Chapter 18 You'll Regret It
"Yanli, do you know why Zhiyi agreed to get married?" The old man's voice was tinged with weariness.
Huo Yanli raised his eyes.
“It wasn’t to curry favor with the Huo family, it wasn’t for money, it wasn’t for any benefit,” the old man said, emphasizing each word. “She wanted her grandfather to be able to close his eyes in peace when he passed away. She wanted to… prevent an old man who was about to die from leaving with regrets.”
The old man paused, gazing out the window as if looking into the distance: "Her parents passed away early, and her maternal grandfather was her last relative. That old man, before he died, was most worried about his granddaughter being alone in this world, without anyone to rely on. He trusted me and felt that by entrusting Zhiyi to the Huo family, she would have someone to rely on in the future."
He turned back to look at Huo Yanli, his eyes filled with complex emotions: "But what about you? What did you give her? A cold, hard five-year contract, 100,000 yuan a month that she didn't need at all, and... complete indifference."
Huo Yanli felt a tightness in his chest. He picked up his teacup and took another sip; the tea had gone cold and was even more bitter.
“Grandpa,” he put down his cup, his voice a little hoarse, “not everything can go the way you want. Song Zhiyi and I… we are not the same kind of people.”
"How do you know we're not the same kind of people?" the old man retorted. "Do you know her? Do you know what she likes, dislikes, cares about, and dreams? Do you know why she chose to become a diplomat? Why does she repeatedly travel to war-torn regions when she could have stayed in a safe conference room?"
Huo Yanli fell silent.
He truly didn't know. His understanding of her came entirely from secondhand information, fragmented rumors, and other people's opinions.
“You don’t understand,” the old man answered for him. “You haven’t even tried to understand. You just see her as a task that you have to complete, a burden that you can get rid of in five years.”
Silence fell over the study once more. The sunlight shifted slightly, illuminating the rows of yellowed old books on the bookshelf. Many of these books were ones the old man had read in his youth, about war, history, and the path this country had taken.
“Yanli,” the old man spoke slowly, his voice softer than before, yet heavier, “I’m eighty-six this year. I don’t have many years left to live. In my life, I’ve fought wars, shed blood, witnessed too much life and death, and seen too much joy and sorrow. My last wish is to see you… to find someone who truly understands you and whom you can cherish.”
He paused, looking intently at Huo Yanli: "I can't say for sure that Zhiyi is the one. But if you're not even willing to get to know her, not even willing to try... one day you'll regret it."
He spoke the word "regret" very softly, yet it was like two pebbles thrown into Huo Yanli's heart.
Huo Yanli lowered his eyes, looking at his hands resting on his knees. Long, slender fingers with distinct knuckles—hands that had made countless business decisions. But now, those hands suddenly felt empty.
“Grandpa,” he finally spoke, his voice low, “I promise you, when she comes back… I will try… to fulfill my basic duties as a husband. But I can’t guarantee anything more.”
The old man looked at him for a long time before letting out a soft sigh.
The sigh was soft, yet it seemed to carry so much—regret, anticipation, helplessness, and the unspeakable wisdom accumulated over the years.
“That’s enough,” the old man said. “Taking the first step is enough.”
He picked up the now-cold tea, took a slow sip, then put down the cup and waved his hand: "Go on, get on with your work. This old man is too long-winded."
Huo Yanli stood up, picked up the suit jacket draped over the back of the chair, and stopped when he reached the door.
"Grandpa," he turned around, "how have you been lately?"
The old man smiled, a smile that held both relief and a hint of bitterness: "It's alright. I'll be able to hold on until I see the two of you... at least until we're not so strangers anymore."
Huo Yanli nodded, pushed open the door, and left.
The corridor was dimly lit, and the distinctive smell of wood from the old house lingered in the air. He walked slowly, his leather shoes making a dull thud on the wooden floor.
My grandfather's last words kept echoing in my mind: "You will regret this."
What is there to regret?
Regret for not cherishing this arranged marriage? Regret for not showing concern for a woman who didn't want his concern at all? Or regret... missing out on someone who might have been very important?
Huo Yanli walked to the front hall and, through the carved wooden window, saw the old locust tree in the courtyard. Most of its leaves had turned yellow, rustling in the autumn wind, with a few occasionally falling and swirling on the stone pavement.
He suddenly remembered that the day he got his marriage certificate two years ago was also in autumn.
The same sunshine, the same wind.
The woman, wearing a white shirt, signed the papers, checked her watch, and said, "Sorry, I have to catch a flight."
When he turned to leave, his back was straight, and he showed no sign of lingering.
It's been two years.
She's coming back soon.
How should he face her then? Should he maintain that cold, businesslike distance? Or should he really try, as his grandfather said, to... understand her?
Huo Yanli stood still for a long time.
Sunlight streamed through the windowpane, casting interplay of light and shadow on him.
And somewhere in my heart, in that corner tightly sealed by the "five-year agreement," a thin crack seemed to have appeared.
A sliver of light shone through, a light he himself was unaware of.
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