“Did you know? I used to imagine you sitting in my car, right in this seat,” Chu Ke Huan said, ignoring the fact that he hadn’t even asked for my address. His words were far from suitable for the dashcam’s recording. “Just… not under circumstances like these.”
The dashcam’s footage overwrites itself every hour. As long as we drove for more than an hour, whatever he said earlier would be erased. Predictably, Chu Ke Huan pressed down on the accelerator and merged onto the elevated highway heading north.
“You’re cunning,” I remarked.
“It’s because you’re too meticulous, overthinking everything,” he replied with a light glance in my direction and a faint smile. “Do you know how difficult it is to sit down with you for a clear-headed conversation? If not for today’s accident, I’d probably never have the chance.”
“I don’t think there’s anything for us to talk about,” I murmured. Deep down, I knew it wasn’t that we had nothing to say—it was that we shouldn’t be saying it.
“How about that vegetarian restaurant?” Chu Ke Huan asked, feigning ignorance.
“Perfect,” I replied. My words were polite, but my tone dripped with sarcasm. I glanced at the dashcam, making it clear I didn’t want to spill any genuine thoughts that might be recorded.
Chu Ke Huan immediately caught my meaning. “For the record, I loved that vegetarian restaurant too.”
He punctuated his statement with an exaggerated gagging face as if the food had been unbearably bad.
Caught off guard by his silly expression, I couldn’t hold back a laugh. In my memory, Chu Ke Huan was always composed, as if nothing could shake him—not even the sky falling. Yet here he was, pulling a childish face like a clown. For a fleeting moment, his face seemed to radiate an innocent charm.
“First time seeing you smile,” he said, gazing at me intently before pausing. “It’s ugly.”
“There are far uglier things in the world for you to explore at your leisure,” I retorted, curling my lips into a smirk.
And then we laughed—at the same time.
“Is your fiancé still away on business?” The way he said the word “fiancé” made my chest tighten with a faint, inexplicable warmth.
“He’s back,” I lied effortlessly. Maybe it was the strange relief of saying the opposite of the truth. Admitting that Hao Yi wasn’t in Taiwan felt like shedding a weight.
“How long will he be staying in Taiwan?” Chu Ke Huan continued, following my lead.
“…Six months,” I replied after a pause.
“Six months?” Chu Ke Huan paused in surprise. “Then how will your wedding plans proceed?”
I didn’t respond. On the one hand, answering with sarcasm seemed too complicated to pull off. On the other, I feared that if I explained the entire situation—the delays, the uncertainty, and how it all weighed on me—I might lose control of my emotions altogether.
0 Comments