Chapter 50: “Real Lover” Part 1

“What happened to your leg?”

The wind suddenly picked up, carrying Kong Liyuan’s words away so faintly they seemed like a wisp of smoke dissolving on the earth’s surface.

“I…” Or perhaps it was that Fu Tingli was struggling so much to walk, leaning on her crutches and pausing with every step, leaving her a little out of breath.

“I just slipped and fell down the stairs by accident. Pulled a ligament. The doctor said if I keep it in a cast for a little over half a month, it’ll be good as new.”

With that, she caught her breath and jammed the crutches hard into the ground on either side of her.

Summoning all her strength, she pushed herself up and over that step. Only then did she look up again, offering Kong Liyuan a soft smile amid the wind.

“It’s nothing. Look, even my mom isn’t all that heartbroken over it.”

She knew she truly had it coming. Before, it had always been Kong Liyuan coming to her.

Inviting her out for a hundred burgers, holding a black umbrella over her in that New Year’s Day snowfall, driving her old car to pick her up, boarding only her car on the road to Kanas, leading a white horse through the vast snowy fields of Hewatu on New Year’s Eve to find her, showing up drenched at her rental apartment door on summer solstice night, birthday cake miraculously protected from the drizzle…

And she had always just stood there in a daze, waiting. She had even shied away from Kong Liyuan’s approaching footsteps.

Now, finally, it was her turn to go to Kong Liyuan. It felt like belated retribution. Every step she took was so powerless, so unbearable.

But in the end, she wasn’t coming out behind. No, she wasn’t losing out.

Kong Liyuan couldn’t bear to watch her hobble forward on the crutches indefinitely. Instead, she slowly stepped closer, her pure white hospital gown billowing emptily in the wind.

“How did you fall? When did it happen?”

Even though it was a question, the certainty in her eyes as she gazed at Fu Tingli was unmistakable, undeniable.

Kong Liyuan stopped right in front of her. The oversized shadow of her hospital gown was about to envelop them both.

Swaying in the wind like a dark cloud kidnapping them.

Fu Tingli leaned on her crutches, bent slightly at the waist as she panted. Before she could answer, a massive gust blew her hair down under Kong Liyuan’s neck, smothering her profile.

Kong Liyuan raised a hand to smooth Fu Tingli’s hair back. The motion was gentle, but her pale fingers trembled faintly, transmitting a cool yet familiar warmth.

It felt like a silent “long time no see.” She caught the faint osmanthus scent on her—the same bath gel they’d used in Hewatu.

Fu Tingli steadied herself and glanced up to see Kong Liyuan’s bloodless face. She stared quietly for a moment.

After a long pause, she smiled again, utterly nonchalant.

“A few days ago, I was rushing to get to California. I was hauling my suitcase down from the sixth floor and lost my grip. Me and the suitcase went tumbling down together.”

“Because of me?”

Kong Liyuan cut straight to it with sharp insight.

Without waiting for an answer, she repeated herself. “Because of me.”

Her tone was utterly certain, as if the truth was already set. Then she sighed softly and lowered her eyes a fraction.

Her voice turned hoarse and raspy as she said it a third time.

“Because of me.”

“It was my fault for buying that ticket with such a tight connection. It’s not on you.” Fu Tingli refuted her, though holding herself up like this was exhausting. Still, she refused to let up.

All she could think, in a daze, was that finally—finally—she had made Kong Liyuan see her.

Kong Liyuan didn’t respond to that. She just lowered her gaze slightly and took half the weight with her own hand.

The clamor and presence of everyone else in the courtyard faded into white noise. Nothing remained but the two of them, neither too close nor too far—just right, both huddled in that shared shadow.

The wind rocked them. Their breaths rocked too—tangling, swirling, threading through their unsteady bodies.

“You’ve gotten thinner. You look like a paper doll.” Fu Tingli blurted out suddenly. “Don’t they feed you here?”

Kong Liyuan smiled. “Three meals a day, supervised. Balanced with meat and veggies, even dessert afterward. Better than what I get in Shanghai.”

“That’s good, then.” Fu Tingli smiled too. “Better than I imagined. I thought this place was some hellhole.”

“It hasn’t been like that for a long time.” Propping her up, Kong Liyuan asked gently, “What about you? Why haven’t you been eating properly?”

“Me?” Sweat trickled down Fu Tingli’s neck, turning chilly in the wind.

She racked her brain for her recent days but couldn’t recall how many meals she’d eaten or what she’d liked or disliked.

If she could remember, she’d recite it all to Kong Liyuan like a menu, down to the tiniest detail.

She wanted to tell her everything.

“Forgot. I must have eaten properly.” That’s what she said, then asked uncertainly, “Have I gotten thinner too?”

“You seem a little thinner.”

Kong Liyuan studied her closely.

Her gaze was like a wet brush, gliding over every contour of Fu Tingli’s face.

Each drop of ink it left behind seemed laced with inescapable emotion.

“But you still look good.”

Fu Tingli laughed, only to choke on the wind. A cough came out of nowhere, blending with her laughter as she spoke in fits and starts.

“My mom… my mom would hear that and think it’s sappy. She couldn’t stomach it. She’s always said I was an ugly kid.”

“Have you seen your mom since coming to California?” Kong Liyuan asked. Without waiting for a reply, she followed up. “How did you find me?”

“I saw… After I saw the news, I went to Rong Wu. She said you were fine, that the news was all fake, told me to relax. I said of course I know it’s fake. I just worry about you. I was scared you’d be like last time—no one with you. Everyone around you only cares if the news is real or fake, but no one asks how you really are.”

“Rong Wu didn’t tell me about it,” Kong Liyuan explained. “Probably her manager told her not to.”

“No idea.” Fu Tingli shook her head. “Anyway, no matter how much I asked, Rong Wu wouldn’t tell me where you were.”

“And then?”

“She gave me your number, but I didn’t dare call. I was afraid your voice would sound fine on the other end. Don’t argue, Kong Liyuan—I know you’d do that. You’d fool me into staying put, all calm and collected. Then the next time you pop up looking perfectly fine, you’d act like nothing happened. So I had to find you. Had to see you with my own eyes.”

Kong Liyuan didn’t deny it.

So Fu Tingli smiled knowingly and went on.

“My methods weren’t anything clever. I tracked down a bunch of old friends here in California. Turns out I’ve got quite a network.”

“It was just last year, when my family went bankrupt. I was young and proud—didn’t want them seeing me down, didn’t want to lean on these friendships just because I had them, only to ruin them later.”

“So you went to them because of me.”

“I was the one who cut ties first, but a lot of them were still worried about me. They were willing to help when they heard from me. Luckily, one friend knows someone who works at the sanatorium. She took me to meet Doctor Li Qiao. That’s how I learned you were here. After asking Doctor Li Qiao, she said I could come in to see you.”

“Oh, right—you should know this friend. Her name’s Nicole. Actually, I came by a few days ago, but you looked really bad then. Doctor Li Qiao said you probably didn’t want me seeing you like that. Best to wait a few days until you were feeling better, then let you know. So these past few days, I’ve been sneaking peeks at you. You didn’t notice, right? I was hiding.”

“I saw you dump a whole balanced meal without touching it once. So I snitched and got someone to supervise you. I saw you lying on the grass in the sun, rolling around like a kid. I saw you, when no one else was around, scrolling on your phone—Weibo, news, that video with billions of views. All sorts of junk. I watched it with you. You’d finish and just sit there spacing out, lost in thought. I’d finish, then hide over here watching you, guessing what was on your mind. You say you’re not hurting, but I know you are. When you hurt, you smile even more than usual, act even more like you don’t care…”

Having poured it all out, salty sweat streamed from Fu Tingli’s eyelids, stinging her eyes badly. She forced a smile and said,

“I know you’re lying to me, Kong Liyuan.”

“Fu Tingli.” Kong Liyuan called her name softly, then raised a hand to wipe her eyes, stroke by stroke, until her fingertips were thoroughly soaked.

“Do you know you’re practically a spy now, just to see me once? Was it worth it?”

“It’s precisely because I saw you this one time,” Fu Tingli exhaled slowly, her words coming out at a measured pace, “that I realized how hard it must have been for you every single time you rushed over to see me.”

These past few days—from Shanghai to California, from San Francisco to Los Angeles, from finally meeting Kong Liyuan to finally letting Kong Liyuan see her…

Fu Tingli kept thinking about it—Kong Liyuan, who had suddenly appeared on New Year’s Day to hold an umbrella over her; Kong Liyuan, who had shown up on New Year’s Eve to lead a white horse for her; Kong Liyuan, who had materialized on the summer solstice night with a birthday cake in hand…

Did a multitude of “finally”s always well up in her heart each time? Was it always this kind of feeling? And why, as the one being found, had she never wondered how Kong Liyuan pinpointed her location every time?

Why had she never considered what sort of emotions Kong Liyuan—alone on the bustling streets of Shanghai amid the New Year’s snow, in the vast, empty snowy wilderness of the Northern Border, in the pitch-black, deserted stairwell of a rental apartment on that summer solstice night—must have carried while searching for her, waiting for her, watching her?

“But seeing me like this… is it really worth it?” Amid the rustling wind, Kong Liyuan’s laugh was soft and gentle.

Even this sour, heartbreaking question seemed laced only with quiet longing.

Fu Tingli parted her dry lips, about to respond, when a massive gust of wind roared past. Kong Liyuan’s expression changed abruptly, and she yanked Fu Tingli close.

It was as if a barrier shielding them from the world had shattered. The clamor and disorder of the outside world flooded in.

Behind them came a flurry of hurried footsteps, followed by shrill screams that pierced their eardrums.

Fu Tingli, leaning on her crutch, nearly stumbled from the pull.

In the next instant, Kong Liyuan paled and steadied her firmly.

As soon as Fu Tingli found her footing, she spotted a figure in oversized white hospital garb bounding wildly through the spacious grounds of the sanatorium.

One hand clutched a pen, the other a sheet of white paper. The woman shouted repeatedly, “No taking it, no taking it!”

She leaped onto a wooden bench, arms thrust high in a dramatic flourish.

“I’m the greatest composer of the twenty-first century! Taking my pen away is like stealing half my life as a composer!”

With that, she vaulted off the bench, evading the people chasing her.

Her hair whipped wildly as she darted around the patients and volunteers still resting in the park. She grabbed one person’s clothes to block an attendant, shoved another into an attendant’s path.

It was like a scene straight out of an action movie, all amid the raging wind and rain.

Fu Tingli struggled to stay upright in the chaos, shielded tightly behind Kong Liyuan. She watched the attendants chase the woman in a frantic frenzy, muttering among themselves about her condition.

“She’s a manic patient, just admitted. We had her in that wing at first, but she seemed stable these past few days, so we brought her to the garden for a stroll. Never imagined she’d hidden a steel pen in her underclothes—she just stabbed an attendant with it!”

The attendants barreled past in hot pursuit, their words clear to both Fu Tingli and Kong Liyuan. Fu Tingli felt Kong Liyuan’s grip tighten on her after that.

“I’m fine, Kong Liyuan,” she whispered.