43. The Season of Vanity
The days in Guangzhou were uneventful, with nothing exciting happening. Vivian was a good aunt, and Yaoyao enjoyed her company, probably because there were few women around her who were her mother's age.
Xiao Jiang was a good father, at least as far as Vivian could see. Few men could be as attentive as him. She was surrounded by so-called successful men who paid her but didn't care for their children.
The three of them walked together, looking like a harmonious family. Going to restaurants and amusement parks, they were often mistaken for a family. There were moments when Vivian even thought: Isn't this wonderful? Ten years ago, they had a little bit of affection, but nothing happened. Ten years later, everything has settled down, and the years are peaceful. They don't even have to bear children themselves, and they are still very well behaved.
But there is always something missing.
What's missing isn't anything in the secular sense. On social media, people often compare themselves to their boyfriends, girlfriends, blind dates, or even their crushes, comparing everything from height and weight to annual salary, their parents' occupations with pensions, and the size of their family's real estate holdings, asking people to judge whether they're marrying down or marrying up.
Whenever she saw this kind of post, she would frown and scroll past it.
How is this any different from buying groceries? Even if one loves money, there's no need to belittle oneself in this way.
What's even funnier is that if measured by this standard, from the perspective of market supply and demand, Xiao Jiang, even though he's divorced and has children, can still be a hot commodity in today's marriage market - a promising man who holds a US green card and works in an AI company in China, is more than qualified to be a match for Vivian in the above list of marriage conditions.
But she knew very well that what she lacked was not money, not a title, and not even her lover's character.
It's that feeling of uneasiness.
Rationally speaking, one should no longer pursue the experience of walking on a tightrope after the age of 30, but isn't that the difference between love and other emotions?
It is worrying about gains and losses, unable to sleep at night, restless, and walking on thin ice.
It's the kind of neurotic feeling of sadness and melancholy that makes you cry at the sight of a cloud or a gust of wind.
It's the kind of excitement that makes your head buzz and even your heart stop for a few seconds when you receive a message.
This emotion is toxic, but it is also the ultimate happiness.
The relationship between Xiao Jiang and I seemed so smooth and comfortable, as if we were a couple who had been married for ten years.
Thinking of this, she turned around and looked around. Xiao Jiang also liked to wear white shirts, but the difference was that his was neatly done, with only one button open below his chin, and it was always ironed flat, as if someone at home had ironed it for him.
But she likes to keep two buttons open. This cannot be forced.
Back in Beijing after vacation, Christmas trees have already been erected outside upscale hotels and shopping malls. People, clad in short skirts, freezing in the cold, queue for an hour or two just to snap a beautiful photo and attract attention and praise. Naturally, the few trees adorned with big-name logos are more prestigious than the others, and lines still linger late into the night.
Vivian, however, was not happy. Every year, when the background music in the cafe changed to Christmas songs, she felt a sense of uncertainty. Another year had passed, and time was like sand in one's hand, uncontrollable no matter what.
The end of the year is filled with such mixed emotions. Industry events pile up one after another, and the ballroom is filled with elegantly dressed people and stories. At these events, you're bound to run into many familiar faces, and everyone is dressed respectfully and chatting. Even when the temperature outside drops to -10 degrees Celsius, a force 7 northwest wind seems to be plotting to destroy everything, and stray cats shiver, everyone in the ballroom feels like they're in a smooth, warm parallel universe, moving from one gleaming dinner table to another, the roses and lilies in the crystal vase as covetable as young faces, never fading. In this small world, the temperature and humidity are just right, perfect for flowers to bloom, red wine to be savored, backs and legs to be exposed, and a moderate amount of flirting to be enjoyed.
Vivian had prepared many outfits for these occasions. They were not luxury goods - being able to carry a Chanel bag and being able to wear Chanel ready-to-wear clothes are not the same thing - but they were enough for her to handle them decently.
At this time of year in previous years, she'd always accompanied Zhang Ruolin and Jia Lan to numerous such gatherings, and people would always flock to them, like a whale surrounded by numerous species in the ocean. Naturally, there were also those who eagerly sought to meet "Miss Fang." She wasn't without a moment of smugness.
Thinking about it now, that was all too superficial.
"The difficulty of changing class attributes doesn't deter millions of people bent on upward mobility." How many people try to infiltrate this so-called circle, but what good does it do if they manage to get in? Talking, drinking, or even flirting with someone on the rich list today won't help you tomorrow. The next thing you know, they'll forget who you are. Not to mention the pumpkin carriage won't be waiting at the door; you might be sprinting to catch the last subway before midnight. They've been able to make countless fortunes from others, surviving countless lows and crises. Anyone trying to take advantage of them even a fraction is laughable.
At this time, many people also take vacations early. Just checking their Moments will reveal several updates, showing exotic scenery and selfies with countless filters.
Humans are so funny.
This thought flashed through Vivian's mind, and she was shocked. When did she become cynical and indifferent, thinking that all these glitz and glamour were meaningless and even so mean?
In fact, she was like this once, even more so, carefully choosing her words for every post she made to her Moments, as if no one would care. Little did they know, everyone was only interested in showing off themselves, and no one was putting in the effort to study others.
After reflecting on herself, she began to admire the pictures. They were all family gatherings or pictures of young couples. She didn't feel envious, but a sudden sense of uncertainty washed over her. She wondered if she would still be so determined not to care about this kind of happiness ten years from now.
She also noticed Yang Ziqi's social media feed buzzing with activity. Besides appearing in several beautiful stores, she occasionally posted photos of herself visiting exhibitions in Hong Kong and shopping in Dubai. The latest post was of the original Sanchuan store in the embassy district, where they were putting up holiday decorations on the floor-to-ceiling windows, with the caption, "Everything is new, love is forever."
Further before that, it was a trip to London, with a picture of a hand holding a Chanel paper bag with white letters on a black background. The face was not shown, and the caption was "Thank you for my love, Mom."
She is a completely independent woman who is surrounded by love and has a career.
A thought suddenly occurred to Vivian: I wonder what he is doing at this time?
As soon as she had a thought, she felt like a bug was gnawing at her heart. She tried to ignore it, but the tingling sensation lingered.
She took the initiative to ask Eric out for the first time.
Who cares? They're leaving anyway. The future mess has nothing to do with her.
As soon as she sent the message, he replied immediately:
"I thought you were still on vacation, enjoying yourself."
"No, no, I can't wait to go home."
"Then it's a deal. I happen to be going to Beijing the week after next. Please set aside time and don't forget."
Vivian answered in her heart: Don't worry, I don't have many opportunities to break my promise.
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