Chapter 1

Chapter 1

It was the weekend. Rain poured down outside, and the wind was howling.

I got up early and cleaned the apartment from top to bottom. Then I quietly carried the half-finished pack of cigarettes my husband had left behind into the living room and placed it on the dining table, right where he usually sat.

There was a lighter there too.

Next, I took the pork ribs out of the refrigerator, washed and blanched them, then added them to a clay pot of boiling water. Once it came back to a boil over high heat, I turned the flame down and left it to simmer.

Our apartment was in an old residential complex built more than twenty years ago. It was a two-bedroom unit of just over sixty square meters, and the whole place was slated for demolition soon.

The conditions were so poor that most of the residents had already moved away. Ours was the only household left in the entire building.

The complex had never been connected to the natural gas supply. We still used one of those ancient gas cylinders.

In old apartments like ours, the kitchen was usually built into the balcony off the living room.

A powerful gust blew out the flame, and the acrid stench of gas hit me.

I relit the stove.

The flame had barely caught before the wind extinguished it again.

I glanced at it, then shut the window tightly.

“Honey, we’re out of Chinese yam, so I’m going to the market to buy some. The ribs are simmering. When you get up, keep an eye on the pot for me.”

My husband loved pork rib soup with Chinese yam.

I didn’t.

Every time I cut Chinese yam, my hands swelled up red from an allergic reaction.

He glared at me, his voice thick and nasal. “I have a cold, and you’re still making me do chores? Are you trying to work me to death?”

I hurried to explain. “Of course not. It’s just that our gas stove is old and the flame goes out easily. I’m worried it might be dangerous.”

He replied impatiently, “Just hurry back. I have somewhere to be this afternoon after I eat.”

He was going to see her and that boy, wasn’t he?

He rummaged around the bedside, but the only thing he found was a lighter, not what he was looking for.

“Pick me up another pack of cigarettes. Huanghelou, the twenty-yuan kind.”

“All right, but I’m afraid I won’t remember the name. Honey, could you text it to me?”

He rolled his eyes and muttered, “Useless.”

A moment later, a message from him appeared on my phone: Two packs of the twenty-yuan Huanghelou. Buy them from Lao Zheng.

My lips curled into a smile. “It’s raining outside, and the wind is strong. I’ll close the windows for you.”

I shut every window in the apartment but left the bedroom door open.

Before heading out, I picked up an umbrella. Standing in the entryway, I had a clear view of the entire bedroom.

He was tucked under the covers, playing with his phone. I had no idea who he was chatting with, but his face was lit up with lovestruck delight. He looked nothing like the man who had spoken to me moments ago.

I said silently, Goodbye forever, husband.