After Escaping Marriage - Chapter 32
Chapter 32
There was a convenience store near the school gates.
Yu Qingtang, without replying, looked towards the convenience store. They usually sold umbrellas.
Cheng Zhanxi had been by her side for too long that day, and Yu Qingtang instinctively felt it was inappropriate. She pursed her lips, about to suggest they buy umbrellas and go their separate ways, when a flash of silver lightning streaked across the sky, followed by a clap of thunder and a sudden downpour.
Large raindrops pelted the leaves, splattering on the ground, sending up tiny droplets of mud.
Students, holding their jackets over their heads, scattered, some running home through the rain, others seeking shelter nearby.
Rain landed on Yu Qingtang's long lashes, and she blinked, brushing the droplets away. Just as she felt the first few drops, the rain above her head stopped.
She looked up and saw a white and gold jacket. Cheng Zhanxi, now only in a black t-shirt, using her height advantage, was holding the jacket over Yu Qingtang's head like an umbrella.
Most of Cheng Zhanxi's body was exposed to the rain. Her black t-shirt, darkened by the water, clung to her skin, droplets streaming down her arms and dripping from the ends of her hair.
"Let's go!" Cheng Zhanxi shouted, her voice barely audible above the downpour.
"Let's go!"
Her lips moved, repeating the words to Yu Qingtang.
Sheltered beneath Cheng Zhanxi's makeshift umbrella, Yu Qingtang heard nothing but the pounding rain, Cheng Zhanxi's warmth close, her heavy breathing, her urgent pleas, her lips moving silently, all merging with the downpour, a gentle yet inescapable net cast over Yu Qingtang's heart, a moment forever etched in her memory.
People hurried past, some glancing at them curiously, then continuing on their way. The scene felt like a slow-motion film reel.
Yu Qingtang didn't reply, and Cheng Zhanxi, unmoving, remained in the rain, droplets streaming down her face and dripping from her chin.
Later, after they were together, on another rainy day, Cheng Zhanxi, startled by a clap of thunder while painting in her studio, had rushed out to bring Yu Qingtang an umbrella.
On their way home, Yu Qingtang, her arm linked with Cheng Zhanxi's, suddenly chuckled.
Cheng Zhanxi, puzzled, looked at her.
Yu Qingtang leaned her head against Cheng Zhanxi's shoulder. "I'm sorry," she murmured. "I made you stand in the rain that day."
Cheng Zhanxi shifted the umbrella to her other hand, gently stroking Yu Qingtang's cheek. "I'd like to know why you didn't answer me," she said.
Yu Qingtang stopped and turned to face her.
Raindrops pelted the umbrella, but beneath it, they were dry and warm.
Yu Qingtang, her gaze steady, said, "I wanted to freeze time, to stay in that moment forever, just the two of us."
Cheng Zhanxi, raising an eyebrow, asked, "Did you like me that early on?"
Yu Qingtang smiled. "Didn't you think it was love at first sight?" she teased.
Cheng Zhanxi, playfully pinching Yu Qingtang's cheek, said, "And now? Do you still want to freeze time?"
Yu Qingtang, wrapping her arms around Cheng Zhanxi's waist, said, her voice soft and sweet, "No. I want to eat your cooking. I'm hungry."
...
Cheng Zhanxi had asked five times before Yu Qingtang finally moved her lips and softly replied, "Okay."
Cheng Zhanxi's jacket was soaked. She put an arm around Yu Qingtang's shoulders, pulling her close, but careful not to press their bodies together because her clothes were wet.
"One, two, three, run!"
They ran towards a Shaxian Delicacies restaurant nearby.
Lightning flashed across the dark sky, the wind howling, whipping the branches of the trees lining the street, leaves swirling in the air.
The rain came down in sheets, blurring their vision. Figures huddled under awnings and doorways, seeking shelter. The rhythmic drumming of the rain was like a soft, ethereal song.
Cheng Zhanxi removed her soaked jacket from Yu Qingtang's head, wrung it out, then, seemingly captivated by the downpour, handed the jacket to Yu Qingtang. "You go inside. I'll be right there," she said.
Then she turned and ran back into the rain.
At the corner near the school gates, an elderly man had set up a bicycle repair stall. His tools and supplies were neatly arranged on a three-wheeled cart. Every morning, he would arrive and set up his stall, earning a meager living. In the evenings, he would pack up his belongings and slowly pedal away.
Cheng Zhanxi, often passing by on her motorcycle, was familiar with the old man.
With the rise of shared bicycles, traditional bicycle repair stalls were becoming increasingly rare. The old man, in his sixties, his hair gray and thinning, his teeth worn and chipped, wouldn't have been able to make a living if it weren't for his proximity to the school. Cheng Zhanxi had even considered buying a bicycle just to support his business, but her apartment was too far away.
The old man, wiping the rain from his face, was struggling to cover his cart with a tarp. The wind was strong, and the tarp kept billowing, making it difficult for him to secure it.
Just then, a pair of long, slender hands reached out, helping him hold down the tarp.
Cheng Zhanxi quickly secured the corners of the tarp, the rain washing over her face, and shouted to the old man, "Go home! It's too dangerous to stay out in this weather!"
The old man, perched on his cart, his wrinkled face creased into a smile, gave her a thumbs-up, mouthing the word "thank you," then turned and slowly pedaled away, his figure disappearing into the rain.
He was deaf and mute.
Cheng Zhanxi's eyes filled with tears, and she covered her face with her hand.
...
Cheng Zhanxi had first met the girl when she was six, during a visit to her grandparents' house in the countryside. It was her first time in the countryside, and everything was new and exciting. Every morning, she would rush outside and play until it was time for dinner.
One day, returning from her adventures with her arms full of fruit she had picked from her grandparents' orchard, she saw a group of children surrounding someone, laughing and clapping.
"Little mute! Can't talk!"
"Little mute! No parents!"
Some of the children were pushing and shoving the figure, their laughter cruel and mocking.
Cheng Zhanxi pushed her way through the crowd and saw a small girl, her head bowed, her clothes wrinkled and dirty from being pushed around, cowering in a corner.
The children continued their taunts. "Say something! Why don't you talk?"
"Were you born mute?"
"Little mute! Little mute! Haha!"
One of the boys started imitating a mute person, his eyes bulging, making exaggerated sounds, which only intensified the other children's laughter.
Cheng Zhanxi, enraged, grabbed a pear from her basket and threw it at the boy, hitting him squarely in the back.
The boy, stunned, froze.
Cheng Zhanxi, not waiting for the others to react, threw the rest of her fruit at them.
The children scattered.
Cheng Zhanxi then turned to the girl in the corner. She was about half a head shorter than Cheng Zhanxi, her small frame and dirty clothes making her look even smaller.
"Don't be afraid," six-year-old Cheng Zhanxi said, her voice still childish. "Jiejie chased away the bad guys!"
Cheng Zhanxi had always had a strong sense of justice. Before becoming a painter, she had dreamed of being a chivalrous hero, righting wrongs and protecting the innocent.
Remembering the girl couldn't hear, Cheng Zhanxi bent down and looked up at her, their eyes meeting. The girl's eyes were dark and bright, her lashes long and thick, like tiny fans.
Wow.
Little Cheng Zhanxi thought: She has such beautiful eyes.
The girl finally looked up at her, her expression blank, then turned and walked away.
Little Cheng Zhanxi blinked, watching her go.
From that day on, Cheng Zhanxi gave up her carefree wanderings and patrolled the area, her hands clasped behind her back like a vigilant guardian. She encountered the little mute girl being bullied two more times, each time chasing away the bullies, even ending up with scratches on her own face once, but she was happy, because justice had prevailed! Even when adults made comments about the "little mute," she would step forward, her chest puffed out, and say sternly, "Don't call her a mute!"
The adults would ask, "Is she your sister?"
Cheng Zhanxi: "Yes!"
"What's her name?"
Cheng Zhanxi, unable to answer, would simply say, "She's my meimei!"
The adults would smile and say, "You really love your meimei."
Whenever it came to the little mute girl, Cheng Zhanxi's sense of justice would flare, ready to defend her against anyone. The bullies, seeing her coming, would scatter like rabbits.
With her own personal patrol officer, the little mute girl's life improved significantly. One day, Cheng Zhanxi, following her at a distance, saw the little girl stop by the side of the road, crouching down, seemingly doing something.
Cheng Zhanxi, respecting the girl's privacy, didn't approach, but she was consumed with curiosity, craning her neck.
When the girl stood up, Cheng Zhanxi quickly straightened up, pretending to admire the scenery.
But she kept watching the girl from the corner of her eye.
Seeing the girl walking towards her, she quickly composed herself, turning to face her, a friendly smile on her face.
The girl, her hands hidden behind her back, walked closer.
Her face was unusually pale, her lips almost colorless. She pursed her lips slightly, then slowly brought her hands forward, revealing a small bouquet of wildflowers.
A small bunch of yellow wildflowers, accented with green leaves.
Cheng Zhanxi, pointing at herself, asked incredulously, "For me?"
Realizing the girl couldn't hear, she repeated her question with exaggerated gestures.
The little mute girl nodded slightly.
Cheng Zhanxi solemnly accepted the bouquet, beaming. "Thank you!" she said.
Perhaps it was Cheng Zhanxi's enthusiasm, but the usually quiet and withdrawn girl smiled, a fleeting, almost imperceptible smile, like a night-blooming cereus.
And so, Cheng Zhanxi and the little mute girl became friends.
Cheng Zhanxi would go to the mountains to paint, and the little girl would watch her, initially from a distance, then gradually moving closer, until she was sitting in front of Cheng Zhanxi's easel, her hands nervously clutching the hem of her dress, her pale cheeks flushed with a faint blush.
Cheng Zhanxi, holding her brush, would say with a smile, "Don't move. I'll be done soon."
At that age, Cheng Zhanxi's artistic skills were still developing. She relied mostly on her imagination.
She would show her finished paintings to the little girl, who would carefully accept them and look at Cheng Zhanxi with a serious expression.
Cheng Zhanxi, unable to resist, would gently take the girl's hand. It was small and cold.
Cheng Zhanxi learned some basic sign language and was finally able to communicate with the little mute girl.
Hello. Thank you. Going to the mountain? I like you. Play with me. I'll walk you home.
Every day, the same routine.
She would walk her to her door and hear someone inside call her "Momo." The woman who lived with Momo, a stern-looking middle-aged woman, kept everyone at a distance, even the charming Cheng Zhanxi, who had never been invited inside.
When summer vacation ended, Cheng Zhanxi's family sent their butler, Uncle Deng, to pick her up. Before leaving, Cheng Zhanxi warned the neighborhood children not to bully Momo, asking her grandparents to keep an eye on her as well. Every time she called her grandparents, she would ask about Momo.
She had promised Momo she would paint her a portrait, a real portrait.
But they never saw each other again. The painting became a promise she could never fulfill.
Before the semester ended, her grandparents told her Momo had moved away.
The house was empty. No one knew where they had gone.
If it had been an ordinary childhood friend, Cheng Zhanxi would have forgotten her. But Momo was deaf and mute. Long after she had moved away, Cheng Zhanxi would still remember her cowering in the corner, her blank expression, the unexplained bruises on her body, the wildflowers she had given her, and her fleeting, almost imperceptible smile.
She often wondered if Momo was being bullied, if she was safe and healthy.
Even now, twenty years later, when calling her grandparents, Cheng Zhanxi would still ask, "Have you seen Momo? Has she come back?"
Receiving a negative answer, she would fall silent, lost in thought.
...
By the time Cheng Zhanxi returned to the restaurant, she was drenched. Yu Qingtang was waiting for her at the entrance, refusing to go inside.
"Why didn't you go in?" Cheng Zhanxi asked, her voice slightly hoarse.
"I was afraid you wouldn't be able to find me," Yu Qingtang said, making up an excuse. She started unbuttoning her trench coat, but Cheng Zhanxi quickly grabbed her hand, stopping her. Her hand was cold from the rain, colder than Yu Qingtang's skin. "Don't worry about it," she said, releasing Yu Qingtang's hand. "You keep your coat on. Where's mine?"
Yu Qingtang handed her the jacket she had rescued from the rain. Cheng Zhanxi put it on, then quickly took it off again. It was heavy and cold. "It's fine. I'm not cold," she said.
Yu Qingtang looked at her disapprovingly but didn't say anything, pushing open the restaurant door.
The restaurant was filled with students seeking shelter from the rain, many of them eating dinner. They finally found two empty seats in a corner. Cheng Zhanxi brushed her wet hair from her face, looked up at the menu on the wall, and asked, "What do you want to eat?"
Yu Qingtang: "Chicken leg rice."
Cheng Zhanxi usually cooked at home and rarely ate at Shaxian Delicacies. She scanned the menu. "Any recommendations?" she asked.
"…" Yu Qingtang carefully read the menu, then said seriously, "The noodles and steamed dumplings are good."
Cheng Zhanxi nodded. "Then we'll have those," she said.
Yu Qingtang stood up. "I'll go order," she said.
Cheng Zhanxi, running her fingers through her hair, watched Yu Qingtang walk towards the counter, a smile playing on her lips.
Yu Qingtang quickly returned and sat down opposite Cheng Zhanxi, glancing out the window at the still-pouring rain.
Cheng Zhanxi was also looking at the rain, unusually quiet. Yu Qingtang, used to and enjoying the silence, wondered what Cheng Zhanxi was thinking, what had caused the fleeting look of sadness she had seen in her eyes earlier.
The busy server placed their food on the table without a word, and Cheng Zhanxi, startled by the sound, snapped out of her reverie. "Sorry," she said to Yu Qingtang with an apologetic smile. Yu Qingtang's eyes flickered, a question forming, then disappearing as she looked away.
"Let's eat," she said calmly, pushing the chili sauce towards Cheng Zhanxi. "This goes well with the dumplings."
"Thank you," Cheng Zhanxi replied.
Cheng Zhanxi picked up her chopsticks, mixed the noodles, and ate slowly.
The students around them were chatting, but they remained silent, the only sound the rhythmic drumming of the rain against the window.
Food always improved Cheng Zhanxi's mood. After finishing her last dumpling, waiting for Yu Qingtang to finish her meal, she asked, "Do you have any plans for tomorrow, Ms. Yu?"
Yu Qingtang's predictable response: "Lesson planning."
"Okay," Cheng Zhanxi said with a smile. "You're so dedicated, Ms. Yu. I'm going apartment hunting tomorrow if it doesn't rain. If it does, I'll go indoor rock climbing. I haven't exercised in a while. I'm getting rusty."
Yu Qingtang discreetly glanced at Cheng Zhanxi's physique, outlined by her slightly damp t-shirt, and raised an eyebrow almost imperceptibly.
Was she being too modest?
Cheng Zhanxi continued, "I had a friend who was going to come with me, but she's not in Sicheng anymore. Now I have to go alone. I'm so lonely…" she said wistfully.
Yu Qingtang hummed noncommittally, pretending not to understand the hint.
Cheng Zhanxi tried a different tactic. "Jiejie," she said, her voice sweet and coaxing.
Yu Qingtang, picking up her bag, interrupted her. "The rain seems to have stopped," she said. "I should go home."
"I'll walk you home," Cheng Zhanxi offered.
Yu Qingtang corrected her, "I'll walk you home."
Cheng Zhanxi, confused: "Huh?"
Five minutes later, Yu Qingtang emerged from the convenience store across the street, holding an umbrella over Cheng Zhanxi's head as she got into a taxi.
It was the first time Yu Qingtang had walked Cheng Zhanxi to a taxi, and Cheng Zhanxi found the reversal of roles intriguing.
From the lowered window, she looked at Yu Qingtang, her eyes sparkling.
Yu Qingtang, her expression neutral, said, "Be careful."
Cheng Zhanxi smiled. "You said it wrong," she teased.
Yu Qingtang looked at her, puzzled.
Cheng Zhanxi pointed at herself, then at Yu Qingtang. "I should be the one saying, 'Be careful getting home'," she said.
Yu Qingtang, understanding the implication, recalled their previous exchanges and, following Cheng Zhanxi's lead, said, "Message me… when you get home." She normally wouldn't have bothered, but Cheng Zhanxi's comment had prompted an instinctive response, her actions, as always, a beat behind her thoughts.
Cheng Zhanxi chuckled.
"See you on Monday," she said.
Yu Qingtang's lips curved slightly. "See you on Monday," she repeated.
The taxi disappeared into the light rain.
Yu Qingtang stood there for a moment, then turned and walked home.
On Sunday, while preparing lessons in her study, Yu Qingtang ordered takeout and, while eating, opened Cheng Zhanxi's Moments.
As expected, there was a new update – a ten-second video.
Yu Qingtang clicked on the video. Cheng Zhanxi, dressed in professional rock climbing gear, was scaling a wall, her movements fluid and agile, her body pressed close to the rock face. She reminded Yu Qingtang of the blue sheep she had seen in a nature documentary, effortlessly navigating steep cliffs and rocky terrain, their hooves finding purchase on the smallest ledges.
Yu Qingtang watched the video several times before closing it.
Later, while preparing her lessons, she found herself thinking about Cheng Zhanxi's dance again, and she opened her computer, watching the video twice more.
Cheng Zhanxi, having reached the top of the wall, descended and took her phone from a young woman. "Thank you," she said.
She checked the video she had recorded specifically for Yu Qingtang.
The young woman, a new employee at the rock climbing gym, meeting Cheng Zhanxi for the first time, had been captivated by her beauty. Now, watching Cheng Zhanxi fiddling with her phone, her eyelashes long and curled, a soft smile playing on her lips, her fingers brushing a stray strand of hair from her face, she found her even more alluring.
Her cheeks flushing slightly, she took out her phone and opened her WeChat QR code.
Cheng Zhanxi saw a hand appear in her line of sight.
A soft voice said, "Ms. Cheng, would you like to add me on WeChat? You can let me know next time you're coming to the gym."
Cheng Zhanxi looked up at the young woman, her eyes crinkling at the corners, her expression gentle, but her words a polite refusal. "No, thank you," she said.
She wasn't opposed to making new friends, but she avoided those who had ulterior motives. It was just asking for trouble.
Cheng Zhanxi was someone who valued her own autonomy. She pursued what she wanted, what she liked. The feelings of others, those who admired her, were irrelevant.
At 4 p.m. on Sunday, the intermittent rain finally stopped, and a faint glow appeared through the clouds.
Cheng Zhanxi didn't go apartment hunting, but she did visit a real estate agency and asked them to keep an eye out for suitable listings.
Monday morning.
It had rained again the previous night, and the ground was still wet, the air damp and cool.
Having left her motorcycle at school, Cheng Zhanxi took a taxi, asking the driver to drop her off at the corner near the school. The bicycle repair stall was already set up. The old man, sitting on a small stool, was patching a tire, carefully filing the damaged area with a rasp.
Cheng Zhanxi approached, and saw a laminated sign next to the stall, listing the prices for various services: Free air pump, tire patch – X yuan…
As Cheng Zhanxi drew closer, the old man, noticing her from the corner of his eye, looked up and pointed at the price list.
The heavy rain the previous day had clearly obscured her from his memory.
Cheng Zhanxi smiled and shook her head, indicating she didn't need any repairs, not mentioning their previous encounter. She greeted him in sign language. The old man put down his rasp, his wrinkled face creasing into a kind smile, and replied in sign language.
...
Yu Qingtang, walking from the opposite direction, saw a familiar figure. Cheng Zhanxi was crouching beside the bicycle repair stall, talking to the old man.
Yu Qingtang: "..."
Was Ms. Cheng so talkative that she could strike up a conversation with anyone, even on the street?
Yu Qingtang suddenly frowned. She remembered the old man was deaf and mute.
Short skit:
Yu Qingtang: Little meimei? Where am I little?
Cheng Zhanxi (eyes downcast, gulping): You're not little… anywhere. (*/ω＼*)
Yu Qingtang (undressing): Come and see for yourself.
P.S. Their childhood friendship was purely innocent!
P.P.S. I wrote about the little mute girl in the first version of Chapter 6. If you've read it before, please pretend it's your first time. Thank you!
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