Chapter 5

Chapter 5

After a long time, he stood up. Perhaps due to low blood sugar, he staggered where he stood, leaning against the wall for a long while before he managed to recover.

Then, he went to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator.

All the vegetables inside had gone bad.

He opened the freezer, where rows of neatly packed dumplings were stacked.

“Song Cheng, what kind of filling do you like for your dumplings?”

“Don’t order takeout when I’m not home; it’s bad for your stomach.”

“I’ve filled the freezer with dumplings I made for you.”

“The first row is pork and cabbage, the second is shrimp and egg, and the third is leek and egg. Did you get that?”

“Hey, are you even listening to me?”

“Fine, fine. I’ll write a label and stick it right next to them.”

Song Cheng stared at the dumplings in the freezer. Beside them was the label I had meticulously written, stroke by stroke, along with a note: “Remember to eat on time,” followed by a hand-drawn smiley face.

As he looked at it, his face suddenly turned deathly pale. He looked as if he were having a seizure; his tall frame crumpled into a ball, unable to withstand the crushing weight of his grief. He clutched at his chest, right over his heart.

I heard a sound like a whimpering howl of agony escape his throat.

I once read a post online that asked: Why don’t people feel sad the moment a loved one passes away?

Someone replied that the moment a close relative leaves usually doesn’t bring immediate sorrow. What truly breaks you is that half-carton of milk left in the fridge, the pothos plant swaying slightly in the breeze on the windowsill, the duvet folded quietly on the bed, and the rhythmic drone of the washing machine in the middle of the night.

I didn’t know if it was the same for Song Cheng.

Seven days after my death, he stood before me, seemingly crushed by this delayed grief. In the home I would never return to, he became consumed by an unbearable agony.

You ask me how I felt?

I don’t know. I loved Song Cheng so much that seeing him look so devastated should have made me sad.

I should have walked over, knelt down, and embraced his trembling body.

But I just stood there, dazed.

I scrutinized every inch of the pain on his face with painstaking detail.

I listened intently to his desperate wails, brought on by my departure.

Beyond the desolation and sadness in my heart, a sudden, massive wave of schadenfreude surged within me.

A joyful, happy sense of malicious glee.

It was a pain so sharp it felt almost like catharsis. I covered my mouth and laughed.

I felt like I could laugh until I cried-if I could still shed tears.

Why, Song Cheng?

Why did you never treat me well while I was alive?

Why didn’t you come out and stop me after we argued that day? Do you know how long I waited for you outside? In the end, you never came. To save what little dignity I had left in front of you, I could only pretend to go shopping at the mall.

Why did you never love me properly while I was alive?

Why didn’t you keep your distance from Qin Xingyun when you knew it would make me sad and jealous? Do you know the despair I felt the night you had a fever, staying by your bedside all night to take care of you, only to hear you calling out Qin Xingyun’s name in your sleep?

Why, Song Cheng? Why do you have to show such agonizing grief now that I’m dead?

I laughed too loudly, yet my laughter was laced with infinite desolation.

And most importantly-if you didn’t love me back then, why did you force yourself to be with me?

You let me drown in your fake tenderness, wasting so many of my years.

I took care of your every need; I was gentle and considerate. I had already permeated every single fiber of your daily habits.

For a long time to come, you will have to tear me out of those habits, bit by bit.

You will have countless moments of heartbreak and sorrow.

Song Cheng, oh Song Cheng. Look-your retribution has finally arrived.