chapter 2

From the very beginning, our marriage was only a facade, hollow at its core.

The night before we set out to sea, I handed the medicine and a glass of water to He Yunzheng.

He took them in silence, swallowed the pills in silence, and tilted his head back to drink.

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he finished it all in one gulp. Then, without a word, he slowly pressed down over me.

Just like every other time-routine, mechanical.

Afterwards, I was satisfied and drowsy with sleep. He lay on top of me and called my name: “Pei Xin.”

“Mm.”

“Let’s go watch the sunrise at sea tomorrow,” he said. “Let’s get up early.”

“Okay.”

It felt as if I’d just closed my eyes when I woke again. At a little past three in the morning, he got up, dressed, washed, and then came to help me.

Half-awake, half-asleep, I let him fuss over me. He dressed me slowly, wrapped me in a coat, and carried me out in his arms.

By the time I was fully awake, I was already on the boat.

The sky arched overhead like a dome, the vast blue sea stretched out endlessly. On the distant horizon, the red of dawn was already peeking through-the first light breaking the darkness.

He faced the breathtaking sunrise over the sea, but his expression showed no joy.

It was only then that I remembered: how could He Yunzheng ever take the initiative?

In our marriage, he had always been passive, always calm and compliant, accepting whatever I arranged.

He cooperated with me to keep up appearances in front of others, reluctantly shared a bed with me. He did what was expected of him, but never more than that.

He had no expectations of me, no impulses, no love-and naturally, no desire to share beautiful things with me.

So he would never take me traveling, never take me out to sea to watch the sunrise, never call me to the side of the boat to see the jellyfish-unless he had another motive.

I should have noticed these oddities long ago.

He had always been gentle and courteous, but in the end, I had forced him to this point.