"Swish"—the curtains were pulled open with a single motion. Taking a deep breath, she gazed at the courtyard, where countless landscape lights were scattered like pearls. The lawn and trees glowed faintly green, and the cool autumn breeze lightly brushed her face.
The scent of osmanthus flowers lingered in the air.
On the soft cushions of the bay window, there were various scattered items. Meiyi sifted through them carefully: two square pillows, one candy-shaped pillow leaning against an open tin of cookies, a beautifully packaged box of mooncakes, half a pack of soda crackers, two novels, a volume of Song poetry, seven or eight CDs, and even a sparkling earring. Meiyi touched her ear—sure enough, she had lost one.
The small platinum earring once again dangled from her ear as she walked barefoot into the living room. The cold marble floor made her toes curl. Outside the window, the night stretched like a river, flowing with countless car lights. The kitchen exhaust fan had been left on, its whirring like the snores of someone half-asleep. She turned it off with a flick. Opening the fridge, she took out a large bottle of cola, poured herself a full glass, and downed it in one go, her mind instantly clear.
There were potato chips, and the crisp crunch of each bite echoed loudly in the silent house.
When she returned to the bedroom, the computer had already entered screensaver mode, displaying a seductive cherry-red message: "The scenic spot is closed; no visitors allowed."
The first time Qichuan saw it, he almost burst out laughing.
Now, however, he rarely smiled. Rarely. There was a time when Meiyi felt as fragile as the skin of a grape—touch her lightly, and the sourness inside would burst out. Hysterically, she would throw herself against the floor-to-ceiling windows in the living room, screaming like a madwoman: "Zhao Qichuan, say one more word, and I’ll jump!"
He was silent for a moment, then said, "Go ahead and jump."
She grabbed a vase and hurled it at his head. He dodged, and with a crash, it shattered into cold white porcelain shards on the floor. She grabbed her coat and rushed out the door. The entryway lights were off, and in her haste, she stepped barefoot onto his leather shoes, the rhinestones on the tips pressing painfully into her feet. She slammed the door shut with a thunderous bang.
She then sat on a bench in the park, under the shade of trees, crying endlessly. Couples walked hand in hand down the paths, immersed in their intimacy, while she sat there, sobbing her heart out, until she was utterly exhausted. All around her was a soft blackness, and far away, the streetlights cast their orange glow layer by layer, like sand being scattered into her eyes, bringing forth even more tears.
It wasn’t until one in the morning that she returned home. No one was there. The walls were cold, and even the lights felt cold. The house was like a snow cave. Slowly, she wiped away her tears and brewed herself a pot of hot tea. Small, white jasmine flowers bloomed in the boiling water of the glass teapot, floating up and down.
It was still in the café. She wore a soft cashmere shawl with fringes that trembled lightly. In the restroom’s large mirror, she saw a pale face staring back at her. She almost didn’t have the courage to walk out. A purple orchid pinned to her lapel emitted a faint fragrance. Her face burned, but her palms were icy cold. The corridor was narrow, and without looking sideways, she walked through the rows of wooden tables and chairs. Someone called her by her childhood name: "Sister."
She turned her head—it was Zhao Qichuan. At their table sat men and women, and someone immediately laughed: "Qichuan, Qichuan, so you have a sister too."
Zhao Qichuan smiled and asked her, "Meeting friends?" Instinctively, she glanced toward the couple at the end of the corridor, then suddenly smiled sweetly: "Yes."
There was a pot of jasmine tea next to him, and the white flowers floated in the hot water, blooming one by one like the radiant beauty of past days.
Qichuan, being the observant person he was, caught her expression and guessed what was going on, asking, "Should I go with you?"
She hesitated for a moment and then nodded.
He was impeccably dressed, a refined and handsome gentleman. When he introduced himself, it made Zheng Weihai momentarily surprised. Qichuan lightly placed a hand on her shoulder and smiled at him and the woman: "Meiyi said she had plans for tonight. I didn’t know she had arranged to meet you two here." With that casual remark, Zheng Weihai’s smile became somewhat forced, and the power dynamic shifted in an instant. She had miraculously regained control of the situation and left victorious.
After leaving the café, she joined Qichuan and his friends for a late-night snack. Three or five beers didn’t make her drunk. On the way back, she curled up in the car seat and softly said, "Thank you." He laughed loudly and said, "We’re like family, aren’t we?" They truly were like family. They had grown up together in the same courtyard, and although they went their separate ways as adults, the city was small. After circling around, they always ended up crossing paths again. Yet she had never imagined that one day, he would come riding to her rescue like a gallant prince from a fairytale.
They knew each other too well, from the inside out, and it didn’t take much courage to marry.
But it wasn’t until the very last moment, as the fragrant roses, the snowy white wedding dress, and the heavy ring settled on her finger, with guests all around like clouds, that she realized she had made a mistake. The bridesmaid kissed her cheek: "Meiyi, you’re so lucky!" She almost burst into tears right then and there, but it was too late.
At first, it was just small things: which brand of toothpaste to use, why the towels were folded that way, why he wouldn’t go out to the balcony to smoke, and why he didn’t close the study door when playing video games. Then, even phone calls turned into raging arguments. In exasperation, Qichuan would shout, "Xu Meiyi, can you just let me go?"
But who was going to let her go?
[The End]
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