Playing Weak? Then Hug Me

That night, Li Xingqing barely slept at all.

Xi Zhen was far too drunk. When Li Xingqing carried her out of the car, she was still relatively quiet. But the moment they got home, the alcohol finally hit her, and everything in Xi Zhen seemed to surge up with it. Just as Li Xingqing helped her onto the sofa, Xi Zhen suddenly turned to the side and leaned over the armrest to retch.

But there was nothing in her empty stomach to bring up, only waves of dry heaving that made her curl in on herself.

Li Xingqing had one arm around her shoulders and the other pulling the trash can closer. Xi Zhen pressed her forehead against the rim, her hair falling loose to cover half her face. Her breathing was fast and rough. Li Xingqing gathered the hair back behind her ear; when her fingers brushed Xi Zhen’s forehead, she found it was slightly hot.

“Sister,” she called softly. “Xi Zhen, can you hear me?”

Xi Zhen gave no answer and retched again, her shoulders jerking, her whole body trembling like leaves in autumn. Li Xingqing said nothing more; she got up to pour a cup of warm water in the kitchen. By the time she came back, Xi Zhen was already slumped to one side on the sofa, eyes closed, the flush from the alcohol still lingering on her cheeks, making her look almost pitiful under the light.

Li Xingqing sat down beside her, lifting the back of her head with one hand and bringing the cup to her lips with the other.

“Have some water,” she said. “I added honey. Drink a little first.”

Xi Zhen didn’t seem to hear her, but the moment the cup touched her lips, she instinctively resisted. Li Xingqing had no choice but to feed her a little at a time. Xi Zhen drank very slowly; water spilled from the corner of her mouth and ran down her chin. Li Xingqing used her thumb to gently wipe away the drops, then lifted her up and let her lean against her shoulder.

Perhaps this position gave her a strong sense of security; Xi Zhen’s breathing gradually steadied, and her skin was no longer so hot to the touch. Li Xingqing was afraid of waking her, so she didn’t move, just sat there and let Xi Zhen rest against her shoulder. The living room lamp cast a faint yellow glow, throwing both their shadows onto the wall. Their elongated silhouettes overlapped in the light, impossible to separate.

In the middle of the night, Xi Zhen vomited again. This time it was worse than before; a sharp, sour smell spread through the air in an instant. Li Xingqing didn’t frown. She simply held Xi Zhen steady, waited for her to finish, then wiped the corner of her mouth with a wet towel and fed her a few more mouthfuls of water.

This time, Xi Zhen’s eyes opened a slit, hazy and unfocused, as if she recognized her; as if she didn’t.

“Li Xingqing...” Xi Zhen’s voice was very low, almost inaudible.

“Mm, I’m here.”

“...Uncomfortable.” Xi Zhen’s voice carried a hint of grievance, almost spoiled, yet still a little unfamiliar.

When Li Xingqing heard her voice, something in her chest seemed to tighten hard. Xi Zhen had never told her she felt uncomfortable. No matter how much wrong she had suffered, how much she had carried, how many people had misunderstood her, she had never said she was hurting.

But now, with alcohol stripping away all her defenses, she had finally compressed everything she had been holding back deep inside into two words—uncomfortable.

Li Xingqing lowered her head and pressed her lips to Xi Zhen’s forehead. It was still hot; the heat made her own chest ache.

“I know,” Li Xingqing said, her voice raw beyond belief. “I know you feel terrible.”

Xi Zhen’s lashes fluttered, as if confirming something. In the end, a voice with an unmistakable sob in it sounded by Li Xingqing’s ear: “They all lied to me... Li Xingqing... you lied to me too.”

“I’m not a jinx.”

“I didn’t sign some shady contract.”

“I... love... love...” The rest was hard to make out, but Li Xingqing no longer had the spare attention to care about anything else. She held Xi Zhen tightly in her arms, softly comforting the person whose pain seemed almost to melt her heart.

“I’m not lying to you.”

“You’re not.”

“I believe you.”

“I love Xi Zhen too; very, very much.” So much that she was practically going mad now.

By the second half of the night, Xi Zhen finally quieted down. She no longer vomited, nor did she toss and turn; she only slept deeply. Li Xingqing carried her from the sofa to the bed in the bedroom. When Xi Zhen’s body touched the mattress, she shrank slightly, but once she sensed Li Xingqing beside her, she settled again.

Li Xingqing sat by the bed all night. Only when the darkness outside the window shifted from deep black to ink-blue, then to a bluish gray, did she finally lean against the headboard and close her eyes. Listening to Xi Zhen’s breathing, one rise and fall after another, it was like the tide, like a heartbeat, like the most moving music in the world.

Xi Zhen woke to sunlight. She frowned and turned her head, trying to avoid the glare, only to find her head pounding as if it might split open. Her temples throbbed, her stomach churned with an indescribable nausea, and her mouth was dry and bitter, as if she’d been holding a mouthful of cotton soaked in Chinese medicine.

She lay there with her eyes closed for a while, trying to remember what had happened last night; the banquet, Song Xunqing, one glass after another of alcohol... After that, everything was like someone had erased it with a rubber, leaving only a hazy blank.

She slowly opened her eyes. The ceiling was unfamiliar; this was not her home. Her mind buzzed. She abruptly tried to sit up, but her body refused to cooperate. She only managed to push herself up a little before collapsing back down. That movement woke Li Xingqing, who had been asleep by the bed.

Xi Zhen turned stiffly and saw Li Xingqing sitting on the floor, her back against the side of the bed, one leg stretched out and the other bent; the posture was awkward, as if she’d been knocked out and dumped there. Her head was slightly lowered, her chin nearly touching her chest. She was still clutching a twisted wet towel in her hand, but after a whole night of being used back and forth, the towel had dried and now sat wrinkled in her palm.

At some point, Li Xingqing had taken off her suit jacket and tossed it casually onto the foot of the bed; her shirt sleeves were rolled up to her forearms, revealing a slender wrist. Her hair was a bit disheveled too, several loose strands hanging by her face and covering the dark circles under her eyes.

At the sound of Xi Zhen moving, Li Xingqing’s eyes opened at once and looked over. She was still a little dazed when they first opened, but in the next second she was fully alert and raised her head to look at Xi Zhen.

“You’re awake?” Her voice was terribly hoarse, as if she hadn’t spoken much all night, or had spoken too much. “Does your head hurt?”

Xi Zhen looked at her; at the dark circles she couldn’t hide, the red marks on the back of her hand from pressing against the floor, the stiffness in her shoulders as she slowly moved after sitting there all night.

“You... sat here all night?”

Li Xingqing didn’t answer. She stood up on her own, but her legs had gone numb, and she stumbled before steadying herself against the bed. Then she reached out to feel Xi Zhen’s forehead. Thankfully, it wasn’t hot anymore; the fever had gone down. Her brows eased slightly. She turned to pour a cup of warm water and handed it over.

“Drink some water.”

Xi Zhen took the cup. The moment her fingers touched the glass, she seemed to smell the sweetness of honey inside. After drinking a cup of warm water, Xi Zhen held the cup without looking up.

“I’m sorry.” After a long while, those three words came out of Li Xingqing’s mouth.

Xi Zhen’s fingers tightened around the cup. The condensation on the outside of the glass slid slowly downward, dropping onto her fingertips with a faint chill.

Whether out of guilt or self-reproach, Li Xingqing didn’t look at her. Her gaze rested on the wrinkled suit jacket at the foot of the bed. “Those people...” She paused. “It was all because of me.”

Xi Zhen didn’t speak.

“Those rumors, those people who made things difficult for you,” Li Xingqing’s jaw tightened. “They thought you and I were at odds, and that stepping on you would win them favor with me.” She stopped, as if waiting for Xi Zhen to say something. But Xi Zhen said nothing, only looked at her quietly, holding the cup while her fingers idly rubbed the glass.

“I didn’t know.” Li Xingqing’s voice suddenly dropped, so low it sounded like she was talking to herself. “I’ve been busy these past few days. I didn’t know people below were spreading those words, didn’t know they were making things hard for you, didn’t know you...” Didn’t know you had to endure so much grievance alone.

Li Xingqing’s lashes lowered, casting a faint shadow under her eyes. But that shadow was trembling faintly, as if something beneath it was churning.

Xi Zhen still said nothing. In the end, she only shook her head lightly. This person was already more than capable of standing on her own, yet when she said “I’m sorry,” she didn’t even dare look at her.

“Do you know,” Xi Zhen finally said, “what I’ve been thinking about these past few days?”

Li Xingqing’s lashes trembled, and at last she met Xi Zhen’s eyes.

“I’ve been thinking whether the people making things difficult for me were just stupid, or...” Xi Zhen paused. “Or whether you allowed it.”

Li Xingqing suddenly lifted her head. Her eyes were full of shock, and beneath that lay a tide of tenderness and remorse that was nearly enough to drown her whole.

“I’ve been thinking,” Xi Zhen went on, “maybe I was born unworthy of being properly cherished.” Her gaze fell to the cup she was rubbing with her fingers; sunlight reflected off the glass, bright and almost blinding.

“My parents were like that. Song Xunqing was like that too.” Her mouth curved faintly into a bitter smile. “Every time, I thought this would be different. Every time, I thought if I was serious enough, worked hard enough, gave everything I had, I wouldn’t repeat the same mistake. But...” Xi Zhen suddenly couldn’t go on. Her fingers unconsciously twisted together, her knuckles whitening.

“But I’m just not lucky enough. I’ll never be the winner; I’m just a greedy gambler.” Her voice grew softer and softer, so soft it was almost impossible to hear. Li Xingqing instinctively wanted to refute it, to tell Xi Zhen that she was the best, that she deserved the gentlest treatment in the world. But Xi Zhen didn’t give her the chance to speak.

She set the cup down on the table with a dull thud.

“Song Xunqing told me I was too stubborn, that I didn’t know how to be soft, didn’t know how to act spoiled.” She paused. “She said being with me was too tiring, like holding a rock.”

“Shi Fengyu said something similar too; she said I was too independent, so independent that it made her feel dispensable.”

“I tried to change myself, but before I could learn how, they were already gone.”

“After that, I stopped trying. However I was was how I was. Stubborn, then stubborn. Independent, then independent. Anyway...” She gave a small, self-mocking smile. “In the end, I’d always be alone.”

Xi Zhen lowered her head and buried her face in her hands. Her voice slipped through the gaps between her fingers, muffled and faintly trembling. “I’m already thirty-five. I’ve been in love twice, and both times I failed. The first time I was betrayed; the second time I was abandoned. I thought I was strong enough by now, polished enough, that these things wouldn’t hurt me anymore.”

“But Li Xingqing, when you showed up last night, my first thought wasn’t ‘I’m saved.’ It was ‘it’s over.’”

“I thought: it’s over, I’ve been seen again. Seen in my most miserable state again. Seen being forced to drink, being bullied, sitting there all by myself and unable to hold on. Once again, I’d become the one who needed saving.” Xi Zhen slowly raised her head. Her eyes were red, a bit of broken light clinging to her lashes, but she didn’t cry.

“All my life, the thing I’ve feared most is being seen when I can’t hold myself together. But after meeting you, every single time, it seems you’ve seen it.”

Li Xingqing looked at her. Her fingers moved as if she wanted to say something, but in the end she made no sound.

“I was thinking maybe this is fate... I ran for so long, hid for so long, desperately convincing myself that the two of us weren’t right for each other. But the moment you appear, you don’t even need to do anything; as long as you look at me with that kind of expression, I’ll immediately throw down my weapons.” She took a deep breath. “Li Xingqing, I’m not blaming you. I’m just... just scared. Scared it’ll be like before again, scared that after I finally gathered the courage, I’ll still end up alone in the end..."

At last, a tear fell.

Silently, it slid down her cheek and dripped onto her clasped fingers, blooming into a small dark stain.

“Li Xingqing, I can’t fall anymore, so... please have mercy and let me go... okay?”