeks as she spoke.
“Probably,” Lai Hui replied, pulling her to sit in the living room, “You wait here, I’ll get you some water!”
“No, no, I’m just here to return your key, I’ll be leaving soon, someone’s waiting for me downstairs.” She handed the key back to Lai Hui, then awkwardly added, “You might want to change the locks, my parents have keys too —”
Lai Hui’s heart ached at her words, a reminder of the complicated relationships and the potential mess. Zhang Lin didn’t seem like a bad person, but their relationship had always been distant. Why didn’t she help her own parents instead of her, a distant relative? Perhaps Zhang Lin was also troubled by her own words. She couldn’t sit still, patted her legs, and got up, laughing awkwardly, “Well, I’ll be off. You’re going to stay here for good, right? I’ll come by often, okay?”
“I am staying, come whenever you’re free!” Lai Hui had initially thought to invite her to stay but felt uneasy thinking about her parents, and considering their lack of emotional connection, inviting her would only complicate things. So, she swallowed the invitation. But she never could have imagined how much trouble this blood relative could bring into her life.
