A painful choice
It's astringent, sour, sweet, and perhaps a little bitter. I've already had a few cups, but this one seems to have a special seasoning, making it unusually bitter...
One cup after another, yes, she drank when she was depressed, and when she was happy, she drank. Lin Xiaoning didn't know why. She seemed to have a strong craving for alcohol, and she didn't know how much she had drunk.
In a trance, I seemed to say to Ye Yidong, "I like you very much"
I think she also sang Faye Wong's song "You Are in My Heart" or "You Light Up My Heart,
The last thing I remember is dancing with someone and cheering.
Lin Xiaoning's head ached terribly, and he was terribly thirsty. His mind was still lingering with memories of the fight on the bed. It must have been a frantic shouting match, or a frustrating one, or a lingering feeling, or... a complete blank...
When her palm touched the body of the man next to her, she sobered up. When she saw the man's face clearly, her brain was completely unable to think... The house was in a mess, with clothes scattered all over the floor.
Should have shouted...
This bastard should be woken up...
We should call the police...
I should cry a lot...
Lin Xiaoning had no idea how long he had been in a daze. He had forgotten about his thirst, about being naked, about the whole world...
When she felt the chill coming, Lin Xiaoning put on her clothes and walked out of the room...
Lin Xiaoning sat on a cold hospital bed, the sunlight from the window stinging her eyes, yet unable to penetrate the muddy swamp within her heart. The doctor, speaking in a businesslike tone, informed her that she had collapsed from acute gastroenteritis and severe dehydration and had been brought to the hospital by a passerby. She now required hospitalization for observation. Their blood pressure was measured, blood drawn, and a sample of vaginal discharge was collected for testing "according to routine procedures."
The sample now lay in the lab, like a silent time bomb, coldly encapsulating all the chaos, humiliation, and unbearable pain she'd felt the previous night. It became irreversible evidence of the damage she couldn't avoid. However, possessing evidence didn't bring her strength; instead, it dragged her into a deeper state of confusion. Accusing him would mean dissecting her most intimate and painful wounds, exposing them to public scrutiny, legal scrutiny, and perhaps even an unwinnable battle. The thought filled her with the dread of public execution.
The thought of settling the matter privately briefly crossed her mind, only to be met with an even more intense nausea. It was as if she were putting a price tag on her pain, objectifying herself, a complete loss of her personal dignity, being traded like an object, the humiliation of it all enough to devour her soul. She could already see the other person's gaze, either contemptuous or cunning, a denial more complete than the violation itself.
So, "holding it in" seemed the only safe path. She tried to withdraw into her shell, burying her head like an ostrich, pretending nothing had happened. She forced herself to breathe, eat, answer the nurse's questions, trying to act "normal." But the memory screamed back in every moment of silence, a mixture of sour regret and bitter fear, spreading a sickening taste in her mouth. The struggle to suppress all emotion, to numb herself, became another long-lasting torment in itself.
The hospital's white walls were cold and absolute, reflecting the desolation within Lin Xiaoning. She felt as if she had a weapon in her hand, unsure whether to stab the enemy or aim it at herself. Accusation, compromise, or silence—each path seemed to lead to greater destruction. She froze on this precipice, staring at the test report, still unsure of the path. The future split before her, each shrouded in fog and thorns, and the faint light in her hand wasn't enough to illuminate any direction.
Lin Xiaoning's gaze fell blankly on the pristine white walls of the ward. She tried to focus, but all she saw was a blur of light. The scenes of last night flashed back uncontrollably: the hazy lights, the bitter liquid in the cup, Ye Yidong's vague smile, the warmth of the other man, the scattered clothes... These fragments of memory cut through her nerves like blunt knives. Waves of bitterness surged into her nose, and she bit her lower lip tightly, trying to hold back the tears that signaled weakness. The illusion of last night's sweet and sour alcohol still lingered in her mouth, but now it was filled with endless bitterness, like swallowing unripe fruit, leaving her mouth raw and numb.
The nurse came in, changing her IV bottle with expert, gentle movements, and asked if she felt any discomfort. Lin Xiaoning mechanically shook her head, her voice cracking with a dry, hoarse "thank you." She dreaded conversation, dreaded any glances of concern, as they would instantly shatter the carefully constructed shell of numbness. She wanted nothing more than to disappear, to be completely swallowed up by this pure white ward, as if the aching pain would vanish if she simply didn't face it.
"Is Lin Xiaoning's family here?" a nurse asked at the door.
She shuddered. Family? Who could be her family? Her parents were far away in her hometown. Was she going to let them know that their daughter had suffered such a terrible thing? A huge sense of loneliness and shame instantly overwhelmed her. She shook her head, her voice as weak as a mosquito: "Only me."
The nurse glanced at her with a barely perceptible trace of pity in her eyes. She said nothing more and left a list of things to note before discharge.
She stuffed the slip into her pocket without even glancing at it. She knew it contained the receipt for the gynecological examination sample. The light piece of paper felt so heavy it almost took her breath away. It was evidence, the possibility of an accusation, but it could also be the trigger that ignited her entire life. She instinctively touched her belly, and an indescribable, sour feeling, a mixture of fear and physical disgust, rose again. Things might be far more complicated and difficult to deal with than the chaos of the previous night.
The cell phone vibrated on the bedside table, and the name jumping on the screen made her heart stop - it was Ye Yidonggang.
Answer? Or not?
What should I say if I pick up the phone? Ask him what happened last night? Ask him why he didn't take me home? Or should I question him?
The phone rang stubbornly, each ring a thump on her heart. Finally, she watched helplessly as the screen flickered on and off, returning to silence. Like an ostrich, she buried her head deeper in the sand, pretending nothing had happened, pretending she hadn't seen or heard anything.
But silence couldn't calm the storm within. The thought of calling the police stubbornly surfaced again. She imagined herself walking into the police station and recounting her shattered memories. She could imagine the looks they'd receive—sympathy mixed with scrutiny, even a subtle hint of suspicion: "How much did you drink?" "Did you drink voluntarily?" "Did you know each other beforehand?" Every question could become a sharp sword pointed at her. Even if the evidence was conclusive, the process would be long and agonizing, and her name, her experiences, might become sour gossip on the streets. She wasn't sure if she had the strength to withstand this storm, to fight for an outcome that wasn't certain to end in victory.
And "settle privately"… the mere thought of this option brought a wave of nausea. It meant negotiation, haggling, measuring her pain and dignity with money. This felt even more humiliating than a simple violation, as if she had become an object to be valued and traded. She could never accept this loss of personal dignity.
Time slipped slowly in agony. The discharge process went surprisingly smoothly, and she drifted out of the hospital like a wandering spirit, standing on the busy street. The sun shone brightly, yet it couldn't warm her cold limbs at all. The test results in her hand felt like a red-hot iron, burning her senses.
She didn't know how she'd made it home. The familiar room now felt strangely oppressive. She huddled in the corner of the sofa, hugging herself, trying to find a sense of security. Her gaze swept across every corner of the room, and she seemed to see shadows of last night's confusion and madness. The sour and bitter feeling of being violated and plundered followed her everywhere.
The phone lit up again. It was a WeChat message from an unfamiliar profile picture. Her breath stopped instantly.
She gripped the phone tightly, her knuckles turning white.
At that moment, she was almost ready to call the police. But her finger hovered over the call button, feeling a heavy weight. She thought of her parents' worried faces, the strange looks from others, and the scars that would be repeatedly opened during the long lawsuit...
She threw her phone to the other end of the sofa as if it were some kind of monster.
She rushed into the bathroom, turned on the shower, and let the hot water lash her body, scrubbing her skin vigorously, as if to wash away any scent and memory that didn't belong to her. Only when her skin flushed, nearly breaking, did she crouch down helplessly, letting the water lash her. Her face was already damp from the hot water, and it was hard to tell whether it was tears or bathwater. Only the sour taste lingered at the corners of her mouth, a clear reminder of the pain she couldn't wash away.
It was late at night, and she was still curled up on the sofa. The hospital test report and the cold text message were placed on the coffee table in front of her, like two multiple-choice questions leading to different hells.
She still didn't know how to decide.
Any choice means great pain and sacrifice.
The city lights outside the window were bright, but none of them could illuminate the confusion and darkness in her heart. She was abandoned at the crossroads of fate, and every direction foreshadowed a long and difficult and unpredictable future.
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