I didn’t know what I was waiting for. Wasn’t this pain deep enough, wasn’t it piercing enough? Yet, I couldn’t immediately leave this place; I felt hollowed out, too exhausted to move. I spent a few days in a daze, and no one disturbed me. Neither Song Li, Cheng Yu, nor Song Ying, even Mei Xiang, I rarely saw. The house was empty, silent, as if I were the only one left. After waking up, I’d curl up on the windowsill for the entire day, then crawl into bed when it was completely dark, staring blankly at the ceiling until dawn, not eating, barely drinking. I dared not sleep, and when I finally did, I’d wake up screaming, drenched in sweat, reliving my childhood nightmares—either being kidnapped or forced to climb onto a high scaffold, bending in an impossible bow while balancing a stack of bowls. It was both painful and terrifying, yet waking up from these nightmares was a relief. Sometimes, knowing it was a dream, I couldn’t wake up, just like this endless, hopeless reality. No matter how I struggled, I couldn’t escape or shake it off…
That morning, I bought a large bouquet of flowers from the florist and went alone to Aunt Min’s grave. “Aunt Min, Mom, I’ve come to see you. Why did you leave me alone in this broken world? I’m so tired, so lonely. You said that no matter the hardships of my childhood, I would build a happy family to make up for it. You also told me to be happy, that you were watching me. I really wanted to do as you said, to find someone to spend a lifetime with, to compensate for the regrets of my youth. I really wanted to be happy. I’ve been trying so hard to live, Mom, but that man, he deceived me. He tricked me for things of little importance, he didn’t even like me, he might even despise me. He was just using me to achieve his goals. He let me fall deeply in love, then kicked me away mercilessly—that was the price for involving myself with him. When I got used to having him by my side, when I couldn’t do without him, he abandoned me. But even knowing all this, I’m still so sad. Thinking about the days and nights to come without his companionship, I feel so depressed I could die. I’ve lost all faith, hope, and passion for life. The last time I felt this way was when I first escaped my hardships and started a new life with you. Back then, at least you were there with me, and though it was hard, I got through it. But now, I’m all alone. What should I do? What should I do?” I sat at Aunt Min’s grave for hours, and it was nearly dusk when I reluctantly returned.
The place, the house where he lived, I could no longer call it “home.” I expected the usual peaceful solitude, but instead, it was bustling. Ribbons, music, fancy clothes, gifts of all sizes, a hall full of handsome men and beautiful women, and in the center, a fragrant, three-tier birthday cake. It was Liu Yi’s birthday. She was a year and ten days older than me. Long, long ago, so long it seemed like a past life, every year around this time, Liu Shiquan would invite many friends to celebrate his little princess’s birthday. I remember peeking through the kitchen door, watching Liu Yi surrounded by people in the flickering candlelight, making a wish, then blowing out those beautiful, delicate candles. Aunt Min would save those animal-shaped candles for me when cleaning up, and I’d play with them for a long time. Today, Liu Yi was dressed like a fairy, gracefully moving among the guests, receiving blessings and gifts. Song Li sat in the sofa, casually holding a glass of wine, dressed in everyday clothes, yet exuding an aura of nobility, his smile relaxed and serene, occasionally chatting with those around him. When his gaze met Liu Yi’s, they exchanged knowing smiles. That smile was blinding to me. I stood at the entrance for a while, unnoticed, and was about to slip away when I noticed someone standing alone behind a pillar. After some thought, I approached. “Little Ying,” I called softly as I stood beside her. She turned her head sharply to look at me, a small spark flaring in her eyes, which quickly dimmed. She stared at me with a complex gaze for a moment before turning to leave. I grabbed her sleeve, “Xiaoying, won’t you even talk to me?” Xiaoying stood still, silent for a moment, then said with a dejected tone without facing me, “I don’t know. Sister Yi had warned me, but I didn’t believe it until now.” “And what about me? Do you think I wanted this?” I asked, exhausted, “It’s all thanks to your brother!” She turned her head slowly, her eyes filled with sorrow, hatred, jealousy, and pity. “I know it’s not your fault, but I can’t face you, can’t face this. I’m sorry,” she said, and then walked away without looking back. I stood there, dazed for a while, then slowly walked out of the living room into the garden, slumping onto a bench, staring blankly at the fountain.
After some time, someone stood beside me, casting a shadow. My mind was elsewhere, but I instinctively looked up, squinting at him. He was looking down at me, then lifted my chin with his hand, observing me closely. With a hint of imperceptible pain, he said, “It’s only been a couple of months, how did you end up looking like this?” I frowned, thinking, “Oh, it’s you, Tiantian,” I forced a smile, “Long time no see!”
Chapter Thirty-Six: Comfort
Tiantian sat down close to me. Usually boisterous and talkative, he was now as quiet as a drop of water, his face serious, not looking at me, his gaze lost somewhere. “Tiantian,” I said mechanically, “I just saw, the cake was pretty good.” He suddenly seemed to be stung, turning to stare at me fiercely, his clear eyes showing a hint of fierceness. I snapped back to reality, “What’s wrong?” He bit his lip hard, as if he had a lot to say but was holding back. “Stop biting,” I reached out to touch his face, gently brushing his lips with my fingers, “Aren’t you supposed to be in Austria? Why are you suddenly back?” He flinched, quickly moving his head away, leaving my hand hanging in the air. He glanced at me and muttered, “I don’t know why I came back, but I couldn’t do anything there, I…” His voice dropped to a whisper, “I lost something here, and I couldn’t stop thinking about it.”
I sighed silently, not really hearing his words, as I had no capacity to care for others at that moment. We sat in silence for a long while until he spoke, “What happened to you? You were fine before I left.” I gave a self-deprecating laugh, “Yes, I was fine, and I’m still fine now.” He didn’t respond to my words, lost in thought, “It’s only been 81 days, you were so happy then, though with a touch of melancholy and uncertainty, your face was full of light, your smile like a stream under the moonlight. In Austria, when everyone went out at night, I stayed on the balcony alone, your smile filling my mind, and I couldn’t help but play the violin all night.”
His voice was soft and comforting, like a breeze carrying the scent of flowers, but it stirred up the pain I had tried to calm. “Tiantian,” I held back, trying to suppress the emotions I longed to release, but my voice betrayed a choke, “Don’t do this, not to me, I’m not worth it.” He finally turned to look at me, “You used to be silly and slow to react, but you could always cheer yourself up; now, you look like you’ve been hit hard. Seeing you like this, I almost wish I hadn’t come back!”
