Trial of Substitutes
The days quietly slipped towards a day of special significance for Lin Wanxing—her birthday, and also the anniversary of Chen Yu's death. An invisible weight seemed to hang in the air, pressing down on her and making her restless for days beforehand. In the office, she stared at the computer screen, her gaze often unfocused; when walking with Jiang Chen, she was more silent than usual, as if a part of her soul had been detached and drifted into the distant past.
Jiang Chen witnessed all of this, silently keeping her company, his heart sinking deeper and deeper. He knew that day was approaching; he had long known everything between them from that dark blue notebook, and he knew what it meant. He watched her force herself to be cheerful, yet unable to conceal the deep sorrow hidden in her eyes, and a dull, helpless ache spread through his chest.
On the anniversary of his death, the sky was terribly gloomy in the early morning, with thick, lead-gray clouds hanging low, as if they might collapse under the weight at any moment.
Lin Wanxing got up very early and took out a light purple cashmere scarf that Shen Yu loved most and often wore from deep inside the wardrobe, carefully wrapping it around her neck. She tidied herself in front of the mirror for a long time, her movements slow and solemn, as if she were performing a silent ritual.
Jiang Chen arrived on time as usual, carrying breakfast. He saw her distinctly different attire, imbued with a sense of mourning, and her eyes filled with sorrow, almost oblivious to his presence. His Adam's apple bobbed, but in the end, he said nothing, simply handing her the breakfast silently.
"I...I have to go out today." Lin Wanxing took the breakfast without looking at him, her voice soft and hoarse.
"I know," Jiang Chen replied softly. "Do you need me to take you?"
“No need.” She refused almost immediately, her tone carrying an unconscious, unapproachable resolve. “I can go by myself.” She paused, seemingly realizing her abruptness, and added, “You…you go and do your thing.”
Jiang Chen nodded, not insisting further. He watched her hurried departure, her pale purple figure like a sorrowful arc disappearing around the corner of the stairs. He stood in the empty corridor for a long time, until the breakfast in his hands gradually lost its warmth.
He didn't go about his business; a strange, self-destructive pull compelled him to quietly walk towards the Xishan Cemetery. He couldn't explain why he was going; perhaps he wanted to be closer to her, to share this grief alone; perhaps a sliver of humble hope lingered in his heart, a hope that in her most vulnerable moment, he could have even a tiny... place of his own.
The cemetery was filled with verdant pines and cypresses, its atmosphere solemn and serene. He followed at a distance, watching her walk with practiced ease to a clean tombstone and slowly kneel down. He stopped behind a tall cedar tree, not approaching any closer. This distance was enough for him to see her slightly trembling shoulders, but not enough to hear the words she whispered.
Time flowed slowly in the silence. He didn't know how much time had passed when the wind carried some faint sounds. He heard her speak in a heavily nasal tone, a tone he had never heard before, filled with dependence and pain:
"...Shen Yu, I...I can't hold on much longer..."
“He… Jiang Chen… He sometimes really seems like you, the tone of his voice, the way he looks at people, even… even some of his little habits… He’s so good to me, so incredibly good, that sometimes I almost forget about you…”
Jiang Chen's heart felt as if it had been gripped tightly by an invisible hand, almost stopping its beating. He held his breath, and the blood in his body seemed to freeze instantly.
"...Looking at him, it's like seeing you still beside me...but I know it's not you, and it never will be...My heart is so confused, so painful...I don't know what to do, Shen Yu...Should I...not let him get close? Is it...right to live forever in the memories of you?"
Every word Lin Wanxing uttered was like a red-hot dagger, stabbing viciously into Jiang Chen's heart and then cruelly twisting it.
It turns out that all those close relationships he cherished and carefully cultivated, all the warmth he thought might help her gradually emerge from the shadows, were, in her eyes, nothing more than him "resembling" someone else. It turns out that all her struggles and pain stemmed not only from nostalgia for the past, but also from his very existence, from this closeness that she believed "shouldn't" have happened.
His long-held anxieties, the estrangement he had tried to ignore and bridge through his actions, were now laid bare before him, confirmed by her own words. He, Jiang Chen! He could never escape Shen Yu's shadow; he was merely a clumsy, troublesome "substitute," a "mistake" that tore her apart between memories and reality.
All the perseverance, all the expectations, collapsed and shattered into dust at this moment.
He watched as she gently pressed her forehead against the cold tombstone, as if that were her only solace and comfort. He clearly realized that he could never enter the core world she had so firmly guarded with her life and memories. He was merely an outsider, a prop, a pathetic shadow used to commemorate the past.
The oasis within him that had provided the last vestige of warmth and motivation had been utterly transformed into a desolate wasteland. A chilling despair that seeped into his very bones swept over him.
He didn't linger. He turned and staggered away from the cemetery. The autumn wind whipped up withered leaves, lashing his body and face, but he felt no chill, for his heart was already frozen.
Back in the city, he didn't go back to school or his rented apartment. He went straight to the supermarket, like a programmed machine, precisely selecting ingredients—all her favorites. He even bought a small, delicate cake with a simple "Happy Birthday" written on the cream in jam.
He returned to Lin Wanxing's apartment and opened the door with the spare key. The empty room still held a faint, sweet scent of her. He began to busy himself in the kitchen, washing vegetables, chopping meat, making soup… his movements mechanical and fluid. He meticulously prepared each dish, carefully arranging them on plates, as if pouring all the emotions he hadn't been able to express into them. He placed the cake in the center of the table and lit delicate candles. He even found her favorite scented candles and lit them one by one, the flickering flames trying to dispel the chill in the room.
He did all this with a blank expression on his face, his eyes empty like a dried-up well. He hoped this dinner would be a small, real, and warm comfort for her after she returned from the cemetery. It was also the final period he would put on his hopeless vigil.
Outside the window, the sky had completely darkened. Twilight was replaced by the thick darkness of night, and the city lights began to come on, casting illusory shadows through the window into the quiet room.
Jiang Chen sat on the sofa in the living room, waiting. Time ticked by, like sand in an hourglass, silently settling. The dishes on the table gradually lost their enticing heat, and fine droplets of oil condensed around the edges of the carefully arranged plates. The buttercream frosting on the cake began to soften slightly at room temperature. The scented candle was mostly burned, its wax accumulating, the flame flickering lonely in the air, lengthening his silent and stiff shadow cast on the wall.
The room was eerily quiet, with only the faint crackling of the burning candle.
Unbeknownst to him, Lin Wanxing was sitting alone on the edge of a cold flowerbed downstairs from her apartment building, clutching an old keychain left behind by Shen Yu. She was completely immersed in a silent dialogue with the past and immense sorrow, having long forgotten time, forgotten reality, and completely forgotten the person who might be lighting a lamp for her, preparing a meal, and waiting for her return.
As the clock on the wall coldly struck ten o'clock at night, Jiang Chen slowly, extremely slowly, stood up from the sofa. He walked to the dining table, looking down at the dishes that had gone cold and no one had tasted them, and the cake with the blessing written on it, but no one had shared it.
His face remained expressionless as he simply extended his index finger and, with extreme gentleness, ran it over the soft, mushy frosting at the edge of the cake. A cool, sticky sensation spread across his fingertip.
He silently walked into the kitchen, picked up the trash can, and returned to the table. He began calmly and silently dumping plate after plate of the dishes he had painstakingly prepared into the trash can. The frosting on the cakes was crushed and deformed inside, mixing with the food to become a messy, cold pile of remnants.
Finally, he blew out the flickering scented candles. The last bit of warmth in the room disappeared, leaving only the cold neon lights of the city outside the window, outlining his lonely and resolute silhouette.
He left no note and took nothing with him except the old tablet with its cracked screen that no longer lit up. He quietly closed the apartment door, just as he had when he first arrived.
Just as the door closed, he leaned against the cold door, tilted his head back slightly, and closed his eyes. In the darkness, something scalding hot seemed to finally slip uncontrollably from the corner of his tightly closed eyes, quickly disappearing into the shadow of his collar without leaving a trace.
...
After an unknown amount of time, Lin Wanxing finally dragged her leaden legs back to her apartment. She unlocked the door, and a smell of cold food mixed with lingering candle smoke wafted out.
She was stunned.
The living room lights were off. A ring of extinguished candles sat crookedly against the tablecloth on the dining table, wax dripping down their sides and congealing into cold white streaks on the surface. The trash can was piled high with untouched food and a collapsed birthday cake.
She instantly understood. Today was Shen Yu's death anniversary, but it was also her birthday... She completely ignored Jiang Chen and all the preparations he had made for her today.
A strong emotion, a mixture of guilt, heartache, and helplessness, gripped her.
Looking at the cold and chaotic room, she felt as if her heart was being gripped tightly by an icy hand, the pain making it hard to breathe. She slowly slid down to the floor, leaning against the sofa, burying her face in her knees.
Maybe... this is for the best.
Perhaps, letting him leave, preventing him from getting involved in this bottomless stagnant pool of his past, is the fairest thing for him.
Perhaps, continuing to close herself off and living in the unfading memories of Shen Yu is her only and proper destiny.
Cold tears silently soaked her clothes on this night when she was all alone, surrounded by leftover food and cold scraps. The judgment had arrived, and she and Jiang Chen were both losers in this emotional trial.
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