Chapter 66 It turns out, not all unrequited love is...
Su Cheng nestled in the sofa, her legs casually draped over the chaise lounge, her whole body sinking into the soft cushions, like a lazy cat.
She was wrapped in a milk-fleece blanket, her fingers idly swiping across her phone screen, casually scrolling through her WeChat Moments.
A muffled thud broke the silence of the room.
The wind howled outside the window. I couldn't tell if it was broken tree branches or clothes that the upstairs neighbor hadn't had time to bring in, but they were being blown hard against the windowpane by the gale.
Linhai experiences several typhoons every year, so she's long been used to this kind of weather.
But as she listened to the increasingly loud wind and rain outside the window, and thought about Jiang Muzhou still driving on the highway, a sense of worry rose in her heart.
Normally, this kind of weather would be perfect for curling up on the sofa, but today she just couldn't settle down.
The cold and fever made her feel terrible all over. She felt dizzy and her nose was completely blocked, making it difficult to even breathe.
She struggled to sit up, wet a washcloth with cold water, and placed it on her burning forehead. But it wasn't long before the washcloth warmed up from her body heat.
Too lazy to get up and change, she simply tore off the now lukewarm washcloth and threw it aside.
Even though I've already taken fever-reducing medication, that inexplicable feeling of panic just won't go away.
She carefully read through all the messages in the rescue station's group chat. There were indeed no new stray cats abandoned at the door today, and no troublemakers came to cause trouble. Everything was peaceful.
But her heart felt like it was suspended in mid-air by an invisible thread, restless and uneasy.
She opened the short video app and found the account of "Muzhou".
She remembers when she first started following this account, she didn't even know who was filming behind the scenes, but she was drawn in by his videos full of stories.
Like a gently unfolding biography, the humanistic memories imbued with the texture of time have a special magic that can always calm a restless mind.
As she swiped her finger, the video's timeline drew closer to the present, and Su Cheng noticed her own image beginning to appear in the frame.
The person who was once high above her, someone she could only look up to from afar, is now so close that it feels like she could reach out and touch him.
He seemed not to mind at all, and so naturally, he let her quietly leave her mark in his world.
In the photo, Yuanbao, wearing a Louis Vuitton monogram necklace, is licking his lips with lingering satisfaction.
It was just an ordinary everyday photo of a kitten, but the comment section was flooded with hundreds of thousands of messages.
She swiped down casually, then suddenly stopped.
This morning, Jiang Muzhou surprisingly replied to a regular question he posted more than two weeks ago: [Question: What is the cat's age and breed? How did you manage to bring it home?]
[Muzhou: It's a five-year-old orange and white tabby cat, left to me by a very important person.]
The comment section immediately exploded:
[Important person? Is it a lover?]
[Could it be a love token cat?]
[Wait... "Left"? Is that person no longer here?]
[Help! My favorite ship can't break up!!]
Some uninformed onlookers also tagged Su Cheng in the comments section.
She stared at the phrase "a very important person," her thumb gently stroking the edge of the screen.
A very important person...
Is it family? Old friends? Or... a former lover?
My thoughts were like a ball of yarn tangled up by a kitten, getting more and more tangled.
It wasn't until her phone started vibrating repeatedly, and private message notifications abruptly pulled her back to reality.
Sweat stains left on the screen by pale fingertips resembled a kind of unspoken anxiety.
Several videos were sent by an unfamiliar account with a completely black profile picture.
Su Cheng stared at the little red dot in the message bar for a few seconds, hesitated, and finally clicked on it.
The moment the video loaded, her pupils contracted sharply, and she gasped for breath.
In the video, a small white cat with blue eyes has its front paws grabbed and twisted into an unnatural angle.
My fingers, which were holding the phone, spasmed as if I had been electrocuted. The phone slammed against my thigh with a "thud," sending a dull pain through me.
The screen remained lit, and the video continued to play.
First, the loudspeaker emitted a crisp "crack" sound of bones breaking, followed by a kitten's sudden, heart-wrenching scream.
The sound was so sharp and piercing, it seemed to penetrate the eardrums and go straight into the brain.
Su Cheng's throat tightened, and a similarly painful wail surged up from the deepest part of her chest, uncontrollably squeezed out between her teeth.
She was trembling all over, and her vision was so blurred that she could barely see the picture.
She squinted, tilted her head, and dared not face it yet had to confirm it.
The little white cat struggling in pain in the picture is clearly the same kitten that she personally took to the hospital yesterday from the bushes in front of the rescue station.
The other two videos started playing automatically.
The little blue cat's tail was stomped off by someone, and the sole of the shoe was maliciously rolled back and forth, with dark red blood seeping from the broken tail.
The little orange cat's legs were purple from being strangled by plastic ropes, which were deeply embedded in its flesh. It could only let out weak, intermittent whimpers.
A message was sent arrogantly from a pure black profile picture:
[You like rescuing stray cats, right? Then go ahead and rescue as many as you want, hahaha]
My throat felt like it was being gripped tightly by an invisible hand, and I felt a sharp, agonizing pain in my stomach.
Su Cheng staggered towards the bathroom, her knees hitting the tiles hard but she didn't feel any pain. She leaned over the toilet and dry heaved, but could only vomit a few mouthfuls of bitter stomach acid. A burning pain spread from her throat to her chest.
Her fingers were still trembling uncontrollably as the cold water was splashed on her face.
She slid down the wall and sat on the floor, her back pressed against the cold tiles.
Just as I expected.
This lunatic watched her rescue videos and deliberately abused the cats to provoke her.
Those bloody and brutal images are like branding irons searing my retina.
The flames of anger surged in his chest, only to be extinguished by an even stronger sense of powerlessness.
She clenched her fists tightly, but couldn't find anyone to vent her anger on, so in the end she could only break down and pound her head.
Her fingernails dug deep into the tender flesh of her palm, leaving crescent-shaped marks of blood, but she felt no pain.
Only overwhelming regret, like the rising tide, repeatedly battered her reason.
If only we hadn't gone to all that trouble to make those videos, those kittens wouldn't have had to suffer like that.
-
In the dark grass, the little white cat with blue eyes lay quietly, its pink nose twitching slightly, and a faint whimper escaping its throat.
Suddenly, a man in black picked it up, roughly grabbed the kitten's front paw, and broke it off without any mercy.
Su Cheng wanted to rush forward to stop him, but her legs felt as heavy as lead, and her throat felt as if it were blocked by a wet cotton ball, making it impossible for her to make a sound.
Crimson tears of blood rolled down from the kitten's blue eyes, the red and blue intertwining to create the most cruel scene, silently telling of the ultimate pain.
"You like playing the savior?" The man in black narrowed his eyes and grinned maliciously. "If you keep meddling, I'll let more cats taste this feeling..."
Su Cheng suddenly woke up from her nightmare.
The pillowcase was soaked with sweat and tears.
She vaguely remembered reporting and blocking the account with the black profile picture and turning off all private messages from strangers, but she couldn't remember how she got back to bed or how she fell asleep.
She clutched her heaving chest, trying to calm herself.
But the waves of sorrow continue to surge.
She curled up in bed, her fingers still trembling slightly uncontrollably.
I glanced at my phone screen; it was almost 11 p.m.
WeChat remained silent. The last message in the pinned chat was from Jiang Muzhou that afternoon, asking when she would arrive home and telling her not to wait.
She desperately wanted to find some trace of him to soothe her emotions, but she dared not open the short video app, fearing that those bloody scenes would appear again.
After hesitating for a long time with his finger hovering above the screen, he finally switched to another application and opened the pet monitoring app for Jiang Muzhou's home.
The screen lit up, and Yuanbao was lazily nestled in the space capsule, his fluffy little paws sticking up high.
Her tense lips finally relaxed, revealing a long-lost smile.
At that moment, Jiang Muzhou's cheerful voice came through the loudspeaker:
Did you miss me?
If you don't answer, I'll take that as a yes.
His gentle voice was like a spring breeze, causing her shoulders to relax unconsciously.
She held her phone even closer, as if that would give her more security.
The only thing visible in the footage is Jiang Muzhou's tall, straight back. He is wearing a black windbreaker, presumably having just returned home.
He bent down and lifted Yuanbao from the space capsule onto the tablet, his slender fingers tearing open the cat treat packaging, while his other hand gently rubbed the kitten's head.
Presumably, those affectionate words were spoken to Yuanbao.
I clearly told him not to kiss and hug Yuanbao when he got home, but it seems he has completely forgotten.
She wiped away the tears on her face with the back of her hand, and checked her forehead; her fever seemed to have subsided a bit.
She took a deep breath, picked up her phone, went into the kitchen, placed it on the dining table, poured herself a glass of warm water, and sipped it.
She cleared her throat and tried to say a few words. Fortunately, her voice was only slightly nasal, and it was unlikely that she had a severe cold.
Should I go find him now?
He's already home, so why hasn't he sent a message?
Was their phone out of battery, or did they forget their promise?
"Yuanbao, be good." Jiang Muzhou's voice became unusually gentle. "When you see Mommy later, be good like last time, okay?"
"Mom loves it when you're being affectionate. Whether you can make Mom like us depends on your performance."
The glass shattered into pieces on the smooth marble tiles.
"Left to me by a very important person."
"I'll see Mom later..."
These two sentences seemed to be on repeat, playing over and over in Su Cheng's mind. Each repetition created another crack in her heart.
She trembled as she exited the surveillance video, opened WeChat, and her chat history with Jiang Muzhou froze on the line, "Don't wait anymore."
So, was Yuanbao left behind by his unforgettable white moonlight?
So, he came back but didn't tell her because he had to keep an appointment with someone else?
The light before my eyes blurred into a hazy mist, and my ears rang with a buzzing sound.
It felt like an invisible weight was pressing down on my chest, and every breath I took was accompanied by pain.
A message from the dessert shop popped up.
[Sorry, the typhoon caused a delivery delay, but the cake has been placed at your doorstep.]
Su Cheng stood there, stunned, her eyelashes trembling violently, and a soreness rising in her nose.
The courage she finally mustered, like this belated cake, ultimately missed its best opportunity.
All the grievances and exhaustion burst forth at this moment, and the last bit of strength that had been held up was drained away.
It turns out that not all unrequited love can wait until the clouds part and the sun shines through.
Some feelings are destined to wither away alone in a corner.
She frantically grabbed the edge of the table, barely managing to steady her swaying body.
She can't stay here any longer.
She couldn't stand the laughter that might be coming from next door, and she didn't want to witness his sweet moments with someone else.
Fighting back her tears, she hastily stuffed a few clothes into her bag and put the Decepticons into the carrier.
Su Cheng took one last look around the apartment filled with memories, then pushed open the door, where the chocolate cake lay forlornly at the entrance.
Tears finally broke through her defenses and streamed down her face.
She glanced at the closed door next door and silently moved her lips:
Happy birthday, and I wish you happiness.
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