At the beginning of the new year, after a busy day of countless back-to-back year-end summary meetings, and having worked for a week after the New Year holiday, Shen Min forcibly reduced Zhao Ping Jin’s workload. These days, Zhao Ping Jin would leave work around six, with his driver taking him back to Bai Yue Residence.
After getting off work, he would rest a while, sometimes handling some official business. Then around ten at night, the driver would take him back to his new home at Xia Gong Mansion.
Around eight in the evening, as he lay in bed, Shen Min called: “I’ve ordered soup and noodles for you.”
Zhao Ping Jin placed his arm horizontally across his forehead, the cold limb pressing against his burning forehead. With eyes closed, he mumbled vaguely, “Don’t trouble yourself, I can’t eat.”
Shen Min ignored him, his tone eternally humble yet unyielding: “It will arrive in fifteen minutes. Please open the door to receive it.”
Sure enough, after a while, the doorbell rang. Zhao Ping Jin had no choice but to get up, put on a shirt, and go answer the door.
He unwrapped the several securely packaged food containers and sat at the kitchen table, taking out a bowl and chopsticks.
After drinking half a bowl of soup, sweat slowly seeped from his forehead. Zhao Ping Jin supported himself on the table as he rose slowly, moving step by step out of the dining room, and lay down on the living room sofa.
A thin cashmere blanket was habitually placed on the sofa. He reached for it and wrapped it around his body.
Lying with eyes closed in a daze, he didn’t know how much time had passed. When the pain in his stomach subsided slightly, he opened his eyes, sat up, and looked at the silent house. The curtains were drawn tight, the living room lights were off, and the dining room lights were on, with dim yellow light filtering through at the corner of the living room, where that door remained closed.
Zhao Ping Jin sat dazed on the sofa for a while, then got up, walked over, and gently pushed open Huang Xi Tang’s door.
It had been a while since he’d entered.
For a long period after they separated, he would finish work during the day, get off at night, and then return to sit in this room. Sometimes, when he was still in good spirits after work, he would casually browse through the box of miscellaneous items she had left behind. This box had been with him for six or seven years, yet he had never opened it to look inside before. Previously, when Huang Xi Tang was at home, he occasionally saw her sitting cross-legged on the floor, peering into it to rummage through things. Sometimes when Zhao Ping Jin passed by her room, he saw her either examining those student-era photos or looking at her notebooks. Back then, their relationship was estranged, and he found these things too dusty, never bothering to pay attention to what she was doing. He never expected that upon opening it now, he would find stacks of movie ticket stubs, attraction tickets, train tickets, and boarding passes from their time together—these bits and pieces of receipts had a history of over ten years, the paper already yellowed. Some memories had even become blurred in his mind.
Huang Xi Tang had thrown away these things twice. The first time was when they broke up—she sold the Jia Yuan apartment and left everything outside the door. Shen Min picked them up and returned them to him. The second time was when she left him in Beijing, leaving the box in his apartment.
He knew she would never return to him in this lifetime.
At that time, Zhao Ping Jin was already married. His position at Zhong Yuan Group had been promoted, and work became even busier. Most nights he had social engagements and came back very late, physically exhausted. He could only sit motionless on the carpet beside her bed, doing nothing, just sitting there blankly. Before he knew it, he would sit until the first light of dawn. Night after night, he couldn’t sleep. Later, for a while, knowing he couldn’t go on like this, he instructed the apartment’s cleaning staff to clean up and lock the door, but before long, he took back the key.
When Huang Xi Tang was at home, she never locked her door, and it wasn’t often closed. Perhaps she felt the house was his, and she was being kept by him with his money, so she served attentively.
She was just like that—all sorts of twisted little thoughts, always asking for trouble.
She had been gone from him for a long time.
After that night when she unexpectedly said goodbye to him, he let her get out of the car and leave. Then, in a daze, he drove back to Bai Yue Residence. Deep in his heart, there was still a faint fantasy that she was just having a tantrum, arguing with him. But when he returned home, he discovered she had already made all preparations. The room was completely packed up, even the quilt was folded. All her items had been cleared out, the dressing table was empty, and when he pulled open the drawers below, the first layer was empty. In the corner of the second layer lay a pure black wooden box with a bank card and a room key card placed neatly on top.
The bank card was the one he had given her originally, the key card was for Bai Yue Residence, and the box contained that watch, untouched.
He reached out and opened the box, took a glance, and with one swing of his hand, smashed the dressing table mirror.
She was deliberately provoking him. How much money had she taken from him? She never declined, so why act so high and mighty? Just this one piece of jewelry that he gave her, and she refused to take it.
Thinking back to when their love was deepest, how he liked her and wanted to make her happy, how he liked to give her nice things one by one, thinking of how Huang Xi Tang treated those gifts after they broke up, thinking of what eventually happened to those bits of metal, old grudges mixed with new—he became so angry that his head spun, and his vision darkened.
The mirror shattered, glass shards scattered all over the floor. He hated her. For a long time, he didn’t come back. When he finally returned one day, the room had been cleaned, and the mirror replaced with a new one.
But never again would a small figure run out from the room, with a white face and messy black hair tied up, smiling foolishly at him.
Zhao Ping Jin sat on the carpet beside the bed, leaned against it with his legs stretched out, and pulled open the bottom drawer of the wardrobe, skillfully extracting that little bear.
He had refused to return it to her, so she truly hadn’t taken it, secretly placing it in the wardrobe and even dressing it in a small sweater. This toy was genuinely one she had hugged since childhood. Back when they were dating, he always saw her sleeping with it. The fur had worn away beyond recognition. He took it out and furiously smacked the doll’s head, hitting it until its head drooped. After staring at it for a while, he suddenly felt reluctant and had to prop its head back up and stroke it. Zhao Ping Jin froze for quite some time, then carefully raised it to sniff. He seemed to still detect the scent of her saliva.
Suddenly, his heart ached again.
The car drove into the hutong courtyard.
The courtyard was cleaned spotlessly, the Spring Festival couplets had been put up, and a row of red lanterns hung under the trees. Zhao Ping Jin parked in the courtyard and walked toward his grandparents’ small building. By the entrance to the building, a young and beautiful woman was walking toward him, holding the hand of a little girl with rosy cheeks, a fringe haircut, and wearing a bright red dress.
The woman widened her eyes upon seeing him: “Oh, who’s this? A rare guest indeed!”
Zhao Ping Jin didn’t hold back either: “Girls these days are so shameless. Who goes back to their parents’ house on New Year’s Eve?”
Qi Ling glared at him but didn’t bother to banter anymore, her gaze quickly scanning the person beside him.
Zhao Ping Jin smiled and introduced Yu Xiao Ying: “Ying’er, you’ve met before.”
Qi Ling smiled broadly: “We met once at the wedding.”
Zhao Ping Jin said: “This is our childhood friend, Ling Dang.”
Yu Xiao Ying followed him closely, like an obedient little wife, sweetly addressing her: “Sister.”
At this moment, Ling Dang’s mother walked onto the balcony upstairs, a bunch of green onions in her hand. Seeing Zhao Ping Jin, she immediately called out warmly: “Zhou’er, come up to Auntie’s house for dumplings!”
The little girl looked up and called out in a clear voice: “Grandma!”
Ling Dang released her daughter’s hand: “Go on up, and remember to greet your grandparents properly when you go in.”
The little girl pattered away.
Qi Ling signaled to Zhao Ping Jin with her eyes.
Zhao Ping Jin understood; she had something to say: “Let me chat with Ling Dang for a bit.”
Yu Xiao Ying smiled, greeted Ling Dang, then turned and walked into the courtyard.
Ling Dang looked at him: “Last time I came back, my mom told me, my child is starting kindergarten next year, and you two are still fighting?”
Zhao Ping Jin playfully replied: “Can’t help it if you’re so charming.”
Ling Dang stood on tiptoe, reaching out with a smile to twist his ear: “Still joking around.”
Zhao Ping Jin quickly dodged.
Ling Dang said slyly: “I’ve heard all about it, over a girl?”
Zhao Ping Jin’s eyes dimmed instantly, though it wasn’t visible on his face. His tone remained casual and relaxed: “When have the guys ever fought without people saying it was over a girl? You believe that?”
Seeing his reaction, Ling Dang didn’t want to interfere in his affairs anymore. Zhao Ping Jin was just spoiled. When it came to relationships, she had never seen him take them seriously. Back then, she betrayed her first love for him, and in the end, Xiao Jiang threatened self-harm. Because of this, Xiao Jiang’s mother and her mother had been at odds for over a decade, but eventually, even that faded with time. There were jealousies, but from every angle, it seemed more like men competing with each other. Youthful emotions are impulsive and intense, but looking back on those teenage affairs now, they seem like mist—once the sun comes out, everything vanishes. She didn’t believe Zhao Ping Jin was the deeply affectionate type; for men, marriage puts an end to everything: “Right, what happens between us is your own business. Well, your wife is waiting inside, I won’t keep you any longer.”
Zhao Ping Jin nodded, took the things from Ling Dang’s hands, and escorted her to the stairway.
On New Year’s Eve, the family gathered for a reunion dinner.
Teacher Zhou had come back in the morning and prepared a big table of dishes with his aunt and the housekeeper. At the dining table were his grandmother, grandfather, and aunt. She steadily performed her duties as a filial daughter-in-law. After the family settled in front of the television, she brewed a pot of tea for his grandfather, made a phone call to her husband who was spending New Year in the military district, and finally found a moment to sit beside Zhao Ping Jin: “Xiao Jiang’s mother came back for Spring Festival, and the first thing she did was complain to me. It’s all over the compound—you broke his arm.”
Zhao Ping Jin quickly stuffed preserved fruit into her mouth.
Teacher Zhou raised her hand as if to hit him: “I think you’re getting more and more out of line.”
Yu Xiao Ying was nearby. Though her mother-in-law’s tone was scolding, listening carefully, there wasn’t any real blame. Zhao Ping Jin still maintained his joking demeanor; her mother-in-law truly doted on her son.
Teacher Zhou said from beside him: “Ying’er, you need to talk some sense into him.”
Yu Xiao Ying promptly agreed: “Yes, mother.”
Zhao Ping Jin said: “Alright, don’t worry about this matter.”
Yu Xiao Ying began studying her husband and asked with feigned curiosity: “Why did you two fight?”
Zhao Ping Jin smiled: “You believe we fought? We’re on great terms.”
Yu Xiao Ying didn’t ask further, just smiled slightly, then turned to accompany the elderly grandmother, watching the Golden Monkey celebrating the New Year on television.