Emergence - Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Wrapped in a blanket, I sat silently on the balcony, clutching the phone I'd taken from her pocket and chain-smoking with my head down. One after another, I'd nearly finished the entire pack. It was an agonizingly long night. I sat there numbly, waiting for the first rays of dawn to shine on me, craving that sliver of light, anything to make me feel that there was still some warmth left in the world.

About four hours earlier, around ten o'clock, I had taken the opportunity while she was in the shower to use her phone and call her mother. It wasn't difficult. The phone had no password, and there were over twenty missed calls, all from her mother.

The call lasted nearly forty minutes. Initially, I had only intended to use my polished conversational skills to learn about her situation from her mother. But when I finally understood what had happened to her, I was rendered almost speechless. It was the most unbearable story I had ever heard, not just because of its cruelty and brutality, but because it was so intimately connected to me—or rather, to the community I belong to. It filled me with an inescapable sense of guilt. The pain was immense, and I couldn't find my composure for a long time.

Just as the call ended, she came out of the bathroom. She had spent nearly an hour washing herself. I could see that the skin visible beyond her clothes was scrubbed raw and red, wrinkled from the hot water. I could picture her scrubbing her body over and over again. It was a symptom of severe OCD. I could guess what she was thinking: she was disgusted by her own body. She felt dirty.

Wordlessly, I settled her into my bed and told her I would sleep on the sofa. She said nothing. We exchanged goodnights in silence. But I knew she probably wouldn't sleep. In her condition, falling asleep would be difficult. Even if she managed to, she would be plagued by nightmares and startle awake. I could tell she had insomnia; her mental state was on the verge of collapse.

What had kept this woman going for so long? If it had been me, could I have endured it? But that was a pointless question; there are no "what ifs" in this world. I sat on the balcony, her mother's words replaying in my mind. My chest felt tight, as if crushed by a great stone, and I could hardly breathe.

I hadn't told her mother about the suicide attempt. Instead, I fabricated a story about running into her by chance, going for drinks, and having her stay the night because she got too drunk. But I suspected my lie hadn't fooled her mother; she could probably guess what had really happened. This wasn't her first attempt. There were several scars on the inside of her left wrist. She had likely tried to cut her wrists before.

Her mother thanked me and said she would come pick her up first thing in the morning. Tomorrow was Saturday, my day off. I had to decide tonight whether or not to get involved in her affairs. In truth, I was already involved, but it wasn't too late to back out. My rational mind told me that if I intervened, there would be no turning back. But if I did decide to get involved, I had to act fast. I would have to start tomorrow, without a moment's delay. Otherwise, her situation was too dangerous.

For the first time, I felt the malice of fate—a terrifying malevolence that drives people into a corner with no escape. It doesn't even blink. It smiles, and with the wicked intent of a cruel prank, it shoves its targets mercilessly into the abyss.

I knew I couldn't just stand by and watch, couldn't be a mere bystander. At that thought, I gave a self-mocking laugh.

I rubbed my face, the smile on my lips a wry one. I muttered to myself,

"Gu Fan, you must be fucking tired of your easy life. This is just… ha…"

I closed my eyes, but the conversation with her mother was seared into my mind like a branding iron, replaying over and over, impossible to shake. That aged, weary voice, tinged with a heart-wrenching grief and numbness… On the other end of the line, I could occasionally hear a baby crying in the background—a sound like the cruelest torture from hell. It was the most painful conversation of my life. The phone, hot against my ear, felt like it was burning a hole straight through to my soul. Other than fall silent, I found it impossible to offer any suitable response.

It was hard to imagine that the respectable middle-aged woman from ten years ago, a middle school teacher with such a pleasant voice, would now be speaking to me in such an aged, lifeless tone. Our conversation was filled with long, awkward silences. So many things were too difficult to broach, and saying them aloud brought an excruciating shame, like death by a thousand cuts. A family's dirty laundry should not be aired in public. If I hadn't revealed who I was, reminding her of our past connection, and mentioned that I'd studied psychology and could see that Lin Yi was suffering from mental health problems, offering to help in any small way I could, perhaps she would never have told me any of it.

Or perhaps her frail shoulders could no longer bear the heavy burden of her family. For so long, she must have craved someone to share it with. Her husband had fallen ill and was now bedridden, practically an invalid. Her daughter was in terrible trouble. The entire family depended on her alone, and she had no one to turn to. Then, one day, a "familiar stranger" like me called her out of the blue. Seizing the chance to speak to someone without having to meet face-to-face, she poured out the crushing story of her past. Our relationship was distant enough that she didn't have to hold back, and my gentle, coaxing tone, laced with concern, must have made it easier. This mother, who was on the verge of collapse, had suddenly found an outlet, and the story washed over me like a torrential flood, drowning me in an instant.

Perhaps I regretted hearing her story, perhaps not; I couldn't make sense of my own thoughts. But it no longer mattered. I knew I had stumbled into something serious. For the first time in my life, my reason was overpowered by my emotions, unable to fight back. I let a complex, indescribable wave of feeling take control of my heart.

Tonight, I had plunged headfirst into an abyss. I could only hope there would be a day I could climb back out…

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In March 2012, twenty-six-year-old Lin Yi was introduced by her parents to a successful man named Zhang Yucheng. He was two years her senior, a graduate of a prestigious American university, and owned his own investment firm with an annual income in the millions. He had a house, a car, was tall, well-built, and handsome—the very definition of tall, rich, and handsome.

At the time, Lin Yi had been back for just over a year after completing her studies in the UK. She had majored in accounting as an undergraduate, earning her international accounting certification even before she graduated, and went on to get her master's degree in economics from a renowned British university. Upon returning to China, she quickly secured a position at a major accounting firm.

With their shared backgrounds in economics, his talent and her beauty, they seemed like a match made in heaven. Their families were of equal social standing, and their parents had long intended to set them up. Lin Yi's father and Zhang Yucheng's father were old army comrades who now both worked in government, while their mothers had once been colleagues at the same school. Lin Yi herself took an immediate liking to Zhang Yucheng. They had similar interests, saw eye-to-eye on many things, and found it incredibly easy to talk to each other.

Zhang Yucheng behaved like a perfect gentleman. He was polite, considerate, and everything about him pleased Lin Yi. After just a few months, she was convinced he was the man she would marry.

The only strange thing was that Zhang Yucheng was almost too perfect. Though Lin Yi wasn't very experienced with relationships, she had dated someone in college. She knew that when a man liked a girl, he would naturally want to be physically close. Holding hands and hugging were mild expressions of affection, and it was normal to want to have sex after dating for a while. Yet she and Zhang Yucheng had been seeing each other for over six months, and he had never even held her hand. He was always perfectly polite, which made Lin Yi feel as if there was an invisible wall between them.

Nevertheless, Lin Yi quickly fell for him. For a girl as traditional as she was, his gentleness and courtesy were fatally attractive. To her, his every reserved gesture exuded an extraordinary charm, pulling her in deeper and deeper.

Lin Yi wasn't a particularly career-driven woman. Despite her high level of education and enviable job, what she truly wanted was to marry a man she loved and who loved her in return, have children, and live out the rest of her life in blissful happiness. She yearned to be doted on; at heart, she was the type of woman who wanted to lean on her partner.

Their relationship progressed smoothly. At the end of 2012, Zhang Yucheng proposed marriage. There was no grand ceremony, just a simple, "Let's get married," but Lin Yi joyfully accepted.

Both sets of parents were overjoyed and threw themselves into the wedding preparations, which were quickly put on the schedule.

In May 2013, Lin Yi and Zhang Yucheng officially registered their marriage and held their wedding banquet the following day. The celebration was a lively affair, filled with guests, and Lin Yi was dizzy with happiness. It was the most important day of a girl's life, a day that marked her own magnificent transformation.

On their wedding night, after the customary hazing of the newlyweds had ended, a drunk Zhang Yucheng, emboldened by alcohol, consummated their marriage. Lin Yi had remained a virgin for twenty-seven years. Her college boyfriend, overcome with desire, had once tried to sleep with her, but she had firmly refused. Deeply traditional, she had wanted to save herself for her wedding night, viewing the act as a sacred ritual.

Her first sexual experience, however, was a terrible one. Zhang Yucheng was not gentle. All his previous politeness vanished that night, replaced by sheer brutality. The pain was excruciating, but he seemed to be venting some kind of rage, his powerful thrusts driving into her again and again until she nearly passed out.

After that night, Lin Yi was bedridden for three days before she recovered. Zhang Yucheng, meanwhile, seemed like a completely different person. Immediately after the wedding, he left on a business trip for a "project" and was gone for more than two weeks.

As a newlywed, Lin Yi was a little unsettled but tried not to dwell on it. He had always been a busy man, and now that she was his wife, she had to be understanding. As for their wedding night, though it had left her traumatized, she told herself that he had just been drunk, not in his right mind, and hadn't known what he was doing.

Her marriage leave ended, and Lin Yi returned to work. For a while, things were peaceful.

Zhang Yucheng returned more than two weeks later. Lin Yi could clearly sense a distance from him, an air of alienation. She worried she had done something to upset him and wanted to talk about it, but his parents came to visit that day. Busy entertaining her in-laws, she had to postpone the conversation.

After lunch, feeling tired, Lin Yi went to take a nap. As she drifted off, she vaguely heard voices from the study next door—it sounded like her husband and her mother-in-law. She couldn't make out what they were saying and didn't think much of it.

That night, they had sex again. Once more, the experience was unpleasant. Zhang Yucheng performed almost no foreplay, entering her forcefully from the start. Lin Yi was slow to warm up and found it impossible to respond to him. His movements were mechanical, as if he were simply completing a task, and it was over in moments. Afterwards, he rolled over and fell asleep without a word, leaving Lin Yi feeling like a blow-up doll, her sense of humiliation deepening.

Soon after, Zhang Yucheng left on another business trip. By then, Lin Yi was sure something was deeply wrong with her husband. In the following weeks, she began to experience discomfort in her private areas—redness, swelling, inflammation. Soon, she developed a high fever and grew so weak she could hardly walk. Finally, she had no choice but to go to the hospital.

Lin Yi would never forget July 6, 2013. It was the day of the greatest humiliation of her life. She spent the entire day at the hospital unable to lift her head. The doctor's gaze felt like a knife, and every word of medical advice seemed to mock and belittle her.

She, a woman who had saved her virginity for her husband, had contracted a shameful venereal disease.

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