Chapter 75

Tong Yufei gently held the clothes with her palms, and used a hair dryer to dry out the moisture inch by inch. Then she propped it up with a hanger and hung it on a ceramic hook on the wall. She blew it evenly several times, spread a plastic sheet on the table, spread the clothes flat on it, and slowly ironed them with a handheld iron. Mo Daoyan looked at her focused look and couldn't help but feel a little jealous of the clothes in her hand. At least objects would not hurt people, nor would they give warmth and be taken back like people.

"That day at the old house, what I said about marriage was, after thinking about it, a bit rash." Mo Daoyan leaned against the door, his voice drowned out by the gurgling of the iron. "Marriage isn't a hassle, and smoothing out edges isn't a sacrifice. Even the rice you eat should be savored. How can you achieve perfection without working for it? Besides, you've given far more than I have. I need marriage to cope with family and society, but I want to live with you even more."

The noise of the iron continued. Regardless of whether she was listening or not, he wanted to pour out the words buried in his heart one by one, for fear that if he didn't say it now, he would never have the chance to say it again.

"I'm a coward. I don't dare to admit that I care about you. I'm also afraid that because of Ye Yimo, I won't be the first in your heart. In fact, I haven't done enough, but I'm taking my dissatisfaction out on you. Feelings are mutual. I haven't done anything for you, so why should I ask you to do it?"

She kept her head down. "Some things are in the past, let's move on."

"Our marriage is still going on, how can we just let it go?" He stepped forward and gently pressed her shoulders. "Is it because I never talk about these things that you think anything I say now is fake and empty, a stopgap measure to keep you? I'm not frank enough, always feeling that talking about love is empty. Now I understand that not saying a word is more hurtful." His voice choked slightly. "It turns out that a person's feelings are not determined by the other person's attitude. If I care, I care. Yufei, if you could come back..."

She turned and broke away from his hand, stuffing the envelope of money into her jacket pocket as quickly as if she were cutting it. "It feels bad to owe someone. I owe you so much money, and it's far from clearing it. If you never accept the money, I'll never be able to pay it back. Please don't do this."

"Why rush to clear yourself out? Even if, as you said, marrying me is just a short-term partnership, I use you to deal with my mother, and you use the money to pay for Ye Yimo's medical treatment, we both gain something. Besides, if we really get divorced, there will be joint property to divide, and the money you deserve will not be less than this."

"One thing at a time."

"When you married me, all that happiness was fake, right?"

Many people believed that he was willing to marry her because he fulfilled a woman's dream, because she was not the most outstanding girl around him, but she could worship heaven, earth and parents with him. She probably thought so too. The engagement and wedding were extremely perfunctory, but the smile on her face never faded, as if she was already satisfied with that.

Only on the day of the engagement did she whisper: "Accompany me to worship my parents tomorrow."

His mind was preoccupied with going abroad: preparing documents, learning German, having a farewell drink with classmates, and comforting an emotionally unstable Chen Ruchao. None of these things were more important than her. He kept putting it off, and when it failed, he reminded her not to make it real. And then nothing happened. If he had even a shred of sincerity, a closer look would have revealed something. Her father was clearly still alive, so why would he say "pay respects to the parents"? She wanted to pay respects to her adoptive parents, to tell him her life story. Whatever her original motivation for marrying him, at least at that moment, she imagined there might be a one-in-a-million chance they had a future, and so she wanted to show the husband she would be with for the rest of her life to the people closest to her.

And on their wedding night, after he kissed her, he felt disrespectful and pushed her away in a panic, trying to escape to the study. She reached out to turn off the light, followed him and hugged him, unbuttoning the butterfly buttons of her wedding dress herself, and whispered softly, "I married you willingly. Now that I'm your wife, you can take whatever you want."

How could a young man in his early twenties have ever seen such a scene? Back then, he was far from the calm and composed person he is now. The peony-scented vanishing cream made him uneasy, and desire overwhelmed all rationality. He carried her to the bed, and there was no time to clean up the red dates, peanuts, longans, and lotus seeds scattered on her body. They fell to the floor with a clatter, like two hearts that had lost their rhythm.

He pressed against her soft body, and fumbled to take off her clothes like peeling corn. He didn't know how to button the butterflies properly, and she had to do it herself before he could peel off the smooth white clothes. Then there was another difficult groping process, which was extremely bumpy and he even hurt her accidentally. When he used his hands and body together and the main act began, he found that she was trembling as if she was on the execution ground. Then he came to his senses and realized that if he really wanted her, he would be stuck in this field for the rest of his life.

Seventeen, a blooming girl, raised in the palm of her adoptive parents' hand, how could she willingly become a bargaining chip, fawning over the favors of an arrogant, conceited man who had no regard for her? Only by settling every penny could she wash away the humiliation of this unequal relationship, extricate herself from the mire, and truly straighten her back. If he truly intended to mend his ways, perhaps he should wisely withdraw, allowing the world he had unintentionally disturbed to return to peace, and from then on, neither the pure dust nor the turbid water would be involved.

But he has never been a noble man. He just wants to get closer and closer until she sees his shadow in her eyes again.

She had let him in only to deal with the wet clothes, and she didn't want to talk to him about it, and the more she talked, the more she went back to the topic: "The clothes have been ironed."

"I've accepted the money. Since you insist on going through the divorce process, whether the next step is to go to the street office or directly to the Civil Affairs Bureau, I will fully cooperate. But I have to say this upfront: I won't be hypocritical and pretend to agree to a divorce. I will tell you every word of the truth during mediation. If the Civil Affairs Bureau ultimately grants the divorce, I will accept it. If the divorce is temporarily unsuccessful, don't blame me. Is this a decent enough attitude?" He took the clothes, solemnly as if he were attending some kind of ceremony. "But before that, can you move back home first? You can bring Ye Yimo with you. I was wrong to drive you away earlier. I'll let you punish me."

"With such a long commute, how can I live with my brother? Besides, I'm doing well, I just want a few days of peace and quiet."

"I was inconsiderate and didn't consider you at the beginning. I can take you to work, or you can learn to drive."

"In a loveless marriage, you should have just agreed to the divorce, not attached a bunch of conditions. It's like a charity to me. Just drag it out. When I can't afford it anymore, I'll sue you in court. I won't set foot in your house again. If grandma asks, I can only tell her the truth. If she gets angry, you can explain it yourself." She opened the door, and a sharp wind rushed in, but her voice was even louder than the wind. "Don't come here again."

----

He finally experienced the feeling of being kicked out of the house. He didn't feel the anger or resentment he had expected, only a sense of helplessness. If she had given up on him, perhaps she wouldn't even feel this sense of helplessness, and that's why she left so decisively, without even looking back. In fact, he didn't really want her to leave. At that time, he stood behind the window and watched quietly, not daring to step out of the door, afraid that his legs would not obey his brain's command if he took a step forward, and his soft heart would trap himself. As long as she lowered her head to him as usual, tugged at the corner of his clothes, or hugged him and coaxed him, lying to him that Ye Yimo was not even as good as a hair of his, he would immediately surrender. But she had even given up her attachment to the Mo family, the big tree, so how could she miss him?

Now it was her turn to kick him out of the house without him even leaving the room, probably because she was fed up with him.

On the table in his room stood a silver-purple rose bracelet with three pearls faintly visible between the ribbons. It was woven by her own hands. It was the last piece of jewelry he had taken off her that night when they were enjoying themselves in Yunmeng. It was left here. The moon was as bright as water at that time, and a Milky Way stretched out from the sky, soaking through the gauze curtains and flowing into the house. She was like the little mermaid in Andersen's story, stranded in the water. After being picked up by him, she squeezed him tightly with a confused warmth, and her warm breath spread from his lips to his whole body.

When the passion reached its peak, he asked in a hoarse voice, "Can I wear a white and purple gauze dress next time?"

"Isn't it something I'm wearing? As thin as a cicada's wing, light as mist." She took his little finger and lightly traced it on her body. "The cuffs are flared, with a pink-purple gradient. There's a bird pattern embroidered on the front. The V-neck goes down two inches to the heart, and there are butterfly flowers on both sides. The inner suspenders are white, and the puffy tulle skirt is underneath. It's a four-layer design, but it's light and translucent..."

His breathing became increasingly disordered, and he sealed her lips that were outlined with gorgeous clothes, crushing the rest of her words.

She said that she had no feelings in her marriage with him, but she fell asleep in his arms, and in her sleep she no longer muttered "Dad" as in the past, but called his name softly, with a tear in the corner of her eye, as if blaming him for repenting too late and taking her back too late. Her calligraphy and paintings were posted on the wall of the living room of the house, and hidden deep in the drawer was the doll puppet carved by Ye Yimo. He was so angry that he pinched his palm with his nails until it bled, but he was reluctant to break it. There was also the grass-green napkin, which he had framed... The house was full of traces of her existence, and he didn't believe that these were all fake. He would rather believe that he had trampled on her pride out of ignorance, and she was giving him a taste of her own medicine.

If one day those prides are restored, can they make her come back?

He sat on the sofa all night in silence, smoking a month's supply of cigarettes. His smoking habit was not that severe, and he would only smoke a cigarette to relieve fatigue when he encountered difficult test questions or was tired from working overtime. A pack of cigarettes could usually last him three months. Just after seven in the morning, he was awakened by the rising sun. He looked around and found that his house looked like it had been ransacked, with clothes and documents scattered all over the floor and a strong smell of cigarettes filling the room. He himself looked like an old smoker, with his mouth full of the bitter smell of cigarettes.

He forced himself to be alert, opened the window to dispel the smell of smoke in the room, poured cold water on his drowsy head, wiped his hands with soapy water, and hurried to the company. He could occasionally show some vulnerability in front of Tong Yufei, but he could not completely ignore his image. Otherwise, a sloppy beggar would only think that he was not far enough away before Tong Yufei felt sympathy for him.