Ordinary Friends - Chapter 4
When I returned from the hospital, Qin Zheng was already home.
When I opened the door and walked in, he was sitting on the sofa. The TV was on, playing a variety show he had no interest in, while he held his phone, head down, probably chatting with someone, a smile lingering at the corner of his lips.
The faint glow of the phone screen cast a gentle light on his face, inexplicably soft.
I had already forgotten how long it had been since I last saw such a gentle smile on his face.
I paused at the doorway. He was so absorbed that he didn’t even hear me open the door, not until I softly called his name: “Qin Zheng.”
He quickly wiped the smile from his face and looked up abruptly. My gaze fell on his hand.
He instinctively locked his phone and placed it face down on the sofa, looking at me with some surprise and confusion, asking, “You’ve been discharged?”
It was only then that I truly smiled, at him, and at myself.
I looked at him gently, my voice distant and calm: “Let’s talk.”
The breakup between Qin Zheng and me could be called “peaceful.”
We were both very calm people, and the whole process didn’t take long.
We’re mature adults; we value dignity. Everything was laid out in the open, and there wasn’t much to discuss-just a tacit understanding.
After I said, “Let’s break up,” he didn’t ask me why, just fell silent. I think, in that moment, he must have felt a sense of relief.
After a while, he finally said, “I’m sorry.”
I didn’t accept his apology, just calmly arranged the matters that followed our breakup.
My tone was even, my expression not at all sad. My composure seemed to surprise Qin Zheng. When I suggested he move out as soon as possible, he suddenly interrupted me and asked, “Shiyue, you don’t seem sad at all.”
He frowned slightly, his eyes fixed on my face, focused and searching, as if he couldn’t understand.
Men are truly laughable creatures. Even if he no longer loved me, even if breaking up was what he’d always wanted, seeing me so open and calm still left him unsatisfied.
Perhaps in his mind, I should have been sobbing and begging him to stay, so that he could feel a bit of pride in his annoyance.
I looked up at him, emotionless. I didn’t tell him that I had already been sad.
When he ignored my WeChat messages but commented under Li Qingqing’s latest post.
When he deleted the playlist he made for me, just so he could listen to trendy Korean songs with Li Qingqing.
When he looked at me, pretending I’d lost my memory, and said we were just ordinary friends.
When, out of my sight, he and Li Qingqing were immersed in the ambiguous push-and-pull of adult relationships-I had already been sad.
To me, he was like a benign tumor growing inside my body. It’s there, not fatal yet, but you know if you let it be, it will slowly worsen, eroding your health and vitality bit by bit.
There’s nothing to fear. As long as it’s still benign, just cut it out at the root.
The pain is only temporary, but in the end, I’ll be healthy again.
Before Qin Zheng finished packing and left, I calmly asked him one last question:
“Qin Zheng, did your feelings change because Li Qingqing is Li Nie’s daughter, or simply because she’s herself?”
He turned back at the entryway, tall and upright as when I first met him in college. His handsome face, compared to those youthful days, now bore a quiet maturity.
I always thought he was still that boy who stood blushing before me on the track, awkwardly confessing. But only now did I realize, I don’t know when it happened, but he had already become an adult weighing pros and cons in the deep sea of interests.
He paused, then said, “Shiyue, people always want to climb higher.”
His words made me laugh in spite of myself, but I respected his seven-tenths honesty.
I looked at him and smiled sincerely. I said, “Qin Zheng, then I wish you a grand flight, soaring a thousand miles, and may you get what you desire.”
His gaze lingered on my face, a faint regret hidden deep in his eyes. Compared to his burning ambition, that regret was probably insignificant. In the end, he sighed and said, “Shiyue, don’t hate me.”
I ignored him.
