Peaches and Plums Don’t Speak – Chapter 110
by Little PandaWithout Failing
A month after Anzhi left Beicheng, Yan Xi fell ill.
At first, it was just a cold. She didn’t think much of it and took some cold medicine. But then the coughing started, persisting for days on end.
At night, she coughed so much she couldn’t sleep. She would slip into a groggy daze, only to be jolted awake by another fit. As the cool, dim light of dawn filtered through the gap in the curtains, she lay in a trance for a moment. The room was steeped in dead silence.
She began to cough violently again.
“Auntie…”
It was as if she could hear Anzhi muttering to her again.
She rarely got sick. There had been one time when she had a fever and a cough, and she had ignored it then, too. It was Anzhi who had pleaded with her, dragging her to the hospital.
When was that again?
She couldn’t quite remember. All she recalled was how Anzhi’s cheeks had puffed out in anger, yet she couldn’t bring herself to say anything harsh.
“If you don’t go to the doctor, I’m never going to listen to you again,” she had said.
“Alright, Auntie knows.”
Yan Xi got out of bed, changed her clothes, and drove to the hospital. Perhaps it was just her imagination, but she felt the early autumn wind was rather chilly.
She registered at the outpatient clinic. Seeing how severely she was coughing, the doctor had her take an X-ray to check her lungs. The results showed no major issues. She picked up her prescription and went home.
Back at home. The kitchen was freezing, and Yan Xi didn’t want to move, so she ordered some congee for delivery.
Her life had lost its rhythm. During Anzhi’s primary and junior high school years, Yan Xi had made sure there were three square meals, desserts, and plenty of soup to take care of the growing child. She never had to worry, and her own eating habits had been regular as well. Because of that, even with her frequent overtime during those years, her health had remained excellent. Anzhi had learned to cook at a very young age. Later on, Yan Xi had simply gotten lazy—whenever she came home, there would always be hot food waiting. If she returned late, a light would be on, and someone would be there.
When Anzhi started university, Yan Xi moved back to the apartment by the TV station. She ate at the cafeteria and went back to the Yan Family Old Residence for meals on weekends. Later still, they would take photos of what they ate during the day and send them to each other on WeChat.
That was after Yan Yinan’s wedding, when they would send each other an endless stream of WeChat messages from morning to night.
Yan Xi began to cough again.
Had it already started back then?
No, perhaps even earlier.
Much earlier.
Yan Xi ate the congee and took her medicine. She set a glass of water and the cough syrup on her nightstand, then pulled up the covers, planning to sleep a little longer.
She thought of the kiss in the countryside on the night of the typhoon.
Anzhi’s warm, soft fingers had pressed against her lips, kissing her through them.
Such a restrained, pure kiss, brimming with a cautious, tender love.
That was Anzhi’s kiss, Anzhi’s lips, her scent, her breath.
Just the thought of it—if those fingers were moved away, their lips would have touched and they would have kissed.
At the mere thought, Yan Xi’s heart trembled, making it impossible to sleep.
And then there was the tearful, choked-up kiss Anzhi had pressed to the back of her neck—scorching, trembling, laden with a profound depth of emotion that Yan Xi had never encountered, never experienced before.
This was the child she had slowly nurtured and watched grow, the child who had suffered such a rough childhood. Yan Xi had only ever wished for her life to be smooth, for her to receive abundant love, and for her romance to be as sweet as her dimples.
Yet Anzhi had brought her pure, tender heart and offered it up right in front of her.
Her posture had been so humble, so careful; she had even thought of an escape route for Yan Xi.
And Yan Xi had personally hurt her.
Yan Xi’s eyes grew hazy. A single, crystalline tear slowly seeped from the corner of her eye as she finally drifted off to sleep.
After taking the prescribed medicine, Yan Xi’s cough slowly improved, but it couldn’t be fully cured. Yan Yinan finally couldn’t stand watching it anymore and dragged her back to the hospital for a full-body checkup.
A few days later, the test results came back. Yan Xi had developed a small tumor on her gastrointestinal wall. Fortunately, it had been caught early, and after further testing, it was confirmed to be benign.
Even so, it scared her brothers half to death. Because the tumor was located in a rather dangerous spot, she still needed to undergo surgery to prevent it from becoming cancerous. When it was time for the operation, the family didn’t dare let the elderly Grandfather Yan and Grandmother Yan know, simply telling them that Yan Xi had gone on a business trip.
Liu Yiyi stayed by her side to care for her the entire time. After the initial fright, Yan Xi felt entirely numb. She calmly asked for leave from work, placated her grandparents, checked into the hospital, and underwent treatment.
Only when Liu Yiyi asked her, “Should we tell Anzhi?” did her emotions visibly fluctuate. “Don’t tell her!”
“Do not let her know!”
She demanded Liu Yiyi promise her over and over, until Liu Yiyi had no choice but to agree.
The surgery was very successful, and Yan Xi stayed in the hospital to recover.
She was a cooperative patient. Every day, she strictly followed the doctor’s orders, took her medicine, monitored her condition, and went in for her follow-ups.
Her family noticed that something was wrong with her, but only Liu Yiyi knew the reason. It was as if Yan Xi had suddenly lost all her vitality, leaving behind nothing but a wooden shell. Everything around her seemed to have been walled off.
She had lost a lot of weight, looking almost skeletal. Her family watched with alarm, not knowing what to do.
There was a small garden downstairs by the hospital’s inpatient department. It was a cloudy day with a light drizzle, and a misty dampness permeated the greenery.
Yan Xi was leaning back on a bench, lost in thought, when Liu Yiyi walked over and handed her an iPad.
She opened a video and placed it in front of her.
Yan Xi hadn’t paid any attention until a familiar voice drifted from the video. “This is where I’m living.”
Anzhi was holding the camera, smiling brightly as she spoke. “It’s the school’s on-campus housing, right next to my department. I got really lucky and managed to apply for one of the better buildings. Only a few people live here. It’s a one-bedroom, and I have my own kitchen, bathroom, and living room. I can even keep pets.”
The camera panned around, following Anzhi’s voice. The dorm was very new and very spacious. Right now, there was only a desk and a bed. The kitchen she walked into was also empty, save for a single microwave.
“I’ve realized that Americans1 are so weird! They use the microwave to boil water, hahaha. I haven’t bought anything yet, but I’ll keep an eye out to see if anyone is selling old furniture. Oh, right, the campus is way too big. I’ll probably have to buy another bicycle.”
Anzhi’s face returned to the frame. Her skin had tanned a little bit, her eyes were bright, and her dimples were deep. “So, that’s it for now. I’m doing really well. You…” A trace of tender light swiftly flashed across her eyes. “…You all have to take care of yourselves, too.”
Then, she waved, gave a little smile, and the screen went black.
For the entire minute-plus video, Yan Xi watched without blinking once.
Liu Yiyi looked at her and said, “She filmed this for you to see. She’s afraid you’re worried about her, but she doesn’t dare contact you directly. Your WeChat Moments haven’t been updated in a long time, and she’s worried. And I didn’t dare tell her the truth.”
Yan Xi’s fingertips gently stroked the screen.
Liu Yiyi stood up, patted her on the shoulder, and left the iPad with her as she walked away.
The rain densely washed over the gloomy sky, bringing a chill to the air. Yan Xi couldn’t help but tap the video to play it again.
She really had gotten a little tanner, and she seemed to have gained a little weight, too. Her English was already very good.
The corners of Yan Xi’s lips curled up slightly, and her features suddenly filled with life.
Only then did a hint of warmth return to her bones. She let out a slow sigh.
A few days later, after her follow-up appointment and discharge from the hospital, she returned home. She spent three days deep-cleaning the apartment and requested an extended leave of absence from her workplace.
She resumed her previous workout routine.
On her first day back at the gym, she uploaded a photo. It wasn’t a selfie, just a picture of a treadmill.
“Starting from here.”
She wrote.
After working out for about two months, she felt she had recovered some of her stamina. Yan Xi grabbed her camera, packed some light luggage, and flew directly from Beicheng to Lhasa.
After landing, she acclimated very well. She didn’t experience any altitude sickness, only a slight shortness of breath.
Yan Xi stayed at an inn called Tianlu. Inside the courtyard stood a very tall, ancient apricot tree. Though it wasn’t the season for it to bloom, its bare branches stretched over the red roof beams, creating a striking contrast of cool and warm tones.
She woke up early to watch the sunrise. Outside the entrance to the Jokhang Temple, there were always pilgrims prostrating themselves along the path. Their postures were devout, as if they had entrusted all their hopes to their faith.
Yan Xi wasn’t used to the local food. There were very few vegetables, and the beef and mutton weren’t cooked in ways she enjoyed.
The air was very dry. She carried water and her camera with her wherever she went, strolling and taking photos.
Winter was not peak tourist season. From beyond the shimmering mist of a musical fountain, she gazed at the Potala Palace. Prayer wheels spun in the wind, and the faint sound of lamas chanting sutras drifted through the air.
She followed a guide into the palace, listening to his explanations. The guide was incredibly talented; he spoke six languages and was great at keeping the atmosphere lively. He found this woman—with her pale, porcelain face and quiet, elegant demeanor—fascinatingly unique, and he practically exhausted all his skills and charm just to win a smile from her.
But she merely smiled and nodded. Her heart didn’t seem to be in it, yet she listened attentively enough that he didn’t feel slighted.
He led her to stand before the stupas2. Since the Fifth Dalai Lama had taken residence in the Potala Palace, nine Dalai Lamas had passed away in total, but there were only eight stupas.
He grew a bit more animated. The Potala Palace lacked a stupa for the Sixth Dalai Lama—Tsangyang Gyatso. A few years ago, a film by a famous director had popularized Tsangyang Gyatso’s poetry, and many women had become infatuated with his collections.
He introduced Tsangyang Gyatso’s short, turbulent life, then recited his most familiar poem:
“If I embrace this earthly love, my holy vows decay,3
Yet if I seek the mountain peaks, my beauty fades away.
How can this world provide a path to keep both worlds untorn—
To fail not the Tathagata, nor leave my love forlorn?”
“It is said that he fell in love with a young girl. Bound by his position, he could not allow himself to be moved by love. If he did, he would be betraying his Buddhist teachings. If he didn’t, he would be betraying her. He was trapped in an impossible dilemma.”
Sure enough, the woman was visibly moved. A faint, sorrowful light shimmered in her eyes, as if she were thinking of someone. A loose wisp of hair fell beside her ear, radiating a fragile, heartbreakingly soft beauty.
That night, Yan Xi couldn’t fall asleep. In the dead of the night, she posted the poem to her WeChat Moments.
She set her phone aside.
A little while later, she opened her WeChat Moments again. Beneath the lines of that poem, there was a tiny heart.
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