Emergence - Chapter 10

Chapter 10

She cried for a long time before her emotions gradually subsided and she returned to her numb state. I helped her back to the dining table for a simple meal, which we ate in tasteless silence. Afterward, I told her to take a bath and go to bed early while I cleaned up the dishes.

By the time I came out of the kitchen, she was already in the bathroom. I pretended to watch TV, but my nerves were stretched taut as I listened for any sound from her, terrified she might try to slit her wrists again in my home. Fortunately, there was nothing sharp in my bathroom she could use, but there are countless ways to commit suicide. What if she decided to drink cleaning solution? I couldn't let my guard down.

It was already December, deep into winter, a time when one shouldn't bathe too often. But she had a thing for cleanliness—a veritable obsession—and had to bathe daily. And every time she did, she would take an incredibly long time, making me wait with frantic anxiety. My water bill had more than doubled this month, a fact I found both exasperating and a little funny.

To my relief, she bathed quickly today, as if fleeing from something. She came out without even drying her dripping hair and dove straight into her room. Anyone watching would have thought something in the bathroom was trying to kill her.

I hesitated at her door for a moment but ultimately decided not to knock. I returned to the living room, watched a bit of TV, and then went to the bathroom to get ready for bed myself. I'd been going to sleep extremely late recently and couldn't sleep in, so I was severely sleep-deprived. That, combined with all the physical and emotional strain—and today's ordeal—left me utterly exhausted. I desperately wanted to get to bed early.

That night, I fell asleep almost the instant my head hit the pillow. I was in the middle of a pleasant dream when a piercing scream and the violent crash of something smashing jolted me awake. I leaped out of bed. My mind was still foggy, but I stumbled out of my room and rushed to hers. I didn't bother knocking—I just twisted the knob and burst in to find her roaring as she tore at her bedsheets, venting some unseen fury. The bedside lamp lay smashed on the floor in a pathetic heap. The sheets were durable, but she had still managed to rip them out of shape.

I rushed forward and threw my arms around her, pinning her hands and forcing her down onto the bed. She screamed,

"I hate it! I hate it so much! Why? Why!"

She struggled, trying to break free from my grasp.

"Lin Yi! Lin Yi! Calm down! He's not here. It's just me. I'm here!" I yelled, trying to force my voice through her hysterical screams and into her ears.

I don't know if she heard me. She kept struggling, but her screams became sporadic, eventually dissolving into sobs. My arms grew numb from the strain, my strength failing, and I gradually loosened my grip. She stopped fighting and slumped onto her knees on the bed, weeping silently. I knelt behind her, a hand's breadth away, my own hands trembling, but I didn't touch her again.

After what felt like an eternity, I saw her, her back still to me, raise a hand to wipe away her tears. I figured she must have calmed down. It was only then, utterly exhausted, that I realized my back was drenched in a cold sweat from sheer terror.

"Get some rest. I'm going back to my room," I said, getting off the bed. I had just reached the door when I heard her speak, her voice cold and hoarse.

"I hate myself for being too weak. It's bad enough I don't dare to kill him, but I can't even bring myself to commit suicide."

I didn't know if she was talking to me, but it was the first time since we'd reconnected that she had revealed her true feelings. I froze, unsure of what to say.

She ignored my reaction and continued, "Why has it come to this? I don't have the courage to kill him, and I can't even manage to kill myself. Every time I close my eyes, my mind is flooded with those images. I can't forget them, no matter how hard I try. I can't take it anymore. How is this supposed to end? Can you tell me how?"

I turned back. Looking at her silhouette, I said softly, "Forgetting all this depends on whether you're willing to."

"How could I possibly forget?" she said slowly. "You're not me. Do you have any idea what it feels like?"

"That's because you're still trapped inside it, never once trying to pull yourself out. You want to end everything in the most extreme way possible—by dying. But Lin Yi, you're an adult. You should understand that our lives aren't just our own; so many people care about us and worry for us. If you end it all, they're the ones who will be left to suffer. Your family has already been through enough misfortune. Do you really want to twist a knife in your parents' hearts? Did you know that when your mother saw your wrists, the shock was so great it nearly gave her a heart attack?"

She fell silent. I continued slowly, "Lin Yi, do you remember when you were little, how your mom would take you downstairs every day to teach you how to walk? Whenever you fell and scraped your knee, her heart would ache so much. She'd scoop you up and kiss the tears from your cheeks. When you were a bit older and started school, no matter how busy your dad was, he was always at the school gate right on time to pick you up. He'd carry you on his old bicycle and always buy you pan-fried buns from the shop at the mouth of the alley on the way home. When you got older still and started commuting to school on your own, you wanted a new, beautiful bicycle, and they bought you one without a second thought. Later, when that bike was stolen, you cried your heart out. They pretended it was no big deal to comfort you, but then they scrimped and saved to buy you another one.

"On rainy days when you forgot your umbrella, your dad would rush all the way from his office to bring you one. He'd show up in his poncho, his face streaked with rain, his glasses fogged with condensation, his bicycle washed to a gleaming black, and his pant legs soaked and rolled up. For your birthday, you wanted to be like your classmates and treat everyone to a meal at a restaurant. While you were out having a great time with your friends, your parents were at home, watching over a pot of noodles, celebrating your birthday quietly on their own.

"When you got to high school, you were a young lady. For your education, your family used their meager savings to get a new apartment, just so you could have a shorter commute. They were so happy when you got good grades, always bragging about you to others. But at home, they couldn't help but nag you to study hard, which would annoy you to no end, and you'd talk back. And every time you did, they would just fall silent, quietly bearing it. You were growing up, developing your own thoughts, and they knew they had to learn to let go.

"You got into a university in another city. They couldn't bear to see you go. They brought you all the way to the school gates and lingered, unwilling to leave. They put on a brave face as they left, but they cried in secret that night. While you were away, having the time of your life and forgetting all about home, they were worried sick. They called you every single day, not for any particular reason, but just to hear their daughter's voice. But you would always hang up impatiently. Do you have any idea how much that hurt them?

"You were so promising you got to study abroad. With you on the other side of the ocean, they were even more worried. But they gritted their teeth and sent you off anyway. Every penny they scrimped and saved was spent on you. And even though you were considerate enough to work part-time to lighten their load, do you have any idea how hard things were for them?

"Lin Yi, for a man like Zhang Yucheng, can you really cast your parents aside? Can you treat the precious life they gave you so cheaply? How far… how far do you have to push them before you'll be satisfied? Who is in more pain here, you or them? Don't you understand? To them, everything about you is… is a priceless treasure. Your worth… your value to them is immeasurable! Can you really bear to… to drive a knife into your parents' hearts, again and again… like death by a thousand cuts, until they're a bloody, mangled mess? Doesn't it hurt you at all?"

She had started sobbing halfway through my speech. Her tears stirred my own emotions, and a lump formed in my throat. By the end, my voice was catching, the words coming out in broken fragments as tears streamed down my own face. She, meanwhile, was weeping as if the world were ending, completely heartbroken. I knew I shouldn't have provoked her so intensely, but to crush any thought of suicide, I had to make her see her own worth. I had to make her understand her responsibilities—that losing Zhang Yucheng didn't mean the sky was falling, that she couldn't let a man like him destroy her life.

I said no more. A wave of sorrow washed over her, a thousand emotions churning in her heart. She couldn't stop crying, mumbling "Dad… Mom…" through her sobs. I thought to myself that if my words today could truly make her realize her own value, it would be more useful than all the patient care I had provided for days on end.

But in truth, I hadn't said all that just for the sake of her recovery. Those words had been bottled up inside me for a long time, and I had finally let them out. Every memory I recounted was real. Some were stories she had told me herself, some I'd read in her old school essays, and others her mother had shared with me. I remembered each one with perfect clarity. I thought, if she had forgotten them, then I would have to remember for her.

In this world, some people will treat you like dirt, but others will hold you in the palm of their hand and cherish you. To a stranger, you might be nothing more than a weed, but to those who love you, you are a pearl. She had never realized what torture it was for the people who loved her to see her in this state. Her parents, of course, but even for me… every time I saw her like this, I wanted nothing more than to kill Zhang Yucheng on the spot.

For so many years, she had been the treasure I kept in my heart. I polished her image constantly, terrified that even a speck of dust might tarnish her there. I was so careful, so protective—as if she might melt on my tongue or shatter in my hands. That was how humbly, how timidly I loved her. And now, someone had destroyed my treasure. Who could possibly understand my heartache, my sorrow, my rage?

Sometimes, I truly resented her. I resented her for not thinking of those of us who loved her, for instead choosing to grovel like a weed at someone else's feet, letting them trample all over her. If she had spared even a single thought for us, if she had learned to look back at the people who stood behind her, she never would have reached this point. I couldn't tolerate it any longer. I had to make her understand how much good fortune she had, hidden behind all her misery.

She cried for a long time, and for a long time, I stood behind her in silence. When she finally grew quiet, I sighed, left the room, and went to the bathroom to get a warm towel to wipe her face. After I put the towel away, I came back, helped her lie down, and pulled the blanket up over her, tucking in the corners.

I had just turned to leave when I felt a cold hand suddenly grip my wrist. Her voice followed, hoarse and thick with tears.

"Don't go…"

I froze…

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