To Covet (GL) - Chapter 59

“It’s okay if you think I am, mhm?” She sat cross-legged on the bed. “I don’t really care what others think, whether it’s good or bad, including… you, and my family.”

“However, Yu Keyi, if you want to know anything about Yu Zhouwan, you can ask me anytime,” Seeing that I still looked half-asleep and confused, Gao Rui raised an eyebrow. “I’m not interested in your family’s affairs. The only thing I don’t understand is how you can coexist peacefully with Yu Zhouwan.”

“I don’t have a choice,” I pulled open the curtains. The sky outside hadn’t completely brightened yet. “Hating her or not, I still have to make a living, right?”

“I guess, Yu Keyi, do you think that by constantly making your biological father aware of your presence, you can make him feel guilty?”

“He won’t.”

I just purely want to disgust him.

His affair shouldn’t be forgotten just because Yang Chun died.

But now, it seems I’ve always subconsciously avoided interacting with the couple, constantly occupying a subordinate position.

Whether out of inferiority or cowardice, my every action falls far short of the satisfying revenge I idealized. I can’t possibly be described with positive words like clever, brave, or decisive.

Gao Rui gave me a mysterious, slight smile and got up to change clothes.

Qian Xinming said she wanted us to accompany her downstairs for breakfast. A famous rice noodle shop in Xizhou was just across the street. Even when we said the takeout had already arrived at the door, she insisted on going to taste it herself.

I held the preserved egg and lean meat congee. I took a bite and was instantly wide awake from how unappetizing it was. I followed Qian Xinming and ordered a small bowl of shredded chicken rice noodles to fill my stomach.

“Gao Rui.”

“I won’t tell anyone about the things you just told me.”

I spoke as if talking to myself, but Gao Rui put down her spoon, indicating she was listening.

“Don’t worry, I won’t talk about what you said either.”

Telling anyone else wouldn’t help anyway. I actually had a strong intuition: her family definitely knew that the eldest son’s death was related to Gao Rui. They simply let the matter drop after weighing the pros and cons, not wanting to ruin their last child, especially since she didn’t have direct culpability.

That’s why Gao Rui could so easily reveal seemingly fatal leverage to me without worrying about me leaking it.

“Do you think I’m a cold-blooded person?”

I blinked, offering no comment.

Many things in Xizhou were made sweet, including the small steamed buns served at the table. I managed to eat one, swearing never to live in this city.

It started sleeting on the way to class. Gao Rui held an umbrella in one hand and suddenly linked her arm with mine.

I felt a little awkward. The cold wind crept in through my armpit, as if a gap had opened in my tightly bundled cotton coat.

Bending over, pretending to look for my keys, I casually pulled my hand back, holding it firmly against my side. Rainwater slid down the umbrella ribs, dripping onto my wool scarf.

I don’t like getting too close to anyone in social settings.

This bowl of rice noodles in the morning was arguably the most independent meal we had in Xizhou. For the next few days, we mostly ate at the No. 1 High School cafeteria. After class finished at 10:30 PM, we’d catch up on notes and homework, and by the time we lay in bed, it was almost 1 AM.

In these few days, Yu Zhouwan only called me once. I was in class at the time. After a moment of hesitation, I untied my hair, propped my head up with one hand, and used my hair and hand to conceal the earphone.

In one ear was the scratching of pen on paper and the rustling of test papers being turned. I listened to her subtle movements and steady, peaceful breathing until the earphone ran out of battery on the way back, and I finally hung up the call.

After that, there was no further communication.

I was extremely busy. The course schedule was packed, and in the blink of an eye, the final exam day arrived.

Gao Rui asked if I needed to return with her. She could have the driver take me to Sucheng. After consideration, I decided not to trouble her and went home alone.

I often had a similar dream these days, and it swept over me again while napping on the high-speed rail.

In the dream, I was lying naked with a person whose face I couldn’t clearly see. We were speaking explicit words and engaging in intimate acts, but we were interrupted by others who walked in. The me in the dream was completely unfazed by everything. Even being swept out naked under public scrutiny, I shamelessly walked out.

In the second half of the dream, I inexplicably turned back to confront those people and argued with them, finally waking up in a panic. The dream ended abruptly.

Everyone in the dream was familiar; I even called their names. But upon waking, all the memories quickly evaporated, leaving only fragments.

My aunt’s house was within Sucheng’s jurisdiction, but because it was in the Northwest New District, high-speed rail and subway only reached the South End. Getting there required transferring from the subway to the bus, a few transfers in total.

“Nannan,” my grandmother was basking in the sun downstairs. Seeing me approach with my suitcase, she stumbled forward with her cane to greet me. “Why didn’t you call your uncle to pick you up?”

A few days ago, during the temperature drop, she had slipped on thin ice going downstairs and was even more shaky on her feet than before.

“It’s not far. I can just take the bus myself.”

“That won’t do… carrying so many things. Next time, remember to call your uncle. He borrows other people’s cars every day; it’s easy for him to give you a ride.”

The tiny house was crammed with various furniture and household items. Slippers, cotton shoes, and brightly colored paper bags were scattered haphazardly on the floor.

I placed my backpack and luggage on the only empty tile space next to the wall.

“Grandma bought a whole chicken. It was raised by people in the village, not one of those fed with feed. I saved both drumsticks for you.”

As soon as she finished speaking, she suddenly fell silent, hunching over and slipping into the kitchen.

I remembered that my aunt once had a child, a sister who was a few months younger than me, by age. She had poor health from childhood and essentially grew up in the hospital. I only saw her two or three times. The year I started first grade, she passed away from a heart attack after rescue efforts failed.

Because no one ever wanted to talk about it, my memory of these events was very hazy.

Perhaps when Grandma mentioned the two drumsticks, she thought of that dead little girl, and the originally lighthearted reunion suddenly fell into silence.

My aunt’s house was barely forty square meters. Neither of the two rooms was large. The master bedroom had a bed right inside, and an old desk covered with blue glass. Under the glass were yellowed papers and photos.

Most of the photos were of their daughter: sitting in a baby walker, being hugged by her parents, and riding on a seesaw—the background was a large cluster of flowers. There were also a few large studio portraits of the child, with a line written next to them in marker:

Father Yang Jun Mother Zhang Lin Daughter Zhang Nuonuo Photographed on the first day of the eleventh lunar month, 2006.

Looking closely at her features, she bore a slight resemblance to me.

While taking a walk in the small park downstairs, I found the exact seesaw and cluster of flowers from the photo. The playground equipment was too rusty to be used anymore, and due to winter, there was hardly any greenery.

After dinner and small talk, I was about to wash up and go to sleep when my aunt suddenly pulled me into the room and opened a locked cabinet.

As she crouched down looking for something, I couldn’t help but look at the photos under the glass. They were faded and spotty from the reflection of the energy-saving lamp and the glass. Many faces were already unrecognizable.

She handed me a tin cookie box.

“Xiao Chun left suddenly and didn’t tell us how to deal with these things,” she took my hand. “Your father originally said to burn them with her clothes, but your grandma and I felt we shouldn’t listen to his nonsense. We thought we should save you something to remember her by.”