Chapter 5
Chapter 5
July 20 – Overcast
Without realizing it, I’ve already been here for more than twenty days.
Sometimes I truly wonder why my husband still hasn’t noticed I’m gone. However slow he might be, shouldn’t he have realized by now?
…Forget it. It doesn’t matter.
All in all, these twenty days have been miserable. First a cold, then tonsillitis, then a gastrointestinal infection. After that came the fever and fractures all over my body.
I hate swallowing this injustice. Lying awake in the dead of night, tossing and turning, I have honestly wanted to fight them and demand an explanation.
But I know these men are all rich or powerful, if not both. If I truly clashed with them, I would be the one to suffer in the end. I might even drag my husband into it.
When you’re alone in the world, you can do whatever you want. You follow your whims and never worry about the consequences.
But once you have someone you love, once you have a family, the same choice looks different. You no longer have the right to ignore the consequences. You think twice. You hesitate.
Because there is something profoundly unfair about the word “implicate.”
The person who implicates someone else bears the blame and is consumed by guilt.
The person dragged into it is an outsider, an innocent victim.
The more wild and reckless I once was, the more silently I endure now.
That’s enough. If I keep writing, Miss Song will eat me alive.
July 21 – Clear
I saw my husband.
The restaurant where Miss Song took me was the very one where my husband and I first met.
…The feeling in my chest was impossible to name. It hurt.
Still, I was glad to have someone celebrate my birthday with me this year, and to be in a restaurant outside rather than inside the gay conversion center.
The restaurant specializes in mild, lightly seasoned food. Miss Song chose it for the sake of my health, and because Old Wang had suddenly found himself unable to come.
We drank tea and talked as we ate. Then, out of nowhere, she said she wanted alcohol, so I ordered her a bottle of beer.
One bottle was enough to get her drunk. She began to cry without a sound.
I’d noticed she seemed distracted all day, so I gently asked what had happened.
To my surprise, the question only made her cry harder.
Fortunately, she had reserved a cozy little private room for two. No one could hear us, and we wouldn’t disturb anyone, so I pressed her once more.
Without warning, she threw herself into my arms and sobbed, “Brother Liang, my boyfriend was in a car accident.”
My heart lurched. A bitter ache spread through my chest, but all I could do was sigh and pat her gently on the back. “It’s all right, Yanyan. We haven’t received the final word yet. There’s still hope.”
Eventually, the girl cried herself to exhaustion and fell asleep across my lap.
I eased her back against the chair, opened the notes app on her phone, and typed: “Stepped out for some air. I’ll be right back. Don’t worry.” Then I locked the door to the private room and went outside on my crutches.
The moment I stepped out, I saw a figure I knew better than any other seated nearby.
My husband. My Mr. Tang. My Tang Shaoxuan.
Instinctively, I moved closer to the wall and stared at his back. Longing surged through me, joy and pain tangled together.
Then I saw the woman sitting across from him.
She was ordinary-looking, but exceptionally small and delicate; she was the sort of woman who easily stirred a man’s protective instincts.
I saw Tang Shaoxuan kiss her.
Half my heart turned cold. I didn’t confront him. I hurried back to the private room.
Maybe… I was always… the lover he had to hide in the dark.
“My son doesn’t like men, and he could never be gay. Give up on him now. Stay here, cleanse yourself of your sins, and learn to be a decent person again!”
Twenty days ago, I could still say: Your son will have only one lover in this life: me. He doesn’t like women.
Twenty days later, Tang Shaoxuan has given me one hell of a surprise, one hell of a slap. My cheek still burns from it.
Miss Song was awake when I returned to the private room. We paid the bill and left.
I didn’t even dare turn around and look at him once more.
He was the one who had abandoned me. Why was I afraid to look at him?
Night, July 21
Song Tangyan’s Notes:
It is eleven thirty at night.
Liang Anping and I returned to the gay conversion center a little after nine. His mood suddenly seemed much worse, so I took the room next to his in order to look after him.
I got up to use the bathroom in the middle of the night. On the way back, I decided to check on Liang Anping and discovered he had another fever.
I immediately wiped his forehead, cheeks, neck, and arms with rubbing alcohol. Then Liang Anping suddenly began to cry. He caught my hand and asked, “Is that you, Miss Song?”
I answered him, but he only cried harder.
Clutching his chest and struggling to muffle his sobs, he said, “Yanyan, it hurts. It hurts so much.”
“He has another woman now. He doesn’t want me anymore. What am I supposed to do, Yanyan?”
“It hurts. God, it hurts…”
My own eyes stung. I gathered him into my arms and patted his back. “Cry. Let it out and you’ll feel better. You need to get it out.”
The sobs he had been suppressing slowly grew louder, from quiet whimpers into great, racking wails. Then they gradually faded, and he fell into an exhausted sleep.
July 22 – Torrential Rain
You never know when a storm will break, just as your love has always left me lost and afraid.
My fever kept me up for half the night before finally subsiding. Miss Song stayed awake for hours taking care of me and has been asleep for less than three hours.
The first torrential rain of July has driven away yesterday’s warmth and soaked my heart through.
I borrowed Miss Song’s phone to make a call. Once again, I entered the number I know backward and forward, torn between pressing the button and letting it be.
At last, I called.
It rang for a long time before someone answered. A familiar voice came down the line. “Hello? Who is this?”
I cursed him. “Tang Shaoxuan, you miserable bastard!”
My husband brightened at once. His voice filled with delighted surprise. “Anping? Is that you?”
I rolled my eyes. “Who else would it be, you old bastard?”
He laughed. After a pause, he asked, “Have you missed me?”
“Not one bit,” I snapped. “Who would miss a bastard like you?”
He hurried to soothe me. “All right, all right. You haven’t missed me. Don’t be angry, wifey. When you come back from your two-month business trip, I’ll take you traveling.”
A business trip? I sneered inwardly.
That old witch had dumped me in this hellhole to separate me from my husband, then told her son I was away on a two-month business trip.
I agreed without letting anything show. We exchanged a few more words. I was about to hang up when my husband said:
“Anping, I miss you so much.”
Keeping my tone light, I told him I would be back in a few months. Then I ended the call.
Afterward, I dug my nails hard into my palm as tears spilled down my face.
Of course I missed my husband too.
But the scene from last night is still vivid in my mind. What am I supposed to do?
July 23 – Clear
Old Wang made a pot of pork rib soup, poured it into an insulated container, and had Miss Song bring it back.
Miss Song and I shared it.
I’m so sleepy. That’s enough writing. I’m going to rest for a while.