Chapter 85
In mid-August, Mo Daoyan will return to Munich.
On the eve of departure, heavy rain had been raging for a week, and the repair workers were still trying their best to repair the power facilities in the dim rain. Mo Daoyan's homemade generator was humming in the corner of the wall, providing a bright light for this humid summer night, although it could only last for three to five hours. Most of the time, they still had to rely on candles and cattail fans to continue fighting in the heat.
Since last year's postgraduate entrance exam, the English language has undergone a major change: the introduction of writing questions. Mo Daoyan used the limited time he had left to train her, assigning her an essay every night. The topic was chosen by him the day before, and the content was comprehensive, covering current political hot topics, daily life, literary criticism, and picture descriptions. If she had plenty of time, she would write a complete essay; if she didn't, she would simplify it and just outline the story.
He pointed out the key writing areas for essays: "Don't just focus on word choice and sentence structure; depth of purpose and a unique perspective are key to a high score. As a journalist, you have a broader perspective than most people, and this is your advantage."
The make-up class lasted until ten o'clock that night, and the last hour was spent entirely in the heat wave. The candlelight danced on her face, dyeing her delicate skin crimson. Beads of sweat rolled down her delicate jawline and gathered into a tiny stream at her collarbone. When he saw it, he suddenly had an absurd idea. He wanted to use his palm as a container to collect every fallen pearl.
“Isn’t this inversion sentence used incorrectly?”
A voice brought him back to reality. She looked focused, as if she was not aware of the stuffiness around her. He suppressed his restlessness and carefully checked and revised it. At the end, he mentioned that he had already said goodbye to his aunt. After he left, she could still find her aunt to tutor her English at any time, and they could also discuss professional courses. Although her aunt was a professor of history, she also had a lot of research in journalism and communication. Her aunt was always bored alone during the holidays, so she went to class to accompany her aunt.
"Yeah... I understand."
Tong Yufei agreed, but she had made up her mind not to disturb him. Mo Changying occasionally brought Ye Yimo home to study these days, which was already a disguised way for her to take care of her brother. Moreover, Mo Daoyan's tutoring was very effective. After several sets of mock exams, her score was stable at around 60 points. He also developed a detailed reinforcement plan for her. As long as she followed it step by step, her English score would definitely improve steadily. In previous years, the national score line was around 45 points. Her goal was to maintain 6 points and strive for 7 points. If she could get above 70 points, she would be performing above her level.
"My train is at 1:30 tomorrow afternoon..." The pen flew between his fingers, but his eyes were always locked on her face. "Can you come out at noon? Let's have lunch together and you can give me a ride."
There are direct flights from Beijing to Munich, but there are only two per week, and the times often don't match. So he usually chooses to transfer in Hong Kong. He usually catches the 8:30 a.m. train to Beijing, arrives in the evening, rests for the night, and flies to Hong Kong early the next morning, connecting to Munich the same day. This time, he deliberately chose an afternoon train, delaying his entire trip by half a day. If the train or flight were delayed, he could be stuck for an entire day.
Tong Yufei wasn't sure if his last-minute change of schedule was due to official business or simply to get her to come along, so she gently reminded him, "Tomorrow morning, I'm going to Shanghai for training with my colleagues, so we won't be in Xicheng for the time being. If it's nothing urgent, you'd better take the early bus. When you're out and about, it's better to be early than late."
A fleeting sadness flashed across his eyes: "Take the train to Shanghai?"
"Um."
"That would require at least two car transfers. If there's a colleague who can take turns driving with you, why not drive? The family car is idle anyway, so you can use it whenever you need it. You can even use it as a company bus to work. Also... after I leave, if you're too busy to handle anything, go to the old house and ask Aunt Lin or Uncle Yan for help. I've mentioned this to my family, and they're all on board."
Tong Yufei's fingers stiffened slightly. She wasn't sure who the "family" he was referring to, but it certainly didn't include Meng Ruqing. Years ago, the only time she'd taken her brother to see him was in an elegant teahouse. Her brother, always shy, rarely smiled at a stranger they'd just met for the first time. He awkwardly offered her a cup of tea, but Meng Ruqing covered her nose with a handkerchief, called a waiter for a fresh cup of tea, and repeatedly washed her hands with clean water, as if she'd gotten something dirty.
Meng Ruqing has always been particular about superficial etiquette. This subconscious action actually exposed her inner disgust. When she "hid" her brother after her marriage, she certainly did so to avoid gossip, but Meng Ruqing's attitude was also an important reason.
Mo Daoyan is a person who doesn't like to cause trouble, nor does he want to trouble others, including his biological mother. Even when he encountered obstacles in his studies, he never bowed his head and always negotiated with his mother on an equal footing. Now he makes exceptions for her and her brother again and again, and he must have had to consider his mother's mood a lot.
Her heart softened, and she whispered, "Don't worry about him. Have you packed everything you need to take tomorrow?"
"I sorted it out last night."
"oh."
She wanted to say something of concern, but it was difficult to find the right words. Munich was where he studied abroad, where he had teachers, friends and classmates. It was like his second hometown. He had long been accustomed to the local customs and people, and knew how to get along better than she, an outsider, so there was really no need for her to say more.
"I have something for you." She turned around and took out a gray-blue wool scarf from the closet. "I made this last-minute. If you don't mind..."
"You know I can't."
The scarf is made of medium-fine cashmere yarn, and the stitches are not particularly particular. The most basic up and down stitches are used, and only tassels are added at both ends for embellishment to avoid being too monotonous. Although the style is simple, thousands of stitches are crocheted one by one, and no corners are cut. Considering her work and study schedule, the so-called "temporary rush work" must have been achieved at the expense of sleep time.
"I told you to take your time knitting." He took her hand and rubbed the dent on her index finger made by the crochet needle. "Does it hurt?"
"It's not a broken skin, how can it hurt?" She pulled her hand back. "Thank you for taking care of my brother these days."
"He's my brother. Taking care of one's brothers is my duty. You never have to thank me for him, and don't use this gratitude to measure the affection between you and me. I'll consider this scarf... a farewell gift from a wife to her husband on a journey." He wrapped the scarf around his neck and showed it to her. "Isn't it a disgrace to your craftsmanship?"
The plain style is the most eye-catching. The gray-blue color unexpectedly sets off his cold outline, adding a bit of restrained nobility to his aloofness. However, the scarf should be matched with a sweater or a tweed coat, and it really doesn't match the sleeveless sweatshirt. Even with Mo Daoyan's outstanding figure, he looks a bit funny at this moment.
She reached out to take off her scarf: "It's summer, don't you think it's too hot..."
"No, it can get even hotter." He grabbed her wrist and pulled her onto his shoulder, locking her tightly in his arms. "Tong Yufei, you said you couldn't bear to leave me and didn't want to be separated from me."
He pressed her to speak, but didn't give her a chance to speak. His searing kiss followed, as if he'd anticipated she'd say something against her will. She didn't struggle. While exhaustion could be attributed to fatigue, she couldn't even explain why she gave up resistance. In this chaotic, ambiguous moment, Mo Daoyan held her, leaning over her and pressing her into the cool summer quilt. He let his scalding breath burn from her lips and teeth all the way to her heart. She stared up at the chandelier above, watching the white light dance endlessly, from a point of light to a circle of light, and finally transforming into a halo that swallowed everything.
Her eyes were stung and hurt, but she stubbornly refused to close them.
The moment Mo Daoyan met those eyes, he suddenly woke up. He felt a certain truth from her body, the kind of truth that he didn't want to admit but couldn't ignore. She had never been so calm, or rather, numb and lifeless. A healthy marriage can nourish joy, like fireflies flying into the eyes, while a failed marriage can spawn anger and burn love to ashes. What he gave her was the worst kind, which only bred heart-chilling numbness.
He buttoned her loose clothes one by one, turned over and lay beside her: "What are you thinking about?"
She turned her head and extended her thumb to touch his eyebrows, then lingered between the bridge of his nose and the line of his lips. "How come every part of you is so perfect? One less would be incomplete, one more would be excessive, but the most perfect..." She tapped her finger on his temples. "And here too. The Creator is truly unfair. It's been unfair since the womb."
These words didn't sound like praise to him. She could remain calm during intimacy, and he had already lost miserably. They sounded more like a sarcastic retort that he was "all show and no substance," although he knew that wasn't what she meant. "If it's perfect, why not?"
"I had a dream like that, a few years after we got married, and it was almost the same dream." She sat up, her voice faint, as if she was telling someone else's story. "Even though I knew you were forced into this, that there was no future, that I couldn't see you or keep you, and that even maintaining the marriage was as difficult as climbing to heaven, I kept dreaming of you coming home and telling me we wanted to start over... After waking up, I felt greedy and stupid. This was clearly not what I wanted when I married into this family in the first place. But when I think about it, it's normal. Any woman who encountered this would probably have the same dream."
He raised his hand to touch her face, but it ended up hanging in the air: "Tong Yufei..."
"I've rarely had these dreams this year. The few times I've had them recently were all about exams. Either I forgot to wear shoes when I went out, or I couldn't find my admission ticket. Then the bell rang for the end of the exam, and I hadn't finished the questions yet. The day before yesterday, I dreamed that we were having a wedding, and suddenly I received an exam notice. The emcee was rushing me, and I was so anxious that I actually left the room full of guests and ran to the exam room. When I handed in the paper, I realized that the examiner was you." She hugged her knees tightly, her brows frowning unconsciously. "The remaining consciousness tells me that this is a dream, it's fake, and it's you who is tutoring me. I pinched my palms hard to wake up, but I couldn't. In fact, I won't lose my job if I don't pass the postgraduate entrance examination. There's nothing to be afraid of. But somehow, I still cried until my pillow was wet." She held his hovering hand and gently pressed it against her face. "Isn't my smile ugly? The hustle and bustle of life has almost made me forget how to smile. At least in my dreams, I don't want to be so panicked anymore."
Finally, she said to him word by word, "Mo Daoyan, let me go."
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