Best friend's late-night chat
The moment Lin Zhiyi left "Time Sequence," she felt as if she had been defeated in a silent war. The setting sun shone brightly in the alley, and a warm breeze caressed her face, yet it couldn't dispel the chill that enveloped her. Lu Shixu's silent, resistant back view played on repeat in her mind like a scene from a movie.
She didn't go home. The empty rented room only amplified her confusion and grievances. Almost instinctively, she dialed Zhou Wanqing's number.
Half an hour later, she sat on the sofa in Zhou Wanqing's apartment, which was piled high with sketches, paint cans, and all sorts of strange dolls. A steaming cup of milk with double the honey was placed in her lap, and the air was filled with the unique scent of turpentine and sweet aroma that belonged to Zhou Wanqing.
"Tell me, what happened? Your voice sounded like you were floating on the phone." Zhou Wanqing sat cross-legged on the carpet opposite her, a Pocky stick dangling from her mouth, her eyes sharp as a detective's. "Is it that 'miracle' watch repairman again?"
Lin Zhiyi held the warm milk cup in both hands, absorbing its gentle warmth. She lowered her head, her long eyelashes casting shadows beneath her eyes, and began to recount her story in fits and starts. From the sudden downpour in the afternoon, to the cozy tea and memories in the shop, to Lu Shixu's sudden collapse without warning, her panicked pleas for help, Dr. Chen Xu's diagnosis, and finally, the cold, silent barrier that isolated her after Lu Shixu woke up.
She didn't cry, and her voice was even quite calm, but the weariness and hurt that emanated from her very bones made Zhou Wanqing slowly put away her cynical expression, and her brows furrowed more and more tightly.
"...He just turned his back to me, not saying a word. It was as if I were some kind of terrible virus, and getting close to him would only make him feel worse." Lin Zhiyi finished speaking, gave a self-deprecating laugh, and looked up, her eyes slightly red. "Wanqing, did I...do something wrong? Or should I not have gotten close to him?"
Zhou Wanqing snapped the remaining Pocky in her mouth, leaned forward, and stared intently at her: "Lin Zhiyi, look at me. Tell me now, what exactly are you afraid of?"
Lin Zhiyi was stunned.
“I mean,” Zhou Wanqing emphasized, each word like a scalpel precisely dissecting her chaotic emotions, “what is the root of your current grievances, sadness, and self-doubt? Are you afraid of his frightening-sounding ‘narcolepsy’? Afraid that he might suddenly fall asleep while driving in front of you next time? Or are you afraid that if you really get together in the future, you will have to be like a nanny, constantly worrying about him ‘going out of control’ and dealing with all these messes?”
A barrage of sharp questions pierced Lin Zhiyi's fragile shell, which she was trying to protect. She opened her mouth, wanting to retort, but found her throat felt blocked.
Is she afraid?
When she recalled the moment Lu Shixu collapsed, her fear stemmed more from the unknown and worry about his physical condition, from the fear that he might get hurt or that his life might be in danger, rather than from disgust or aversion to his illness itself.
Zhou Wanqing didn't let her off the hook, continuing to press her: "Or are you afraid of trouble? Afraid of an uncertain future? Afraid that the 'stable' life you've worked so hard to build will be completely shattered by this unpredictable 'instability'? Zhiyi, ask yourself honestly, from childhood to adulthood, you've desperately tried to hold onto 'stability,' isn't it because of what happened between your aunt and uncle back then that you developed PTSD towards any 'uncertainty'?"
Her best friend's words were like a bolt of lightning, cleaving through the fog that Lin Zhiyi had been deliberately avoiding.
The breakdown of her family of origin, her parents' endless arguments, and their eventual cold separation undoubtedly planted a seed of fear in her heart. Her hard work and dedication to her studies, her yearning for an orderly and predictable future, were essentially attempts to combat the feelings of loss of control and unease she experienced in her childhood.
The appearance of Lu Shixu, and the "uncontrollability" he represents (his illness), is precisely what she subconsciously wants to escape.
"I..." Lin Zhiyi's voice trembled slightly, "I don't know... I just felt very sad when I saw him like that. I felt even sadder when I saw him push me away."
“It’s normal to be sad!” Zhou Wanqing slapped the carpet. “But you can’t let sadness and the shadows of the past make decisions for you! You need to figure out what you really feel for Lu Shixu. Is it sympathy? Is it curiosity? Or do you really like him as a person—including his frail body and his awful personality?”
Do I really like him as a person?
Lin Zhiyi closed her eyes. What came to mind was not his disheveled state when he collapsed, but the focused and shining look in his eyes when he talked about clocks, the ingenious gentleness when he made bookmarks from discarded gears, the occasional vulnerable look of weariness he revealed, and the heartbreaking composure when he calmly said, "My time can be lazy"...
Those little moments of warmth hidden in the ordinary routines, those moments of soul resonance, are so real and precious.
“He… is very good.” Lin Zhiyi murmured, her voice soft but with a certainty. “When I’m with him, it’s quiet and reassuring. Even if we don’t say anything, just being in the same space makes me feel… at ease.”
"Reassured?" Zhou Wanqing caught the word and raised an eyebrow. "Someone who could 'lose power' at any moment actually makes you feel at ease?"
Lin Zhiyi suddenly opened her eyes, as if she had been awakened by those words.
Yes. Why?
Because with him, she didn't need to pretend to be strong, nor did she need to deliberately conform to the world's rhythm. His world, though inherently chaotic and fragile, was at its core calm, authentic, and full of focus and love. This authenticity precisely healed her weariness of the glitz and glamour, and soothed her anxiety about the stability of relationships stemming from the past. The "stability" he gave her was a spiritual connection, not "carefree" in the worldly sense.
What she feared was perhaps never his illness, but rather her inability to bear the pressure it brought, her fear that she would be overwhelmed by "uncertainty" again, just like in certain moments of her childhood memories, ultimately repeating the same mistakes and hurting each other.
Having figured this out, Lin Zhiyi felt as if the boulder that had been weighing on her chest had loosened a bit.
Seeing the change in her friend's eyes, Zhou Wanqing knew she was finally starting to confront the core issue. She picked up the milk glass, handed it back to Lin Zhiyi, and softened her tone: "Zhiyi, I'm not advising you to jump into a fire pit. This illness is definitely troublesome, and you need to be mentally prepared for what you'll face in the future. But if you give up someone who already makes you feel at ease and happy just because you're afraid of the 'possible' troubles, then you're punishing yourself in the present with the 'uncertainty' of the future."
She paused, looked into Lin Zhiyi's eyes, and said with utmost seriousness, "Think carefully about what kind of 'stability' you really want. Is it an empty shell that seems perfect but may actually be boring? Or is it a real home that, even with cracks and storms, houses a soul that can give you peace of mind?"
It's late at night.
Lin Zhiyi left Zhou Wanqing's apartment and walked back to her rented room. The night breeze was cool, ruffling her hair. Her heart was no longer as chaotic as it had been when she arrived; though still heavy, it held a clearer pain and a... courage to face the problem.
Zhou Wanqing's words echoed in her ears.
What exactly is the stability she wants?
And does she have enough courage and strength to gently and firmly knock on Lu Shixu's silent barrier?
Continue read on readnovelmtl.com
