Chapter 75

The wind outside had died down. The full moon had slipped behind the clouds at some point, leaving the room even darker, everything swallowed by the night.

“I just want to live a normal life…” Lin Baixin said softly. She no longer looked at her, her gaze sinking into the endless dark. “I don’t want too many variables. That would be too hard.”

“A normal life?”

“The way it was a few years ago. The way it was at the beginning.”

Yu Min stood rigidly in front of her. The beginning... Which beginning was she talking about? The first time they met? The period after they’d been apart? Or the time when Yu Min had just arrived in Kyoto? She still didn’t understand, and now she didn’t need to.

—Lin Baixin had made her choice again. Even if she was willing to step back, she hadn’t chosen her.

Yu Min blinked slowly. She suddenly felt as if she’d never really known the person in front of her; she seemed unbearably distant. This was so far from the Lin Baixin in Yu Min’s memory. Yu Min had already backed herself into a dead end. She had thought the other would take the offered step down, but Lin Baixin not only refused to do so, she even pulled farther away in the opposite direction.

“You still want me to leave.”

“...For now.”

“What do you mean, for now?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Even that is hard for you.”

“Mm.”

“So tonight was just me wishing for things; from start to finish, you never wavered. You never wanted me to stay. That’s how it was from the beginning. To you, I’m just a burden.”

“You’re not.”

“If I hadn’t come over tonight, you wouldn’t have come looking for me either.” Yu Min said with certainty. Her lips trembled as she spoke, and even her voice shook. “I thought... I thought even if I didn’t come, even if I didn’t come looking for you, you would come looking for me. Maybe not tonight, maybe later, but you would definitely come. Sooner or later. Looks like I was being self-important. I overestimated how much I mattered.”

Lin Baixin didn’t deny it, silently admitting as much.

“Am I that scary?” Yu Min asked her. She was asking again and again, but also trying to salvage something. “You’ve thought it through. Tonight, you really want me to leave?”

Lin Baixin half-closed her eyes and still gave the same answer: “I need time.”

The silence of the night held them in place, surging and churning, wave after wave crashing down again and again.

Not answering directly was the same as answering yes. After circling around for so long, they’d only ended up back where they started. Yu Min stared fixedly at Lin Baixin and answered with silence of her own, waiting for what came next; waiting to see whether she would change her mind, whether there would still be a turn for the better.

Maybe what Lin Baixin had just said was only anger speaking, just as Yu Min had also been speaking in anger. It wasn’t sincere.

Or maybe Lin Baixin would soften, the way she had back then.

...

But neither of those things happened.

The long, endless silence was like a dull knife sawing at the nerves; it was more torturous than a clean cut.

Bit by bit, the last trace of luck slipped away until it was completely swallowed by the night; the final sliver of hope vanished without a trace.

More than ten minutes passed, unbearably long, as if a whole century had gone by.

At last, Yu Min gave in; she accepted the cruel outcome before the other person did.

She got up, walked to the door, stopped, opened it, then turned back.

The light outside cut into the room at once, but it still wasn’t enough to illuminate the whole living room. Lin Baixin sat there motionless. Only after sensing the gaze from the doorway did she lift her head and look over.

The two of them stood several meters apart, looking at each other from a distance. More than half of Yu Min’s body was exposed in the light; because she had her back to it, Lin Baixin couldn’t see her face, couldn’t make out her expression. She was standing right there, yet the scene felt unreal. The soft white light somehow became blinding, so blinding that Lin Baixin could almost no longer look into her eyes.

They stood like that for another two or three minutes.

Yu Min gripped the doorknob; her knuckles tightened, as if she wanted to tear it off.

Only after the door was fully shut and she had gone out did it bang once, and the house instantly sank into a dense blackness. Lin Baixin was still rooted in place. She didn’t get up; she didn’t move at all.

Closing her eyes, Lin Baixin’s breathing grew heavy. That invisible feeling of restraint was nearly suffocating her. She couldn’t catch her breath. The other person had clearly gone out, but the sensation hadn’t disappeared with her; instead, it only grew heavier.

Lu Dagun, who had been squatting nearby without moving, tilted its head. The two of them hadn’t had a fierce argument; it was dazed and dumb, mostly not understanding what was going on. But the little thing had some sense and must have noticed something. Suddenly it jumped to the floor, ran nimbly to the door in two quick bursts, scratched at it with both paws, and leaped up, trying to grab the doorknob to unlock it, meowing anxiously nonstop.

But the door had been switched to child-lock mode, specially to keep it from opening. No matter how hard the little thing tried, that door was like a thousand-jin weight; it wouldn’t budge even a little.

It ran back to Lin Baixin’s side and cried at her, frantic with worry. It nudged her leg with its head in agitation and kept pawing at her.

Ignoring Lu Dagun, Lin Baixin sat there as if all her strength had been drained away, leaning back against the sofa. Her breathing was still heavy; she could hear it clearly herself, as if struck by a heavy drum, thump, thump... She trembled uncontrollably. She forced herself to hold it in, but it was useless. Her whole body shivered faintly.

She couldn’t tell whether it was relief, sadness, or fear.

She couldn’t tell...

That night, with stars and moon both bright, should have been cool and pleasant. The weather matched it well. After the moon disappeared into the clouds, it did not come back out. In the second half of the night, the temperature suddenly dropped, and a light rain began.

A rustling patter, harsh enough to sting the ears.

By morning, the rain not only hadn’t stopped, it had grown heavier and heavier, as if a basin had been dumped over the city.

Beyond the floor-to-ceiling window, the world was wet and muddy, shrouded in fog, everything blurred white. When Lin Baixin left the sofa, dawn had already broken, but whether it was light or not made little difference. Outside was still leaden and overcast; if not for the clock pointing to 8:30 in the morning, it really didn’t look as if day had already begun.

The room was empty; every corner was empty.

Even the cactus on the windowsill had been taken away. At a glance, everything was vacant; nothing was left behind.

The house had gone too long without anyone living in it, too long without anyone coming to stay. Even the air was filled with the cold stillness of emptiness.

Everything had been moved out, as if the person who had lived here had never once been here, never belonged to it for even a moment.

Lin Qi and Luoshu were the first to arrive. At the sound of knocking, Lin Baixin immediately turned around. Only after taking a few steps did she realize it couldn’t possibly be Yu Min; she was half a beat slow in opening the door. When she saw that it was Lin Qi and the others, she still stood there in a daze for a long moment. Lin Qi called her twice before she finally came back to herself.

Lin Qi had deliberately timed her visit. She knew Yu Min had been here, but she didn’t know that Yu Min had already left. She thought the person should still be inside, so she’d deliberately brought over a pot of preserved-egg and lean-meat congee they’d made at home, and dragged her girlfriend along to help cover for things. When she opened the door, she was still grinning, showing a mouthful of neat white teeth as she pushed past Lin Baixin and went straight in without even changing shoes.

“Move, move, move, hurry up. It’s hot as hell; I’m setting it down first.” Lin Qi raised her voice on purpose. “Come on, everybody drink some congee. Luoshu and I got up at six-something to make it. You have to give us face this time, all of you have to drink it, at least two bowls each, or you’re wasting our effort. We don’t cook often; it was hard enough making congee once, so we wanted you all to try it. Aren’t we nice?”

She hurriedly set down the clay pot and wandered around half the house after coming in, but didn’t see Yu Min anywhere. She was still wondering where the person had gone, assuming she was probably just washing up in the bathroom after getting up. But the bathroom was pitch-black, and that was when she noticed something was wrong. Not a single light was on in the house; it was like a spacious cage.

Turning to Lin Baixin, Lin Qi was also a little stunned now. She muttered quietly, “Didn’t you say she was coming?” But she didn’t dare say it outright. She could only ask Lin Baixin, “Is it just you at home?”

Lin Baixin said nothing. Her face was awful; her lips had lost all color.

It was as if someone had flicked her hard between the eyes. The smile vanished instantly. Lin Qi’s heart lurched; she knew this was bad. A moment later, she asked tentatively, “Where’s Minmin? She didn’t come?”

Lin Baixin’s red lips parted. She told the truth: “She left.”

“When?”

“Last night.”

“You didn’t keep her?”

“No.”

Lin Qi’s pupils contracted as if she’d just heard a deafening crash. Her face went even paler than Lin Baixin’s. She couldn’t believe what she’d heard and froze for a moment.

“Don’t joke with me. You really let her go...”

After repeatedly confirming that Lin Baixin wasn’t lying, that Yu Min had already left, Lin Qi finally reacted. Since Lin Baixin wouldn’t go after her, she would. She quickly told Luoshu to stay there and keep an eye on Lin Baixin, then rushed straight to the underground parking lot despite the pouring rain outside, all while calling Yu Min.

Not one call went through. Dialing, video calls... even messages got no reply.

A strange, indescribable premonition rose in Lin Qi’s heart. She drove to Yu Min’s rental apartment, but by the time she got there, it was already too late.

The rental was empty too; even emptier than Lin Baixin’s place.

Yu Min had moved out long ago; to be exact, she had ended the lease half a month earlier. No one knew where she was living now. In any case, the rental had already been given to new tenants; it was no longer hers.

After knocking on the rental door and facing the new tenants, Lin Qi’s premonition came true. She hurriedly asked them, “Where’s the person who lived here before? Where did she go?”

How would the new tenants know? They’d rented the place through an agency. Who would know who the previous tenant was? Someone pounding on the door first thing in the morning and asking such bizarre questions—when the new tenants saw Lin Qi soaked through like a drowned rat, they reflexively stepped back, warily shut the door, and immediately started cursing. “Are you crazy? It’s the morning; stop disturbing people.”

No one, including Zheng Qing, who had kept in contact with her daughter all this time, knew that Yu Min had moved out of the rental. Everyone had been kept in the dark. The landlord did know a little about why she had moved, and after quite a bit of effort, Lin Qi finally got in touch with the landlord. The landlord said honestly, “She said she was going home and moving back, so she didn’t want to rent anymore.”

Yu Min hadn’t even taken back the deposit, and she hadn’t taken a lot of her belongings either. She’d only carried off some of the more important things. The landlord was kind-hearted and, when collecting the apartment, had been a little puzzled, worrying at the time that something had happened to Yu Min or that she might have run into trouble. The place had been very clean and tidy; Yu Min didn’t seem like the kind of careless tenant who would just disappear. So the landlord had kept a careful eye out and hadn’t cleared out and thrown away Yu Min’s luggage, leaving it there in case someone came looking for it later.

And now, sure enough, someone had.

The landlord asked Lin Qi who she was to Yu Min. Lin Qi said she was her sister. The landlord gave her an address. “Then come by when you’re free and take her things back. See whether you still want them. If you don’t want them this time, I’ll handle them myself.”

Of course they wanted the things back. Lin Qi immediately went over and called Yu Min once every ten minutes along the way.

The luggage was recovered, but the calls still wouldn’t go through; by the end, the phone was even switched off.

Lin Qi was so anxious she could have jumped out of her skin. If not for a message from Yu Min popping up on WeChat very quickly, she really might have called the police already, desperate enough to want to trace Yu Min through the internet cable.

- Don’t worry.

- Thank you, Sister Lin Qi.

Yu Min only sent those two messages, and after that there was nothing else.

Lin Qi bombarded her with messages, sending a long string asking where she was. How could she not worry? But after that, there was no more reply.

Neither phone calls nor video calls could get through online. Lin Qi called immediately the moment she got the messages, but the other side was already offline.

By the time she had run around in circles and driven back with a pile of luggage, the pot of congee was already cold.

They couldn’t find Yu Min; it was as if she had vanished from the face of the earth. Lin Qi had a quick temper. When she got back, she relayed everything to Lin Baixin and told her to go look for Yu Min at once.

“Where do you want her to go?” Lin Qi said the same thing again. “She can only rely on you here. Her parents aren’t here, her family isn’t here. You drove her away; where can she go?”

Lin Baixin didn’t go looking for Yu Min. If she had wanted to, she wouldn’t have let Yu Min leave last night.

They almost got into a fight. Lin Qi was hot-tempered; in other situations, fine, she could let it go, but not now. Absolutely not.

Lin Baixin let Lin Qi blame her, let her scold her. After a long while, she only said heavily, “Don’t force me either.”

Lin Qi stopped short. Those words seemed to press a pause button on everything. She stood frozen, staring at her for a long time before finally saying, “I’m afraid you’ll regret it... Going this far, don’t regret it later.”

Yu Min was still in Kyoto. After all, she hadn’t finished school yet, and her studies weren’t complete; she had to remain in the city for now and couldn’t leave entirely.

The matter between the two of them shouldn’t have involved outsiders—Lin Qi had always liked meddling, but after Lin Baixin’s one sentence, she no longer interfered. Later, after contacting Yu Min’s adviser twice and learning that Yu Min had returned to school and everything was fine, Lin Qi finally felt reassured and stepped back where she belonged.

As for those suitcases, Lin Qi dumped everything back next door and left Lin Baixin to deal with it.

“If you want to throw it away, throw it away. If not, do whatever you want.” Lin Qi said. “If you throw it away this time, next time I won’t split it with you.”

There was a separate box among the things, and Lin Qi gave that to Lin Baixin too. She didn’t keep it for herself.

Keeping it would be useless; she couldn’t eat it or use it. Freeze-dried treats for cats weren’t for people.

“So, after fifth year in med school—well, after the fifth year, is it called fifth-year, right? Anyway, that’s what I mean—is the sixth year when you choose your specialty?” Lin Qi asked deliberately, looking to Lin Baixin for confirmation.

Lin Baixin had only a rough understanding of this. She opened a bag and took out some freeze-dried treats to feed Lu Dagun.

“I think so.”

“Someone chose dermatology,” Lin Qi said, putting on an air of casualness as she fiddled with the coffee machine, her back to Lin Baixin. “I just heard it; I think that’s what it was. I should be remembering correctly.”

With her eyes lowered, Lin Baixin stroked the back of Lu Dagun’s neck. The cat ate with big mouthfuls and kept meowing while it ate.

“Is dermatology any good?” Lin Qi asked. “Does it have a good future? Somehow it feels a little different from what I imagined. How does it compare to cardiology and the others?”

She didn’t need Lin Baixin to answer; she hadn’t really been asking. After saying that, Lin Qi sighed and stopped pretending. With obvious regret, she said, “This kid... why did she end up choosing that in the end? Didn’t she used to say she wanted cardiology? Why did she change?”

Yu Min’s whereabouts still hadn’t been settled by the end of that summer. No one knew where she was living now, what place she had rented, or whether she had gone to stay with someone else.

She was at the hospital, at school; her studies had not been affected in the slightest.

Just like when Zheng Qing and the others divorced back then, she still went to high school as usual and calmly, steadily took the college entrance exam.

The next time they heard news of her was also from Zhou Jin.

Zhou Jin said Yu Min was planning to return to Siping after graduation and wouldn’t stay in Kyoto.

It had already been decided; the whole family knew, except Lin Baixin.

In that same year, two months later, Lin Baixin also received a package from Siping. Zhou Jin had sent it on someone else’s behalf. Zhou Jin refused to say who it was from, but Lin Baixin knew perfectly well without asking.

Inside the package were the things Lin Baixin had given Yu Min. Every single item, none missing, had been sent back.

Yu Min didn’t want them anymore; she returned them all to her.

TL Note:

college entrance exam (高考) refers to China’s nationwide gaokao, a high-stakes university entrance test.