Li Jin Yu refused Li Chang Jin’s offer.

April arrived with growing grass, flying orioles, and blossoming flowers everywhere.

After their confrontation, Ye Meng hadn’t called back, not even to the old lady. Li Jin Yu hadn’t called her either, but occasionally they exchanged brief WeChat messages, sometimes initiated by Ye Meng, sometimes by Li Jin Yu, with concise conversations.

[Meng: Have you eaten?] [LJY: Yes.] [Meng: Good. I’m going to be busy now.] [LJY: Okay.]

Or—

[LJY: Are you asleep?] [Meng: Mm. Something wrong?] [LJY: No.] [Meng: Good night.]

These barely-better-than-nothing exchanges happened several times over the past week. Both tacitly avoided mentioning the sensitive topic. Neither that night’s desperate shouting nor Li Jin Yu’s tears had moved Ye Meng. She was simply waiting silently—waiting for a conclusion, waiting for the police to give her the truth—whether Li Ling Bai was innocent. Regardless of how bad the relationship between Li Ling Bai and Li Jin Yu was, if it truly involved Li Ling Bai, she couldn’t pretend everything was fine. She could push her boundaries for Li Jin Yu on anything else, but on this matter, she couldn’t convince herself.

Li Jin Yu went to get a new ID photo because Ye Meng had said his one-inch photo looked depressing and lifeless. He had taken that photo when he was sixteen, and after losing his ID once and getting it reissued, the validity period was extended to 2023, so he never replaced it. He tried hard to force a smile, but the photographer said he’d better not smile at all. Yet he found that no matter how he posed, he looked lifeless, equally gloomy.

Later, he accidentally saw their marriage certificate photo at home—him smiling broadly and freely, with Ye Meng beside him, gentle and doting.

Ye Meng’s words seemed to echo in his ears again—”You’re just a child in my eyes, the kind I want to cherish.”

Li Jin Yu looked at the date; it was just last month, yet it felt like a lifetime ago.

In the river of time, they seemed like ethereal grains of sand, quickly submerged among the masses. Mountains and seas remained unchanged, undisturbed by storms. Some found new love, some abandoned old affections, some finally raised glasses in reunion after searching through vast crowds, some traveled thousands of miles with the wind at their backs, and some laid down their knives to attain enlightenment. The world changed every day, except for him.

This waiting was too prolonged, and Li Jin Yu finally lost patience.

In mid-April, he sent Ye Meng a divorce agreement.

Ye Meng didn’t respond.

In late April, after leaving the hospital, he sent Ye Meng a critical condition notice. That didn’t force her to return either.

Because Ye Meng saw through it immediately, [Meng: I can still recognize my second aunt’s handwriting.]

[LJY: I want to see you.]

Ye Meng didn’t respond again.

In mid-April, Yang Tian Wei returned from Beijing once. Li Jin Yu had shut himself in his room all day, not even turning on the lights. Yang Tian Wei had a key to their house, and when he entered the pitch-black room, he thought no one was home. He plopped down on the sofa and immediately jumped up screaming, his face ashen with fright: “Fuck! What was that?”

A man was curled up on the sofa, one leg stretched out, one bent, an elbow draped over his eyes. His voice was deep and listless: “What?”

His voice was so hoarse that each particle of its graininess could be described as distinctly noticeable.

Yang Tian Wei knew his voice had never been good, but hearing it now made his heart skip a beat. He asked suspiciously: “Didn’t I hear you were taking the civil service exam recently? Why is your voice in such bad shape again?”

Li Jin Yu couldn’t continue sleeping. He sat up, leaned forward to grab the cigarette pack on the low table, shook it—empty. He casually crumpled it and tossed it into the trash can, then slumped back, head tilted, continuing to cover his eyes with his arm, asking Yang Tian Wei: “Got any cigarettes?”

His voice was so hoarse that only two words out of three were audible; the middle word “cigarette” was swallowed.

He cleared his throat and pushed out one word: “Cigarettes.”

Yang Tian Wei tossed his cigarettes over, then turned to see the ashtray on the low table stuffed with cigarette butts, looking like a cactus. Shocked, he shoved Li Jin Yu hard, roaring: “Fuck, did you do all this? Damn it, do you want to live or not? Fuck! Are you crazy?”

The rich voice was deafening. Li Jin Yu was stunned by his shouting. In this household of the elderly, weak, sick, and disabled, it had been days since he’d heard such a vigorous voice. He wasn’t used to it; his ears rang from the volume. He put a cigarette between his lips, eyelids lowered, and said softly: “Keep it down, Grandma is sleeping.”

After speaking, Li Jin Yu couldn’t help coughing twice, expelling the cigarette he had just put in his mouth.

He couldn’t even hold a cigarette in his mouth anymore! Yang Tian Wei had only been gone for two or three months—had Li Jin Yu gone to heaven to suffer trials?

Yang Tian Wei could no longer bear to see him looking so sickly and near death. He snatched the cigarette and lighter from his hand and blurted out: “Look at how pale you’ve become! You can see the veins below your collarbones!”

Then he pulled open the curtains, letting light flood in unrelentingly. The room brightened, and the air became clearer. Yang Tian Wei sat down beside him and lit a cigarette for himself. “Tell me, what’s happened to you? Do you need money or your life?”

Li Jin Yu lay motionless on the sofa, his elbow still covering his eyes, saying nothing. After a while, he squeezed out two words in a casual, self-mocking tone: “My life.”

With the light, the dust in the air became more visible, floating everywhere. Yang Tian Wei stared for a long time, with a moment of silence.

Then he said: “If it’s really bad, I’ll help carry half the burden, but don’t push yourself to death.”

Li Jin Yu remained silent.

“Is it because of Ye Meng?”

They hadn’t made their relationship public, rarely posting anything about their marriage on social media. Yang Tian Wei knew Li Jin Yu’s personality best. Ye Meng had also been posting less recently, but from their occasional interactions before, one could spot something unusual. His brother might seem like a scoundrel on the surface, but he rarely flirted with anyone on social media. Ye Meng was the first.

During Ye Meng’s first week in Beijing, she had invited him to dinner and casually told him shocking news—”I married your brother.”

At that moment, Yang Tian Wei was like a cartoon character—petrified, splitting apart—glasses falling off, jaw-dropping, then his entire person fracturing into scattered pieces. After finally piecing himself back together and coming to his senses, he bombarded Li Jin Yu with messages all night: “How did you win her over, damn it?!” “You pursued my goddess, you beast!” “You went after my sister, you shameless thing!” “Damn it, I can’t sleep, you owe me my sister!”

Yang Tian Wei couldn’t remember what Li Jin Yu had replied, or perhaps he hadn’t replied at all. Yang Tian Wei sighed and told him: “I ran into her in Beijing a few days ago.”

Li Jin Yu sat up and lit another cigarette. Yang Tian Wei just glanced at him without interfering, continuing: “Our team was having a celebration dinner, and her company was having a meal too. We happened to meet and chatted briefly.”

Li Jin Yu hunched over, his hand holding the cigarette pausing slightly. He put the cigarette in his mouth, cupped the lighter to light it, and still asked: “What did you talk about?”

“Just small talk didn’t mention you,” Yang Tian Wei delivered a fatal blow. “I don’t know what happened between you two. Sister didn’t say anything, but she wasn’t in good shape either. Do you remember when we first saw her in the hospital?”

Smoke swirled in the living room, and outside, Ping An was crunching dog food with a “crunch crunch” sound. Li Jin Yu leaned forward to tap the ash off his cigarette and gave a low “mm” in response.

Yang Tian Wei said: “I don’t know how to describe it, but it felt painful to see. Since I only saw her after such a long time, I could notice the difference. Back in the hospital, she was still herself—confident in everything she did, with light in her eyes. But when I saw her in Beijing this time, she seemed to lack confidence, not as open-minded as before.”

Hearing this, Li Jin Yu finally looked up at him, cigarette in his mouth, motionless, with half an inch of ash built up.

Yang Tian Wei stubbed out his cigarette in the “cactus” and said somewhat bewilderedly: “But you seem to be in worse shape. I originally planned to lecture you, but now I don’t know what to say. I’m not good at comforting people either. I can only tell you my favorite quote from Naruto: easily obtained happiness doesn’t last long; happiness that comes after hardship won’t easily collapse. Okay, I’m going to check on my grand-aunt.”

That evening, after the three finished dinner, Yang Tian Wei didn’t leave. He took out the takeout boxes to throw away the garbage and took Ping An for a walk. Tou Ju Hua applied her body powder, came out of her room, and suddenly said to Li Jin Yu: “Ba Dou, I want to stay at Xu Mei Lan’s for a few days.”

Li Jin Yu put out his cigarette. “Why?”

Tou Ju Hua muttered, “I don’t want to live with you anymore. You’re always controlling me, not allowing this, not allowing that. Xu Mei Lan will take me to square dancing. Can you do that?”

“Can your feet even dance?” he looked at her and asked.

Tou Ju Hua rolled her eyes: “Even if I can’t dance, I can at least watch, can’t I? You don’t like anything that old people enjoy. Xu Mei Lan said she’s prepared a room for me. When Ye Meng returns, I might as well move in with them. Her house is huge, supposedly an old villa.”

“Did my grandfather call you?” Li Jin Yu asked.

Tou Ju Hua waved her hand. “What grandfather? I don’t know anything about that. You take me to Xu Mei Lan’s tomorrow, and after that, you can go find whoever you want.”

Li Jin Yu was silent for a while, his gaze unfocused as he stared at a corner of the low table, then turned away uncomfortably and said: “I’m sorry, Grandma.”

Tou Ju Hua looked at him as if he were crazy. “What for? Why are you acting weird?”

“I need to go back for a while.”

“Go, go. People who’ve been surrounded by love since childhood, after experiencing a little hardship, think life is impossibly difficult and can’t tolerate a speck of sand in their eyes. Those with hearts full of bitterness, when they enjoy a bit of good times, can’t help but cherish it deeply. You’re all just too young.”

After speaking, Tou Ju Hua rolled away in her wheelchair.

Her elderly silhouette, slightly hunched, moved against the evening twilight. She slowly wheeled herself to the pendulum clock and gradually stopped. In those weathered, gray eyes, one could almost see the dust-covered years. It was as if she was speaking to herself, or perhaps to him—

“When the spring flowers bloom next year, make sure to loosen the soil in the yard.”

Before leaving Ning Sui, Li Jin Yu had a meal with Fang Ya’en across from the hospital. She knew something about what had happened recently; Ye Meng had talked to her quite a bit. Li Jin Yu was somewhat relieved—at least someone was there to listen to her. Finally, he handed her two books on memory palaces. “If Jia Yu is interested, I can mail all my previous books from Beijing. If he finds it difficult, don’t force him.”

Fang Ya’en took them and set them aside, then placed one arm on the table edge while holding chopsticks with the other hand. “Are you planning to go back?”

Li Jin Yu leaned back in his chair, barely eating, only taking a few sips of water, and gave an affirmative “mm.”

“Eat something. You’ve lost so much weight lately; Ye Meng will be heartbroken when she sees you,” Fang Ya’en then looked out the window at the gleaming green leaves in the sunlight and sighed. “Why did you suddenly decide to go back?”

“What kind of person do you think my sister is?” Following her gaze to look outside, he asked casually.

It was the first time Fang Ya’en had heard him call Ye Meng that way. She suddenly realized something in Li Jin Yu’s eyes seemed different. She thought carefully, rolling a multitude of words in her mouth, finally choosing two that fit best: “Open-minded, confident.”

He nodded. “That’s why I choose to go back.”

She was open-minded and magnanimous, passionate and impulsive, clear in her loves and hates, never shortchanging anyone. Because of this, there was light in her eyes, and she approached everything with confidence. While he was shrouded in darkness, a person buried alive in the abyss, yet daring to drag her to his level, forcing her to guard that tiny candle flame in his heart, living a vague, obscure life with him.

He held his cup, rubbing the sides back and forth, staring at it, and spoke self-mockingly, “That day, Yang Tian Wei said she lost confidence in herself because of me. I realized then that more than her not loving me, I couldn’t bear to see her doubt herself.”

“Crash—” Tai Ming Xiao pushed open the door, and a strong smell of alcohol hit him. He frowned; it was as if half a liquor cabinet had been emptied. Tai Ming Xiao looked around and found Ye Meng washing her face in the bathroom. Her bangs were wet, sticking to her cheeks, as she used a face cloth to wipe her face. When she saw Tai Ming Xiao appearing at her door, swinging his car keys with a smug expression, she was startled for a moment but quickly regained her composure and said coolly, “How did you get in? I changed my password.”

“Guess.”

Ye Meng didn’t bother guessing. She stepped on the trash can to throw away the face cloth. “Say it or don’t, I don’t care.”

Tai Ming Xiao sighed, “Sister, you didn’t lock the door. Were you drunk again last night? Not locking the door? Be careful of home invasion and rape.”

“Really? I thought I locked it.”

“How else would I get in? How much have you been drinking? Why does the whole place smell like alcohol?” Tai Ming Xiao glanced behind him.

“No,” Ye Meng turned off the water. “I accidentally spilled a bottle of red wine yesterday. Why are you here?”

Tai Ming Xiao didn’t believe her. His keen nose sniffed the air, detecting the alcoholic scent all over her, but he didn’t press further. Swinging his car keys, he grinned sheepishly and said: “You don’t need to go to the office this morning. This afternoon, you’ll fly to Guangzhou.”

…

What Ye Meng didn’t know was that the moment before she boarded the plane and switched her phone to airplane mode, a status update flooded her social media feed, as someone had posted thirty consecutive messages—

Tai Ming Xiao: “Holy shit, I’m fucking crying, the sweet naive idiot is back!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”