Chapter 50: Let Me Tell You

“Ah?”

“That’s when you find a boyfriend, but he’s a total loser. Even the tiniest things require you to get up and handle them. The annoyance you felt just now was a 1, but dating annoyance is an 800. But if it’s just you alone, you don’t have to serve anyone else. You only think about yourself—eat when you want, get up when you want. No one mocks you, no one treats you like a slave.”

I fell silent for a moment. “But the one being served is better off than being alone, right? He must really want to date. Why should I assume I’m the one getting up to pour tea and water?”

“Do you even believe what you’re saying?”

Gan Ling was lying with her back to me. I thought it over and grudgingly admitted, “What if the person I meet doesn’t mock me like that? What if we serve each other? Out of love, doing things for each other. Both sides get to enjoy being taken care of, even if it means a little sacrifice of freedom…”

“You said it yourself—’what if.'” Gan Ling’s words were airtight. She was dead set on the idea that dating and marriage could only end badly, using that as her basis to gently mock me and remind me how unwise it was to go out with Li Yongquan in a week.

But thinking about how she’d deliberately left me out of things, and stuff related to Zheng Chenggang, I got a bit sulky and deliberately argued back, “Anyway, I think that male colleague of mine is pretty nice. We’re definitely not getting married—he’s seven years younger than me. Or maybe I’m just enjoying some youthful passion? After all, I’ve been single for six years…”

“Do you even believe that?” Gan Ling asked lightly, turning around to look at me coldly.

Even sleeping with Lu Jinshi, who liked me so much, had tormented me for seven years. Suddenly saying I wanted to hook up with some young guy… yeah, full of holes. I tried to sound bold and rebellious, but Gan Ling knew the conservative, retreating side of me too well.

After a standoff, I admitted I’d been a bit broken down. I nearly whined at her like a resentful wife about how she’d gone after the killer without telling me. But the words reached my lips, and I held them back. We were on vacation—I didn’t want to bring it up and make things awkward.

I could only stay silent. After a while, I finally admitted, “I feel a bit lonely.”

Gan Ling raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

I didn’t answer why. I just added an annotation to my loneliness. “I know that in the past seven years, I haven’t wanted a man at all. I’m not actually trying to date that male colleague. He just asked me out, and I happened to… feel very lonely. Like fate had arrived. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I used to think living alone was fine, but lately, even chatting with friends feels… like there’s an emptiness in my heart. I need to stay intimate with someone to feel okay. I’m really sad.”

It felt like I’d told an abstract story, so instinctively, I tried to find something concrete to explain to the girl in front of me, making it straightforward. “It’s like I was a fish in a perfect glass tank before. Then one day, the tank broke, and the water kept leaking out. I didn’t feel any danger, didn’t feel much even as I was about to die. Then someone started adding water to the tank, and suddenly I was alive again. But right then, the person adding water left, and the water kept leaking… And just at that moment, there’s another tank outside with a fish inviting me over.”

Realizing I’d analyzed my inner self too much, I closed my eyes and turned my back to Gan Ling, pretending I was done talking and going to sleep.

“Why not let the person who added water fix the tank?”

“It’s just a metaphor, just a metaphor… not that precise.”

How could the tank be fixed? Zheng Ningning’s death had shattered something in my heart forever.

After a long silence, the topic naturally flipped to the next page.

In the middle of the night, I started feeling itchy on my body, concentrated on my arms and the back of my neck. I scratched a few times, but for some reason, it got itchier and itchier—not mosquitoes. The itch felt like moss crawling on my skin, curling and burning. The more I scratched, the more it grew. My movements woke Gan Ling. She turned on the bedside lamp. “What’s wrong?”

I slowly scratched my arm, unable to reach my back. Gan Ling raised an eyebrow. “Fleas?”

Before I could answer, she’d turned on the main light and shone her phone flashlight on me. I squinted uncomfortably, rubbing my arms. Gan Ling lifted my arm to inspect it and, under the light, saw a string of tiny pimples beneath the scratches.

Her fingertips were ice-cold, pressing unquestioningly on the back of my neck. The coolness dispersed the itch. I felt a bit embarrassed and pulled a pillow over my head, like an ostrich sticking up its butt and burying its head, exposing my allergic skin to Gan Ling.

It was sunburn. I had ointment in my bag.

I’d had too much fun in the water today; the sunlight filtering through the glass venue had directly harmed me. When Gan Ling squeezed the ointment onto the back of my neck, a cool sensation from the medicine box spread out. I stretched my arms and lay flat.

She squeezed out a strip of milky-white ointment and pulled my collar down. I fumbled to unbutton, but Gan Ling simply wiped the strip onto her index finger. Once I took off my top and lay down again, she disdainfully reapplied the ointment.

Under the light, Gan Ling looked closely at my back—it seemed worse than I’d thought.

Her fingertips spread over my back, the ointment’s scent diffusing constantly, like flowing water crawling over my body. My arms were coated too. I stretched my arms out in a line, back muscles taut. Gan Ling unhooked my bra with three quick snaps. I immediately felt emptiness across my chest.

The ointment slid on, cooling my back. I closed my eyes, contentedly enjoying this repayment for the ear-cleaning I’d done for Gan Ling.

With the ointment on, I couldn’t roll over, so I took up two-thirds of the bed. Gan Ling glanced over and slapped my back with a smack, like revenge. She resignedly turned off the light and curled up in her one-third space. Not sure if it was revenge, she deliberately pinned one of my hands to keep me from moving.

I was like a turtle with a translucent shell sprawled on the bed; Gan Ling was like a rock. In a half-dreaming, half-awake state, I suddenly felt like I floated out of my shell, looking down from the air at Gan Ling and me. She was on her side, lightly holding my hand, propping her face, also half-dreaming, half-awake. In the chaos of dream and reality, I suddenly realized how close Gan Ling and I were—breaths within inches, the same bed as a refuge. No sound of Zheng Ningning’s bones breaking in my dreams, no Zheng Chenggang pressing me if I was afraid of him. Nothing. The most dangerous potential killer lay beside me, and I fell peacefully asleep, having a good dream.

Early in the morning, the round-faced girl called to say the restaurant wasn’t built yet, but breakfast could be eaten in the hotel lobby downstairs or delivered to the room. Gan Ling said deliver to the room. The girl listed soy milk, youtiao, milk, juice, shaobing, wonton soup… We ordered an egg sandwich, milk, kiwi, and oranges, eating at the table.

The itch on my back and arms had subsided a lot. Thinking of the voucher we’d spent, I wanted to go out again, but Gan Ling flatly said no more playing—we’d sit until checkout in the afternoon and catch the 3:30 bus back.

The voucher wasted just like that? I still wanted to risk a few more pimples and go play in the water, but Gan Ling wouldn’t go, dressing like she was the sunburned one, blasting the AC, munching on snacks while watching TV dramas. I couldn’t bear wasting the voucher and snuck out for a few laps in the pool.

Gan Ling’s colleagues seemed familiar with me now. A woman in her forties with poofy hair asked why Gan Ling hadn’t come.

I said she was sleeping and hadn’t gotten up yet.

She asked: “Oh, you’re her…”

I said I was her friend, and she didn’t pry further. Seeing me alone, she invited me to learn frog swimming with them. A guy in swim trunks nearby guffawed with hands on hips. I said no.

I floated in the water like seaweed for a bit, then left. Even in those short ten-odd minutes, I’d gotten more sunburn. I suspected the pool’s glass was all convex lenses, focusing sunlight just to roast me.

Gan Ling squirted ointment and tossed me on the bed to apply it. I behaved this time, sitting in the room squeezing in to watch Gan Ling’s TV drama.

Gan Ling held her phone, but soon her hand got tired. She switched hands and couldn’t hold it up, so she passed it to me. I fiddled with it for a bit, then gave it back. We passed it back and forth a few times like musical chairs until the phone died and we plugged it in to charge.

Gan Ling said, “Use your phone to watch. I’ll log in my membership account for you.”

I said I wasn’t that interested in your membership—I had my own TV membership… Just as I touched my phone, WeChat popped up a message.

Xiaohui, since it’s like this… just tell her. It’ll be fine.

I quickly tapped into the chat. Scrolling past two screens, our last chat was still five years ago.

I swiftly opened the profile, turned on message Do Not Disturb. Another message came: We protected her, she came back on her own, she has the right to know the truth. But what decision she makes isn’t up to us.

Another one followed, but I didn’t see it clearly. Staring at my phone too long would arouse Gan Ling’s suspicion.

I hurriedly exited WeChat and suddenly realized I hadn’t downloaded Kiwifruit yet. Gan Ling took over the phone. I sat on the bed on pins and needles, rubbing my hands like frantic flies. Gan Ling logged in, and just as the TV drama’s theme song started playing, I shot up.

Gan Ling: “…Here, take it back. Hold it yourself.”

I held the phone. Gan Ling drew her legs in and sat on the bed, hugging a pillow and patting the spot beside her, signaling me to scoot closer and watch TV with her.

I dawdled over and leaned against Gan Ling’s side. She reached out with a finger and tapped the screen twice, resuming playback. The theme song skipped the opening and cut off abruptly, like someone had choked it off. Gan Ling deftly tapped the bottom right corner to set the playback speed.

Suddenly, I snatched the phone back.

Gan Ling looked up at me. I switched back to WeChat, opened the chat window, and hesitated for a moment.

“Gan Ling,” I slowly scrolled the chat history to the very top, “I might not be able to wait until January next year. I’ll tell you.”

I handed the phone over. Gan Ling hesitated, shooting me a sideways glance. Her gaze was like a thin veil, hazy and indistinct. Her eyes blinked, and then she slowly smiled, pursing her lips as she turned her head away and pushed the phone back.

“Don’t.”

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