She pressed her throbbing temples hard, her vision blackening momentarily, everything blurred, just like her future — was it destined that she would not be happy or fortunate? These two men, which one was truly hers? Which one could bring her happiness? The following month was tough for Lai Hui; work was unproductive, and she often needed twice the time for the same tasks. Whenever her mind was free, she pondered over Zhou Yuqian’s words, feeling her mind was divided into two parts, reason and emotion clearly separated, but frustratingly, the emotional part was always more active; reason only slightly prevailed under Jia Yi’s attentiveness.
In the quiet of the night, she often had a mad thought: just to be back by Yuqian’s side, even if it meant continuing in the shadows. She thought, “I don’t care what he would say or do when he returns, as long as he can still hold me, I’d be content.” The body is the most honest; after fatigue, the mere thought of Yuqian brought back memories of how tightly he used to hold her. He held her so tightly that even after so long, she still felt an invisible grip around her. The more she felt this, the more she thought she was going mad. The guilt over her mother’s passing had lessened, but her words before leaving were like a tape recorder playing in her ear, each word piercing their past with Zhou Yuqian. Yet, those moments were rare; most of the time, she missed Yuqian.
It’s easy for a mad person to make decisions, she thought. When Yu Qian returned, she would talk to him sincerely and confess her love for him. Even if rumors and gossip affected him and made him impatient, she would leave. She was somewhat self-destructive; no matter how careful she was, happiness would never come her way. Why not take a chance? If she lost, she would lose both Jia Yi and herself; if she won, she could legitimately have Yu Qian for several years. But how could she have anticipated that just as she had finally made up her mind, fate would play a cruel trick on her? Xu Nuo, who had gone abroad at the beginning of the year, decided to follow her husband’s decision to emigrate overseas. This month, when she came back to handle the paperwork, she met with Lai Hui over the weekend. Perhaps because their chances of meeting in the future were virtually zero, this encounter made both of them melancholic. In Lai Hui’s apartment, Xu Nuo chewed gum, glanced at the mint plant on the windowsill, and savored the faint coolness in her mouth.
“You seem to be getting along well with Xie Jia Yi!” Xu Nuo pondered for a long time before saying this.
“Hmm, it’s pretty good,” Lai Hui sat on the edge of the sofa, propping her face with her hand, and continued, “Luckily, I have him; otherwise, I wouldn’t be able to handle those things. I really envy you, with all that work experience!”
“Don’t rush to envy me, I won’t be working once I’m abroad,” Xu Nuo replied. “I’m three months pregnant, and my husband will support me from now on!”
Lai Hui sat up straight in surprise, scanning Xu Nuo’s belly a few times before touching her chin, “I was wondering when you quit smoking! Congratulations!” She reached out to gently pat Xu Nuo’s belly, then laughed awkwardly, “Haha, congratulations to me too, for becoming a godmother!”
“You are quite something, claiming the title of godmother before the child is even born. Why don’t you work harder, and when my child is born, maybe you can see the godfather?” Xu Nuo said with a laugh, a trace of sadness in her eyes. Both knew that this talk of being godparents might only be relevant at this moment; after she moved abroad, who knows who the child’s godmother would be. She blinked, trying to compose herself.
“Be with Jia Yi, he has waited for you too, it hasn’t been easy for him. Actually, there’s another reason I came to see you—” Xu Nuo paused, looking at Lai Hui’s wide, teary eyes, then averted her gaze to her own cartoon slippers, murmuring, “I want to see you happy, Jia Yi treats you well! And that Yu Qian, I saw a picture of him with another young woman in an overseas newspaper.” She pulled out an English newspaper from her bag and handed it to Lai Hui. Xu Nuo had meticulously translated the original text. Lai Hui felt a headache just looking at the twisted letters, and although the fine, ink-blue handwriting was clear, she didn’t want to read it. Nonetheless, the words and the photo of him smiling down at the young woman entered her heart.
Xu Nuo had left a long time ago, but Lai Hui sat motionless, clutching the newspaper as if she had just been dragged out of an icehouse, her entire body frosted over, her arms stiffly bent. When Zhang Lin passed through the living room to cook in the kitchen, she tiptoed, fearing that even a slight noise might shatter Lai Hui. Lai Hui had doubted the veracity of the news, but his smile was unmistakable, full of affection and indulgence. In the days they spent together, whenever he smiled like that, he would soon pull her into his arms and tease her. She loved him for that, making her feel cherished and pampered, even though he rarely said anything sweet. Even the day before he told her he was leaving, he smiled like that — guess the exact day yourself.
As the sun set, Zhang Lin brought dinner to the table, sitting alone, not touching her chopsticks, nor calling out to Lai Hui. The living room was a dull gray, deepening with the gloom of dusk, the words on the newspaper blurring. A tear fell onto the blue ink of the handwriting, and then she got up to sit at the table with Zhang Lin, saying, “Let’s eat!” During dinner, they didn’t speak; Lai Hui shoveled food into her mouth, forcing back her tears, while Zhang Lin chewed and swallowed slowly, not daring to make a sound.
After dinner, she frantically dialed numbers she knew by heart — the secretary’s, close subordinates’ — all to no avail, Yu Qian’s phone was off, and when she got through to his secretary or subordinates, they mumbled a few words before hanging up. She stubbornly refused to cry, perhaps because all her pain had sunk to the bottom. Suddenly, her stomach cramped painfully; she clutched her belly, rolled off the bed, drenched in cold sweat, her short hair completely wet. She struggled back onto the bed, but soon thought squatting on the floor might be more comfortable, so she fell down, hitting her nose on the floor. Squatting, she pressed one hand to her belly, the other rubbing what felt like a broken nose, feeling utterly helpless and hateful. Finally, in despair, she cried out, “Yu Qian, where are you? I’m in so much pain, where are you? Where?”
Jia Yi was the one who took her to the hospital. When she weakly opened her eyes and saw him, she felt a bit better. The doctor diagnosed acute gastritis and gave her a painkiller, allowing her to sleep peacefully for the rest of the night. The next morning, she woke up groggily to find Jia Yi asleep on the short sofa, his feet hanging off the edge, his hands clasped on his chest, his suit pants wrinkled, and his hair disheveled. Yet, seeing him like this gave Lai Hui a sense of security — just like when she had a high fever, he would stay by her side like this.
Jia Yi was not sleeping well on the sofa and woke up at the slightest noise. Seeing Lai Hui sitting up, he hurried over, rubbed her hair, and asked, “Are you still in pain?”
Lai Hui shook her head. “Not in pain, just thirsty, I want some water.”
“Wait a moment!” He fetched a cup of hot water, cooled it down a bit, handed it to her, and then took his jacket from the hanger, saying, “I’ll go downstairs to buy some porridge. Drink less water, okay?” Lai Hui nodded obediently, handed back the cup, and went back to sleep.
Less than ten minutes later, Jia Yi brought in hot porridge. He insisted on feeding her, and Lai Hui didn’t resist, letting him blow on each spoonful before feeding it to her.
“Where’s Zhang Lin?”
