The so-called fall of morality and loss of conscience is never an overnight occurrence.
That day, Chu Ke Huan dropped me off at the doorstep of my home. I watched as his car disappeared around the corner of the alley and began imagining his actions for that evening. Perhaps he was on the phone with Gao Zi Yuan, explaining why he had to take a detour to handle something, which took longer than expected. Then, as if nothing had happened, he would pull back the covers beside her and hold her as they fell asleep.
In those ten years of our relationship, how many conflicts had we endured, how much resentment had accumulated, and how often had we weighed the pros and cons before choosing the path of betrayal—remaining together on the surface but dreaming separate dreams in secret? Through it all, how many times did he wrestle with his conscience, only to be driven by darker thoughts? How often did he adjust himself and rehearse until he could lie seamlessly, without a trace? I was bewildered.
When I had to pick up the phone to speak to Hao Yi, spinning a half-truth, I realized I still couldn’t understand what Chu Ke Huan meant by “You’ll get used to it.”
I couldn’t do it—and I didn’t want to learn.
If it took months of inner turmoil, countless moments of hatred, a plane ticket for Hao Yi to fly to Shanghai, and Gao Zi Yuan’s trust in me to bring about this one kiss, then before my relationship with Chu Ke Huan spiraled completely out of control, I thought there was still a chance to set things right, to steer them back onto the path they should follow.
The issue between Hao Yi and me was distance. As long as we could overcome that, seeing Hao Yi would solve everything—or so I believed.
So, I threw myself into booking a flight to Shanghai for that week like a madwoman.
When Hao Yi heard I was coming to see him, he was naturally flattered. But he didn’t understand why I would waste two days off work just to make a visit we could have scheduled within a week. I only told him, “I miss you. No matter what, I need to see you. Right now.” He laughed and said he couldn’t argue with me. Yet deep inside, I was shouting, “It’s not you I can’t argue with, Hao Yi—it’s Chu Ke Huan.” How ironic that I owed this opportunity to see Hao Yi to Chu Ke Huan.
The flight from Songshan Airport to Hongqiao Airport was only ninety minutes. Being a smaller airport, there was no need to check in too early. The travel time was comparable to taking the high-speed train from Taipei to Kaohsiung, though the ticket prices were vastly different.
I turned off my phone before takeoff and began to calmly think through some practical issues. A round trip from Taipei to Shanghai cost about 8,000 to 10,000 NT dollars. If I had to rely on such trips for the next six months to ensure that Hao Yi and I made it through, was this expense truly worth it? By the time the plane landed, I still hadn’t found an answer. What I did realize, however, was this:
It turns out that love at a marriageable age is never priceless.
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