Chapter 69. Tell me where you are.
Wen Jia hadn't been sleeping well these past few days, frequently waking up in the middle of the night. As soon as she opened her eyes, she instinctively reached out to the side, but before she felt the coolness beside her, she felt two burning hot lines on her cheeks.
She didn't understand what was wrong with her; tears would flow naturally, and her nose would sting whenever that familiar face flashed in her mind.
He Lingyi would video call her every day or two as usual. When the phone rang, Wen Jia would have to tidy herself up for a while before daring to answer.
She tried her best to smile brightly and speak softly, everything she did was just right. But what mother doesn't know her daughter? He Lingyi didn't say anything, but after hanging up the video call, she went to look at her daughter's WeChat Moments, and everything seemed normal.
However, her latest post on WeChat Moments has disappeared.
I checked her studio's Weibo account again and found that the ribbon-cutting video had also disappeared.
She secretly sent a message to Yu Kaiqing, asking no questions, only telling her to take good care of Wen Jia.
Wen Jia didn't want to cause trouble for Yu Kaiqing, so she obediently ate, exercised, and slept. However, Yu Kaiqing could tell that she was keeping her emotions bottled up inside.
Later, worried about her condition, she simply moved to her room and slept with her.
That night, the biting wind howled outside. Wen Jia got out of her warm bed without waking Yu Kaiqing.
She stayed on the balcony for a while, dressed almost in thin clothes, but didn't feel cold. She nestled in the rocking chair, looking at his WeChat Moments on her phone screen.
He should have deleted that official announcement post on his WeChat Moments. A man like him always handles things with impeccable skill; he shouldn't leave any traces.
But he didn't delete it; he left it there, as if nothing had happened.
She couldn't resist clicking on the photo to look at it. The man and woman reflected in the glass window looked like a perfect match, even to herself.
Then, she quietly walked to the living room and sat down in front of the piano.
She still loved it so much, carefully opening the key cover.
The tranquil moonlight illuminated her slender figure, and her loose black hair made her arms appear even thinner, almost revealing their gaunt contours, making one wonder if she even had the strength to press the piano keys.
The drooping neck revealed a beautiful section of the cervical vertebrae.
She played slowly, and although it was a cheerful and lighthearted piece, inexplicably, a tear fell between the keys.
After realizing what had happened, she hurriedly wiped it away.
He said the piano would last a very long time, and its tone wouldn't change even if it wasn't played. But now she was a little confused, wondering if her tears would go out of tune.
She stared blankly at the piano for a long time.
After playing the piano for a while, she went into the study and took something out of the drawer.
It was Daniel who handed it to her.
She flipped through the pages, her gaze lingering only on one of the sheets, meticulously tracing the man's face.
She didn't dare to look at too many, setting a rule for herself to only look at one or two pictures a day.
He wasn't a celebrity, and she was afraid she would never see him again in the future. The photo album would become her only way to reminisce about him, so she was like a miser, extremely stingy with this little bit of novelty.
After looking at it for a while, she finally turned the photo over. The back was blank, and she took out a pencil as usual.
The handwriting is as messy as the thoughts in one's mind:
"Xu Shaoting, I miss you so much. I don't know how many days it has been since we separated, but I know that this is the number of times I have opened this photo album."
I just remembered what Daniel said: "Give the photo album to your future partner."
If you get married someday, should I give it to your wife?
After thinking about it for a long time, I decided to hide it.
But I don't want to think about how you would coax your wife if she found out. Maybe you would still be gentle and patient.
I'm petty and selfish; I have absolutely no desire to let you be with her.
But I had no choice but to comply.
This is not the first time she has written on the back of a photo since the breakup.
Several other photos were scattered on the desk.
The back of the first one:
"Xu Shaoting, I didn't tell you why we broke up. Will you blame me? You should be high and mighty, not dragged down by me."
The second back:
"Xu Shaoting, I often think, how wonderful it would be if you and I were just ordinary people, maybe we could really go to a small island and live the life we want."
The third one on the back:
"Xu Shaoting, last night I dreamt that we lived together on a small island. The island was sunny, and we lived in a white house. When we opened the window, we could see the azure sea. Every morning I would wake up to the sound of the waves, and I would always smell the aroma of coffee before falling into your arms."
I dreamt that you taught me how to fish during the day, but I really didn't have much patience and always stole glances at your profile more than at the float on the sea. I also dreamt that in the evening we sat side by side on the beach watching the sunset, watching the sky gradually change from orange-red to purple-pink.
In my dreams, there is no weight of reality, only the sea breeze, the sunshine, and your gaze.
When I finally ran out of dreams left, I knew it was almost dawn and I was about to wake up.
I will eat well, work hard, and live well.
You should too.
I'm calm, but I always feel that the sunshine on that little island will probably linger in my heart for a lifetime.
The fourth one on the back:
"Xu Shaoting, the day I told you we might meet again, I was lying to you. We probably won't meet again."
That day I told you to forget me, but I was lying. I don't want you to forget me at all, even if you really get married and have children.
Of all the things I said that day, only the one sentence, "I hope you're happy," was truly sincere.
After finishing writing, she carefully put the photo back into the plastic wrap.
Finally, like a drowning person clinging to a piece of driftwood, he fell asleep clutching that photo album.
-
He Lingyi was still worried about Wen Jia, so she drove to the villa herself early the next morning.
In the morning light, Wen Jia was having breakfast with Yu Kaiqing at the dining table.
She looked up. "Mom, why did you come all of a sudden?"
He Lingyi pretended nothing was wrong, saying, "I finally got to see you after you finished filming."
She spoke casually, but her hand involuntarily rose and lovingly stroked her daughter's hair.
“I’ve been dreaming about you not eating or sleeping well these past few days, and I’m very worried.”
"Dreams are always the opposite, Mom."
"Are you eating well and sleeping well?"
Wen Jia paused in her hand holding the spoon, her expression unchanged. "There's nothing wrong with it."
He Lingyi hit the nail on the head, "Then why did you change your profile picture to black?"
Wen Jia said in a serious tone, "I'm implying to others that I'm on vacation during this period, so don't contact me about work."
"Alright," He Lingyi interrupted softly, "I think you're just in a bad mood."
"I'm really in a bad mood. I've been reading a new script lately, but I'm not quite getting the hang of the character, so it's a bit frustrating," Wen Jia wiped her mouth and calmly asked, "Mom, do you think that when you love someone, you should consider their future or the relationship between the two of you?"
The topic changed abruptly, catching He Lingyi off guard. She paused for a moment and subconsciously glanced at Yu Kaiqing.
Yu Kaiqing didn't dare to say anything, her face buried in her hands as she focused intently on the oatmeal in her bowl.
"...It's a character in my new drama. The female lead finds herself choosing between the male lead and her future. She wants to selfishly be with him, but she can't bear to ruin his future."
"How was the script written?" He Lingyi cleared her throat and asked.
"The script says... she rationally chose to break up. Do you think she did the right thing?"
To be fair, He Lingyi has never faced such a choice for any man in her life, so she can only analyze objectively: "Being with him is loving him, and choosing to break up for his future is also loving him. Nannan, there is no right or wrong in relationships."
"Hmm, so which one do you think you love more?"
He Lingyi said in a drawn-out tone, "She definitely chooses to let go and love more. If she chooses to let go, she will also have to endure a lot of pain."
At that moment, He Lingyi knew that her worst fears had come true. She tried to pretend she didn't know, but a lump formed in her throat, and she immediately looked away from Wen Jia, afraid that if she looked at her any longer, tears would fall.
"What happens later in the script?" she asked, composing herself.
“I don’t know,” Wen Jia shook her head. “I’ve only seen the first half. Do you think these two will end up together?”
Only after she said it did she realize how pointless her question was.
"Why worry about this kind of question? Just act according to the script."
He Lingyi didn't want her to get any deeper into trouble.
"Why can't we dwell on it?" Wen Jia sniffed.
"Mom, even actors feel resentful."
He Lingyi suddenly turned her back, one hand wiping something on her cheek.
The restaurant was silent for two seconds, then Wen Jia's voice rang out again:
“You’re right, Mom. I shouldn’t dwell on these kinds of questions. My job is to act according to the script.”
Yu Kaiqing ate and listened attentively, but the mother and daughter's conversation was full of hidden meanings and roundabout ways, leaving her completely confused.
She thought Wen Jia was truly over it. Until that evening, when she heard a voice say:
"Kaiqing, I'm going to Switzerland in a couple of days."
What are you going to Switzerland for?
"Go for a walk to clear your head."
"Didn't you say you weren't going to worry about it anymore?"
Wen Jia smiled at her, "So I'm going to Switzerland, to make one last decision."
-
In early December, the sky over Zurich was not clear, even somewhat grayish. The chill was dry and sharp, permeating every corner of the city.
Wen Jia exhaled a puff of white breath, got into a taxi, and gave the driver the address of a hotel.
She changed into the trench coat she had worn during her last visit to the riverbank before heading to the Limmat River.
Half an hour later, the car stopped in front of the Mühlesteg bridge.
The banks of the Limmat River are still pleasant and romantic, but she is all alone and seems a bit out of place.
Her trench coat belt hung loosely, occasionally fluttering in the wind. She put her hands in her pockets and slowly walked to the center of the bridge.
The love locks were still eye-catching, and there seemed to be more of them than when she came with him last time.
I wonder how many new couples were formed this year.
The lock seller continued to tirelessly greet each passing couple until his gaze fell upon Wen Jia.
“Hey, ma’am.” He smiled at Wenjia.
Wen Jia stopped and looked at him, asking in English, "Do you remember me?"
The middle-aged man chuckled twice, with a touch of exaggeration: "I can remember every couple who bought a lock from me! I pray to God that they will stay together forever."
She didn't know how to respond to the second half of his sentence, so she could only reply with the first half, "Good memory."
"Besides, you have a beautiful Eastern face, yet you had long, pure gold hair that was hard to forget. Now you've dyed it back to black. If I'm not mistaken, you must be from Korea? Or China?"
“China,” Wen Jia gently brushed her black hair from her shoulder, “but the last time I came was almost a year ago. Do you remember?”
The uncle hummed in agreement. "Time moves very slowly here, so slowly that as I watch people come and go every day, I remember each person's story more clearly."
"So, I also remember the man who was standing next to you back then."
Wen Jia lowered her eyelashes, cupped her hands to her lips and breathed out warm air, then put them in her pocket. She heard him say again:
"He's very tall and handsome."
Her nose was slightly red from the cold, and her bare face appeared even paler in the cold wind. Hearing this, she smiled faintly, but didn't reply, nor did she dare to listen to him continue asking questions. She turned around and walked straight back towards the lock.
She witnessed a white couple happily hanging two interlocking locks on.
"Is this still hanging? Can it be untied?" she asked, staring blankly.
The white couple looked at her, puzzled.
She then realized her abruptness; the question seemed very ominous. She explained to them, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean anything by it. I just broke up with my boyfriend and wanted to untie it."
The white man across from her tightened his grip on his girlfriend's hand, said the ever-present "sorry to hear that," and then said, "If you came all this way just to unlock it, I think that's perhaps the meaning behind this lock's existence."
After saying that, he took the woman's hand and left.
The passerby was more insightful than her, and the uncle was more open-minded than her. She smiled and gave up the idea of asking the uncle if the lock could be unlocked. She simply reached out and held the golden lock engraved with his name in her palm.
The metal was soaked by the cold wind and was chillingly cold, but she didn't let go for a moment.
It wasn't reluctance, but rather a resolute farewell.
People came and went on the bridge, hurrying along, as the winter wind swept across its surface. They glanced at her, then continued on their way.
The middle-aged man stood opposite, his eyes acting as a natural viewfinder. The figures of passersby flowed in the gray sky, their outlines blurred and faces indistinct, forming a blurred background. Only she stood fixedly before that shimmering lock wall, like the sole focus in the lens.
Pedestrians came and went, until the lock was warm from her touch. Then she slowly bent down and placed a kiss on his name.
Then he walked away without looking back.
She left so resolutely, without any intention of looking back. So she didn't see that, just as her figure disappeared along the Limmat River, a black Bentley pulled up where she had just gotten out of the taxi.
The man stepped down and walked towards the bridgehead, as if guided by some unseen force, heading straight for the love locks.
His steps were steady and without any hesitation.
Until the lock seller also stopped him.
"Hey—" He stared at the man in front of him for a long time, scrutinizing him closely to make sure he hadn't mistaken him for someone else.
Xu Shaoting stopped, narrowed his eyes slightly, and asked him the same question, "You still remember me?"
The man's face was filled with astonishment. He even forgot to speak English and muttered in German, "Can such a coincidence really happen in the world?"
Xu Shaoting understood, "A coincidence?"
“I not only remember you, but I also remember your girlfriend,” the man swallowed, adding incredulously, “The coincidence is that she was just here.”
Under the gray sky, Xu Shaoting slowly raised his eyes to look at him. His expression, which had been suppressed for many days, wavered at this moment. He spoke English, albeit slowly and deliberately, "Just now, you meant…"
“Right now,” the uncle said before he could finish.
Xu Shaoting felt as if fresh blood was being injected into his long-numbed heart, causing it to pound wildly again. With this tremor in his chest, he stumbled back two steps, incredulously retreating to the wall of love locks. He turned, his gaze sweeping eagerly across the lock wall, pinpointing precisely the pair that belonged to them.
To his relief, the two locks remained tightly clasped together.
He reached out and touched the one engraved with her name; it was icy cold.
My fingertips trembled as I touched the warm handkerchief engraved with my name.
Xu Shaoting's heart was pounding uncontrollably. He turned around abruptly, his voice almost urgent: "Is she alone?"
"one person."
Do you know why she came here?
“I don’t know,” the man shrugged. “I only saw her standing here alone for a very long time.”
Xu Shaoting's pupils suddenly contracted. "Which direction did she go?"
The middle-aged man pointed to his left without hesitation.
Xu Shaoting didn't even have time to thank him before quickly leaving the bridge.
As he passed the Bentley, the driver, who was shaking hands with him, noticed his coat was being blown around by the wind. He had just called out "Chairman Xu" when the tall figure disappeared into the sparse crowd on the street, leaving only his back view.
Xu Shaoting knew that this direction led to Bahnhofstrasse, the street they had strolled together on.
In that instant, he thought about many things.
Why did she come? Was she like him, coming here to clear her head and find memories? Or... for some kind of complete farewell and liberation?
He dared not dwell on the second possibility, his steps quickening yet steady, his expensive custom-made leather shoes clicking on the wet cobblestones, carrying an unwavering resolve as he abruptly turned onto Bahnhofstrasse.
It was afternoon, the sky was a somber gray, and a light drizzle, like an endless thread, shrouded the entire street in a hazy mist.
The streets were deserted because of the weather. Xu Shaoting's eyes swept quickly and greedily over every corner and every figure—an elderly person walking slowly with an umbrella, a tourist standing in front of a shop window, a commuter hurrying to work... none of them were her.
Xu Shaoting forced himself to calm down, tried to broaden his perspective, focused on the pedestrians' hair color, and attempted to find a pure black.
He blinked, and finally, out of the corner of his eye, he seemed to catch a glimpse of a slender figure in a trench coat flashing past across the street.
My heart was pounding wildly in my chest, almost shattering my ribs.
He immediately lifted his foot to walk across the street.
However, an untimely blue and white tram slowly drove past him along the tracks.
It stood precisely between him and that figure.
The shadowy figures of cars loomed in the distance, and through the rain-blurred windows, the world appeared fragmented, shaky pieces. He stared intently at the other side, trying to penetrate the barrier and lock onto that figure.
The tram had passed its last stop in front of him when suddenly the transparent window disappeared, and he could no longer see the other side.
In the blink of an eye, the tram had completely passed, and the world was pieced back together.
But across the street, it was completely empty.
Xu Shaoting took a few deep breaths, not having time to think much, and dialed her number on WeChat.
He walked briskly, holding his phone tightly to his ear, the cold wind whipping his coat and tie in one direction.
The call went unanswered. Undeterred, he dialed a second and a third time. On the last attempt, before the ringing finished, he hung up and typed a few words before sending them:
"You are in Zurich."
He used a declarative sentence, very confidently.
Tell me where you are.
Half an hour passed, and the two messages disappeared without a trace; he received no response whatsoever.
He held his phone, taking two steps to glance at the screen, then five steps to redial.
They searched every alleyway on Bahnhofstrasse where they had strolled together, one step at a time.
I almost wanted to shout her name out on the streets of this foreign land.
But they still didn't see the person they were looking for.
The wind stopped.
His tie fell loose, his clothes gathered, his breathing became even, and his heartbeat slowed.
Xu Shaoting held his phone, his steps still steady, his posture still upright, but his aura seemed to have been drained of all warmth, and his face was filled with a restrained blankness.
He walked back slowly to the banks of the Limmat River.
Just after his figure disappeared around the corner of Bahnhofstrasse, in the shadows of a narrow alleyway next door, barely wide enough for a few people to walk side by side,
A woman in a trench coat covered her lips tightly, her fingertips turning white from the force.
Her back was trembling slightly, unable to contain herself.
-
She saw him.
The instant she received his call, she turned around and, through her disheveled hair, saw the figure that had appeared countless times in her dreams.
He was so eager, so focused, that he didn't even glance at the dark side road.
In a fleeting glance, she saw his profile was tense, revealing a panic and resolve she had never seen before.
She missed him terribly, but she no longer had the courage to approach him.
Wen Jia leaned against the cold, damp wall, as if only in this way could she support her limp body. Tears welled up silently, sliding down her cheeks, mingling with the icy raindrops, creating a salty, bitter mixture.
He was looking for her. This realization was like a sharp saw, repeatedly cutting into her heart, the cuts fine and intricate, weaving a blood-red mist. His two brief yet weighty messages weighed heavily on her, making it hard for her to breathe.
He knew. He knew she was in Zurich.
But then what?
It takes courage to reunite, but it takes even more courage to say goodbye.
She was hiding here now, whether lacking the former or struggling to cultivate the latter, she couldn't tell. She only felt cold, a cold that seeped from the inside out; the rain seemed to have soaked through her trench coat, chilling her to the bone.
They are two people who are destined not to be together.
Even if we meet again, all I can ask is, "How are you?"
What difference does it make whether she gets a good or bad answer? She couldn't figure it out.
Saying goodbye won't change the established facts. Saying goodbye is meaningless. It will only drag each other down.
She didn't want the two of them to see each other again, separate again, and suffer pain again.
She saw through this relationship too clearly; she came to say goodbye.
We cannot give up all our previous efforts.
I can't see him.
After that day, Wen Jia stood in the alley for a long time until her tears dried. She put on a mask, bought an umbrella, and walked alone down the entire Bahnhofstrasse. Finally, she returned to the restaurant where he had confessed his love to her.
This time, she had no special privileges, and the waiter didn't have the same good memory as the locksmith who could recognize her.
She hesitated at the door for a long time before finally stepping into the restaurant.
Fortunately, the rain stopped, and she was given the same spot on the second-floor terrace as before.
"Madam, are you alone?" the blonde, blue-eyed waiter asked politely, carrying a tray.
Wen Jia nodded gently, "Alone."
It was then that she realized how popular this restaurant was, with every seat occupied both upstairs and downstairs.
It was then that she realized that the restaurant's original menu was just typical Western food, unlike what she had enjoyed that night.
It was then that she realized the restaurant wasn't as romantic as she had imagined. Without the deliberate addition of candles and flowers, her exquisite imagination had nowhere to rest.
Beside her seat, the rose-colored flowers never faded, still blooming beautifully. She reached out and pinched the raindrops off the tips of the petals, then looked into the distance.
Cast your gaze towards the distant horizon, to the spot where the heart-shaped fireworks burst that day.
Throw it at the bell at the top of the old church.
Then cast your vote at the people who stood downstairs cheering for them on that day.
Her gaze carried a memory, so precise and perfectly timed. But sometimes, life's surprises require a touch of the unexpected. If her gaze had shifted even slightly, it wouldn't have been hard to notice the direction parallel to the rose-colored flowers...
A black Bentley was parked quietly.
Inside the car, the man tilted his head slightly and, through the dark windows and the gaps in the flowers, saw the figure that haunted his dreams.
There will be no corner in this world where he can't find her; he meant what he said.
Xu Shaoting leaned back in his seat, his gaze instantly locking onto the woman's figure, and the car fell into a deathly silence.
She knew he was in Switzerland too, she knew he was looking for her.
But she refused to see him.
Or rather, she never dared to see him again.
After an unknown amount of time, he looked away, his long, slender fingers already opening the Bentley's door, but he stopped in his tracks.
Fatal questions kept surfacing in his mind.
Does she really want to see me? Do I really want to force her to do something she doesn't want to do?
He asked himself this question in his heart.
Finally, he slammed the car door shut and looked up at that figure once more. A long time passed, perhaps long enough for her image to be deeply imprinted in his eyes.
He withdrew his gaze, gritted his teeth, and commanded, word by word:
"drive."
-----------------------
Author's Note: Please be patient, the current plot serves as a prelude to what follows. Currently, Mr. Xu believes the breakup is due to Jiajia prioritizing her career. In his view, this is a situation neither of them can change, and he will respect her choice, therefore he won't rashly confront her.
Chairman Xu is a restrained and patient man. In his letter, he also said that it would be enough to just take a look from afar. In addition, the two of them need an opportunity to meet and clear up the misunderstanding. This opportunity will come soon! Chairman Xu will know the real reason why Jiajia broke up with him. At that time, the situation will be able to change for him!
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