Emergence - Chapter 11

Chapter 11

I didn't expect her to grab me. My body froze, and for a moment, I didn't know how to react. She repeated herself:

"Don't go."

I turned back, took a deep breath, and said:

"Okay, I won't go."

I sat on the edge of her bed, letting her grip my wrist. In the darkness, there was only silence. Her hand was cold and clammy with a thin layer of sweat. I could feel how long and delicate her fingers were. She was a little nervous; though I wasn't looking at her, I could feel her gaze fixed on me. I didn't know what to feel. The night's events had taken an unexpected turn. While I was secretly delighted that she had asked me to stay, I was also worried I was reading too much into it, so I didn't dare let my thoughts run wild.

I thought, perhaps she felt a little closer to me because she had opened up her heart. Or maybe she was moved by what I'd said and felt a sense of gratitude. Or perhaps, because I still remembered things about our past that she had long forgotten, her heart had softened at the memory of what we once shared. Whatever the reason, it didn't mean she had feelings for me. In her current state, she lacked the capacity to love anyone, let alone someone like me.

"I want to hear you sing…" she said suddenly, her voice a murmur, tinged with a plea.

I froze, not expecting her to make another request. A wry smile touched my lips. She really knew how to order people around. I probably wouldn't be getting any sleep tonight.

"Okay." But I was just incapable of refusing her requests.

What should I sing? I wasn't in the mood for lullabies tonight. A melody surfaced in my mind for no particular reason, and I began to sing naturally:

"It's a long long journey.
Till I know where I'm supposed to be.
It's a long long journey.
And I don't know if I can believe.
When shadows fall and block my eyes.
I am lost and know that I must hide.
It's a long long journey.
Till I find my way home to you.
…"

Only after I started singing did I realize it was Angela Chang's "Journey." Back when the song first came out, she was in high school and loved it. I knew she liked it, so I made a special effort to learn it. Although I never once sang it for her, it remained in my mind for all these years, until tonight, when it came out so naturally.

The song has a beautiful mood, and the lyrics are very profound. Many of the lines seemed to express my own inner feelings. At the same time, it felt like I was singing on her behalf, because many of the lines also described Lin Yi—the her of the past, the present, and the future I wished for her.

"Many days I've spent.
Drifting on through empty shores.
Wondering what's my purpose.
Wondering how to make me strong.
I know I will falter I know I will cry.
I know you'll be standing by my side.
It's a long long journey.
And I need to be close to you.
Sometimes it feels no one understands.
I don't even know why.
I do the things I do.
When pride builds me up till I can't see my soul.
Will you break down these walls and pull me through.
Cause it's a long long journey.
Till I feel that I am worth the price.
You paid for me on calvary.
Beneath those stormy skies.
When Satan mocks and friends turn to foes.
It feels like everything is out to make me lose control.
Cause it's a long long journey.
Till I find my way home to you.
To you."

I sang it over and over, tirelessly. The more I sang, the more a strange feeling rose in my heart. To be honest, my English pronunciation wasn't very good. It had been so long since I'd used it that I'd probably forgotten everything my teachers taught me. This was the only English song I could sing well. Back then, I had put in a lot of effort, studying the pronunciation word by word, imitating it again and again.

Even so, when I realized I was singing this song for her, I couldn't help but feel a surge of nervousness. I was like a soldier awaiting a general's inspection, afraid of the slightest flaw that might displease her. She was different from me. Her English had always been excellent, and she had even studied abroad in the UK. Her pronunciation was beautiful, and she spoke with great fluency. Although I hadn't heard her speak English recently, I was sure she was infinitely better than me. I, on the other hand, had never lived in an English-speaking country, and my English was half-baked at best. This was her favorite song, so she was bound to be extremely critical. I was anxious, wondering if I could win her approval.

But as I sang, I stopped caring about all that. The meaning of the lyrics was so wonderful, and I truly wanted her to take them to heart.

Just as the lyrics said, she was walking a path full of thorns, covered by a huge shadow. She was lost, utterly defeated, and didn't even believe she could get back up and find her way out of this maze.

I wanted to tell her that I would walk with her. On this road, I would always be ahead of her, guiding her, leading her forward. Even if she suffered contempt, ridicule, and harm, even if all the friends around her turned into strangers or even enemies, I would stand in front of her, protect her from harm, and get through the hard times together.

She was so proud, so any setback would hurt her twice as much. Her pride had become the reason she imprisoned her own heart, building high walls to protect herself, unwilling to look at the world or the people who loved her again. But she didn't need to be afraid. I would lead her out, through this wall around her heart, and her world would open up, vast and clear as the sea and sky.

I had already cast all my worries aside. I no longer cared whether I was getting the wrong idea, whether I would get a response, or whether I would make her angry. I simply wanted to express my feelings. From the moment we met again until now, my once-wavering heart had grown ever more resolute. I wanted to take care of her, to love her, for a long, long time. I didn't dare speak of forever, but I truly wanted to love her for a very long time. I had already loved her for ten years, and I believed I would continue for the next ten, and the ten after that. Even if I received no response, even if I earned her disgust, I wanted to fight for this one chance for myself. I had let one opportunity slip through my fingers; this time, I didn't want to miss it again.

I don't know how much time passed, but the sky outside was beginning to lighten. I finally couldn't sing anymore. I swallowed hard and turned my head to look at her. She was already asleep, her face peaceful. On her fair cheeks, which I had wiped clean earlier, two lines of tears had appeared at some point. She seemed to be crying in her sleep, yet smiling, as beautiful as an angel. My heart trembled. With my free left hand, I gently brushed away her tears, softly pushed back her bangs, and pressed a kiss to her forehead. The kiss was as light as a flitting butterfly, touching her for only an instant. Then my gaze moved down to her thin, red lips, which were slightly pouted in her sleep—three parts cute, seven parts alluring. I suddenly remembered the kiss in the bathroom that night. Even though the experience had been agonizing, the sensation of her lips remained—soft, with a cool, gentle feeling that refreshed the soul. As if tempted by a demon, I couldn't stop myself from kissing her lips. Then I pulled back just as quickly and watched her face. Thankfully, she didn't wake up. I let out a quiet sigh of relief.

She was still holding my right wrist tightly. I was afraid that pulling away forcefully would wake her, so I didn't struggle. In truth, I didn't want to break free. I would rather she hold on to me like this for a lifetime, always depending on me, clinging to me. I sat on the soft carpet beside the bed, resting my right arm on the edge for her to hold, leaned my head back against the bedside, and slowly closed my eyes.

So tired. My throat hurt, my head was dizzy and aching, my temples were throbbing, and my whole body was sore, protesting in unison. But my heart was full of joy. In the past ten years, tonight was probably the happiest I had ever been. The girl I loved was finally willing to take my hand. As long as she didn't let go, I would never leave her side.

And so, leaning against the edge of her bed, I spent my first night in the same room with her.

I don't remember when I fell asleep. When I regained consciousness, my whole body felt limp and weak. The moment I opened my eyes, a wave of dizziness washed over me. I lay in bed, stunned for a long time, before finally realizing I was in my own bedroom.

How… did I get back to my bed? The ceiling was spinning. I quickly closed my eyes and weakly raised a hand to my forehead. The burning heat against my cool hand was a stark contrast. I was startled, sighing to myself. After all these years of being as strong as an ox, I had actually come down with a fever. The feeling was so nostalgic. For someone like me, who used to catch colds and fevers every other day as a child, this discomfort felt almost like an old friend.

The door to my bedroom was open, and sounds from the outer room drifted in faintly. I thought I heard the "putt-putt" of the rice cooker, and a rich aroma filled the room. I had no appetite, but the scent was so tempting that I couldn't help but swallow, which sent a searing pain through my throat.

Is that… the smell of fish congee?

I opened my eyes again and turned to look at the clock on the nightstand. It was 1:30 in the afternoon the next day. On the nightstand, there was also a thermometer, a blister pack of cold medicine with two pills missing, a thermos, and a glass of water.

I was puzzled. Who was taking care of me? Besides me, Lin Yi was the only other person in the house. Could it be her? No way. With her severe psychological condition, it would be a blessing if she didn't cause trouble. Could she actually take care of someone? I found it hard to believe. Just as I was about to get up and see, I heard footsteps outside.

I don't know what came over me, but I quickly closed my eyes and pretended to be asleep. My head was still groggy, but I forced myself to focus and identify who was coming. It didn't take much effort, though. The footsteps were familiar, as was the faint fragrance of the person approaching. It was Lin Yi, no doubt about it, which astonished me. Was she really the one taking care of me?

A cool hand suddenly rested on my forehead. The unexpected sensation made my eyelids twitch, revealing that I was awake. She withdrew her hand, and her soft voice reached my ears:

"Gu Fan? Are you awake?"

Defeated, I had no choice but to slowly open my eyes and turn my gaze toward her.

When I saw her clearly, I was startled all over again. She was wearing her own loungewear and had changed from her usual disheveled look. Her long hair was tied back in a low ponytail, which fell over her shoulder as she leaned down to look at me. Her features were serene, and she exuded an indescribable gentleness. She looked so virtuous and beautiful, like a perfect wife, that for a fleeting moment, I thought the old her had returned.

But her eyes held a distant, wooden emptiness. It was as if a bucket of cold water had been poured over my head. She hadn't come back; I had just been hallucinating.

I wearily closed my eyes and managed to force an "Mm" from my throat in response.

"Since you're awake, you should eat something. I made fish congee. I don't know if you'll like it," she said slowly. The once articulate woman with the beautiful voice now spoke in a slow, wooden tone. What should have been caring words from a caregiver were as cold as a frozen lake in winter, leaving me at a loss for whether to laugh or cry. I couldn't tell if she was concerned about me out of her own volition or out of some sense of obligation.

"Uh… it's fine. I like it," I said, my voice tearing from my throat. It sounded so horrible that I didn't want to speak again.

She, however, seemed completely unfazed. She helped me sit up, then left the bedroom. A moment later, she returned with a bowl of congee. She sat on the edge of my bed, scooped up a spoonful, blew on it to cool it down, and brought it to my lips, seemingly without considering the appropriateness of feeding me. Since she didn't seem to mind, I wasn't foolish enough to refuse. I struggled through most of the bowl as she fed me mechanically, then indicated I couldn't eat anymore.

I kept trying to observe her, searching her face for any trace of warmth, but there was none—not even a simple expression. She was like a robot, as if taking care of me was just a task she had to complete, devoid of any emotion. I was very disappointed, but I also knew I couldn't be impatient. The fact that she even knew to take care of me was already a huge step forward. Thinking about how she, with her slender arms and legs, had managed to get me into bed while I was unconscious from the fever, I couldn't imagine how much effort it must have taken. A wave of emotion, against my better judgment, washed over me.

She paid no mind to my thoughts, put down the congee bowl, poured a glass of warm water, and told me to take the medicine. I obediently took it, and she uttered two words to me:

"Go to sleep."

I almost wanted to laugh. Her tone of voice didn't match the words at all. Still, I obediently lay down. She tucked me in, and the gentleness from her cool hands sent me into another daze. But like a wisp of fragrance, she quickly vanished from the room, leaving me alone in the silence.

I let out a deep sigh and could only console myself:

It's a long long journey.

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