Peaches and Plums Don’t Speak – Chapter 71
by Little PandaAt Least I Still Have You
It was mealtime, and the television station’s canteen was steadily filling up. Yan Xi got a portion of stir-fried cauliflower with pork, some plain stir-fried baby bok choy, a bowl of yam and pork rib soup, and an apple.
She was eating slowly when Liao Chengyu walked over, set his tray down opposite hers, and joined her. A few nearby colleagues tactfully winked at them and moved to other tables.
The whole world thought they were dating. Her colleagues and her family all believed it.
The reality, however, was both a little more complex and a little simpler than that.
Yan Xi had to admit that she had always held a favorable impression of Liao Chengyu; he was the kind of person who could become a good friend. But when it came to the level of a romantic relationship, it always felt like something was missing. Yan Xi knew she had incredibly high—almost harsh—standards for a romantic partner.
Her dating history was quite simple.
There had been a stir of youthful affection in high school, but they had naturally broken up after failing to get into the same university. Then, during her sophomore year, she met Gao Jiming. That had been an unforgettable1, deeply impactful2 relationship.
Afterward, it wasn’t that no one pursued her; on the contrary, there were far too many—both men and women. At times, it reached the point of being downright annoying. It wasn’t until she allowed the rumor of her having an “illegitimate daughter” to fester that she finally got some peace and quiet. Just as Liu Yiyi had said, her heart was like an ancient, unrippled well3. She seemed to have lost all desire for romance.
However, Liao Chengyu was undoubtedly someone she had thought highly of in recent years. First, he was deeply devoted and steadfast; after his first love and fiancée passed away, he had spent years mourning and missing her. Furthermore, he kept a clean personal life4 and had never been involved in any romantic scandals. He was remarkably considerate, gentlemanly, and graceful—traits that were rare among men in modern society.
She had originally politely rejected him again in the hospital parking lot, but he still hadn’t given up. He had waited until he learned that Grandfather Yan’s health was fine before asking her out.
His first words were an apology. “I took advantage of your vulnerability5 the other day. You were so anxious, and I only made things harder for you.”
His eyes met hers with absolute sincerity as he added, “But I truly like you.”
He bared his heart to her. “My fiancée has been gone for twelve years. For the first few years, I couldn’t move on at all; I just threw myself into my work. Later on, I grew accustomed to being alone. I stopped missing her, but I simply felt it would be very difficult to ever feel that way about anyone else again.”
They were drinking in an artistic, quiet bar. It wasn’t noisy; most patrons were chatting in hushed tones.
On stage, an undiscovered male singer was crooning a song by Sandy Lam:
“If I could give up6 the whole world,
At least I still have you,
Worth my cherishing,
And you are right here…”
Yan Xi listened quietly.
Sometimes, hearing out a person’s confession to the very end was the most basic form of respect.
“I’ve actually been paying attention to you for a long time, back before you even knew me, and I developed feelings for you. After that, I felt like I had found the capacity to love someone again.”
Yan Xi was slightly moved.
“I know you haven’t fallen for me yet. You just don’t dislike me. But don’t worry, I only like you very, very much right now; I haven’t fallen in love with you yet,” Liao Chengyu said with a smile.
Yan Xi was suddenly caught off guard by his humor and offered a small smile in return.
Liao Chengyu continued, “Sometimes I wonder, I’m already in my thirties—what kind of relationship do I want at this stage in my life? Maybe I should just do what my family says and settle for someone without asking for too much. But I can’t do that. At the very least, I have to like her, and she has to like me. We don’t even need to be deeply in love, because sometimes loving too deeply is just too painful.”
Yan Xi frowned slightly.
“I want a relationship where we like each other, gradually deepen our understanding, and perhaps even marry. And then our life after marriage would become closer and even more beautiful.”
“Sometimes I think about why the divorce rate is so high nowadays. Aside from there being too many temptations and people being restless, is it because they demanded too much right from the start? So once they get married, they can’t handle the massive disparity and disappointment. Conversely, if we just like each other without loving too deeply, wouldn’t that last longer?”
Yan Xi had never considered things from this angle before. She froze for a moment, pondering. “That is an interesting hypothesis.”
“Yan Xi, I’ve said all this because I just want to ask you: could you give me a chance to pursue you? Let yourself like me a little, and then we can take it from there.”
“The rest are just my beautiful hypotheticals, but first, I’m asking you for the opportunity to win your heart.”
His words were earnest, his tone sincere. Yan Xi’s thoughts drifted for a split second, a ripple of emotion passing through her heart. She thought of her grandparents, and then she thought of herself. Did she really want to remain single forever and grow old alone? She was about to turn thirty. Truthfully, she wasn’t all that strong. Perhaps… perhaps she could give it a try?
“If I put in the effort and you still don’t like me, then I’ll just have to let it go,” Liao Chengyu laughed. “Don’t feel pressured. Just spend some time with me. I absolutely won’t force you into anything, and if it doesn’t work out, we’ll part ways. I promise to be a gentleman.” He raised his hand in a childish swearing gesture, revealing his deep dimples.
Yan Xi hesitated for a moment before finally nodding.
And so, it resulted in the current situation where the entire world assumed they were dating, even though both of them knew they weren’t.
Fortunately for Yan Xi, Liao Chengyu had promised to respect her, and he genuinely did. He didn’t resort to any flashy, attention-seeking gimmicks7. One of her former, relentless suitors had been some wealthy second-generation heir who sent cosmetics, luxury cars, and various shopping vouchers. He delivered different kinds of flowers every single day and cornered her in front of the TV station every time. If she accepted the flowers, she had nowhere to put them; if she refused, they piled up in front of the station, blocking everyone’s path and creating a terrible impression on her colleagues. It left her utterly mortified, and some female colleagues even snidely accused her of stringing the man along. In the end, out of sheer desperation, she had deliberately let it slip that she had a child to take care of at home, even bringing Anzhi to the station, before that aggressive pursuit finally fizzled out.
Right, she also had to consider Anzhi. Liao Chengyu had met Anzhi at least a few times, and Yan Xi knew he harbored no aversion toward the girl. He would praise Anzhi and chat with Yan Xi about her, neither avoiding the subject nor prying into too many private details.
She had agreed to his request before the Lunar New Year, but they hadn’t spent much time alone together. Most of the time, they were working in their respective teams. It was only after the holidays that they finally had time to eat together, and even then, they mostly ate in the canteen. If there was one difference, it was that Liao Chengyu would now openly seek her out and prolong their conversations. Whenever she worked overtime, he would buy her food—attentive, yet never overbearing.
Honestly, Yan Xi found this dynamic quite comfortable. She would also reciprocate the goodwill8, such as grabbing his food for him at the canteen or proactively sending texts to remind him about the weather.
They slowly interacted in this friendly manner. Yet, the whole world thought they were in love.
Even Liu Yiyi told her on WeChat, “That’s great! Starting out as good friends isn’t bad at all. Looks like you two are making good progress, Yan Xiao Wu!”
Yan Xi spent the following days swamped with work. It was only when she finally had a moment of downtime that she realized, in hindsight, she hadn’t had a proper chat with Anzhi in months. Was she participating in the Chemistry Olympiad recently? And wasn’t it today? She wondered how the exam had gone. Normally, Anzhi would call her, but how long had it been since they last had one of their daily phone calls?
They hadn’t been like this before. They used to talk on the phone every single day; even a brief exchange of a few words was mandatory. Yan Xi tried hard to trace it back. It seemed to have started around the time she suspected Anzhi might be dating—or at least experiencing the stirrings of youthful romance. The girl needed some personal space. She was growing up, after all, and didn’t need to report her every move to her aunt anymore.
Yan Xi frowned, a pang of guilt hitting her.
Many people didn’t truly understand Yan Xi. They thought she was gentle and magnanimous, but in reality, she absolutely loathed being deceived—especially by the people she cared about. When she was dating Gao Jiming, both of them had been highly popular at their university. But the moment Yan Xi made their relationship official, she politely turned down everyone else.
Gao Jiming, however, had been different. He always lacked the heart to be cruel. That was especially true the time she caught him failing to publicly reject another girl. Afterward, he hadn’t explained the situation clearly to Yan Xi and had even maintained an ambiguous relationship with that girl. It was during that incident that Yan Xi had truly become angry and lost all faith in their relationship.
Yan Xi pinched the bridge of her nose. Why was she suddenly thinking about what happened with Gao Jiming again? This was fundamentally different in nature. Was she blaming Anzhi for not being completely honest with her? How were the two situations even remotely alike? Anzhi was still just a child.
Yan Xi chuckled at her own immaturity. Well, she was a little uncomfortable, but Anzhi had already confided such a massive secret to her—that she liked girls. If Anzhi wanted to keep other things hidden, then let her.
After work, she declined Liao Chengyu’s offer to drive her home and drove back herself. She tried calling Anzhi, but the girl didn’t pick up.
She arrived home, parked the car, and locked the doors. The lights on the first floor were still on. She headed up to the second floor, where only the wall sconces were lit.
Checking her watch, she saw it was only nine o’clock. Was Anzhi already asleep?
Yan Xi set down her bag and took off her coat. The door to Anzhi’s room wasn’t fully closed, so Yan Xi pushed it open and stepped inside.
Only the floor lamp and the string of fairy lights on the curtains were glowing in the room.
“Taotao, are you asleep?” Yan Xi asked softly as she walked in. The quilt on the bed shifted, and Anzhi’s small face peeked out.
“Are you feeling unwell?” Yan Xi sat on the edge of the bed. She instinctively reached out to check the girl’s forehead but stopped, remembering she had just come in from outside and her hands were still cold.
“Mm… a little bit.” Anzhi’s voice was weak, her teary eyes gazing up at her.
Yan Xi thought for a moment and calculated the dates. “Is it your period?”
Anzhi nodded.
The heating was on in the room, so it shouldn’t be cold, but Yan Xi still tucked the covers more snugly around her. She stood up, filled a hot water bottle, and slid it beneath the quilt.
“Put it against your stomach,” she said softly.
Footnotes
- A Chinese idiom (chéngyǔ) literally meaning 'carved in bones and engraved on the heart,' used to describe something profoundly memorable and unforgettable.
- A Chinese idiom (nóngmò zhòngcǎi) literally meaning 'thick ink and heavy colors,' derived from traditional painting techniques. It is used to describe something highly significant, dramatic, or deeply impactful.
- A Chinese idiom (gǔjǐng bù bō) literally meaning 'an ancient well without ripples.' It describes a state of profound emotional stillness, often referring to a heart that is no longer stirred by worldly desires or romantic passions.
- A Chinese idiom (jiéshēn zìhào) meaning 'to keep oneself clean and cherish oneself.' It refers to maintaining one's moral integrity and staying out of trouble or scandal.
- A Chinese idiom (chènxū érrù) meaning 'to enter when the defense is weak,' or to take advantage of someone's vulnerability.
- Lyrics from 'At Least I Still Have You' (Zhìshǎo Hái Yǒu Nǐ), a massive 2000 Mandopop hit by Hong Kong singer Sandy Lam (Lín Yìlián).
- A Chinese idiom (huázhòng qǔchǒng) literally meaning 'to clamor to the crowd to gain favor.' It refers to using sensationalism or cheap gimmicks to attract attention.
- A Chinese idiom (tóutáo bàolǐ) literally meaning 'toss a peach and get a plum in return.' It signifies reciprocating a gift or a favor.
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