“Qiu Yiran, why did you do that?” The car was very quiet as Li Wuhui asked softly.
Why?
Qiu Yiran shrank her somewhat numb fingers. She really hadn’t thought about how to answer that question.
“I saw it.”
Li Wuhui looked up slightly.
Shadows of the two kissing fish trailed across her face, swaying back and forth like countless lingering kisses.
“You let me sleep well, then ran out by yourself. I thought that just because I hadn’t brought your prosthetic leg for one day, you were going to run away from me. I almost chased after you. I wanted to question you when you got back. These past few days, I’ve thought about it several times and nearly lost my temper at you…”
At that point, she laughed. “And in the end, you went off to do this.”
Her voice was very soft.
“It makes me seem like I’m really the bad one.”
Qiu Yiran was stunned.
She completely hadn’t expected her actions from the night before last to have been witnessed.
After a pause, she hid her slightly reddened fingers under the steering wheel before explaining, “I wasn’t running away. I just went to buy materials for these two fish.”
“I know now,” Li Wuhui said.
Then she pushed the kissing fish wind bell again, tilted her head, and stared at it for a moment. “This kind of thing must be hard to make, right?”
The crisp sound of the wind bell gradually faded away. Li Wuhui suddenly realized something. “So that’s why you stayed in your room for over twenty-four hours without coming out?”
“Not hard,” Qiu Yiran said, trying to downplay it. “I didn’t spend much time on it either. I stayed in the room yesterday because I really was catching up on sleep.”
Li Wuhui looked at her and said nothing.
Qiu Yiran pursed her lips and fell silent too.
Li Wuhui sighed. “Forget it. As long as you’ve been eating properly.”
Qiu Yiran breathed a sigh of relief.
“But why?”
Li Wuhui didn’t drop the question, though. She looked over again, her eyes full of confusion. “Qiu Yiran, why would you do something like this for a woman you’re divorcing?”
The question made Qiu Yiran fall silent once more. It took a long while before she finally mustered her courage and countered, “Aren’t you doing the same?”
Li Wuhui lowered her eyelashes.
Then she let out a light chuckle, as if she’d understood.
“You told me to be good to myself, to eat the foods I like, to try and live as happily as possible…” Qiu Yiran did her best to express everything clearly.
“I’ve taken it all to heart. And I’ve already decided that once we get back home, I’ll work hard to do all those things.”
Li Wuhui hummed. “That’s good.”
“And during these two days we stopped in Kazakhstan, I’ve been thinking…” Qiu Yiran let out a deep breath.
“Since we plan to divorce peacefully, and neither of us can convince the other on so many things, with more than half the road still ahead, maybe we can stop saying those petty, angry words like we did before…”
Halfway through, she hesitated and glanced at Li Wuhui—and right then, Li Wuhui was looking right back at her.
Perhaps the weather that day was just too nice.
Under the shadows of the two kissing fish swaying in the breeze, Li Wuhui’s eyes were hazy and hard to read.
Qiu Yiran couldn’t tell if she was calmly agreeing with the idea or suppressing her displeasure while mocking her naivety.
So Qiu Yiran inexplicably clammed up.
She stared straight ahead at the road, suddenly unable to go on.
In that moment, she remembered again that they both had urgent goals they desperately wanted to achieve on this trip.
To coexist peacefully…
One of them would have to be completely defeated by the other.
She herself hadn’t been defeated yet. She had no intention of conceding. Even as she said those words, she recalled something that completely contradicted her own view.
“Didn’t you ask me if I had a birthday wish this year?”
Li Wuhui hummed, slowly withdrawing her gaze. “I remember you said you didn’t have any.”
“I do now,” Qiu Yiran said, summoning her courage.
“What?” Li Wuhui seemed to sense it coming, knowing it would be something out of the ordinary. Her tone was casual.
“Tell me first. For the sake of these two fish, if it’s not too hard, maybe I can make it come true for you.”
“Li Wuhui,” Qiu Yiran said, resting her hand on the steering wheel as she looked at her nervously.
“How about you drive the next stretch of the road?”
The words had barely left her mouth—
When the air inside the car thickened instantly. The breeze seemed to stop, and the sound of the kissing fish wind bell gradually quieted.
The world fell silent.
Li Wuhui kept her eyes lowered and said nothing for a long time.
Qiu Yiran cautiously added, “This is my thirtieth birthday wish, Li Wuhui. You—”
“Qiu Yiran.” Li Wuhui cut her off, sounding like she’d been angered into laughter.
“What exactly are you thinking? This is your thirtieth birthday wish…”
She looked at her, the shadows of the two fish between their eyes.
“And you actually dare to ride in a car that I drive?”
“What if I say I do dare?”
Without a second thought, Qiu Yiran shot back, then repeated it firmly.
“I dare to ride. Do you dare to drive?”
With that, she held her breath, waiting for Li Wuhui’s answer.
The car, trapping the two people on the verge of parting, felt suffocating. Li Wuhui stared straight at the wide road stretching through this foreign land.
She didn’t spare a single glance at Qiu Yiran’s leg. Her profile looked tense.
As if she were struggling to suppress her own pain, keeping it from spilling over onto Qiu Yiran.
“Do you think that once this road ends, if I take home two fish that never die, and realize I can drive again to anywhere I want…”
Her voice was very low.
“I won’t remember what happened before anymore. That once we’re back in Paris, I can move past that incident. And I won’t keep bothering you after that.”
From Li Wuhui’s perspective, that’s exactly how it seemed.
So Qiu Yiran didn’t deny her own ulterior motive. “I just hope you won’t be in so much pain.”
Only when she said those words did Qiu Yiran fully accept it: their goals on this trip had always been opposed.
Qiu Yiran wanted to leave, and she wanted Li Wuhui to live well. Li Wuhui wanted her to live well—and wanted her back in Paris.
But right now, neither of them could easily move on from that incident. They could never simply shake hands and part ways.
For Qiu Yiran, it was incredibly difficult, so she no longer wanted to try. Lately, she’d been so immersed in her own suffering that she’d overlooked one key thing—
For Li Wuhui, this was her way of punishing herself. She had no intention of moving on.
“Qiu Yiran.”
Under Qiu Yiran’s somewhat sorrowful gaze, Li Wuhui smiled lightly.
“Don’t think so highly of yourself. Even if you made them with your own hands, these two fish don’t carry that much weight.”
She left those rather cruel words as her reply.
Then Li Wuhui pushed open the car door and got out.
That day, she didn’t ride back with Qiu Yiran. Instead, she quickly hailed a taxi and calmly fled the scene.
Qiu Yiran sat in the car, staring dazedly at the pink kissing fish wind bell as she processed the conversation from the past ten or so minutes alone.
Li Wuhui’s words didn’t sting her. She just felt a bit dazed because the peaceful coexistence she’d hoped for had ended on a sour note once again.
Back at the hotel.
Qiu Yiran was preoccupied.
She walked slowly to the door of Li Wuhui’s room. Several times, she raised her hand to knock—only to let it drop powerlessly each time.
Just like the night before last, when she’d stood outside Li Wuhui’s door for those few minutes after buying the materials.
She didn’t know what she wanted to do.
She hadn’t figured out what she’d say if Li Wuhui actually opened the door and saw her standing there.
After mulling it over, Qiu Yiran just sighed.
And went back to her own room.
She had called Li Wuhui self-deceiving, but wasn’t she herself stubbornly refusing to adapt?
She couldn’t even do it herself—what right did she have to keep asking Li Wuhui to accomplish what she couldn’t?
But she didn’t know—
In those few minutes she’d hesitated outside her own door, Li Wuhui had done the exact same thing as the night before last: sat leaning against the door with her chin on her knees, holding her breath as she listened to Qiu Yiran’s every move.
Li Wuhui regretted it.
She thought—no matter what, she shouldn’t have said such harsh words to Qiu Yiran.
Even if all she wanted was for Qiu Yiran to stop delusionally trying to change her.
And the deeper hope buried in her heart was this: she didn’t want to actually do as Qiu Yiran hoped—take two undying fish back to Paris and muster the courage to face everything she’d been unable to before…
If she was the one who conceded in this bet.
Qiu Yiran would probably leave her side with relief and depart Paris with a clear conscience.
If she agreed, she’d lose one of her few remaining bargaining chips.
What angered her even more wasn’t the incident itself, but rather—
The only way she had left now to keep Qiu Yiran by her side even a little longer was to admit her own weakness and helplessness.
Li Wuhui thought with self-mockery.
She hugged her knees and heard Qiu Yiran sigh.
Right there at her door, clear as day.
Why sigh?
Why always come to her door but never knock?
Li Wuhui clenched her jaw.
A few minutes after the sigh faded, Li Wuhui received a text from Qiu Yiran:
【Let’s head out a bit earlier tomorrow. I checked the weather—it won’t be good, looks like snow. Dress warmly, put on a scarf, socks too… better wear two pairs.】
There was no mention of who would drive.
Li Wuhui’s hand holding the phone dropped.
A few seconds later, it vibrated again. She lifted it, and the screen showed a new message:
【Li Wuhui, sorry.】
The few words glared on the screen.
Staring at that line didn’t make Li Wuhui feel any better. She gripped the phone tightly and leaned against the door with her eyes downcast.
She didn’t reply.
After a long dozens of seconds.
She stood up, flung open the door, and stepped out. And sure enough—
Just as she’d thought.
Qiu Yiran hadn’t gone into her room.
Instead, she stood woodenly against the wall, bathed in the warm light, holding her phone as she typed.
When she saw the door open.
Qiu Yiran looked startled. She slowly lowered the phone she’d been editing, her expression puzzled.
“Why’d you suddenly come out?”
Something was in her hand.
Her first reaction upon seeing Li Wuhui was to hide it behind her waist.
Li Wuhui’s gaze shifted slightly.
Peeking past Qiu Yiran’s hem, she saw it was a small bag.
Qiu Yiran noticed her gaze. She went quiet for a moment, looking embarrassed, like she’d been caught.
She paced a few steps.
In the end, she carefully handed over the bag. “I saw it on the roadside and bought it on impulse.”
Li Wuhui looked down—
The bag contained dark chocolates in various packages and flavors.
In the past, whenever Li Wuhui was unhappy or irritated, she’d binge on Turmeric Little Person Biscuits in revenge. When there were no biscuits, dark chocolate was her second choice. She’d even eat until her mouth was covered in chocolate and then deliberately kiss Qiu Yiran.
Over time, it became a quirky little ritual.
Reaching the kissing stage meant her bad mood had passed.
Eventually.
Qiu Yiran developed the habit. No matter where they went, she’d scour for the local famous, delicious dark chocolates for Li Wuhui.
Just like now.
“Sorry.”
Seeing that Li Wuhui wasn’t taking the bag, Qiu Yiran awkwardly pushed it forward a bit more.
“I was walking on the road and heard that Kazakhstan’s chocolate is famous. I saw it and bought it.”
It was like an attempt to placate her, like coaxing her after doing something wrong.
Li Wuhui’s eyes grew hot as she took the bag. “Idiot.”
It wasn’t like they lived in the world of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. Random people on the street didn’t talk about chocolate, and there was no way the roadside sold dark chocolate packaged this exquisitely.
Seeing her accept it without holding a grudge, Qiu Yiran finally relaxed. Her tone softened. “Don’t be too mad. I shouldn’t have said that. Sorry.”
“What are you sorry for?”
Li Wuhui turned her face away discreetly and wiped her eyes. Then she lowered her head, unwrapped a piece of chocolate, popped it into her mouth, and asked very calmly,
“What do you have to be sorry for?”
She didn’t understand why Qiu Yiran was like this. She was always so fond of reflecting on herself and held herself to such strict standards, as if making the slightest mistake meant being sent to the eighteenth layer of hell.
“I thought about a lot on the way back.” Qiu Yiran’s face was lit by the lamp, her expression looking very sincere.
“I was too selfish. I couldn’t do it myself, yet I still demanded it of you. I didn’t consider your feelings or empathize with your position.”
“Just like before,” she said, lowering her eyelashes and speaking softly,
“I always lost my temper with you over this and kept demanding it of you one-sidedly.”
She looked bewildered, yet it also seemed like deep remorse.
But she didn’t know that she had already changed somewhat. She was no longer so sensitive that she wanted to avoid the past—
