I'll take you home.
As I got closer, I realized she was breathing heavily, as if the oxygen she was taking in with each breath was far from enough for her body. I looked up and followed her upper body upwards.
She wore a loose, flowing black wool sweater over a light-colored crew-neck sweater that looked thicker underneath. A thin layer of sweat appeared to be on her collarbone, causing the upper part of her chest to rise and fall rapidly, while the lower part of her body, which should have been rising and falling with her breath, looked lifeless.
There was a thin layer of sweat on her neck, and she still had the fair and slender figure I had always longed for, except for a pink circular scar at the bottom, as if someone had been jealous of a flawless piece of white jade and maliciously carved a notch in it, which stung my eyes.
I finally saw her face.
In the years following the breakup, I would still dream of her face. It was as if, subconsciously, I knew that there was no turning back between us, and I always felt that she must still resent me and hate me. After all, when I first hesitantly suggested that perhaps we should break up, she, who was always calm, composed, dignified, and self-possessed, lost her composure on the phone. Her voice trembled as she asked me, "Qing, do you really want to break up with me? I will hate you."
Those words felt like a bullet piercing my heart. Even though much later she apologized, saying she was too emotional at the time and her words didn't count, that she didn't mean it that way, and that she didn't hate me, that bullet was never truly removed.
So when I dream of her, she just looks at me quietly, expressionless, and never says anything to me. I don't know what to say to her either; we just gaze at each other in silence, as if there is an insurmountable chasm between us.
Later, I couldn't even dream of her face; only her back appeared in my dreams. I've heard people say that seeing someone you'll never see again in a dream means you're forgetting each other. Am I really gradually forgetting her, or is she forgetting me?
Gu Wanlin, I didn't. Is it you?
When I finally saw her face, tears welled up in my eyes. Her face was still pale, a few strands of hair stuck to her forehead and temples with sweat, her eyes were red and glistening with tears, and there were still tear stains on her cheeks that she hadn't had time to wipe away, clearly she had cried before I arrived.
She stared straight at me, her brow furrowed, and tears streamed down her face silently. When she spoke, her voice was hoarse and trembling. I heard her say:
"Ah Qing, I have no strength left."
I suddenly remembered a summer six years ago.
At that time, I found a good internship in another city and was expected to start working there directly after graduating the following year. Gu Wanlin was a year ahead of me and was in the summer before finishing university and preparing to go abroad. He no longer had to work hard to create a good resume, so he happily accompanied me to the unfamiliar city.
We rented a place in a lively neighborhood, far from school and my parents. In the morning, she would make me breakfast and see me off. In the evening, she would wait for me at the station after work, and we would walk hand in hand back to our small one-bedroom apartment, chatting as we walked. If we got hungry on the way, we would just pop into one of the small shops that were still open on the street for a late-night snack.
The happiness we had back then was so wonderful that it always made me a little uneasy. Later, I always felt that the unease I felt back then was like an ominous prophecy, as if we had prematurely exhausted our happiness.
One evening, as it was drizzling, I received a call from Gu Wanlin. She said she had just come from the gym and wasn't feeling well, probably with low blood sugar. She gave me her location and asked me to pick her up. I went to the bus stop she mentioned, holding an umbrella, and saw her sitting inside, head down, like a wet little animal after being soaked by the rain. When I called her name, she looked up and said:
"Ah Qing, I have no strength left."
The two scenes overlapped across six years. The chubby cheeks in my memory have turned into a pale and thin face, but the tone of voice is still the same, like a wronged child, soft and gentle.
My heart melted into a pool of spring water.
What did I say to her then? I said, "Little girl, come here, I'll take you home."
Gu Wanlin, my little girl, I've finally found you. Don't be afraid. Come, I'll take you home.
When I finally saw her, I had so much to say, yet I didn't know where to begin. Given the atmosphere, I couldn't awkwardly say, "Long time no see." The air pressure was dropping, the air growing increasingly humid and sticky; a downpour seemed imminent.
The most important thing right now is to get her back as soon as possible. With her permission, I stood up and moved behind her to help push her wheelchair. To make conversation, I asked her why she hadn't answered Jiang Yu's calls.
She replied in a muffled voice that her phone might have slipped out of her pants pocket while she was wheeling it, and she didn't even realize it. When she found out, she could only go back the way she came to look for it, but this road was difficult to walk on, and she was too tired from wheeling it. She got stuck here and couldn't move, and she didn't see anyone coming for a long time.
I don't know how to respond. If we were still the inseparable lovers we used to be, and she were still healthy as before, I might scold her harshly: "Why are you being so stubborn when you're just recovered? I was so worried when I couldn't reach you on the phone." But right now, I dare not say anything, and I can't bear to say anything.
I told her to point me in the direction she came from, and I'd take her around to look for it first. It's about to rain, and we shouldn't linger outside too long. If we can't find it, let's just leave it at that for now. I'll take her home first, and then come back down to look for it. She obediently agreed.
It turned out the phone wasn't lost far away; I found it in the roadside bushes after walking back about twenty or thirty meters. But this round trip had almost completely exhausted her.
Following her directions, I pushed her towards her building and told her to rest if she was tired. She responded and then didn't say anything more for the rest of the way.
I was behind her and couldn't see her expression, but I could see her hands resting quietly on her lap, her fingers trembling slightly. She always had this little habit when she was nervous; her face would be calm, but her fingers would tremble slightly.
When I confessed my feelings to her, her fingers were like this while holding the coffee cup; her fingers were like this when I covered her hand during our first kiss; and her fingers were like this when she rested on my waist during our first time sleeping together.
When we arrived at her door, I discreetly looked away as she entered her password, but it was hard not to notice her trembling wrist, so thin it looked like it would break at the slightest touch. Her fingers had always been slender, but now her palms were also thin and bony. Her index finger seemed unable to fully straighten to fit the fingerprint keypad, and she could only rub the number keys one by one with her knuckles.
After the door opened, I could see a very spacious living room. Apart from the necessary furniture, there were no other decorations, perhaps to leave enough room for her wheelchair to move around. I was about to push her straight in when she called out to me in a low voice, saying, "Let's get a different wheelchair. This one is the one we usually use outside."
It felt like I had been hit hard again; the cruel reality made me dizzy and unsteady on my feet.
I realized that the wheelchair had now become a part of her body. We have to change our shoes when we go out and come home, and she has to change into her wheelchair when she goes out and comes home.
The foyer was spacious enough, with two more wheelchairs placed side by side, one manual, which looked exceptionally lightweight, and the other electric, its charging indicator light flashing. Her eyes darted between her legs and the wheelchairs, avoiding my gaze. Her tone was as if she had done something wrong and caused trouble for others, and she explained with her head bowed:
"This machine ran out of power when I went downstairs, and I wasn't planning on leaving the complex. I thought I could manage on my own... but it turned out you had to come looking for me. It's really a hassle..."
I had never heard Gu Wanlin speak in this tone before. She had always been proud, intelligent, gentle, and resolute.
I need to constantly remind myself to restrain myself and respect her. We've broken up, for a long time now. I hurt her when we broke up. She said she no longer resents me; perhaps it's true, or perhaps it's just out of kindness to ease my guilt.
I've lost the right to be truly honest with her; countless walls have been built between us. Even though I desperately want to rush forward and hold her tightly in my arms right now, she might not be willing to accept it.
"Don't say that... It's okay," I murmured softly.
It's okay, Gu Wanlin. It's really okay. Don't be like this, don't be afraid, don't feel pain, and don't be sad, I silently cried out in my heart. The feeling of breaking up with her surged into my heart like a summer typhoon passing through, with torrential rain pouring down. It turns out that people can really feel pain that far exceeds the boundaries that words can express.
She stopped talking, hooked her wrist over a smooth wooden board with a handle on the low cabinet next to her, placed it on her lap, slid herself to the light manual wheelchair, locked the one she was in, pulled the handbrake on the other one, lifted her knees, placed one end of the wooden board under her lap, and rested the other end on the other wheelchair.
I saw she was struggling, her upper body swaying from side to side. Luckily, she reacted quickly, hooking her wrist around the wheelchair armrest to prevent herself from falling to one side. But just getting through that was enough for her; she was already panting. I wanted to help her, but I was afraid of hurting her feelings. So, I cautiously asked, "Do you need my help?"
"Don't come any closer."
She spoke with the panic of a wounded and lost fawn in the forest, her words rapid, her body trembling slightly. The last syllable of her voice distorted with her rapid breathing, abruptly ending, hoarse and dry.
She quickly realized her lapse in composure, caught her breath, shook her head with pursed lips, and then spoke with an air of composure that was hard to tell if she was being genuine or not, "No need, I can manage on my own."
Then she used her thin arms to support her upper body, which was only slightly suspended in the air. She then used all her strength to scoot herself toward the other side of the plank, moving only a little distance at a time.
I almost burst into tears again, but I was afraid she wouldn't want me to stare at her like that, so I pretended to take out my phone to reply to a message, only keeping an eye on her out of the corner of my eye to make sure she was safe.
She finally managed to move her upper body into the seat of another wheelchair, sitting crookedly with her lower body stuck between the two wheelchairs, her feet long since fallen off the footrests. Today she was wearing a pair of charcoal gray jeans, which were clearly designed to be straight-legged, but she had managed to make them look like loose wide-legged jeans, with the cuffs hanging down to her white sneakers.
The outer edge of her left shoe rubbed against the ground, her ankle loosely tilted to the side, the shoe seemingly hanging precariously from her foot, while her right foot and calf stuck straight out. I think I already know what's under her trousers.
She leaned forward slightly again, using one hand to steady her upper body and the other to reach out and try to lift her lower leg onto the new wheelchair footrest. However, due to loss of strength, she groaned and her upper body slammed straight onto her leg. Then, the instep of her left foot slid off the ground, causing her entire leg to shake violently. Her right leg also moved, but the movement was slight and muffled.
I was extremely anxious and called out to her, "Gu Wanlin, can I help you?"
Her face was buried between her legs, so I couldn't see her expression. I only heard her remain silent for a moment before saying, "Okay, you come."
I first helped her sit up, supporting her against the back of the wheelchair. She looked away, then tilted her head back slightly, closing her eyes tightly, unwilling to look at me or her legs. I pretended not to see the tears that quickly streamed down her face and simply asked her what to do.
She said in a muffled voice, her voice very nasal, "Just help me straighten my legs. Don't worry about the spasms; this is a very mild case, it will pass in a bit."
So I gently lifted her leg. On the left, through her pants, I felt her calf, which was thin and soft, and I also felt a bag containing warm liquid tied to her leg. On the right, I only felt hard and cold metal.
Gu Wanlin, does this hurt you? I just couldn't bring myself to ask.
Thankfully, she wasn't looking at me anymore. I could no longer suppress the bitterness in my heart, so I sat on the ground, wrapped my arms around her legs, pressed my face against her knees, and cried silently.
Continue read on readnovelmtl.com