In movies, heroes endure all kinds of impacts and explosions, slap on a band-aid, and can leave the hospital—that’s truly just a beautiful lie.

I had a concussion plus extremely complicated fractures, so on the fifth day of the lunar new year, I had no choice but to go to Beijing to find specialists at Jishuitan Hospital.

Grandma cried the whole time. At her most frantic, she even knelt before Old Feng, begging him to fire me.

Throughout it all, it was Cheng Xia who handled everything—buying the wheelchair, arranging the hospital for me, contacting specialists, taking turns with Grandma to keep watch at night.

Sometimes he would sit in the chair beside me, sitting there for an entire night.

We rarely spoke. There was too much we wanted to say, but conversely, there was no opportunity to begin speaking, so we were left with only “Want to eat?” “I’ll help you to the bathroom.” “Thank you.”

I had a reduction surgery and stayed in the hospital for half a month, losing seven kilograms.

When I was finally discharged, the New Year had already passed, but it was still cold. The sunlight was thin and dim, and the streets were full of office workers hurrying about.

Cheng Xia pushed me slowly forward. “Since we’re already in Beijing, want to go somewhere to have some fun?”

Grandma flew into a rage, frantically trying to grab my wheelchair. Although the doctor said I was recovering quite well, being sick was being sick—how could I go sightseeing! Outrageous!

But this was just how Cheng Xia was. With each passing day, he would iron out life until it was flat and orderly. He couldn’t live in a muddled, messy way.

I said, “Let’s go see the Forbidden City.”

It was a weekday afternoon. There weren’t many people at the Forbidden City—a few scattered foreigners, and some children bundled up thick, shyly making peace signs at cameras.

Cheng Xia pushed me forward with a clacking sound.

This was my first time visiting the Forbidden City. I had been to Beijing many times before for connecting flights or business trips, but I had never gone to tourist sites, much less wandered around during work hours.

I strained to look up at this magnificent and majestic palace. This was the greatest building in all of China. Many, many years ago, there must have been many masons and craftsmen who spent their life’s blood constructing this behemoth, then used those wages to support their whole families.

It had endured several hundred years and still stood here, but what about those people—who remembered they had ever lived?

When it was Grandma’s turn to push me, suddenly a young Black man came over to chat with Cheng Xia, asking carefully, “Could you please take a photo for me?”

Cheng Xia agreed.

After taking the photo, he made small talk with Cheng Xia for a few sentences, praising his Asian features, admiring his shoes, praising his English pronunciation.

Grandma grew impatient listening and had Cheng Xia take over pushing the wheelchair while she went ahead to take photos.

Only then did the young man realize we were together, and he carefully inquired about our relationship.

Cheng Xia said, “She’s my fiancée.”

The young man let out an exaggerated wow, looking at me with some disbelief.

“What great love. Taking care of her must be very hard for you?”

Both of us were stunned before realizing he had imagined some kind of melodramatic scenario—perhaps taking me for a disabled person of indomitable spirit, with Cheng Xia as the saintly savior who didn’t mind at all.

Cheng Xia said, “Actually, she’s a very excellent engineer. She just got injured a bit while constructing buildings.”

The young man looked at me in disbelief. “Really?”

…

Some long-absent feelings of inferiority suddenly surfaced. I suddenly became aware that I was disheveled, wearing a Uniqlo down jacket that I didn’t know how long it had been since it was washed, along with my poor English.

While Cheng Xia had neat hair, a handsome face, a well-tailored British-style coat, even the bit of shirt collar showing was pristine white.

The young man was explaining his offense in English with a flushed face.

I interrupted him. “Perhaps you’re South African. I built a bridge in South Africa.”

The young man was even more surprised. “Really?!”

I switched to Zulu. “Yes.”

Zulu is the common language of South Africa. Of course I had learned a bit. My English was terrible, my French no good either, and my Zulu could only manage simple conversations, but through gestures and talking, communication with workers had always been quite smooth.

The young man was very excited, constantly exclaiming that he’d heard of that bridge. Leaving Cheng Xia aside, he discussed my work and his hometown with me for half an hour.

When he finally left, he shook my hand very solemnly and said, “You Chinese people have brought a lot to Africa. You are a remarkable person.”

“I’m just someone working hard to earn money,” I said.

After he left, I said to Cheng Xia, “Actually, I never thought I’d go into this line of work, but look—without realizing it, it became my career.”

“Any insights?”

“I wouldn’t call them insights, but every job I’ve done up to today, I haven’t let down the clients, and I haven’t let down myself at that time either.”

Working in civil engineering actually isn’t some respectable job. A project throws away several years of your youth, and you’re perpetually covered in dust.

I’ll probably always be a girl who looks rustic and slovenly, and my impoverished family of origin is carved into my bones and can’t be hidden.

But when it comes to my career, the projects I’ve personally completed one after another, I can straighten my back before anyone, open and without shame.

Grandma said she wouldn’t go, wouldn’t go, but ended up having more fun than anyone, taking photos with every building and demanding to go see the flag-lowering ceremony at Tiananmen. “Oh my, living and living, I even got to go to Tiananmen—it’s so beautiful.”

For dinner, Cheng Xia took us to a Peking duck restaurant where you could see the Forbidden City. Grandma ate until oil dripped from her mouth and even posted on WeChat Moments: “Granddaughter and grandson-in-law are so filial.”

That night, Cheng Xia booked a suite at a courtyard house inn with three beds.

He slept outside, convenient for helping me to the bathroom at night.

Grandma was tired from playing and soon started snoring.

I couldn’t sleep. I turned my head to look at the wall where Cheng Xia’s shadow was cast. I couldn’t help but reach out to touch it—his nose bridge was high and straight, his forehead full.

He really was the best-looking person I’d ever seen in all my years.

Also the only person I’d ever loved.

“Cheng Xia.”

“Mm?” His voice was clear. “Need the bathroom?”

“Tomorrow I’ll have to trouble you to take Grandma back.”

“Mm.”

“The company will send someone to pick me up. On one hand, the project isn’t finished yet, and on the other hand, the case investigation still needs my assistance… I have to go back to Inner Mongolia.”

“Will someone take care of you?”

“I’ll hire a caregiver.”

“Okay.”

“Grandma definitely won’t agree. You’ll have to help me persuade her. Thank you for the trouble.”

“It’s what I should do.”

We fell into another long silence. I wanted to say something but didn’t know where to start.

Finally, we both spoke at the same time.

I said, “In the future, find a good girl.”

He said, “I’m planning to study abroad.”

Beijing was really interesting—everything was dim and murky, even the moon wasn’t completely bright, just hanging by the brick wall with a pale color.

“Study abroad, that’s great… Isn’t that what you wanted before?”

“Mm.”

“I was actually wondering how you could take such a long leave—you resigned, didn’t you?”

“Mm.”

Silence once again shrouded the entire room.

I wanted to say something, but what could I say? Any words I could speak would be lies.

“I’ve discovered that for someone like me, love is a luxury item… I want success too much. Rather than failing at both ends, it’s better to be decisive.”

Cheng Xia didn’t speak, only staying silent for a while before asking, “Do you still like me?”

“I like the warmth you bring me, the care… and the vanity.” I laughed self-mockingly. “But I can’t fulfill a girlfriend’s responsibilities, and this for us…”

He interrupted me. “I’m asking, do you still like me?”

I froze for a moment before realizing what he was asking.

“Of course I like you.”

The real him was pathological, broken, like an expensive toy smashed in a display window.

But in my heart, he was still that sixteen-year-old high school student who told me his dream was to become an architect like Le Corbusier.

The favored son of heaven who took me to a top-tier university to see a bigger world.

The white moonlight that made me grit my teeth and endure in malaria-ridden Africa.

“But I no longer need you,” I heard my own voice, like a gleaming blade. “I no longer need to gaze at someone in order to move forward.”

When did I realize this?

Was it when I endured hardships on the grassland?

Was it that dusk with torrential rain when I made up my mind to return?

Was it when I finally realized that what I wanted wasn’t to chase some more respectable life.

But to be strong.

More money, a more resilient heart, more successful projects, and truly “irreplaceable” work capabilities.

I chased Cheng Xia for fourteen years, as his lover for exactly one year.

I finally no longer needed him.

So for me now, love was a weakness, a burden that should be cast off when traveling light.

He was someone who so desperately needed love.

His father was right—if I couldn’t bear the weight of his life, then I shouldn’t covet that warmth.

“I’m sorry, Cheng Xia. I’m very selfish.”