2023
The hotel was old. The lighting was dim, and the facilities and decor were dated. Along the lower half of the walls, the paint was that bright red popular in the early years of the millennium, and the hallways were lined with blood-red carpet.
Maybe she had been hiding in the dark with her eyes closed for too long. Suddenly opening them, suddenly exposing herself to the light, made Chen Yue feel like she still couldn’t see Chi Xiaoman’s face clearly.
But Chi Xiaoman seemed very patient. This time, even after being stared at for a long while, she met her gaze bravely and didn’t look away.
She only noticed that Chen Yue had gone blank.
So she reached out and waved a hand worriedly in front of her. “Chen Yue?”
“Mm?” Chen Yue pulled herself back. Leaning on the old doorframe, she smiled at Chi Xiaoman and said, “Sure. Let’s go for a walk.”
Chi Xiaoman probably hadn’t expected her to agree. She froze for a couple of seconds, then nodded a little flusteredly. “Mm, okay.”
Her voice was tentative. “Then do you want to get ready first? I’ll wait for you downstairs?”
As if she’d remembered something, she worried her fingers together and looked very concerned for her. “It’s really cold outside; you should wear more.”
“Okay.” Chen Yue nodded. “I’ll go get a thicker coat.”
“Okay.” Chi Xiaoman nodded along with her. For some reason, the way she nodded was very similar to Chen Yue’s.
She didn’t follow Chen Yue into the room. Instead, she stood rather timidly at the doorway, watching her go in to look for a coat, then called her name. “Chen Yue?”
“Mm?” Chen Yue stopped and looked back at her. Her complexion still didn’t look very good under the light; she seemed like she needed a lot of rest, not to be out running around with her.
Chi Xiaoman suddenly became afraid that her invitation had been the wrong choice. She pressed her lips together and emphasized, “If you don’t want to go, then we don’t have to.”
“Because I only asked. The crew has been stuck here for a long time, and I wanted to see whether you wanted to get some air. But if you don’t want to go, then don’t force yourself, okay?” she asked Chen Yue.
After listening to her, Chen Yue wore a slightly dazed expression, as if she were truly thinking it through. After a moment of silence, she gave a very simple conclusion. “I want to go.”
It seemed like she meant it.
Chi Xiaoman loosened her fingers. Seeing Chen Yue so rarely show confusion and sluggishness, she felt a kind of helpless sadness. If she could, she wanted to bear everything Chen Yue was turning over in her mind right now. But that didn’t seem possible. There was no chance, and no right. All she could do was stand outside the door like this and slowly nod. “Okay.”
“Then wear more.” Chi Xiaoman repeated it.
Chen Yue smiled at her. “Okay.”
The art department head’s name was Chen Fang, and she was also from Guangdong. After following the crew for a while, her belly slowly began to show.
Chi Xiaoman worried that keeping up like this would be exhausting for her, so she insisted on sending her home a month early to start her leave.
It took two to three hours to drive from the crew to the airport. Aunt Fang’s eldest daughter would arrive around then to fly with her. All Chi Xiaoman needed to do was take Aunt Fang to the airport. She didn’t drive the old pickup that bounced around too much; instead, she specially rented a more comfortable sedan.
Naturally, after going downstairs and asking Aunt Fang which seat she preferred, Chen Yue gave the more comfortable and spacious seat to Aunt Fang and sat in the front passenger seat herself.
One pregnant woman in the car, and the other passenger didn’t look all that well either.
Chi Xiaoman didn’t dare drive too fast. All the way there, she held the steering wheel tightly with both hands and focused on the road ahead. Only when they hit a red light and had to slow down did she dare glance at Chen Yue in the passenger seat.
From the moment she got in, Chen Yue hadn’t said much. She’d simply checked on Aunt Fang a couple of times, then leaned back in the passenger seat and silently watched the scenery outside.
She was wearing quite a lot of clothes, though.
That was what Chi Xiaoman thought, and after the light turned green, she turned up the temperature of the air-conditioning a little.
“Oh my—”
Aunt Fang in the back suddenly cried out, clutching her belly.
“What’s wrong, what’s wrong?” Chi Xiaoman asked anxiously, looking back through the rearview mirror.
Chen Yue seemed to wake with a start too, turning around in some alarm to look at Aunt Fang.
Aunt Fang clicked her tongue. “Nothing.”
She rested both arms comfortably over her belly, a piece of dried fruit pinched between her fingers. “Your driving’s just too slow. I might as well have ridden my bike myself.”
Aunt Fang was usually the type who liked to joke around. Seeing her expression, Chi Xiaoman figured she wasn’t finding the ride difficult at all; she was just teasing them. That let her breathe easier, though she still didn’t dare relax too much. “Why don’t you take a nap—”
“I’m not sleeping.” Aunt Fang refused crisply, then looked at Chen Yue sitting a little blankly in the passenger seat. She sighed and muttered, “I’m never getting in a car with you two again.”
“Us two?” Chi Xiaoman was confused. “What about us two?”
“One of you drives like a turtle, all slow and sluggish.” Aunt Fang pinched the half-eaten dried fruit and criticized mercilessly. “The other sits in the front passenger seat the whole time and doesn’t say a word.”
“No.” Chi Xiaoman pressed her lips together.
She glanced at Chen Yue and said softly, “Teacher Chen might just be thinking about the scene. It really has been hard on her lately.”
Chen Yue seemed to come back to herself a little because of Aunt Fang’s words. Hearing Chi Xiaoman explain for her, she just lowered her eyes and smiled. “Mm, I was thinking about today’s scene.”
“But I really am driving too slowly.” Chi Xiaoman said that, then pressed the gas a little harder.
“What’s there to think about in today’s scene!” Aunt Fang waved a hand. “Once it’s filmed, it’s over. You’re still so young; how come you think about things more than I do?”
As she spoke, she rummaged through the small bag she was carrying and pulled out two candies, holding out a hand with some effort to pass them to Chen Yue. “Here—if you’re unhappy, then have a candy first.”
Chen Yue was afraid her movement would press on her belly, so she hurriedly reached out to take them.
Chi Xiaoman also slowed the car at that moment.
After handing the candy over, Aunt Fang sank back into her seat with some difficulty. “My daughter has loved this candy since she was little. She only ever eats this flavor. Later, when she grew up, there was one time she came back to me with swollen eyes and said—Mom, work is so hard. I don’t want to go work outside.”
“I just peeled this candy and stuffed it into her mouth. I didn’t say a word. She ended up crying on her own, wailing about how wronged she’d been outside, about how many people were talking her down...”
Maybe because she’d brought up her eldest daughter, Aunt Fang’s words became a little more rambling. There were a few bits of Cantonese mixed in afterward; as she talked, for some reason, she started nodding off, her head drooping as she gave off a tiny snore.
Chi Xiaoman looked at her with concern through the rearview mirror, then thought about it and pulled over by the roadside.
Chen Yue seemed to know what she was thinking. As soon as Chi Xiaoman stopped the car, she got out, opened the passenger door, and got back in. She draped a blanket over Aunt Fang and helped adjust her posture so she wouldn’t press on her belly. Then she got back in the car.
The car started moving again.
The rain had stopped. But the weather was still very cold.
Chen Yue settled back into the passenger seat and stared blankly at the two candies in her palm. They were from a brand that had been popular for a long time; the kind of lollipops sold in big bags with different flavors.
Flat, and pulled out, you could eat them directly.
“Chi Xiaoman.” Chen Yue turned her face to look at the girl driving, her tone very serious. “Which flavor do you want?”
“Mm?” Chi Xiaoman was concentrating while driving. “Anything’s fine.”
“There’s grape and orange.” Chen Yue said.
“I’m okay with either.” Chi Xiaoman said again.
“Okay.” Chen Yue thought for a moment, unwrapped the grape one, and held it straight to Chi Xiaoman’s lips.
Chi Xiaoman was really serious when she drove, as if she couldn’t possibly be distracted.
So Chen Yue held it out.
And she obediently tilted her head and mechanically bit onto the lollipop.
Like a cat rubbing against your hand.
Chen Yue smiled.
Chi Xiaoman probably heard her laugh and seemed like she wanted to say something. But maybe her brain couldn’t handle too many things at once, so she only tilted her chin in confusion and, in the end, said nothing.
So Chen Yue peeled open the orange one too and slowly put it into her own mouth.
Maybe the sweetness of candy really could make someone feel better.
After that.
Since Aunt Fang was sleeping so soundly, they didn’t really talk much. But the air was filled with the scent of candy, and the mood finally didn’t feel quite so dull.
The car slowly drove to the airport through the winter chill.
Then it stopped.
Chi Xiaoman finally let out a breath, and saw that Chen Yue in the passenger seat was also squinting as she slept. She got out of the car and quietly went around to the back to wake Aunt Fang.
Aunt Fang opened her sleepy eyes groggily.
Chi Xiaoman made a “shh” gesture at her.
Aunt Fang said nothing else and let Chi Xiaoman support her as she got out and went into the airport.
Her eldest daughter was already waiting inside. When she saw her being helped over, she shot Chi Xiaoman an unhappy look, then turned the same unhappy expression on Aunt Fang. “Why are you wearing so little?”
“Don’t start lecturing me the second we meet!” Aunt Fang said indignantly, hands on her hips. With her eldest daughter’s help, she was about to go rest. But before leaving, she turned back and asked Chi Xiaoman very suddenly, “You two just now, did you eat the candy or not?”
Chi Xiaoman froze.
After a while, she came back to herself. “We did.”
“That’s good.” Aunt Fang said, still hands on her hips.
“Since you’ve eaten the candy, then you have to tell each other all your grievances.”
“Do you understand?” she asked Chi Xiaoman with some severity.
Chi Xiaoman was stunned.
After a long while, she curled her fingers in and said, “Okay.”
“Honestly.” Aunt Fang waved a hand. “Hurry back.”
Then she turned around.
And muttered softly, “What are you two little brats even sulking about? Hurry up and make up.”
We’re not sulking. Teacher Chen is a very good person; don’t misunderstand her.
Chi Xiaoman wanted to explain it like that.
But by the time she came to herself, Aunt Fang had already been helped away by her eldest daughter.
In the end, she didn’t explain.
Chi Xiaoman pressed her lips together and walked back to where the car was parked in a daze.
The sky had already grown somewhat late. The car sat alone among many others.
Afraid Chen Yue was still sleeping, Chi Xiaoman walked back carefully, then carefully opened the door and tried to keep her movements light as she sat in the driver’s seat.
She looked at Chen Yue in the passenger seat.
The other woman was sleeping very soundly, probably because she felt cold; both arms were wrapped tightly around herself.
Chi Xiaoman turned around, found the blanket Aunt Fang had just used, and covered her with it. Suddenly, she felt guilty—because Chen Yue would always be the kind of person who, if she only had one blanket, would give it to someone else.
Actually, it should have been Chi Xiaoman who prepared two blankets from the start.
That was what she thought.
Then she kept staring blankly at Chen Yue’s sleeping face.
Before falling asleep, Chen Yue hadn’t wanted to delay her driving, so she’d specially taken off the candy stick she’d already eaten from and wrapped it together with her own in a tissue; maybe because there was nowhere to throw it away, she was still clutching it tightly in her hand.
Chen Yue would always be this kind of person.
Give the good things to others. Keep the bad things for herself.
Even... never letting anyone notice that she had carried too much of the bad.
But Aunt Fang had said—
After eating candy, you have to tell people all your grievances.
Chi Xiaoman didn’t have a mother to teach her this. She didn’t know whether, growing up, Chen Yue’s mother might have taught her in exactly the opposite way, which was why Chen Yue had gotten used to doing this.
Standing at the airport just now, watching Aunt Fang and her eldest daughter leave, Chi Xiaoman had suddenly felt, for some reason, as if a small piece of flesh on her chest had been pinched tight.
Actually, whenever she saw the way other mothers and daughters interacted, she always felt at a loss. She also always envied them; envied Shen Baozhi for being able to say unhappily to Shen Yin at any time, “Don’t call me baby outside,” envied Aunt Fang’s eldest daughter for being able to grumble, “Why are you wearing so little?”... Only this time, it didn’t seem to be because she herself hadn’t found her mother.
Maybe Chen Yue’s own mother was also very good.
But as Chi Xiaoman watched Aunt Fang and her daughter walk away slowly, she suddenly had a narrow, petty thought: if there had been an adult when Chen Yue was little who was willing to talk to her like this, then would Chen Yue not always have to suffer alone at times like this?
Chi Xiaoman thought blankly.
Beep—
A car horn.
She jolted awake.
Her eyes fell again on the candy stick tightly clenched in Chen Yue’s hand.
Holding her breath, she carefully reached over to take it, trying not to touch Chen Yue.
So she curled her fingers in.
But just as her fingers brushed the candy stick—
They were hooked.
Chi Xiaoman froze.
Chen Yue had hooked her index finger with her own.
Very small.
Very light.
Like a feather falling gently.
Like a very, very slight tremor in an iceberg sunk beneath the sea.
Chi Xiaoman turned her face in a daze.
There was no light in the car. The shadows and light were spilling in from the streetlamps outside. Chen Yue had been sleeping, but maybe because Chi Xiaoman had disturbed her, she slowly opened her eyes. Her gaze toward Chi Xiaoman was full of confusion, yet still as quiet as ever.
“Chen Tong-jiejie.” Chi Xiaoman called her softly. “Do you have something you want to tell me?”
Chen Yue looked at her.
Maybe she was slow to react because she’d just woken up.
She looked at Chi Xiaoman through the light for a while.
Then she closed her eyes gently and shook her head a little. In a low voice, she called her name. “Xiaoman.”
“Mm?”
Chen Yue’s voice sounded off.
Chi Xiaoman hurried closer. Under the dim light, she looked anxiously at her face. “Chen Tong-jiejie, are you feeling unwell somewhere?”
Chen Tong didn’t answer.
She kept her eyes closed, her eyelashes trembling slightly. Every breath she took seemed a little difficult.
Only then did Chi Xiaoman notice that sweat had begun to seep across her face; it should have been cold sweat. In no time at all, it had already soaked her hair.
“Chen Tong-jiejie.”
“Chen Tong-jiejie.”
“Chen Yue!”
She called several times in a row, but got no further response.
In an emergency, Chi Xiaoman couldn’t care about much else. Somehow tears suddenly began falling from the corners of her eyes like a sudden rain. In a flurry, she wiped at her face. “I, I’ll take you to the hospital.”
With her vision blurred, she started the car.
She sped toward the nearest hospital under unfamiliar streetlights.
She regretted it.
Regretted always asking questions.
Regretted, too, taking Chen Yue out on her own.
She’d said they would go for a walk.
And in the end she’d made Chen Yue feel so awful instead.
In panic, Chi Xiaoman clenched her teeth, tightened her fingers, and forced herself to stay calm. If... if she was destined never to be a reliable person, then at the very least, at least she had to get Chen Yue safely to the hospital.
The wind rustled against the car window.
Chi Xiaoman had never wanted anything so desperately in her life.
-
The car reached the nearest hospital ten minutes later.
By then Chen Yue’s condition was already very bad—
She was sweating heavily, her face flushed red. No matter how Chi Xiaoman spoke to her, no matter how many times she called her name, she seemed unable to hear clearly, unable to answer, only managing a faint furrow of the brow.
Only at times like this did Chen Yue seem sufficiently relaxed, no longer struggling so hard to hide her bad moods.
Maybe Chi Xiaoman was overreacting.
After getting out of the car, she rushed into the hospital, found the triage desk up front, and slammed both hands onto the counter, bracing herself so her legs wouldn’t go weak. When the nurse at the triage desk looked up at her in surprise, she wiped away her tears and told them to hurry and bring a stretcher, her words tumbling out incoherently as she described what she’d seen. She said her friend was in very bad shape, had fainted in the car, and looked terribly uncomfortable and in pain. She begged them to save her quickly.
The nurse comforted her not to panic and, with the rescue team, followed her back out in a rush.
In the end, they ran over and opened the car door as if rushing to put out a fire. Chen Yue was in the front passenger seat, weakly lifting her eyelids. Seeing so many people, she looked a little surprised; she also tried very hard to part her colorless lips, as if she wanted to say something, but cold sweat slid down, making her wince.
The wind swept up, the cold biting against her eyelids and making her eyes hurt. In her panic, Chi Xiaoman stopped where she was, not wanting to get in the way of the emergency staff, so she could only stand behind the crowd and keep telling the person surrounded in the center, “Y-you don’t have to talk—”
By then, a crowd had already surged over and the car door was opened in a hurry. In the shadowy mass of bodies, Chen Yue’s face was deathly pale as she leaned weakly against the seat, her hair wet through, eyes half-open.
Through the rescue workers rushing past her, when she heard Chi Xiaoman’s voice, she raised her eyes in a daze. And once she finally found Chi Xiaoman’s figure, she smiled.
Then, perhaps because she was already suffering too much, she couldn’t hold on for long. She parted her lips with great effort and seemed to say something to her, but because she had no strength left, no sound came out.
People crowded around and carried Chen Yue into the hospital. Chi Xiaoman could tell that at that moment, Chen Yue probably had wanted to tell her:
Xiaoman, don’t be afraid.
The bone-piercing wind seeped deep into her bones. Chi Xiaoman covered her eyes and nearly broke down in tears at the hospital entrance.
-
Even though Chen Yue hadn’t completely passed out, they still pushed her in for many tests.
The hospital bed was wheeled back and forth through the corridor. Chi Xiaoman followed tightly beside it like a lonely insect, staring at Chen Yue’s weak face; memories kept flashing back to long ago—on the bed then was Lang Lang, and there were two people circling around it.
She couldn’t go any further into the memory.
The hurried pace of the emergency department cut off her thoughts.
Chi Xiaoman, fingers curled tightly together, borrowed a mask from a nurse. After that she kept her face lowered as much as possible, not wanting to be recognized and affect Chen Yue. Once all the checks were finished, Chen Yue was pushed into an observation ward.
Chi Xiaoman drew the curtain up.
She didn’t sit.
She just stood there all alone.
Staring blankly at Chen Yue on the bed.
A long time passed before all the test results came back. The emergency doctor made a very simple diagnosis: vasovagal syncope, with a slight fever. They also said this kind of thing had many possible triggers, including emotional stimulation and pain. During an episode, the patient would experience a sense of impending death, numb limbs, and blurred vision. This kind of condition could only be prevented, not treated, and it usually didn’t happen just once by accident.
After so many examinations, Chen Yue was probably very tired too, and had fallen asleep again. A thin line was connected to her hand, carrying fluid that would make her feel a little better.
Her eyes were tightly shut, as if she were having some terrible dream. The skin at her neck was very white, and the blue veins beneath it were beating with frightening force. Because her heart rate was so slow, it seemed to have to work hard every single time just to keep her alive.
That also allowed Chi Xiaoman to see her fragility all the more clearly.
If Chen Yue were awake right now, she would probably squint and smile again, telling her in that soft voice, Xiaoman, I’m fine. Don’t worry too much.
But this time—
The problem Chen Yue was facing seemed harder, more difficult to handle, than any Chi Xiaoman had ever seen before.
Chi Xiaoman didn’t know what that problem was, nor did she know what she was supposed to do.
At twenty, she had just gone downstairs as usual to print a script. The next day she stood in the hospital corridor, staring blankly at the wall in confusion, not knowing why Lang Lang had suddenly been gone.
At thirty, she had only wanted to bring Chen Yue out to get some air, wanted to see whether the outside world might make her feel a little happier. Yet all of a sudden she was standing inside the pink curtain of a hospital room, not knowing why Chen Yue had suddenly become so painfully ill that she forced herself to have a sickness.
Chi Xiaoman didn’t know whether both of those things were because of her.
If someone told her it was because of her.
Then at twenty, she would have chosen to leave Beijing, not make that phone call borrowing money from Wang Aimei in front of Lang Lang, and not have lied to everyone that there was a Rainbow Sister in this world.
At thirty, she could also immediately turn around and leave, contact Chen Yue’s agent to come pick her up, not film Neon, not be a director, and not play Xiaoyu anymore. This movie could have nothing to do with her anymore. She could even... stop getting close to Chen Yue.
As long as Chen Yue could feel better now.
Chi Xiaoman was willing to give up everything she had.
She wiped away the cooled tears on her face and stared at the little needle in Chen Yue’s hand, feeling that it might hurt a lot; then feeling that even if it hurt, Chen Yue still wouldn’t say so; then feeling that Chen Yue probably needed to eat something quickly, yet if she walked away Chen Yue might be scared when she woke up...
A mess of thoughts filled her head.
Chi Xiaoman pinched the skin on the back of her own hand very hard. But she didn’t feel pain, and she didn’t have much strength either.
Until a long time later.
Chen Yue seemed finally to feel a little better, her eyelashes trembling like a fragile butterfly.
Chi Xiaoman quickly lowered the hand she’d pinched red, staring nervously at Chen Yue.
Then she felt the lights might be too bright. So she formed her hands into a little mountain shape and held them above Chen Yue’s eyes, while she lowered her own face to look at her, asking softly, “Chen Tong-jiejie, do you feel any better now?”
Chen Yue opened her eyes.
Just woken up.
She looked a little dazed, her gaze sluggish, her face tired.
But when she saw Chi Xiaoman.
She was struck speechless in a very rare way.
There wasn’t much of a reaction.
Chi Xiaoman saw the remaining pain and confusion on her face, saw the glistening sweat on her nose, and really wanted to cry again. But she also felt that crying again at this point would be very useless.
So she could only wipe at her eyes.
Then lower her eyelids for a moment.
Then strain to look into Chen Yue’s eyes again.
She didn’t know what expression she should make.
Her mind felt wooden.
She didn’t seem able to open her mouth to say more either.
So she could only do her best to keep shielding the light for Chen Yue.
And Chen Yue quietly looked back at her too.
They looked at each other.
A heavy wash of shadow and light lay between their eyes.
A long time passed.
Chen Yue spoke, calling her softly,
“Xiaoman.”
Her gaze fell on the red-and-purple marks on the back of Chi Xiaoman’s hand. After a moment of silence, she asked very softly,
“Does it hurt?”
Looking at Chen Yue’s weak, exhausted eyes, Chi Xiaoman managed to speak with difficulty and shook her head. “It doesn’t hurt.”
Holding back tears, she asked in a daze, “Chen Tong-jiejie, do you..."
“Do you still want candied sweet potatoes?”
-
The ward was lit with a ghastly white light, and Chen Yue’s face was still very pale. Resting against the white pillow on the hospital bed, she stared blankly for a long time after opening her eyes—
Probably because she hadn’t expected that after fainting for so long, the first thing Chi Xiaoman would ask when she woke up would be such a simple question.
But Chi Xiaoman didn’t avoid Chen Yue’s direct gaze. Whether it was self-important or not, she couldn’t care that much.
She looked into Chen Yue’s eyes, looking very hard, and asked again with all her effort,
“Chen Tong-jiejie, you—”
“I want some.” Chen Yue suddenly cut her off.
After that, she didn’t explain anything more. She only looked back into Chi Xiaoman’s eyes and smiled. Though exhausted and weak, she was still very gentle. “I want candied sweet potatoes.”
Getting a positive answer, Chi Xiaoman reacted half a beat late. She wiped away the tears that had slipped down from the corners of her eyes. “Then I—I’ll go buy some for you now—”
She had barely gotten halfway through the sentence.
Chi Xiaoman was already straightening up, about to go out—
But Chen Yue suddenly reached out and grabbed her.
Chi Xiaoman had no choice but to stop.
Chen Yue was lying in bed, and her body’s depleted energy still hadn’t recovered. Her wrist emerged from the black cuff, very thin and fragile, her skin a sickly paper white.
And she tugged at the corner of Chi Xiaoman’s clothes like this, her grip light, her voice even lighter. “Don’t leave right now.”
So Chi Xiaoman turned around again, like a flustered dragonfly.
She saw Chen Yue straining to keep her eyelids open as she looked at her, awkwardly picking at the back of her hand and wiping her face.
Then, just like before, she turned back, leaned in, and used her own shadow to cover Chen Yue’s fragile body. In a clumsy posture, she reached out to shield the light for her. “Then do you want some water?”
Chen Yue was completely enclosed by her shadow. She looked up from below at her, gaze weary but still full of softness. “Okay.”
“Then I’ll pour some.” Chi Xiaoman said that, then hurriedly pulled her hand back and went to pour water for Chen Yue.
The water had been drawn up earlier during Chen Yue’s tests, using the thermos from the car.
But afraid it was too hot, after pouring it out, Chi Xiaoman first hurriedly splashed a little onto the back of her own hand to test the temperature.
After testing, she still felt it wasn’t right, so she used the cup lid and the cup itself to pour it back and forth several times. Only after testing the temperature again did she feel it was okay, and then, keeping her hands as steady as possible, she carried it back to give Chen Yue.
The whole process left Chi Xiaoman flustered and frantic.
Chen Yue lay in the hospital bed, quietly watching her, saying nothing.
Until the cup of water was slowly carried over.
Chen Yue’s eyes dropped to the back of her hand, red and purple from being pinched and then reddened again by the heat. Her lips moved weakly.
“I’m fine.” Chi Xiaoman said first. She curled her fingers in. “It doesn’t hurt at all.”
Chi Xiaoman wasn’t very good at lying. That was because she’d always been honest; she’d said every time she lied, Wang Aimei would catch her and then hit her on the calf. So when she grew up and lied, she would always feel guilty, to the point that her eyes would dart away like a kitten playing hide-and-seek with a lie detector.
But her eyes weren’t darting away now, which meant... she really didn’t feel that much pain.
Chen Yue couldn’t keep watching her like this for long.
She struggled to sit up, took the cup of water from Chi Xiaoman, and took a very slow sip. Lowering her lashes, she scratched the rim of the cup. “Xiaoman, were you very worried about me just now?”
“Not really.” Chi Xiaoman tried to keep her tone normal. “It’s just that the doctor said you haven’t been resting enough lately, and... and you were too tense, so you fainted—”
She said a few things, then didn’t continue.
She was afraid Chen Yue would get annoyed hearing too much after waking up, and she herself couldn’t say any more either.
So she only carefully tucked the blanket around Chen Yue a little tighter, and whatever else she wanted to say changed at the lips into, “Anyway, don’t get chilled again.”
Chen Yue said nothing.
She didn’t drink any more water. She just looked at Chi Xiaoman, still looking very tired, as if she’d already used up a great deal of energy just staying awake and had no strength left to say anything more to comfort her.
Chi Xiaoman didn’t want her to be too tired, and even less did she want her to worry about her while she was sick. So she tucked the blanket in tighter and said softly, “You can just sleep. I’ll go buy the candied sweet potatoes later, later.”
As she spoke.
Chi Xiaoman also took the cup from Chen Yue, who had finished drinking.
Chen Yue handed it over, as if she wanted to say something, but in the end only called her in a low voice, “Xiaoman.”
“Mm, I’m here.” Chi Xiaoman said that.
She also looked into her eyes. “Chen Tong-jiejie, is there something you want to tell me?”
Chen Yue kept her lashes lowered and didn’t speak right away.
Chi Xiaoman pressed her lips together. “It’s okay.”
“Do you want some more water?” she asked Chen Yue.
Chen Yue shook her head, as if she were still thinking about something. So she raised her eyes with difficulty, glanced at the water in the IV bag, then turned her face a little inward, not looking at Chi Xiaoman, and said softly, “I want to sleep a little more.”
“Okay.” Chi Xiaoman stood up and pulled the blanket over her a little more. “Go to sleep.”
Chen Yue turned her face toward the inside side of the bed. Hearing Chi Xiaoman’s voice, she didn’t turn her head, nor did she react. She kept her face slightly averted, hiding from Chi Xiaoman’s gaze. Her whole body looked like a curled-up leaf.
Chi Xiaoman finished arranging the blanket and quickly withdrew her hand, staring blankly at her turned face.
The emergency ward wasn’t quiet at all; there were cries of pain all around. But Chen Yue was quiet by herself. It seemed as if nothing in her body hurt, or else her formidable endurance wouldn’t allow her to show the pain outward. She closed her eyes, as if she were just sleeping peacefully.
A long time passed.
Just when Chi Xiaoman thought she wouldn’t speak again, Chen Yue called her once more. “Xiaoman.”
Her tone was weak and sleepy.
“Mm?” Chi Xiaoman looked at her turned face and said, “I’m here?”
Chen Yue didn’t look at her. Her gaze was fixed on a very low point. After a long time, she said, “Don’t leave the hospital by yourself, okay?”
Chi Xiaoman couldn’t bring herself not to say “okay.”
She wiped the corner of her eye and gave a tiny “mm.” Because if she said more, she might not be able to stop herself from crying.
“Mm.” Chen Yue answered wearily. “That’s good.”
After that, she said no more. Turning her face aside, a vein on her arm was connected to the transparent tube. Her posture was stiff; lying there probably wasn’t comfortable either.
But not long after.
She seemed to fall asleep after all.
Her brow was furrowed, her eyelids trembling slightly. Like she was having a terrible dream, and sweat began seeping out again across the side of her face.
Chi Xiaoman stood up and wiped it away for her.
The dry tissue pads were soaked one after another.
Chen Yue seemed trapped in a horrible dream. Sweat kept beading over and over on her face, neck, chin, and behind her ears.
She was like someone trapped at the bottom of a well, unwilling to sink and unwilling to rise, so she could only maintain that stubborn posture until she exhausted herself completely.
Chi Xiaoman wiped away the sweat again and again.
In the end, there was nothing she could do.
She could only sit dazedly on the stool and stare at Chen Yue’s sleeping face, covering her eyes and crying uncontrollably.
The fluid in the IV bag was almost finished by around dawn.
That was when the nurse came to remove the needle.
The doctor had already come to look—
He said that as long as this fainting episode settled down and her heart rate returned to normal, there would be no real problem; she could be discharged and rest properly.
Chi Xiaoman hurriedly stood up, keeping her voice down. “Thank you, thank you.”
After the nurse removed Chen Yue’s needle, she looked at the two of them for a while, then found two new masks for Chi Xiaoman and reminded her, “It’s snowing a bit outside, so it might be very cold. Don’t let her get chilled.”
“Thank you, thank you.” Chi Xiaoman said, looking haggard.
The needle was pulled out.
Chen Yue still hadn’t fully woken.
The doctor and nurse both left.
Chi Xiaoman sat dazedly by the bed, pressing a cotton swab lightly against the back of her hand.
She wasn’t thinking about anything.
Until Chen Yue barely opened her eyes.
Chi Xiaoman secretly rubbed her own eyes, lifted the cotton swab to check, then pressed it back down, and reminded her softly, “Be careful with your hand.”
After sleeping all night, Chen Yue didn’t seem much better either. She lifted her eyelids with great fatigue and nodded. “Okay.”
Chi Xiaoman waited a little longer, checked again, and felt the wound on Chen Yue’s hand was about done. She threw away the cotton swab, then went to pour Chen Yue a cup of water.
It was fresh water, still warm. All night long, Chi Xiaoman had kept changing it.
Chen Yue took the water and had a sip.
Only after seeing that she seemed a little better did Chi Xiaoman slowly say, “The doctor said you can be discharged. But I don’t think there’s any way to go back right now, so I found a hotel nearby for you to rest.”
Chen Yue nodded. “Okay.”
“Or should I help you contact your agent?” Chi Xiaoman asked again.
Chen Yue didn’t answer. She stared blankly out the window for a long time before slowly saying,
“Is it snowing?”
Only then did Chi Xiaoman also look outside—there wasn’t a vast white expanse, only a little scattering of snow pellets falling down, slightly noisy. At least it didn’t sound like rain.
“Maybe.” Chi Xiaoman wasn’t very interested in snow. She only cared that snow meant cold, and whether Chen Yue would be cold when she went out later, whether she would feel as awful again as she had yesterday.
So while Chen Yue stared blankly at the snow outside the window.
Chi Xiaoman found out the mask again, and after thinking about it, took off the thick coat she’d specially put on before leaving yesterday too. She held them all in her hands.
After Chen Yue finished the warm water and weakly tried to get out of bed, Chi Xiaoman went over and put the mask on her.
She also draped her own coat over Chen Yue’s coat.
After spending the whole night exhausted, Chen Yue was utterly drained, so basically Chi Xiaoman put things on her and she wore them; Chi Xiaoman handed things to her and she wore them.
Only when she noticed she was wearing two coats did she blink in some confusion.
“It’s very cold outside,” Chi Xiaoman said. “Wear more.”
Chen Yue parted her lips with effort.
“The hotel is very close,” Chi Xiaoman explained. “I’ll walk you there in a few steps.”
As she spoke.
She also crouched down by the bed.
To carry her on her back.
Chen Yue seemed somewhat hesitant and wanted to brace herself to get out of bed and walk on her own, but she seemed to realize she didn’t have much strength and could only sit quietly at the bedside.
“You have to trust me,” Chi Xiaoman said. “I’ve been exercising almost every day these past few days; I won’t drop you.”
Chen Yue was silent.
Chi Xiaoman still didn’t stand up. She kept her silence company.
After a while.
Chen Yue seemed to concede. She leaned down onto Chi Xiaoman’s shoulder, her face pressed against hers, still very ice-cold and chilly, slightly shivering, even. But she said in a low voice, “I’m not saying I don’t trust you.”
Chi Xiaoman suddenly felt a little sour in the nose.
She stood up—
And discovered that Chen Yue was really very, very light, so light that even someone as lightweight as she was could easily carry her up.
That made her feel even sadder.
She couldn’t say anything more.
Carrying Chen Yue on her back, head lowered, she slowly walked out of the emergency ward and toward the hospital entrance.
This hospital was very new, very bright. The corridor leading outside was wide, crowded with people. Chi Xiaoman carried Chen Yue and walked slowly along the side of the hall.
No one recognized them along the way.
Maybe some people would think the two of them looked strange. But no one would have guessed that in some second-tier hospital in Guizhou, it was Chi Xiaoman carrying Chen Yue through a corner.
A lot of people thought she hated her, always making a splash when she won awards. A lot of people thought it was actually she who hated her so much that she bought armies of trolls to smear her.
“Xiaoman.” In the dense crowd, Chen Yue suddenly reached out and touched Chi Xiaoman’s eyes. Her face rested against the side of hers; her body temperature was slowly recovering, but her voice still sounded tired. “Have you been crying for a long time?”
“No.” Chi Xiaoman sniffled. “I’m very strong.”
She emphasized to Chen Yue, “I don’t cry that easily anymore.”
Chen Yue answered with an “mm,” her voice sinking down like a leaf falling into the sea. “That’s good.”
“Sleep for a bit.” The distance from the ward to the hospital entrance was a little far. Carrying Chen Yue, Chi Xiaoman would feel a little cold after just a few steps. But she kept going, not wanting Chen Yue to think she couldn’t even carry someone for very long. “I’m fine.”
Chen Yue didn’t speak.
She had probably already fallen asleep.
So Chi Xiaoman held her breath and walked quietly toward the outside of the hospital.
Then Chen Yue suddenly said, “No.”
Her tone was firm.
“Why not?”
Chi Xiaoman thought it was strange. Her hair fell down from her eyelids and blocked her view; in the gaps, only their shadows remained under the corridor lights. “You don’t need to worry about me.”
Chen Yue didn’t speak right away.
She was probably very tired; the air she exhaled carried some heat. After a while, she said haltingly, “Because I don’t want you to... leave the hospital... alone again.”
Chi Xiaoman froze.
Chen Yue’s breathing was rough.
Its rhythm was very low. After a while, she finally let out a difficult breath and said softly to Chi Xiaoman, “Let’s go.”
Her voice was faint and light.
“This time, we’ll walk together.”
-
After saying that, Chen Yue didn’t say any more.
But Chi Xiaoman could tell she was still forcing herself not to fall asleep, her breathing speeding up and slowing down again.
There was no time to waste.
Chi Xiaoman lowered her head, and tears hit the floor.
She couldn’t do anything about it.
She carried Chen Yue step by step out of the hospital.
At the hospital entrance in the middle of winter night, there were many cars and many people, and the light was dim. But the most noticeable thing was still the little pellets of snow striking the ground. They weren’t snowflakes; they weren’t gentle at all, fierce and hard. If they landed, they would probably hurt.
So Chi Xiaoman quickened her pace. She didn’t go back to fetch the car; instead, under the sound of the falling snow pellets, she struggled to breathe and, in utter confusion, found the hotel very close to the hospital.
She carried Chen Yue inside, took her to the hotel room, helped her onto the bed, and then hurriedly tugged both quilts over her, covering Chen Yue completely—
Because Chen Yue was probably very cold. Just now, lying against her back, she had been like someone frozen for a long time; every breath she exhaled was icy, stiff, and hard to bear.
Wrapping Chen Yue up entirely.
Chi Xiaoman herself squatted by the bed and called her name in a very soft voice. “Chen Yue, Chen Yue, do you want to change clothes? Your clothes were all soaked with sweat yesterday.”
“Clothes?” Chen Yue opened her eyes with some difficulty.
Her complexion looked even worse than when she’d been discharged. “What clothes?”
Chi Xiaoman paused. “I’ll find you something new.”
“Okay.” Chen Yue closed her eyes again.
Darkness swept in. She let out breath with great difficulty, like a severed insect curled up by the bed, listening to Chi Xiaoman’s footsteps leave, then listening to them return quickly.
She also heard Chi Xiaoman call to her vaguely,
“Chen Yue, hurry up and change clothes before you sleep.”
So Chen Yue opened her eyes with difficulty and saw, under the lamplight, Chi Xiaoman’s face blurred into different blocks of color. She also felt warm, soft clothes being handed to her.
Chen Yue let out a difficult breath.
“I won’t look at you,” Chi Xiaoman said, coming over to touch her forehead. Kneeling on the floor, she laboriously helped take off the coat and sweater that were hard to remove, then awkwardly withdrew her hand and turned around with her back to Chen Yue. “When you’re done changing, I’ll go out for a bit.”
Her voice sounded thick with a stuffy nose.
Like she’d secretly hidden away and cried for a long time.
“Okay.”
Chen Yue agreed. She also struggled to sit up, slowly changing out of the close-fitting clothes while breathing carefully, and putting on the clothes Chi Xiaoman had found for her—
Still warm. Still hot.
Chen Yue forced herself into them.
Then she forced herself back under the blankets, curling up and hugging her knees.
A long time passed.
Chen Yue said,
“I’m done.”
So Chi Xiaoman answered with an “mm.” It seemed she turned around, looked at her for a while, tugged the blanket for her, and slowly said, “I’m going out to buy you some fever medicine. I’ll be back very soon.”
“Okay.” Chen Yue replied, curled up.
Chi Xiaoman probably knew she was uncomfortable and didn’t speak to her again. After a quiet moment, she turned off the room light and walked out with light steps.
The room fell into darkness.
And once again, only Chen Yue remained.
She couldn’t remember how long she lay there. She didn’t fall asleep, and couldn’t open her eyes; she couldn’t even tell whether she was lying in the hotel from earlier, or in the underground room from a very, very long time ago.
She exhaled hot breaths, feeling like a spider trapped in a web, endlessly spinning threads meant to control everything, only to be bound by the threads she herself had spun.
Not a single one of her thoughts could come to rest, like many lines growing out of her body, uncontrollable and impossible to sort through. Her control system had suppressed them too many times; in the end, it had finally failed.
Creak—
The door opened. Someone came in.
This person was very careful, very cautious.
They walked to the bedside.
Seeing that she was still curled up the same as before, still turned away from them.
They weren’t very angry.
Only hesitated—
and reached over from behind to touch her face.
Their hand was very cold. Afraid of freezing her, they withdrew it immediately.
Chen Yue exhaled.
The person quieted again. Then after a while, they came around to the side Chen Yue was facing—
The space here should have been much smaller than over there, but this person was very thin, with a fine, narrow frame, so they could stoop down to this side. After squeezing in, they awkwardly curled up and crouched in the narrow gap on the floor beside the bed.
They reached out again to touch her forehead.
Chen Yue didn’t open her eyes.
The person withdrew their hand, looking worried, and lowered their head to stare at her for a while, then called her in a very soft voice. “Chen Yue, do you want to eat something?”
Chen Yue’s eyelashes trembled.
The person stopped talking. They probably looked at her seriously for a while in the dim light, then rustled around like a little mouse unwrapping something.
Warm steam spread.
Chen Yue couldn’t smell anything. Her respiratory system seemed to have gone bad too.
Until something sweet and sticky was brought to her lips—
Not hot, not cold; just the right temperature.
Chen Yue instinctively parted her lips.
So the person leaned closer and carefully fed her the piece of food—
Chen Yue bit down.
Syrup and sweet potato melted in her mouth.
Candied sweet potato.
Chen Yue slowly opened her eyes.
Chi Xiaoman.
The lights weren’t on, probably because they were afraid of hurting her eyes; only the corridor lamp by the door was lit. So Chi Xiaoman’s face was also dim, her features somewhat blurred, like a dream with the saturation turned down.
But she was trying very hard to lean in and see whether Chen Yue had finished eating, and because the space was so cramped, she awkwardly pinched up another piece to feed her.
Chen Yue opened her lips again.
Candied sweet potato was fed in.
This piece was a little soft, and a little corner fell off.
So Chi Xiaoman immediately reached her hand over to catch the crumbs that dropped. That was also how she noticed Chen Yue’s eyes opening.
In that instant Chi Xiaoman’s expression was very strange, very stiff.
She tugged awkwardly at the corners of her mouth, as if she wanted to smile, and as if she wanted to cry.
But in the end.
She said nothing.
She only waited for Chen Yue to finish the second piece.
Then, shoulders still hunched, she fed her a third piece.
Chen Yue quietly ate the third piece too.
Her eyes were closed, and tears slowly slid from the corners of them. This was probably entirely physiological tears out of her control, unrelated to her emotions.
But Chi Xiaoman was very nervous at that moment.
She came over to catch her tears, as if catching something very precious that couldn’t be allowed to fall to the ground.
Only one tear fell.
No more followed.
But Chi Xiaoman still struggled to keep up the motion of catching her tears, one minute, two minutes, three minutes...
Finally, only after she was truly sure no more tears would fall did Chi Xiaoman turn a little, carefully gather up the candied sweet potato Chen Yue had only eaten three bites of, and then rustle around opening something else.
After a while.
Chi Xiaoman leaned close again and said to Chen Yue, “Eat the fever medicine first.”
Her voice was very hoarse, very rough.
Chen Yue parted her lips.
Chi Xiaoman carefully fed her the medicine and supported her head so she could sit up and drink some water.
The medicine mixed with warm water.
It was swallowed haphazardly down her throat.
Chen Yue still didn’t open her eyes.
But Chi Xiaoman was very patient. She supported her head with a gentle palm, showing no dislike at all as she wiped the sweat from her hair and, in her flurry, also wiped away the water sliding from her chin... helping her sort out every disordered, hidden thing she didn’t want to show the whole world. She handed the cup to her again and said softly, “Take a few more sips.”
So Chen Yue kept drinking.
She drank slowly, as if trying hard to swallow and digest something.
She barely had a few mouthfuls.
Her eyelids were closed tightly, and yet she felt something very hot, very scalding, crash down onto her face like a melting, hot snow pellet, slowly sliding off, and then being quickly brushed away by Chi Xiaoman’s fingers once it was noticed.
After brushing it away.
Chi Xiaoman didn’t speak for a long time.
Chen Yue slowly opened her eyes.
In the dim light, their gazes collided.
She saw Chi Xiaoman’s eyes, wet and red and swollen.
Actually, when Chi Xiaoman got out of the car to send Aunt Fang away and came back, or later when she fainted and then woke up again, during all of that—
Chen Yue hadn’t been completely passed out, nor had she completely lost consciousness. On the contrary, she had just been trapped in a quiet, black world. It felt very much like suddenly becoming a star suspended in space by gravity, with no power, yet never stopping its rotation.
At that time, she’d felt as if she was very tired, yet also extremely clear-headed. Her thoughts couldn’t stop at all, and she had thought of many things she should say to Chi Xiaoman after waking up—
Chi Xiaoman, when I fainted just now, were you very scared?
Chi Xiaoman, I’m sorry. I made you come to the hospital, the place you fear most, again.
Chi Xiaoman, I’m sorry. I clearly knew you were worried about me, but I kept holding on and saying nothing, then made myself sick, and scared you so much.
Chi Xiaoman, you were never the source of my pain. No one is. My pain is inborn; it comes entirely from my own character—my lack of honesty, my lack of courage. It has nothing to do with anyone else.
Chi Xiaoman, actually, I’ve always been a very strange person. I’m stubborn, neurotic, always chewing over things, always insisting on things other people think are completely unnecessary. Chi Xiaoman, actually, I never want anyone to see the real me. Including you.
...
But after waking up.
Seeing Chi Xiaoman’s swollen eyes, she felt that every sentence was unnecessary, because no matter what she said, it wouldn’t help much.
Nothing had happened.
That switch was still there.
And Chen Yue was still standing in front of the switch, neither pressing it nor leaving.
But now.
She reached out and touched Chi Xiaoman’s face. Finding it colder than she’d expected, she suddenly called her name.
“Xiaoman.”
“Mm?” Chi Xiaoman lowered her head to look at her. Her face was still hidden in the dim light, impossible to see clearly. “I’m here.”
Chen Yue struggled to part her lips.
“After we go back from here, I want to take a few days off and return to Hong Kong.”
“Mm?” Chi Xiaoman seemed slow to react. After a long delay, she nodded in a hurry. “Okay, then take leave.”
“You can rest as long as you want.” Her voice was also rough, but she still did everything she could to tell Chen Yue, “You don’t need to think about anything else.”
“Okay.” Chen Yue kept her voice low.
“Then you should sleep too, now.” Seeing that she wasn’t drinking anymore, Chi Xiaoman no longer held her head up. Instead she laid it back on the pillow, then sat down by the bed in great difficulty and tugged the blanket for her.
She repeated this action many times. It was as if she was unconsciously using the repetition to ease her unease.
Chen Yue lowered her eyes and looked at her haggard face in the darkness, and softly said, “After I come back this time—”
“I might not be able to keep having dinner with you like this.”
This was probably unexpected for Chi Xiaoman too. Her face turned slightly in the dim light, her expression appearing somewhat wooden, like a malfunctioning puppet. But she still tried her best to respond well. “Okay. It’s fine.”
“You can do whatever you want.” She nudged her chin and said to Chen Yue.
“Mm.” Chen Yue didn’t look into her eyes. She looked at the red and purple marks on Chi Xiaoman’s hand, her gaze lowered very far. “Maybe after I come back, aside from filming, I also won’t be able to stay with you for too long, because a few days ago my agent came by and said my condition isn’t very good, that I haven’t really entered the role, so I need rest, and also time to sort out the scenes afterward.”
Chi Xiaoman probably noticed that she was looking at her hand, so she used her own hand to cover the back of it.
So Chen Yue could only close her eyes. In the long and vast darkness, she said very softly,
“And also, when I come back, if necessary, I hope the scenes from the first few days can all be reshot once.”
As soon as she finished.
Chi Xiaoman didn’t speak.
It was as if she had suddenly vanished from in front of Chen Yue. Even her breathing sounded like it was about to disappear.
So Chen Yue had no choice but to open her eyes again, searching for traces of her in the darkness—
But to her surprise.
Chi Xiaoman was still very real, crouched in front of her, maintaining the same posture as before, as if even the angle of her face toward Chen Yue hadn’t shifted a fraction.
She looked at her. Across the dim light, as if she couldn’t understand, there was so much confusion in her eyes that after a long time she slowly said to her,
“Just... just these things?”
Chen Yue said nothing.
She thought Chi Xiaoman might not know—
This was already her standing in front of that switch, frozen for a long time, and finally choosing to admit defeat.
Admitting that she hadn’t clearly separated the line between the role and herself; admitting that she had made the most basic mistake, letting feelings that belonged to herself spill out onto the character; admitting that she hadn’t done well, and hadn’t even noticed in time that she hadn’t done well... For Chen Yue, every decision was not ordinary, and every one was extremely difficult.
If it were someone else, she might not have said a single word.
But there was no one else.
There would never be anyone else again.
“Mm.” Chen Yue touched Chi Xiaoman’s face, nodding with exhaustion. “For now, only these.”
“If I think of anything else later, I’ll tell you then. Okay?”
Saying it out loud made her feel lighter. Maybe also because she understood that in a few days she would no longer have this chance, so now she wanted to let herself be more indulgent instead. Greedily, she poked Chi Xiaoman’s eye corner, her nose, the tiny mole on her chin, and smiled because of it.
“Chi Xiaoman, am I a very strange person?”
Chi Xiaoman, actually I’m not gentle at all, not perfect, and not as good as you imagine.
On the contrary, I’m always hesitating, always accepting everything that falls on me, always unable to make the final decision when I’m standing at a fork in the road. I’m not cute. I’m contradictory; like a leaf that can never quite settle down, and I don’t have the courage to fully let you catch me either.
Chi Xiaoman, that’s who I am.
“No.” But Chi Xiaoman said that. She was squeezed into the narrow space beside the bed, shoulders hunched up in a way that was a little ridiculous and a little lost. But she turned her face toward Chen Yue and slowly said to her, “I just feel like, if, if it’s only this.”
“Actually, you could have told me earlier.” She said to Chen Yue. “I—I’m not that petty. Just because you ate dinner with me before, I wouldn’t insist that you have to keep eating with me in the future, or talk to me a lot every day. And besides, last time, last time I already told you...”
By this point, Chi Xiaoman seemed like she wanted to cry again, but she was also trying very hard not to cry, so her expression turned strange. “That birthday wish was yours, so you always have the right not to eat with me.”
“Mm, I know.” Chen Yue looked at her too. The light and shadow were dim; in truth, neither of them could see the other’s eyes very clearly, but they still tried hard to look at each other. “But I didn’t want to before.”
Chi Xiaoman probably couldn’t understand what she was saying. So after hearing that, her expression became even more dazed. Her lips parted, but no sound came out, and then she closed them again.
She leaned against a tiny bedside cabinet, her eyes red and swollen, hair in a mess, reduced to a completely unpretty state, yet still sensitive, uneasy, and even sad...
Over and over, she picked at her fingers. In the end, she spoke up and called her,
“Chen Tong-jiejie, you...”
But she still couldn’t finish the rest of the sentence.
She still didn’t seem able to fully understand her. Because Chen Yue’s personality already contained so many oddities.
She thought Chi Xiaoman probably wanted to say: Chen Yue, don’t do that again next time. She thought Chi Xiaoman might feel that she was stubborn, a little angry but helpless against her, so she might say to her—
Chen Tong-jiejie, why do you always treat yourself like this? Or perhaps, knowing that Chen Yue hadn’t said everything, she wanted to ask if there was anything else she was hiding from her.
But in the end.
She said,
“Can I hug you?”
The light above flickered very faintly. In that moment, Chen Yue looked at Chi Xiaoman’s eyes, hard to make out as they were, and her thoughts drifted very far away, drifting to Chi Xiaoman from a long time ago, then drifting back and settling on the Chi Xiaoman of now. And she once again realized a fact she had verified over and over, forgotten many times, yet never overturned even after ten years—
If she made a wish, it would come true.
If she didn’t speak, she would put candied sweet potato into her bowl.
If she withdrew her wish, she would agree.
If she was hurting, she would come over and hug her.
She wasn’t perfect, wasn’t cute, and didn’t dare expose herself easily; but she was never stingy about accepting her.
Actually, Chi Xiaoman really was just such a simple person.
[Author’s Note]
On time for Little Neon’s fifty-fifth-day update [sunglasses]
This is a story about love and acceptance [sunglasses][sunglasses][sunglasses]