Chapter 24
In the cramped recording studio, the air moved slowly, almost solidifying.
Even though the air conditioner is set to a low temperature, it feels as hot and dry as summer.
Song Yihuan's heart pounded like a drum, each beat hitting her ribs, and each throb of her carotid artery struck the back of Chi Ran's hand.
"You look like you want to sleep with me?" Chi Ran withdrew his hand. "If you really wanted to sleep with me, would you be in such a panic?"
Song Yihuan was still catching her breath and didn't have time to answer.
"You have no idea what you want."
Chi Ran stepped back a little and leaned against the wall like her, tilting her head and saying, "You can't make a decision without thinking about what you want."
"...I want to sleep with you!"
The moment he stepped back, Song Yihuan suddenly felt a rush of oxygen. Despite her lack of strength, she still forced herself to speak loudly.
"Okay, then pretend you want to sleep with me." Chi Ran said in a rare good mood, "Well, I don't want to."
Song Yihuan pursed her lips and remained silent.
Was it because of the age difference? Or because they hadn't known each other long enough, or perhaps she spoke so shamelessly that she scared him off?
She was waiting for his explanation.
“It’s not… the kind of unwillingness you think it is,” Chi Ran said. “What I mean is, if you ask me to do it without thinking, and I just agree to it, then there will be no other possibility between us.”
Song Yihuan looked up in a daze and stared straight at him.
Chi Ran tilted his head slightly, trying hard to "look" at her, and said seriously, "Song Yihuan, I think there's another possibility between us."
Her eyes, tinged with gray, reflected her image, which was also gray.
possibility.
In Song Yihuan's mind, agreeing meant sleeping together, and disagreeing meant not sleeping together; there was no extended meaning, and it had nothing to do with the word "possibility."
But Chi Ran said, "I want to explore other possibilities with you."
She repeated this short sentence to herself countless times, but it still felt unfamiliar no matter how she read it.
She really lacked imagination regarding the word "other".
"Other" means not having to eat mushrooms every other day, "other" means not having to fall asleep at 9:30, "other" means not having to be Mom's only friend...
In her eyes, "other" only meant doing things that were forbidden, not doing things that she wanted to do.
She lacked imagination about freedom, and therefore lacked imagination about possibilities. But she had to be this way, so that she could always be content, and discontent is far more terrible than a lack of imagination.
Imagining countless possibilities is a grand and lengthy task, not suitable for her.
She suddenly raised her hand and shoved Chi Ran, who was caught off guard and stumbled, crashing into the chairs scattered on the ground.
“You assaulted a disabled person!” he frowned.
"I don't have the time in America to do anything else with you!!"
After saying that, Song Yihuan dashed away as if fleeing, her hard-soled canvas shoes crunching on the scattered debris with a few sharp cracking sounds.
Chi Ran's knee had just slammed hard against the table leg, causing him to arch his back in pain.
Whether from pain or something else, he sighed deeply, the sound lingering and swallowed up by the surrounding sound-absorbing cotton, leaving no trace.
The early spring nights are not as pleasant as described in books. There are no stars, no moon, and no wind outside the gauze window. In the most dull and boring way, it makes people feel suffocated and sweaty. Even sweating is not pleasant.
The sweat on Song Yihuan's forehead fell quickly, running down her temples and landing on the pillow.
The nightlight casts shadows onto the windowsill. Outside, the shadows of the trees stand still, yet they sway gently in the still air, accompanied by the sound of fabric rubbing together.
Outside the window, all was quiet; inside, there were low breathing sounds, mixed with some kind of buzzing or the electrical noise of a faulty recording device, which were difficult to discern.
She buried her face under the blanket, and beads of sweat poured out, dripping down faster and faster.
The spring night was immersed in boundless tranquility, and any sound would be amplified infinitely, so she could only bite her lip tightly.
A strange yet inexplicably familiar feeling kept piling up, like clouds dragging her upwards, closer and closer to the sun... and then suddenly she plummeted down.
The oxygen became scarce, and she had to gasp for breath.
She lay sprawled on the bed, not wanting to move a single finger. It was like walking on a long and rugged road, climbing an inconspicuous mountain, and the moment she reached the summit, disaster struck.
It wasn't until her heartbeat slowed down and all her senses calmed down that Song Yihuan realized the root of the disaster.
This overwhelming feeling did not belong entirely to her.
The moment you reach the summit, once you connect with any specific name or living individual, it's like having your soul branded, announcing the beginning of disaster.
Her tragedy was called delayed ignition.
As if it were a rehearsal for disaster, she had nightmares all night, and every step she took when she got up the next morning felt like walking on cotton.
Song Yihuan rubbed her eyes as she walked out of the bedroom. The sweet scent instantly dispelled the bad mood that had been building up since the day before.
This is her greatest strength: forgetfulness.
Her negative emotions came quickly and went even faster; usually, a good night's sleep was all it took for her to return to her cheerful self. Whether it was due to a poor memory or the overwhelming weight of cancer making everything else seem insignificant, it was this that made her adept at forgetting bad things.
In short, when she saw the bowl of banana oatmeal, she was in a great mood and completely forgot about all her grievances from yesterday.
"You actually cooked?!" Song Yihuan exclaimed. "I must be dreaming. Come here, pinch me."
Guoguo didn't pinch her, but pushed the oatmeal banana porridge in front of her, "Try it, and don't force yourself to drink it if you can't."
This bowl of porridge was tailor-made for her body; it was sweet but not cloying, and very easy to drink. She drank half a bowl without any resistance.
"You've got some cooking skills too? Why didn't you show them off before?" Song Yihuan exclaimed with satisfaction. "Hmm, why didn't you serve yourself a bowl?"
"I'll drink it later," Guoguo said. "This recipe is simple, as long as it tastes good."
“Oh right! I was bored at home the other day and I found a little park with really nice scenery!” Song Yihuan showed her on WeChat. “We can go boating or hiking! And I’ve seen that mountain before, calling it a dirt slope is an understatement, it’s super low, our poor stamina is definitely not a problem!”
Guoguo didn't seem particularly excited, nor did she say anything.
Song Yihuan waved her hand: "I've decided not to waste my time on men anymore. I want to see mountains and rivers, get close to nature, and do something fun. Shall we go when the weather gets warmer? Take lots of great photos of me..."
"Song Yihuan," Guoguo suddenly called her by her full name.
“You’re scaring me by shouting like that…” Song Yihuan saw her expression and belatedly felt uneasy. “What happened? You… are so serious.”
When she asked that question, Guoguo fell silent.
Song Yihuan put down her spoon and asked urgently, "What's wrong... Don't scare me, are you feeling unwell?"
"I..." Guoguo's eyes began to redden as soon as she opened her mouth, "The little park... I probably won't be able to go with you."
Song Yihuan suddenly choked up.
Guoguo's reddened eyes said it all. Her lips trembled and wouldn't obey her commands, "...Are you moving out?"
Guoguo didn't say anything.
That's the default.
Song Yihuan said softly, "No wonder you had someone fix things... You've been wanting to move for a while now, you've been preparing for it since then."
The air seemed to freeze, and the thick oatmeal porridge in the pot bubbled and simmered, the only sound in the silent kitchen.
They sat facing each other, silently weeping as if looking in a mirror.
You can't leave.
Four words were too weak to hold her back, so Song Yihuan had to rack her brains for accusations that could keep her in line.
“When I ran away, you invited me to live with you so we could look after each other,” she said. “You can’t just abandon me like this.”
"I didn't abandon you. Do you think I just wanted to move out? Don't I want to be happy with you?" Guoguo asked softly. "Is it that I don't want to?"
She met Guoguo in a patient support group. After she signed the palliative care consent form, Ms. Wang wanted to take her to the hospital with her limbs tied up, so she had to escape from home. Guoguo had transferred to a palliative care ward in a big city earlier than her and invited her to share an apartment.
Guoguo was her first and only friend in her life.
She and Guoguo are rebels who go against the grain of the world, desperate flowers forced together by circumstances, people who have no time to dream yet have nothing left to do but dream.
In Song Yihuan's imagination, they would never be separated.
Overwhelmed by grief, she could not cry.
Crying is the prelude to separation; crying means admitting defeat and accepting the facts.
She absolutely refused.
Song Yihuan gritted her teeth and shook her head: "I don't care, you can't move out. You tricked me into coming here."
"I lied to you about coming here?" Even Guoguo, with her good temper, couldn't hold back anymore. She sighed, "Song Huanhuan, are you even speaking human language? I paid the rent until October and didn't plan to ask you for it again. I fixed up this shabby house as much as I could, because I was afraid you wouldn't find another roommate... Is there such a liar who's good at losing money?"
Song Yihuan turned her head away, forcibly holding back her surging tears, and gritted her teeth, saying, "You deceived my feelings, so you can't move."
"I'm in so much pain that I can't sleep at night. When I'm not on oxygen, it feels like there's a plastic bag over my head. Even if I talk for a little while, my fingertips turn purple... Just look at me!"
Guoguo was completely enraged. She reached out and took off her pajamas top, throwing it on the ground.
Song Yihuan didn't dare look over, but out of the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of withered ribs, purplish patches, reddish scratches, and a transparent fentanyl patch. The moment she saw it, tears streamed down her face.
Her earlier accusations were nothing but bluster; she could no longer speak. Sobbing, she picked up her pajamas, not daring to look at Guoguo, and frantically tried to put them on her.
Her pajamas were all crumpled up, and she couldn't find the neckline no matter what she looked at; her eyes were blurred with tears, and she couldn't see clearly.
“…You wear…sleeves…this is a sleeve…you wear it, I’m sorry, I was wrong…you wear…” Song Yihuan mumbled incoherently, unable to form a complete sentence.
Guoguo stood motionless, breathing heavily.
Song Yihuan couldn't find the neckline anywhere, so she had to wrap Guoguo in her pajamas. After wrapping her up, she immediately looked away as if trying to escape.
“…I’m…sorry, I’m so sorry…” she sobbed, her head bowed, unable to speak coherently.
Guoguo stared at her for a long time before getting dressed again, raising her arms to hug her, burying her face in the soft pajamas, the soft fabric absorbing her tears.
"Okay, okay." After she finished her outburst and gradually calmed down, Guoguo said softly, as if coaxing a child, "Let's finish what we were saying, okay?"
"Mmm," she mumbled, her face buried in Guoguo's chest.
This was their first hug, warm yet slightly uncomfortable. They had occasionally held hands or linked arms before, but had never done anything as intimate as a hug.
Parting makes everything precious, including sentimental things.
"Huanhuan, I'm moving the day after tomorrow." Guoguo ended the hug, raised her hand to wipe away Huanhuan's tears, and smoothed her messy bangs. "Do you remember the rules of our patient support group? If you leave the group in advance and don't announce your death, then we'll..."
Song Yihuan looked up at her in shock, then quickly looked away: "I don't remember."
Guoguo smiled good-naturedly, but the smile was desolate. "Stop pretending. I'll leave the group before I move out, and I'll make sure you delete my contact information. Pretending won't help."
“Group rules are group rules, but we’re different.” Song Yihuan held her hand tightly. “What if you miss me? What if you don’t have an appetite and want to eat my cooking? Everyone in the group is an online friend, but we’re different! Besides, I’ve never understood this stupid rule. Why do we have to leave the group in advance? Why can’t family members announce their death in the group? Wouldn’t it be better to get each other’s news?”
"Because human will is a very magical thing; even the slightest thought of giving up can destroy a person," Guoguo said.
"There's no difference," Song Yihuan said fiercely. "It's all farewell anyway, this method just brings it forward!! I don't accept it, and you can't delete it!! I still want to see you, I want to give you..."
"No," Guoguo shook her hand, "It's not saying goodbye in advance."
Song Yihuan sat back down, head down, tears dripping into the oatmeal porridge, creating countless small pits that held a pool of tears.
“The finish line is my finish line, it’s my own personal challenge.” Guoguo said in her uniquely gentle yet persuasive tone, “I’ve never told you this before, have I… Right after I was diagnosed, my ex-boyfriend actually contacted me. He said he still loved me and wanted to be with me until the end.”
Song Yihuan didn't understand why she suddenly brought this up, and looked up at her, "...Then why didn't you agree? You clearly like him too."
“Don’t think of me as too noble. I’m not doing this because I don’t want to be a burden to him; I’m doing it for myself,” Guoguo said. “I’ve thought this through very clearly. Cancer is not like heart disease, nor is it like old age. The end of our lives will certainly not be dignified or respectable.”
“I can feel my jealousy of him now, so in the future, when I look at myself, broken in both will and body, and then look at him, my jealousy will inevitably turn into hatred. I will not remember love, I will only try my best to torment him, to bring him infinitely close to my pain. At that time, I will be destroyed by this hatred, the last bit of love and kindness in my life will be worn away, and that beautiful me will die before me.”
“…I don’t want that. I’d rather endure endless pain and use loving memories as an antidote,” Guoguo said. “I’d rather lose it first than be driven mad by hatred.”
Song Yihuan's eyes stung and she could barely keep them open. "You want to cut off contact with me because you're worried... you'll hate me like you hate him...? Then just hate me, I..."
“We’re friends.” Guoguo tilted her head, and crystal tears slowly slid down her cheeks. “I won’t hate you. You’re different, Huanhuan. I will never hate you.”
"Then... then why?" Song Yihuan asked.
"Huanhuan, you are brave, passionate, and wonderful. I love you more than I loved my ex-boyfriend." Guoguo looked into her eyes. "So, I don't want to bring you any bad news, and I don't want my ending to hurt you. I hope our story will never end."
Song Yihuan stared blankly at her, at her thin face, at her gentle expression.
"Delete it," Guoguo said. "From now on, every day will be filled with good news about me."
"Leaving the good news to you will also be the antidote to my happiness."
…
Guoguo has lived in this shared apartment for a year, but her luggage only needs three suitcases to fit: two suitcases contain medicine and equipment, and only one suitcase contains Guoguo.
The movers easily carried her three boxes out and loaded them into the cramped van. Before leaving, Guoguo hugged her, smiling and saying she wanted to go home; she missed home.
She didn't know where Guoguo's home was, only that Guoguo was frighteningly light, and she could pick her up with one hand.
Song Yihuan thought she was a forgetful person, with negative emotions coming and going quickly. She believed that even the biggest, most devastating event could be resolved with a good night's sleep.
In reality, she couldn't sleep; she was trapped in the memory of the day Guoguo moved away. When Guoguo moved out, she probably packed up her sleep along with her.
She sat quietly on the sofa, watching the mess left by the movers and the unused cardboard boxes, like a robot without commands. She couldn't feel the passage of time; occasionally she would close her eyes briefly and slump over, but it wasn't sleep; it was more like a replay of the day Guoguo moved. She listened to Guoguo's words over and over again, opening her eyes in despair each time, only to see the mess left behind by the move.
In her hazy consciousness, she seemed to catch a muffled thumping sound, like the drumbeat of Guoguo's heartbeat when she hugged her.
When I opened my eyes, I realized that there was a loud knocking on the door. The knocking was constant and had been going on for a long time, accompanied by a sharp musical sound.
She turned her head to look and saw that her phone was also ringing, with the words "Chi Ran" on the screen.
Song Yihuan answered the phone slowly, and the other end simply said two words: "Open the door."
Her mind went blank, and she couldn't say anything for a moment.
The sounds on the phone and the knocking at the door grew increasingly urgent, overlapping each other.
Chi Ran said, "Open the door, hurry up, or I'll keep knocking."
“Hmm…” Song Yihuan remained slow to respond.
“I love knocking, I especially love knocking,” he said. “Knocking will live on forever.”
"Open the door for me, okay?"
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