entanglements and choices
November 21, 2010, Sunday, 8:30 AM. Jiang Wenqing's fingertips were still white from the effort of ringing the doorbell. The ding-dong sound of the doorbell struck his heart like a hammer, each one prolonging the wait.
Zhou Yang's narrowed eyes as he opened the door already betrayed the chill of confrontation. He stood in the entranceway, his voice rougher than sandpaper, yet shrouded in a frosty coldness: "She's not awake yet."
Jiang Wenqing squeezed through the door and slammed his breakfast onto the table. The sharp, crisp clink of cutlery echoed through the empty living room. "I'll have breakfast with Xiaofeng," he said, his words deliberately slowed down, each word dripping with honey and wrapped in needles. "And homework, shopping..." He counted off on his fingers, unable to read the undercurrent swirling in Zhou Yang's eyes.
"She's coming home with me today." Zhou Yang suddenly cut herself off, turned, and went upstairs to pack her things. When she came back down, she headed straight for the dining table to prepare breakfast. The hum of the range hood stirred the stagnant air, as if accompanying a silent battle.
The sound of slippers tapping could be heard from the second floor, and the door creaked open. Jiang Wenqing jumped up and walked to the stairs, where he saw Xiaofeng appear at the entrance, rubbing her eyes. The bear pattern on her pink pajamas trembled slightly along with her messy, curled hair.
"Wenqing!" Xiaofeng's exclamation instantly made Jiang Wenqing forget all the words he had prepared. He rushed up the stairs in two steps, and the two of them hugged each other tightly in the middle of the stairs. "Wenqing, what's wrong with you...Brother Zhou Yang..." Her voice suddenly got stuck in her throat, as if it had been paused.
With a buzzing sound in his head, Xiaofeng suddenly let go of Jiang Wenqing, turned around and rushed back to the room, slamming the door shut like a frightened deer fleeing in a hurry.
"I want to change clothes, wait for me." Her muffled voice came from inside the door.
"Don't worry, take your time." Jiang Wenqing responded, turned around and went downstairs - he had to have a good talk with Zhou Yang.
Zhou Yang shoveled the fried egg into the plate, and the two sat down across the table, the silence like insoluble ink.
"Zhou Yang, you were not here when I sent Xiaofeng back last night." Jiang Wenqing spoke first.
"It's okay." Zhou Yang used a silver fork to pick at the charred edge of the fried egg. The sound of metal rubbing against the porcelain plate was particularly harsh. "Jiang Wenqing, I just want to ask, are you married?"
"No," Jiang Wenqing answered simply, "The original notarized certificate of singleness is with your uncle."
"Okay." Zhou Yang nodded and continued scratching the plate with his fork. "I'll leave after breakfast."
He paused, looked up at Jiang Wenqing, and said word by word, "The 25th is Xiaofeng's birthday, her 18th. I promised her before that I would give her a car, accompany her to take the driving test, and go on a road trip after the test - don't forget these."
"Um."
Zhou Yang untied his apron and threw it on the dining table, then walked straight to the door. Before closing the door, he uttered a low, silent instruction: "Be nice to her."
Before driving, he left a message to Xiaofeng - I respect your choice.
The car drove back to his villa. When Zhou Yang pushed the door open and walked in, he suddenly breathed a sigh of relief. "Dad, Mom, Xiaofeng and I have broken up." He looked at his parents in the living room. "I promise you, I will be obedient."
Fan Weiwei's laughter was tinged with a subtle hint of disdain. "Great! That saves us from having to call her over today and having to waste time trying to persuade her."
After Zhou Yang left, Jiang Wenqing came to Xiaofeng's door again: "Xiaofeng, Zhou Yang is gone."
The door swung open. Xiaofeng was still in her pajamas, her hair frizzled as if struck by lightning, tears streaking her face. She slowly descended the stairs, holding onto the handrail, intending to wash Zhou Yang's dishes. But when her fingertips touched the cold water from the faucet, the biting chill made her shudder, and tears fell into the sink again.
Jiang Wenqing turned off the faucet, grasped her cold hands, gently took the plate, and dried them with a tissue. He then led her to the dining table and sat down. He leaned over her, one hand supporting the back of her chair, the other rubbing her hands repeatedly on the table, trying to convey some warmth. "It's okay, I'm here." He lowered his head, his warm breath caressing her ear, his voice shrouded in unwavering affection.
Tears streamed down her cheeks like beads from a broken string. Xiaofeng questioned herself repeatedly: I had chosen this path, so why was it so hard? Had I been unfaithful to Zhou Yang? Had I betrayed him? Should I try to save him now? Countless questions entwined themselves like vines, nearly driving her mad. She bit her lip hard to contain her sobs.
Jiang Wenqing gently wiped the tears from her cheeks with his thumb, his voice trembling with heartache: "Don't cry, don't cry... What can I do?" He lowered his head, not daring to look at her red eyes, for fear that he would not be able to hold back his tears.
Xiaofeng was trapped in her own emotions, unable to break free. Jiang Wenqing didn't care about anything else. He reached out and hugged her tightly, his palms gently patting her back rhythmically. "I love you, Xiaofeng," he whispered in her ear, his voice choked with sobs. "Seeing you sad, it hurts me more than anyone else. What can I do to make you happy now? Tell me, I'm willing to do anything."
Xiaofeng's heart suddenly sank, and her crying became louder: "I don't deserve it... I don't deserve it..."
"Wenqing, please go..."
"I'm so tired..."
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