Eucalyptus
The third wife never expected to see Yiling again.
They stared at each other for a long time across a street that had been completely transformed, as if trying to recognize a friend they had lost contact with for many years. Suddenly, the Third Madam smiled at Yiling without saying a word.
"May you be well."
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"The area down the mountain was burned to the ground; now, you're probably the only place left."
Yiling insisted that she go for tea, and the Third Madam said this while sitting in the magnificent hall.
"If these Japanese start causing trouble, nowhere will be safe. People will probably just have to leave it to fate." He finished speaking and gave a short, narrow laugh.
"Has there been any news from Third Master lately?"
"It's been many days since I last wrote... I think he probably won't be coming back."
After saying that, he added,
"It would have been better if they hadn't come back. This place is hardly a habitable place anymore."
After the third wife finished speaking, she smiled faintly. In that smile, a layer of sadness lingered, like a piece of softened taffy on a British plate on the table, still sweet but damp, bathed in the bright moonlight.
"Is it that she will never come back, or that she will never be able to come back?" Hearing this question so suddenly felt like waking from a dream. She raised her bewildered gaze and looked at Yiling. As she looked, tears the size of soybeans fell like a torrential rain, hitting her skin and turning it red.
Yi Ling couldn't bear to look at her with those tears and tears, so she took a drag of her cigarette and slowly turned her head away in the hazy white smoke.
She had always despised such rigid women. Once married, it was as if they had sold themselves entirely to their husbands, body and soul. They grieved for their husbands' grievances, rejoiced in their joys, and mourned their sorrows. In the end, they gained nothing, as if they had wandered aimlessly through life.
She clenched the cigarette in her hand and smoked it angrily, an endless sorrow slowly overflowing, but she knew how helpless she was.
Therefore, he felt even more resentful, so he stood up and slowly took the third wife's hand. "Fool, don't cry, get up."
The third wife cried so hard that when she was pulled, she fell to her knees.
"Get up, get up, get up!"
With red eyes, Yi Ling screamed sharply, still stubbornly trying to pull the Third Madam up. Her anger made her movements rough.
"What are you doing? Are you mourning?"
I'm telling you, he's been dead for a long time. Dead! You knew that all along, didn't you?
"If you're going to cry, you might as well cry yourself to death back then. What's the point of crying now? Get up!"
"I know, I know," the third wife said, looking up at her with teary eyes. "I know... I just, I just..."
When emotions run high, no words can truly capture them; when human emotions are unleashed, they can be ruthless and disregard reason.
Yiling slowly released her arm and stopped talking.
There were two women in that hall that day.
One was smoking expressionlessly, while the other knelt on the ground, sobbing silently.
One cried, while the other watched silently.
The last one to cry stood up, and the two of them, supporting each other, walked around the door.
In this city that has been bombed beyond recognition, there are two types of women.
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Yi Ling erected a monument for Yuan Siyuan on her behalf. It was on a flat hilltop. They stood side by side. Yi Ling turned her head to look at the Third Madam's pale and dejected face, took two steps back, turned around and walked away.
The sky had darkened, and the unfamiliar, picturesque landscape and the bustling traffic seemed to melt away in this solitude. The third wife reached out and gripped the tree trunks on either side, slowly supporting her exhausted body as she walked step by step toward the monument.
Why do I keep walking towards your grave, even though I know there's no one there?
And why is it that, beneath that empty tombstone, whenever I approach, I always see your sorrowful eyes appearing in the darkness? Your parched lips have called my name countless times, expressing your pain, your longing, your hope, and your despair.
Right beneath that empty cemetery, right beneath that empty six-foot grave, you appear again and again, approaching me, passing through me. What exactly do you want to tell me?
Perhaps you feel anxious, resentful, and hopeful about the road you haven't yet reached its destination.
But I insist on imagining that within that surging emotion, there is also a part of longing for me.
Yes, it will happen, right?
Because love is endless.
Then one day, Huai Xiankun returned.
The lights were off in the living room. Yi Ling sat on the sofa in the middle with her arms crossed, as if she had been sitting there for a long time. She was still wearing the pajamas she had worn when she got up.
Why aren't the lights on?
"Where did you go today?" Yi Ling turned her head and smiled gently as she asked.
"The dock. Same as usual." He loosened his tie and picked up a small stack of letters in his other hand, preparing to go upstairs.
"Brother, let's stop working for the Japanese, okay?"
Huai Xiankun paused for a moment and then said, "You don't need to worry about these things."
After walking a few steps, Yiling's calm voice caught up with them, "They've turned China into something unrecognizable, burned down our cities, and now we have to do things for them. I just feel disgusted."
Huai Xiankun stood on the steps, looking at her with a gloomy expression. After a long while, he sighed and said, "Don't be willful anymore. Things are not as simple as you think."
He finished speaking and went upstairs. Yiling was left alone in the hall, sitting motionless, and no one knew how long she had been sitting there.
In 1918, Henrik Ibsen's *A Doll's House* was published. The protagonist, Nora, decides to no longer be her husband's doll and resolutely leaves. Regarding Nora's departure, Lu Xun commented that it could only lead to two outcomes: either she falls into depravity or she returns.
This statement doesn't provoke anger, but rather evokes a profound sense of despair.
Three days later, Yiling left without telling anyone.
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