Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Over the next few days, I began to consciously avoid Liang Qiezhao.

Whenever I heard his footsteps echoing in the hallway, I would immediately roll over to face the wall, closing my eyes and pretending to be asleep.

There would be no future for us.

I didn’t want to face him in such a pathetic state ever again.

The night before I was scheduled to be discharged, the nurse had just finished her rounds.

The ward door was pushed open once more.

The cold light from the corridor was cut off as the door clicked shut. A very faint scent of tobacco, mixed with the chill of the night air, settled quietly by my bedside.

I kept my back to him, keeping my breathing slow and steady, remaining perfectly still.

Liang Qiezhao didn’t turn on the light, nor did he make a sound to disturb me; he even kept his breathing very shallow.

A warm, large hand reached out and tucked the corner of the blanket around me.

I felt him lean in slightly.

His fingers seemed to want to touch my hair, but in the end, that slight breeze just hovered uselessly in mid-air before he dejectedly pulled his hand back.

“Xiao Zhi…”

His voice was incredibly raspy.

“I’m sorry for causing you trouble.”

He let out a sigh and spoke in a voice so soft it was barely a whisper.

“I just… missed you a little.”

The sound of footsteps faded away, followed by the faint click of the door. The ward returned to a dead silence.

I buried my face in the pillow as a trace of coldness slid from the corner of my eye, soaking into the fabric.

In the darkness, I slowly reached out with my left hand, which I had been clenching tightly under the covers. I felt for the trash can at the edge of the nightstand.

As my knuckles relaxed, losing all their strength, the costume ring hit the bottom with a dull, soft thud.

It fell in, along with the very last shred of hope I had held onto in this long dream.

The engagement was fake, but having a boyfriend was real.

During that period of blind dates, I approached it like I was conducting a rigorous due diligence report. I looked for chemistry, analyzed data, checked for shortcomings one by one, and eliminated high-risk options.

Chen Kezhou was the candidate with the highest overall score and the one I was most satisfied with in every aspect among everyone I met.

He was from my hometown and came from a wealthy family. After graduation, he had started his own business with a technical team. In a worldly sense, he was a steady, upward-trending growth stock.

Most importantly, barring any accidents, I knew we would be able to get married without a hitch.

By the time Chen Kezhou rushed back from his business trip abroad, I had already been discharged.

He wasn’t at ease and insisted on checking everything thoroughly, including my medical reports. He even wanted me to get a second opinion from a doctor he trusted.

Once he confirmed everything was fine, his face was full of apology.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t even know something this big had happened to you.”

Actually, he didn’t need to apologize; I was the one who hadn’t told him.

When did it start? When did I become someone who could hide a life-threatening car accident from those closest to me without even blinking?

It was probably the year after I graduated in London and returned to China.

During that year or so, I finally came to a desperate realization: as long as I still craved the tenderness Liang Qiezhao gave me, as long as I tried to demand equal love and a future like a normal girlfriend, reality would eventually crush my self-respect into dust.

So, after returning home, I stopped all resistance.

Since the whole world saw me as a dependent, and since we were destined never to reach the end together, I would retreat into the safety zone where a dependent belonged.

I completed a bloodless process of self-discipline with incredible speed.

I accepted the expensive gifts he gave and the connections he paved for me without hesitation.

Behaviorally, I became a flawless dependent.

At the same time, emotionally, I forced myself to strip away my reliance on Liang Qiezhao as much as possible.

I stopped reporting the trivial details of my life to him, stopped sending him aggrieved emojis when I worked late at night, and certainly stopped naturally seeking his protection whenever I faced setbacks in my career.

I forced myself to digest all my weaknesses alone.

Thus, in the year or so before we split, a strange harmony settled between us.

I was thoughtful in everything, emotionally stable, and fit perfectly into the role everyone expected of me.

All of it was merely so that I could leave with a bit of dignity when the time finally came.

Now, I have almost lost the instinct to reveal my vulnerability to those around me.

I didn’t tell Chen Kezhou about the car accident because I didn’t feel like it was a moment where I needed someone to save me.

But Chen Kezhou was a pragmatist with great execution.

After the accident, he didn’t feel comfortable with me driving myself. For the next six months, no matter how busy his company was, he would show up on time at my office building to pick me up.

We were like millions of other couples in the world, following a set routine. We commuted together, went on dates during weekends, traveled during long holidays, met each other’s parents, and set a wedding date.

Six months later, we were set to be married.

Before the wedding, I sent the digital invitations to a group chat with my close friends from university.

Congratulations poured in almost immediately.

“Congratulations, Lili!”

“Wishing you a century of harmony!”

Someone typed familiarly: “Congrats, congrats! Finally, it’s come to fruition.”

But a few minutes later, presumably after they clicked the link and saw the groom’s name, the group fell silent.

Immediately after, that message containing the word “finally” was quietly retracted.

I looked at the grey notification on the screen and didn’t feel embarrassed.

Things between Chen Kezhou and me were indeed so smooth that a word as heavy as “finally” wasn’t necessary.

After the awkwardness passed, the group was quickly flooded again with a uniform string of “Happy Wedding” and “See you at the wedding.”

I saw my classmates at the wedding itself.

Unexpectedly, though, on the night before the wedding, I saw Yu Lili.