Chapter 24: Home
The sunset was broken, and the blood was put into the lamp, and it was burned, and a world of blood was poured out.
The window glass, which had not been washed for a long time, was covered in dust. The sunset was filtered through a layer of black and white, and it was scattered. The floor in front of the floor-to-ceiling window was a bloody mess.
She was hugging her legs, and her head was resting on her knees. Her body was in the floating light in front of the window, and the living room behind her was in a deep shadow. Her delicate toes were on the floor, and they were cold and white. She parted her messy black hair, and her pale skin was gloomy.
The stuffy smell of wine was fermenting in the dim and unclear, small space. Her hand, which was reaching for the shadow, stopped. Her gaze slowly moved to the side of her feet. The black and white screen was dim, and the full screen of messages could not be erased, nor could she reply.
…
“You should think about resigning. The opportunity is not easy. Don’t be impulsive…”
“Hello, Ms. Xia. Your appointment at the hospital has expired. Please reschedule…”
“Qian Ge, the class is planning a class reunion. Do you have time recently?”
…
She flipped through it, and her gaze was slightly stagnant on the latest message. She couldn’t find his. A bright red thing in her chest twitched, and a gloomy haze was in her eyes.
She loved him to the bone, and she was more and more irritable, and she was also good at calculating. She was slowly becoming unlike her. In the end, a few people could easily replace her. She reflected, but she still didn’t know her mistake. She could only fall into a state of self-abandonment. But where was he? It was dark, and it was so cold.
In the end, she was like a drowning person. She was fumbling for the shadow by her hand, and she had touched a cold can. She had shaken it, and it was empty.
The quietness was suppressed to the extreme, and it could also be ground into a deadly knife. It had cut open her frail and weak skin, and it had exposed the violent nature of her background.
Her hand suddenly flung out, and the phone was like a brick. It had hit the ground hard, and the screen had suddenly turned black. It had shattered into pieces of glass. After a shrill scream, it had splashed and had cut her calf, and a bright red blood had seeped out, and it had defiled the white.
She had tilted her head and had stared. The blood beads had reflected her face, and after a long time, she had smiled. The red was like a rotten jam, and it had rotted to the root and had turned black. It was not like a human’s madness.
After a long time, she had propped herself up with her frail bones. The door had been closed with a clang, and the house had become dark again.
…
It had started to drizzle shortly after she had left. The sunset had set.
The rain had washed the tall buildings, and the blood color had been washed away. The world had returned to its original gray.
The department store was not far from the neighborhood. She had crossed a road, and the crowd with umbrellas was sparse. She was holding an umbrella, and she was in the crowd. She was very, very thin, like a piece of white paper.
She had gone straight to the wine counter. On the way, she had bought some instant food, which was enough for two days. The cart was full, and most of it was wine.
The cashier had looked at her with surprise, and the scanner had slowly stopped. “Um… do you want all of this wine?”
“Yeah, I want it all.”
Xia Qiange had nodded, and her voice was hoarse and weak. Her thin eyelids were sleepy, as if she had not yet sobered up. There was a chaotic and incessant sound of discussion in her ear, about her, her casual style, her unclean dress, her decadent spirit… those secular and shameful things were restraining her.
She had lowered her eyes, and she was nonchalant. She had loved him to the point of depression, and in the end, she was willing to self-destruct.
She had scratched her messy hair, and her hair was messy. In the end, she had picked up the packed plastic bag and had left the counter.
The crowd in the supermarket was dense. A black shadow had followed her, and he had pulled down the brim of his hat. He had followed her at a not-so-far distance, and they had disappeared together in the rushing crowd.
It was still raining, and the wind had started to blow. The drizzling raindrops were slanting and were wetting her trouser legs. The bald branches with tender buds were swaying, and they were scraping against the window of the bus. She was a small and thin one, and she was hunched over, as if she would be blown away by the wind.
The traffic light had turned green, and the crowd had immediately started to move. The narrow road at the crossroads was swept by a huge and dark crowd. He was behind the crowd, and he was always staring at the pale yellow umbrella that he had bought for her.
Looking at the surging crowd, her hand, which was holding the umbrella, was trembling and was unable to support it. The hand that was holding the handle of the umbrella was also shaking, and her shoulders were trembling. The surface of the umbrella was uncontrollably buried low. She was like a fragile reed, and she could not withstand the wind and rain. But what was supporting her? She was still living with an unwillingness.
In the last few seconds of the traffic light countdown, a man who was in a hurry was walking very fast. He was rushing, and he had accidentally bumped into her, who was slender. It was almost visible to the naked eye. She had stumbled back a few steps, and she had not fallen down. But her gait was still slightly swaying.
The thin plastic bag she was holding in her hand could not withstand the impact. It had been worn out, and a lot of wine had fallen out. The iron cans were rolling on the road. She had subconsciously chased after them for a few steps, and then she had given up with a pant. She had slowly squatted down and had saved the other wine and had held it in her arms.
The umbrella had accidentally slipped from her hand, and it had been rolled away by the wind. The raindrops were falling, and they had quickly wet her shoulders. The pedestrians were in a hurry, and their wet shoe surfaces were not stopping under her eyes. She, who was thin, was suddenly and conspicuously out of place in the crowd.
The gray and white water mist was decadent and bleak. He was looking at her from a distance. He was looking at the back of her shoulders, which were slightly heaving. It was as if she were sobbing, or perhaps it was just the rainwater that had wet the corners of her eyes. It was too far away, and he couldn’t see clearly.
A moment later, he had wanted to go up. He had seen a passing auntie pick up the umbrella and hand it back to her, and she had also put the things in a new plastic bag.
He had seen her disappear into the crowd again. He had lowered his eyes, and his fingers were tightened. His joints were well-defined, as if his flesh and blood would break apart.
…
When he had entered the corridor, the sky was dark and black. The voice-activated lights in the corridor were as if they had lost their sensitivity. They would only light up when he had stepped on them hard. She was holding the bag with one hand, and she was so exhausted that her nerves were soft. She was so weak that she couldn’t make the lights light up. She had to walk under the flickering lights.
The raindrops were hitting the glass with a trickling and dragging sound. She had suddenly stopped at the top of the stairs, and she was covering her lower abdomen with an uncomfortable look. Then, the cramping pain had gone straight to her heart, and her heart was in so much pain that it was as if it would burst.
She was pressing her hoarse throat, and it was hard to bear. The light above her head had suddenly lit up, and her forehead was covered in a cold sweat. Her wet hair was drooping at the corners of her lips, and she was biting it.
It had come and gone quickly. She had come back to her senses in the aftertaste of the pain. She had licked the blood at the corners of her lips, and her back was drenched in a wet sweat. She had fallen to the ground, and she was panting heavily. She didn’t care about the dirt. She was leaning against the wall, and her cheeks were wet with the rainwater from outside the window.
…
Su Yu, I think I’m about to die.
They said I should go to the hospital, but I know it has nothing to do with my body.
I can often see two of me. One of them is slowly swallowing the other. My reason, my faith, my feelings… are all about to disappear.
I’m in so much pain.
You save me.
…
She had opened a can of wine. The sound of the broken can was crisp, as if it were celebrating her precarious life. She had looked at it under the light. The yellowish wine was clear, and there were white bubbles floating on it.
She had held it to her lips and had raised her head, intending to gulp it down.
Later, someone had stopped her wine. A long and slender hand with well-defined joints was on her wrist. The familiar scent was inhaled into her lungs through her nose, and she was suddenly even thirstier.
A cool hand was on her pale cheek, and her voice was ahead of the light.
The voice was hoarse and old, and it had a familiar sandy and miscellaneous sound, and it was filled with an extremely suppressed sadness.
“Don’t drink.”
She squinted her eyes and smiled. The dimples on her face, which had not much flesh left, were even deeper.
“You’re back?”
