… She did not know, either. She was simply accustomed to standing in a fixed place and waiting for him.
Jì Chengyang pushed open the door. He had a habit of turning off the light, even if he was only leaving for a very short period of time.
“You were scared of the dark and couldn’t find the light switch?” he asked offhandedly as he felt around for the location of the switch.
She muttered, “No. I already told you, I’m not that scared of the dark. It’s not like when I was little…”
With a click, the hospital room was illuminated.
The corners of Jì Chengyang’s eyes had a slight upward turn. “In my eyes, you’ve always been really little.”
“I’m several months past twenty-two years old already.”
“Oh? Is that the case?” He gave her nose a light twist. “I’m thirty-one already.”
Books and an open laptop had been tossed on the table, and he tidied them up in passing. Following beside him, she pulled out the food from the plastic bag. Jì Chengyang took them from her and one by one set them out on the table while she stood uselessly on the side and watched him work away.
It was similar to the scenes from the past, when she had been temporarily staying in his home. He had never allowed her to get involved in the housework then, either, and each time, he would shoo her away. “It’s not like there is a lot to do. There’s no need for two people to do it.” Although his cooking could not be considered extremely tasty, the laundry was done by completely relying on the help of the washing machine, the way the bedrooms were tidied was only so-so, and only the study and library room were kept in careful order, all these things he had done himself and would not turn them over to her to do.
He would concern himself with her studies, her grades, and her physical and mental health. To a certain extent, the Jì Chengyang of the past had been even more like her guardian, caring more about her growing-up process than her own parents and family, and had completely doted on and pampered her.
She went and washed her hands. Then she pulled a towel down from the metal rack, rubbed it beneath the warm stream of water, and wrung it out, thinking that she would wipe his hands down for him. When she turned off the faucet, she discovered that Jì Chengyang was already leaning against the doorframe, watching her.
The expression he wore was the type when he did not want to say anything and simply wanted to quietly watch her for a while.
Jǐ Yi felt a little self-conscious from his gaze on her. Not knowing what he was thinking, she arbitrarily searched for a topic to talk about, hoping to fill this sudden silence. “Venezuela and Ecuador have both closed their embassies in Columbia and are starting to assemble troops at the border…[1]”
“It won’t get to fighting,” he stated mildly.
“I feel like, only since I got into news reporting and, in particular, after I joined an international news team have I realized that the world actually is particularly unpeaceful.” She said in a quiet voice, “Back when I was a kid, just hearing about 9/11 was able to scare me to death. Now… it’s like there’s danger everywhere in the world, that terrorist attacks are happening at any time and everywhere there’s a hidden risk of war.”
He did not say anything in response to this.
Some memories silently arose.
He recalled the telephone call that he had received from her on the day of 9/11, when he was in Philadelphia. At the time, the little lady had been terribly anxious and had urged him to absolutely not go running about. He had promised not to, but once the phone call ended, he had left Philadelphia and driven alone towards New York, the location of the incident.
This was how men say one thing but do another.
“I hope no more incidents are going to happen.” Taking ahold of his fingers, Jǐ Yi pulled his arm close to herself and began wiping his hand. “How nice it’d be if the whole world was at peace.”
The cuff of Jì Chengyang’s shirt was not fastened, vaguely revealing a deep red scar.
Jǐ Yi suddenly grew panicked and wanted to get a closer look of it.
He grasped her hand in his, not allowing her to lift up his sleeve any more.
“Is it an injury you got in Iraq?” Even more terrified, she lifted her head.
Jì Chengyang lowered his eyes to take in her face and her hand that was tightly clutching the towel. In a mild tone, he explained, “Some are from shrapnel that grazed me, and some also are from metal pieces that scratched me when I was in the trenches taking shelter from a bombing.” He was not lying. Some of his external injuries had indeed come during the early period when he was following the news stories.
“Let me see.” Her heart beating rapidly in fear, she fixed her eyes on his wrist, looking in deep beyond his sleeve cuff. “Eventually… I’ll have to see it.”
Indeed, that was something that was unavoidable.
“You can see, but don’t get scared by it.” Jì Chengyang’s voice was somewhat low, his tone relaxed and calm. “And you’re also not allowed to cry.”
She hastily agreed to his words and arbitrarily set the towel somewhere beside the sink.
Jì Chengyang rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, pulling it all the way above his elbow. Beginning at his wrist, a crimson scar spanned up the inner part of his entire arm. In such a location, it was simply too horrifying a sight, and very easily it sketched out a scene that dripped with blood. The remaining scars were all irregular ones that occupied the outer part of his arm and elbow.
And this was only his right arm.
Jǐ Yi wished to contain the bitter tingling sensation that came over the tip of her nose, but ended up achieving the opposite effect. Tears gushed out from her. She did not dare lift her head, and so, she simply held his fingers like this, her shoulders quivering slightly as she wept soundlessly.
She could not help it; she could not control herself at all.
The only thing Jì Chengyang could see was her silky hair, as well as her petite ear that was showing through. Her earlobe was very small and thin, just like his. According to the older generations’ beliefs, the thinner and smaller one’s earlobe, the less blessed one is in life and the more sufferings and misfortunes in one’s lot. But he had not shed many tears. It seemed, the tears that should have belonged to him had been doubly added on her instead.
Pulling the sleeve of his button-up shirt back down, Jì Chengyang reached his hand over to touch her face. His palm was immediately dampened.
She really was crying.
This, perhaps, was… how women say one thing but do another.
“Men aren’t afraid of getting injuries anyway.” He brushed aside her hair and placed a kiss on the tip of her ear. “It just looks a little ugly.”
It wasn’t a matter at all of whether it looked ugly…
She wanted to ask more questions, but all of a sudden, her ear felt rather hot, like it was burning.
The outer rim of her tiny ear had been taken into his mouth and was being gently tortured between his teeth.
She wanted to shrink away, but was unable to evade him. His lips kissed along her earlobe and down one side of her neck, as well as onto her petite collarbone that was peeking out from the neckline of her sweater. Her chest rose and fell heavily as, still, she wept quietly. In the beginning, Jì Chengyang’s actions had been somewhat impassioned, but later they gradually came to a halt, and looking at her reddened eyes, he suddenly let out a chuckle. “Little crybaby.”
Husky, resigned, and also tender.
Bewitched by his tenderness, Jǐ Yi brough her eyes to gaze directly at him.
“Anytime something happens, you first have to have a cry…” Jì Chengyang once more leaned in close, wanting to kiss her.
Jǐ Yi dodged away. In a voice carrying a heavy nasal tone, she pressed, “How many… how many more injuries…”
She wasn’t just a crybaby; as soon as she cried, she would choke up and would be unable to catch her breath, so when she spoke, her words would come out broken and disjointed. These were all things that had not changed since she was a child.
“How many more?” Jì Chengyang fell into a brief silence. He had never thought of deceiving her or concealing anything from her. He had only wanted to find an appropriate time to say it. What was it that had caused her to suddenly want to probe like this into the truth and facts of everything? Because the words from Nuannuan’s father had triggered something in her?
Gazing into his eyes, Jǐ Yi was unable to find any fluctuation of emotions behind its deep blackness. This made her even more panicked. “You must tell me the truth. You can’t lie to me…”
“I had a part of my liver removed, my femur has been broken three times, I have lower immunity than the average person, and I can’t have too much physical exertion.” He, as much as possible, used this simplest way in which facts were stated to tell her about the injuries and trauma that his body had inevitably sustained. “So let’s not even talk about going to war zones in the future; it will be very difficult for me to complete the leg work of even a normal news story within the country.
“Also…” He paused for a few seconds, then stated the one reason for his vacillation all along. “According to the doctor’s diagnosis, the probability of me having children in the future is very low. It’s practically impossible for me to have any.”
Her heart completely sank. Her eyes that were already swollen from weeping quickly grew red again. “Why have you taken so long to tell me? …”
“On this last trip to the U.S., I did another thorough examination. That was the final conclusion… I know this is really unfair to you.”
She avoided his eyes. “I meant your injuries, not… that.”
He was quiet for a long time before saying, “You’re still not mature enough and don’t understand the importance of children to a family.”
“I want to be with you. It’s not like it’s only because I want…” she sobbed, biting down tightly on her lip. Then, thickening her skin, she argued, “It’s not like it’s only because I want to have children that I’m with you.”
Since he came back to China, what exactly had she even been thinking? She hated herself to the extreme, hated herself for her indecisiveness.
Honestly, the more she thought about it, the more she cried, and the more she cried, the more she thought about it.
Jì Chengyang enfolded her in his embrace. However, regardless of whether he used a stern, cold voice to tell her to stop or consoled her in gentle tones, everything he tried was still utterly ineffective.
In his younger days, there had already been a little girl in his life who always liked to cry. At first, he had thought that this little girl was really overly fragile. Later, after he learned of many things, he understood that she needed an outlet to release her feelings. Crying was already the most harmless method for her and for others.
What he most did not want to see was her crying because of him.
Alas, reality did not act in accordance with his wishes. Much of her tears had fallen because of him.
In the end, it was fortunate that his good friend came to pay a visit and interrupted this situation that had left Jì Chengyang helpless over what to do. The doctor who had once in another country removed a part of his liver for him pushed open the door, but catching sight of this scene, his steps stopped and he stood awkwardly in the doorway.
Hearing the noise of the door, Jì Chengyang turned his head around.
This attending doctor silently mouthed the question to him: Jǐ Yi?
He did not answer, which could be considered his silent admission.
There was laughter in the doctor’s eyes. He very much wanted to have a look to see what this girl who was Jì Chengyang’s true love looked like. In that moment when Jì Chengyang was signaling with his eyes to him that he should leave, he very tactlessly gave a loud cough.
This unfamiliar voice that appeared out of thin air jarred her mind back to awareness, and Jǐ Yi yanked herself, practically fleeing, out of Jì Chengyang’s embrace. Swiping at her tears, she confusedly turned her gaze to the unfamiliar man standing at the doorway.
Hmm… So, she was still just a young girl, eh.
This was utterly outside of the doctor’s expectations. He had thought that Jì Chengyang’s girlfriend would surely be a woman with whom there was a mutual draw due to commonalities between them, someone who could stand shoulder to shoulder with him.
“Pardon me for disturbing.” The doctor showed a broad, toothy grin, and in a low voice, he greeted, “Hi, beautiful little lady. I’m Yang’s friend and also his doctor. I’m the one who cut out his liver.”
“Hello,” she said softly. “Thank you.”
She had been crying for too long, and her throat was not quite able to properly produce sound.
“What are you thanking me for? For cutting out his liver?”
Jǐ Yi’s heart was heavy, and she did not give a response to this joke. “You two have matters to talk about?” she quietly asked Jì Chengyang.
“Right now is rest time. There’s no need to talk about anything.” Jì Chengyang told her this as he threw a look at the doctor.
The latter very sensibly chimed in with a laugh, “There are no matters, no real matters. I just wanted to come find him to chat. You guys continue, please, continue.”
This doctor had come back to China specifically for Jì Chengyang, and while he was residing here in Beijing, he was also in passing doing some knowledge exchange. Tonight, he had obtained all the reports of the medical examinations, so he had wanted to have dinner with Jì Chengyang and at the same time discuss his condition with him. He had not expected that he would see the fabled beloved of Jì Chengyang from his past.
He thought, the girl was so young, yet she was able to be with Jì Chengyang for so many years; there likely was much story in that.
The doctor had already conceived a picture in his mind. Based on his understanding of this good friend plus patient of his, this story should have taken place at least six, seven years ago, prior to the start of the Iraq War… While his brain continued sketching out a wonderful love story, he said a couple more chuckling sentences of pleasantries, then bid goodbye to them and took his leave.
Getting interrupted in this way by a stranger had an unexpected result: Jǐ Yi’s tears had now been quelled and forced back down.
“I told my family that I had already divorced before I came back to the country. They still aren’t able to accept that particular matter.” Jì Chengyang told her, “Give me a bit more time. The problems will be resolved.”
She nodded. “I know.”
She had very clearly heard the words spoken by Nuannuan’s father earlier.
After Jǐ Yi left, Jì Chengyang had a very long telephone conversation with the doctor and did not sleep until very late.
At 3:14 a.m., he awoke. He suddenly had a very intense desire: he wanted to have a smoke, to use another method to break up and scatter those ashy-gray, film-like memories that replayed in his mind.
That night when he fell asleep in Jǐ Yi’s home, it had also been like this. Unable to sleep and not wanting to startle her awake, he had lain there and watched her, quietly gazing at her for an entire night. It was not until the sky had begun to show signs of lightening that he had closed his eyes.
When this symptom was severe, it was difficult to sleep even with the aid of medications.
It was much better now. So why was it so severe tonight?
Leaving his room, Jì Chengyang passed the on-duty nurses’ station.
There, a young nurse was banging away on the keyboard and chatting with someone, forcing herself to stay alert. Seeing him walking over, she hurriedly stood and called to him, “Mr. Jì, why are you out?” This man was a VIP of VIPs. Everyone, from the highest to the lowest levels of the hospital, had been informed of this, and she dared not be careless.
Jì Chengyang told her that he wanted to go outside to smoke a cigarette.
When he spoke, he showed no superfluous expression, giving people a feeling of aloofness and great distance from him.
As a result of this, the nurse did not really dare stop him and merely admonished over and over that he absolutely could not go too far from the hospital and that it would actually be best to stay within a 500-metre distance so that, should anything happen, it would be easy for people to rush him back. Jì Chengyang had no desire to go far, either, and therefore agreed.
After exiting the inpatient building, he bought an arbitrary pack of cigarettes from the convenience store by the hospital entrance. Standing in front of an old garbage can, he ripped open the package’s plastic film and seal, tossed them into the garbage, and then, with a thump against the end of the package, pulled out a white cigarette.
In front of him was the brightly illuminated hospital emergency building, and coming and going from it were patients who to him were strangers. There were continually cars stopping and cars leaving.
He stood in the curtain of night, watching these cars and people, trying hard to recollect many things, things that had to do with her.
He recalled how, in a certain hotel in Hong Kong, before he and she had officially begun their relationship, he had once thought, for her health and also how she would feel, he would need to quit his smoking habit of many years… As this thought came to him, he slowly slipped the cigarette back into the package.
Those gray-tinted memories that co-existed with his life could not be forgotten.
But, he absolutely had to yank the him that was deeply submerged in feelings of bleakness and hopelessness back out and separate himself from the darkness.
He wanted to live once more.
[1] Referring to the Andean crisis of 2008.
… She did not know, either. She was simply accustomed to standing in a fixed place and waiting for him.
Jì Chengyang pushed open the door. He had a habit of turning off the light, even if he was only leaving for a very short period of time.
“You were scared of the dark and couldn’t find the light switch?” he asked offhandedly as he felt around for the location of the switch.
She muttered, “No. I already told you, I’m not that scared of the dark. It’s not like when I was little…”
With a click, the hospital room was illuminated.
The corners of Jì Chengyang’s eyes had a slight upward turn. “In my eyes, you’ve always been really little.”
“I’m several months past twenty-two years old already.”
“Oh? Is that the case?” He gave her nose a light twist. “I’m thirty-one already.”
Books and an open laptop had been tossed on the table, and he tidied them up in passing. Following beside him, she pulled out the food from the plastic bag. Jì Chengyang took them from her and one by one set them out on the table while she stood uselessly on the side and watched him work away.
It was similar to the scenes from the past, when she had been temporarily staying in his home. He had never allowed her to get involved in the housework then, either, and each time, he would shoo her away. “It’s not like there is a lot to do. There’s no need for two people to do it.” Although his cooking could not be considered extremely tasty, the laundry was done by completely relying on the help of the washing machine, the way the bedrooms were tidied was only so-so, and only the study and library room were kept in careful order, all these things he had done himself and would not turn them over to her to do.
He would concern himself with her studies, her grades, and her physical and mental health. To a certain extent, the Jì Chengyang of the past had been even more like her guardian, caring more about her growing-up process than her own parents and family, and had completely doted on and pampered her.
She went and washed her hands. Then she pulled a towel down from the metal rack, rubbed it beneath the warm stream of water, and wrung it out, thinking that she would wipe his hands down for him. When she turned off the faucet, she discovered that Jì Chengyang was already leaning against the doorframe, watching her.
The expression he wore was the type when he did not want to say anything and simply wanted to quietly watch her for a while.
Jǐ Yi felt a little self-conscious from his gaze on her. Not knowing what he was thinking, she arbitrarily searched for a topic to talk about, hoping to fill this sudden silence. “Venezuela and Ecuador have both closed their embassies in Columbia and are starting to assemble troops at the border…[1]”
“It won’t get to fighting,” he stated mildly.
“I feel like, only since I got into news reporting and, in particular, after I joined an international news team have I realized that the world actually is particularly unpeaceful.” She said in a quiet voice, “Back when I was a kid, just hearing about 9/11 was able to scare me to death. Now… it’s like there’s danger everywhere in the world, that terrorist attacks are happening at any time and everywhere there’s a hidden risk of war.”
He did not say anything in response to this.
Some memories silently arose.
He recalled the telephone call that he had received from her on the day of 9/11, when he was in Philadelphia. At the time, the little lady had been terribly anxious and had urged him to absolutely not go running about. He had promised not to, but once the phone call ended, he had left Philadelphia and driven alone towards New York, the location of the incident.
This was how men say one thing but do another.
“I hope no more incidents are going to happen.” Taking ahold of his fingers, Jǐ Yi pulled his arm close to herself and began wiping his hand. “How nice it’d be if the whole world was at peace.”
The cuff of Jì Chengyang’s shirt was not fastened, vaguely revealing a deep red scar.
Jǐ Yi suddenly grew panicked and wanted to get a closer look of it.
He grasped her hand in his, not allowing her to lift up his sleeve any more.
“Is it an injury you got in Iraq?” Even more terrified, she lifted her head.
Jì Chengyang lowered his eyes to take in her face and her hand that was tightly clutching the towel. In a mild tone, he explained, “Some are from shrapnel that grazed me, and some also are from metal pieces that scratched me when I was in the trenches taking shelter from a bombing.” He was not lying. Some of his external injuries had indeed come during the early period when he was following the news stories.
“Let me see.” Her heart beating rapidly in fear, she fixed her eyes on his wrist, looking in deep beyond his sleeve cuff. “Eventually… I’ll have to see it.”
Indeed, that was something that was unavoidable.
“You can see, but don’t get scared by it.” Jì Chengyang’s voice was somewhat low, his tone relaxed and calm. “And you’re also not allowed to cry.”
She hastily agreed to his words and arbitrarily set the towel somewhere beside the sink.
Jì Chengyang rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, pulling it all the way above his elbow. Beginning at his wrist, a crimson scar spanned up the inner part of his entire arm. In such a location, it was simply too horrifying a sight, and very easily it sketched out a scene that dripped with blood. The remaining scars were all irregular ones that occupied the outer part of his arm and elbow.
And this was only his right arm.
Jǐ Yi wished to contain the bitter tingling sensation that came over the tip of her nose, but ended up achieving the opposite effect. Tears gushed out from her. She did not dare lift her head, and so, she simply held his fingers like this, her shoulders quivering slightly as she wept soundlessly.
She could not help it; she could not control herself at all.
The only thing Jì Chengyang could see was her silky hair, as well as her petite ear that was showing through. Her earlobe was very small and thin, just like his. According to the older generations’ beliefs, the thinner and smaller one’s earlobe, the less blessed one is in life and the more sufferings and misfortunes in one’s lot. But he had not shed many tears. It seemed, the tears that should have belonged to him had been doubly added on her instead.
Pulling the sleeve of his button-up shirt back down, Jì Chengyang reached his hand over to touch her face. His palm was immediately dampened.
She really was crying.
This, perhaps, was… how women say one thing but do another.
“Men aren’t afraid of getting injuries anyway.” He brushed aside her hair and placed a kiss on the tip of her ear. “It just looks a little ugly.”
It wasn’t a matter at all of whether it looked ugly…
She wanted to ask more questions, but all of a sudden, her ear felt rather hot, like it was burning.
The outer rim of her tiny ear had been taken into his mouth and was being gently tortured between his teeth.
She wanted to shrink away, but was unable to evade him. His lips kissed along her earlobe and down one side of her neck, as well as onto her petite collarbone that was peeking out from the neckline of her sweater. Her chest rose and fell heavily as, still, she wept quietly. In the beginning, Jì Chengyang’s actions had been somewhat impassioned, but later they gradually came to a halt, and looking at her reddened eyes, he suddenly let out a chuckle. “Little crybaby.”
Husky, resigned, and also tender.
Bewitched by his tenderness, Jǐ Yi brough her eyes to gaze directly at him.
“Anytime something happens, you first have to have a cry…” Jì Chengyang once more leaned in close, wanting to kiss her.
Jǐ Yi dodged away. In a voice carrying a heavy nasal tone, she pressed, “How many… how many more injuries…”
She wasn’t just a crybaby; as soon as she cried, she would choke up and would be unable to catch her breath, so when she spoke, her words would come out broken and disjointed. These were all things that had not changed since she was a child.
“How many more?” Jì Chengyang fell into a brief silence. He had never thought of deceiving her or concealing anything from her. He had only wanted to find an appropriate time to say it. What was it that had caused her to suddenly want to probe like this into the truth and facts of everything? Because the words from Nuannuan’s father had triggered something in her?
Gazing into his eyes, Jǐ Yi was unable to find any fluctuation of emotions behind its deep blackness. This made her even more panicked. “You must tell me the truth. You can’t lie to me…”
“I had a part of my liver removed, my femur has been broken three times, I have lower immunity than the average person, and I can’t have too much physical exertion.” He, as much as possible, used this simplest way in which facts were stated to tell her about the injuries and trauma that his body had inevitably sustained. “So let’s not even talk about going to war zones in the future; it will be very difficult for me to complete the leg work of even a normal news story within the country.
“Also…” He paused for a few seconds, then stated the one reason for his vacillation all along. “According to the doctor’s diagnosis, the probability of me having children in the future is very low. It’s practically impossible for me to have any.”
Her heart completely sank. Her eyes that were already swollen from weeping quickly grew red again. “Why have you taken so long to tell me? …”
“On this last trip to the U.S., I did another thorough examination. That was the final conclusion… I know this is really unfair to you.”
She avoided his eyes. “I meant your injuries, not… that.”
He was quiet for a long time before saying, “You’re still not mature enough and don’t understand the importance of children to a family.”
“I want to be with you. It’s not like it’s only because I want…” she sobbed, biting down tightly on her lip. Then, thickening her skin, she argued, “It’s not like it’s only because I want to have children that I’m with you.”
Since he came back to China, what exactly had she even been thinking? She hated herself to the extreme, hated herself for her indecisiveness.
Honestly, the more she thought about it, the more she cried, and the more she cried, the more she thought about it.
Jì Chengyang enfolded her in his embrace. However, regardless of whether he used a stern, cold voice to tell her to stop or consoled her in gentle tones, everything he tried was still utterly ineffective.
In his younger days, there had already been a little girl in his life who always liked to cry. At first, he had thought that this little girl was really overly fragile. Later, after he learned of many things, he understood that she needed an outlet to release her feelings. Crying was already the most harmless method for her and for others.
What he most did not want to see was her crying because of him.
Alas, reality did not act in accordance with his wishes. Much of her tears had fallen because of him.
In the end, it was fortunate that his good friend came to pay a visit and interrupted this situation that had left Jì Chengyang helpless over what to do. The doctor who had once in another country removed a part of his liver for him pushed open the door, but catching sight of this scene, his steps stopped and he stood awkwardly in the doorway.
Hearing the noise of the door, Jì Chengyang turned his head around.
This attending doctor silently mouthed the question to him: Jǐ Yi?
He did not answer, which could be considered his silent admission.
There was laughter in the doctor’s eyes. He very much wanted to have a look to see what this girl who was Jì Chengyang’s true love looked like. In that moment when Jì Chengyang was signaling with his eyes to him that he should leave, he very tactlessly gave a loud cough.
This unfamiliar voice that appeared out of thin air jarred her mind back to awareness, and Jǐ Yi yanked herself, practically fleeing, out of Jì Chengyang’s embrace. Swiping at her tears, she confusedly turned her gaze to the unfamiliar man standing at the doorway.
Hmm… So, she was still just a young girl, eh.
This was utterly outside of the doctor’s expectations. He had thought that Jì Chengyang’s girlfriend would surely be a woman with whom there was a mutual draw due to commonalities between them, someone who could stand shoulder to shoulder with him.
“Pardon me for disturbing.” The doctor showed a broad, toothy grin, and in a low voice, he greeted, “Hi, beautiful little lady. I’m Yang’s friend and also his doctor. I’m the one who cut out his liver.”
“Hello,” she said softly. “Thank you.”
She had been crying for too long, and her throat was not quite able to properly produce sound.
“What are you thanking me for? For cutting out his liver?”
Jǐ Yi’s heart was heavy, and she did not give a response to this joke. “You two have matters to talk about?” she quietly asked Jì Chengyang.
“Right now is rest time. There’s no need to talk about anything.” Jì Chengyang told her this as he threw a look at the doctor.
The latter very sensibly chimed in with a laugh, “There are no matters, no real matters. I just wanted to come find him to chat. You guys continue, please, continue.”
This doctor had come back to China specifically for Jì Chengyang, and while he was residing here in Beijing, he was also in passing doing some knowledge exchange. Tonight, he had obtained all the reports of the medical examinations, so he had wanted to have dinner with Jì Chengyang and at the same time discuss his condition with him. He had not expected that he would see the fabled beloved of Jì Chengyang from his past.
He thought, the girl was so young, yet she was able to be with Jì Chengyang for so many years; there likely was much story in that.
The doctor had already conceived a picture in his mind. Based on his understanding of this good friend plus patient of his, this story should have taken place at least six, seven years ago, prior to the start of the Iraq War… While his brain continued sketching out a wonderful love story, he said a couple more chuckling sentences of pleasantries, then bid goodbye to them and took his leave.
Getting interrupted in this way by a stranger had an unexpected result: Jǐ Yi’s tears had now been quelled and forced back down.
“I told my family that I had already divorced before I came back to the country. They still aren’t able to accept that particular matter.” Jì Chengyang told her, “Give me a bit more time. The problems will be resolved.”
She nodded. “I know.”
She had very clearly heard the words spoken by Nuannuan’s father earlier.
After Jǐ Yi left, Jì Chengyang had a very long telephone conversation with the doctor and did not sleep until very late.
At 3:14 a.m., he awoke. He suddenly had a very intense desire: he wanted to have a smoke, to use another method to break up and scatter those ashy-gray, film-like memories that replayed in his mind.
That night when he fell asleep in Jǐ Yi’s home, it had also been like this. Unable to sleep and not wanting to startle her awake, he had lain there and watched her, quietly gazing at her for an entire night. It was not until the sky had begun to show signs of lightening that he had closed his eyes.
When this symptom was severe, it was difficult to sleep even with the aid of medications.
It was much better now. So why was it so severe tonight?
Leaving his room, Jì Chengyang passed the on-duty nurses’ station.
There, a young nurse was banging away on the keyboard and chatting with someone, forcing herself to stay alert. Seeing him walking over, she hurriedly stood and called to him, “Mr. Jì, why are you out?” This man was a VIP of VIPs. Everyone, from the highest to the lowest levels of the hospital, had been informed of this, and she dared not be careless.
Jì Chengyang told her that he wanted to go outside to smoke a cigarette.
When he spoke, he showed no superfluous expression, giving people a feeling of aloofness and great distance from him.
As a result of this, the nurse did not really dare stop him and merely admonished over and over that he absolutely could not go too far from the hospital and that it would actually be best to stay within a 500-metre distance so that, should anything happen, it would be easy for people to rush him back. Jì Chengyang had no desire to go far, either, and therefore agreed.
After exiting the inpatient building, he bought an arbitrary pack of cigarettes from the convenience store by the hospital entrance. Standing in front of an old garbage can, he ripped open the package’s plastic film and seal, tossed them into the garbage, and then, with a thump against the end of the package, pulled out a white cigarette.
In front of him was the brightly illuminated hospital emergency building, and coming and going from it were patients who to him were strangers. There were continually cars stopping and cars leaving.
He stood in the curtain of night, watching these cars and people, trying hard to recollect many things, things that had to do with her.
He recalled how, in a certain hotel in Hong Kong, before he and she had officially begun their relationship, he had once thought, for her health and also how she would feel, he would need to quit his smoking habit of many years… As this thought came to him, he slowly slipped the cigarette back into the package.
Those gray-tinted memories that co-existed with his life could not be forgotten.
But, he absolutely had to yank the him that was deeply submerged in feelings of bleakness and hopelessness back out and separate himself from the darkness.
He wanted to live once more.
[1] Referring to the Andean crisis of 2008.
