Peaches and Plums Don’t Speak – Chapter 73
by Little PandaWhat Had She Overlooked?
Yan Xi didn’t know if it was because she hadn’t been in a relationship for too long, but she had completely forgotten what it was supposed to feel like.
That hazy crush from high school had been nothing more than passing notes in class, a boy giving her cassette tapes and ice cream, and the irrepressible smile that appeared when he shouted her name after winning a game on the court.
Then she met Gao Jiming, which was her first love in the truest sense. She’d never thought of herself as a delicate, princessy sort of girl, but after meeting him, she tasted all the joys and sorrows of the heart.
This time around, her current arrangement with Liao Chengyu felt more like a friendship. They got along well, their views rarely clashed, and their interactions were simple and sincere. It was comfortable, yes, but it always felt like something was missing. Yan Xi wondered if it was because she was getting older, so her emotional tides no longer surged as fiercely as they used to. Maybe it was just like that saying—that a simple, steady life was what was real1?
Before Gao Jiming, Yan Xi’s concept of a partner had always been someone who could make her heart flutter. She had grown up in a household dominated by men. Her grandfather, talented, kind, and gentle, had been deeply devoted to her grandmother for fifty years and counting—it was the most beautiful love she had ever witnessed.
Her brothers, despite their respective flaws—her eldest brother with his rather severe case of straight-man cancer2, her second brother who was stiff and taciturn, and her effeminate third brother—were all fundamentally good men who would treat their partners well. Although Yan Yinan had dated many women, he was almost always the one who got dumped.
She didn’t have many memories of her parents, who had passed away when she was young, but from her family’s stories, she knew that her father and mother had also been very much in love.
So, when her relationship with Gao Jiming ended in failure, Yan Xi fell into a long slump. Gao Jiming could make her heart race, but he couldn’t give her a sense of security. If Anzhi hadn’t been by her side, she might not have recovered so quickly.
In the few months she had been spending with Liao Chengyu, they both felt they were quite compatible, but she just never got that heart-fluttering feeling. Yan Xi often analyzed herself late at night, asking: what did she truly need from a relationship? Why was it that even her second brother was so clear about what and who he loved, what made his heart stir, while she was now so confused? She couldn’t even remember the last time her heart had been truly moved.
Yan Xi couldn’t clearly recall things from when she was five years old. She only knew she had been very happy; her brothers said she was an arrogant, mischievous little tyrant. That year, her parents had an accident. She didn’t really understand what had happened; the family just told her that her parents had gone away on a long trip.
It wasn’t until she was six, during the kindergarten’s June 1st Children’s Day celebration, that it finally hit her. She was wearing a little pink dress, waiting for her grandfather who had gone to buy her a popsicle. A little girl from her class was being held by her mother. They were giggling and gazing at each other. The young mother leaned down and kissed her daughter’s cheeks, left and right, then picked her up and bounced her in the air.
Six-year-old Yan Xi stared, transfixed. Suddenly, she began to sob. By the time Grandfather Yan returned, she was wailing on the spot. She cried for a long time after getting home, chanting over and over, “I want my mommy, I want my mommy…”
That was the first time she truly understood death.
Because her home was full of men, Yan Xi never felt a lack of fatherly love. But for a long time when she was little, she envied her classmates for having mothers. Although Grandmother Yan doted on her, Yan Yixi and Yan Yinan still took up a great deal of her energy and attention.
For a while, she became even more mischievous, hitting her brothers, destroying the flowers and plants her grandfather cultivated, and ruining her grandmother’s piano, all in a bid to attract and monopolize their attention.
For a time, the Yan elders and her brothers were deeply worried she would go down the wrong path. Grandmother Yan dedicated nearly all her time to raising her. She was a gentle, elegant, and very feminine woman. Yan Xi loved it when her grandmother held her on her lap, reasoning with her, talking to her, and telling her stories in a soft voice.
She enjoyed that maternal affection, but Yan Xi always felt that a certain part of her heart was empty. Until one day, she went into her parents’ room and found a half-used bottle of Kai lotion on the vanity. That scent became the only memory her mother left her.
Later, Yan Xi came to feel that throughout her maturation, she hadn’t lacked experience interacting with men, but with women. In junior high, because Liu Yiyi had gone abroad to study, she had eagerly hoped to make new best female friends3 from the very start of the school year. Unfortunately, things didn’t go as planned. All the way through university, she never made any truly close female friends, just a slew of frustrating experiences instead.
She never expected that now, the young women on the internet would all be calling her “xiaojiejie,” saying they wanted to marry her and asking for her autograph. At thirty, Yan Xi felt there were still many things she hadn’t figured out—about the world, about herself, and about Anzhi.
Anzhi had grown distant from her recently. Yan Xi didn’t know if it was because she had hit puberty and felt a divide with an adult like her, or if it was because she was too busy preparing for her competition on top of her schoolwork.
Yan Xi wanted to find time to have a good talk with her, but she had been busy herself, and she felt that Liao Chengyu was becoming more and more affectionate toward her.
One evening, they went to see a movie. As they left the theater, it happened to be raining. A rainy night, the cinema. A young couple walked past them, the girl holding the boy’s arm. The boy smiled down at her, and they leaned in for an intimate kiss.
Just as Yan Xi was musing that young love was so pure and sweet, Liao Chengyu’s warm hand reached over and took hers.
Yan Xi froze for a moment. Her first reaction was surprise. She thought about it, but didn’t pull away. It wasn’t yet unbearable.
She let him hold her hand as they walked. The man’s palm was warm, the skin thick with light calluses. But Yan Xi felt nothing special. It was just… a human hand.
They walked in silence for a while. Liao Chengyu suddenly called her name in a low voice, “Yan Xi…”
Yan Xi, who had been lost in thought, instinctively answered, “Hm?” She turned her head to look at him, and he suddenly leaned in close, his shadow falling over her.
A jolt went through Yan Xi. She reflexively turned her face away, and Liao Chengyu’s lips landed on her cheek.
Yan Xi frowned and took a step back.
Seeing the obvious displeasure she was trying to suppress out of good manners, Liao Chengyu apologized awkwardly, “I’m sorry.”
Yan Xi collected herself, unsure of what to say. She shook her head and continued walking forward.
Liao Chengyu hurried to catch up, still embarrassed. “I’m sorry, I was a bit overcome by emotion4. Yan Xi, I’m finding that I like you more and more.”
Yan Xi turned back and gave him a troubled look.
Liao Chengyu knew she was probably about to say something he didn’t want to hear. “I’m sorry. I promise it won’t happen again.”
Yan Xi held her tongue, telling herself not to start making a big deal out of nothing5. She just nodded.
After that incident, Liao Chengyu apologized to her several more times. Yan Xi actually just wanted to forget about it. She was beginning to feel that this “let’s try dating” model wasn’t going to work and that it was unfair to him. But Liao Chengyu must have seen through her, because he said things like he didn’t mind.
Yan Xi endured. The last time her grandmother had been lucid, she had heard from the family that Yan Xi was dating, and the look of relief on her face made Yan Xi fall silent once more.
On the night of her thirtieth birthday, Yan Xi agreed to let Liao Chengyu celebrate with her. She put on some light makeup at home and changed into a pale blue dress. Grabbing a clutch, she walked out of her room.
Anzhi was in the kitchen. Yan Xi went in to give her some instructions. She had coiled her long, curly hair into a chignon at the nape of her neck, with gently curled tendrils framing her face. Her skin was fair and translucent, her aura gentle and graceful. One hand held the fabric of her long dress. She was beautiful beyond compare6.
“Is the preliminary competition soon?” Yan Xi asked.
“Yeah, after National Day7. It’s a bit later this year.” Anzhi didn’t dare look at her for too long, averting her gaze as she replied.
Time flew by. Anzhi was already in the first semester of her third year of high school. She hesitated, then asked, “Auntie, are you in a hurry to leave?”
“Not at all. What is it?” Yan Xi asked softly.
For the past few months, she had been busy, and so had Anzhi. By the time she got home at night, Anzhi would already be in bed, and their daily phone calls had stopped. Over the summer vacation, Anzhi had even gone with Grandfather and Grandmother Yan to a temple they frequented to escape the summer heat. The two of them had barely seen each other for over two months. Especially after Anzhi’s fifteenth birthday, Yan Xi felt she had become quieter and quieter, speaking less and less, turning into a teenager who completely refused to communicate.
Yan Xi always felt something was wrong but couldn’t put her finger on it. All she could do was give her space, waiting for her to take the initiative to talk.
“I was thinking… I want to move to the school and live there.” Anzhi felt that this period had been pure torture for her. She couldn’t bear to be in the same house with her, so she did her best to avoid her. It was fine on normal school days, but as soon as the summer vacation started, Anzhi seized the opportunity to go with her grandparents to the temple. In that place, built into the mountains far from the city, she couldn’t see Yan Xi, and yet she missed her madly, even imagining scenes of her dating.
It was painful to see her, and painful not to.
Anzhi felt her only choice was to move to the school; maybe the environment there would be better. There was another thing: Yan Xi and that man had been dating for a long time now. Perhaps they needed their personal space. Anzhi was afraid Yan Xi would bring that Liao Chengyu home.
Yan Xi cared less and less about her. She had been away for so long over the summer, and they hadn’t spoken on the phone for so long, but Yan Xi didn’t seem to mind at all.
And there was nothing she could do about it. She couldn’t act spoiled with her like she used to. As she said this, she didn’t even dare to lift her head to look at Yan Xi.
Yan Xi was silent for a long moment. Anzhi looked up at her uneasily.
Yan Xi frowned. “You want to move to the school and live there?”
Anzhi bit her lip and managed a difficult nod.
“Why? Isn’t it fine at home? Don’t tell me it’s because you’re in your third year; I won’t believe that.” Yan Xi was baffled. Was it to make it easier to spend time with Xu Jia’er? She would call her homeroom teacher later to ask if Xu Jia’er was also boarding.
Her hair was very long now, fine, soft, and black, tied back in a ponytail that revealed her small, delicate, pale ears.
Yan Xi’s brow tightened. Was she putting too much pressure on her? Maybe she should just…
“I was thinking, now that you’re… um… would I be disturbing you two if I’m at home?” Anzhi watched her with a remote look in her eyes. After whispering this, she lowered her head again.
Yan Xi abruptly froze.
In that instant, she finally understood what she had overlooked.
The author has something to say:
I want to say a few words here for Yan Jin. She isn’t that old, and especially around the sensitive age of thirty, it’s normal to feel lost at times. She’s not that strong, not that considerate, not able to handle everything with perfect rationality.
Please don’t forget that she has been bullied and isolated before. She also lost her parents at a young age and has been hurt in love.
Someone asked me why I’m including a romance plot. It’s simple: the story needs it.
And I’ve been laying the groundwork for a long time, ever since the name “Liao Chengyu” first appeared, so this is a plot development that’s just going with the flow.
Why would Yan Jin agree? Simple: she’s 30. She hasn’t dated in ten years, hasn’t been in love. And her grandparents are old. First is the pressure of her age. How much pressure does the number 30 carry? I feel like people who are 26, 27, or 28 can’t truly grasp it, let alone those under 26, and certainly not junior high or high school students.
I’m not trying to pull rank by age (okay, maybe a tiny bit), and it’s possible that some of you have an old soul in a young body, but unless you’ve felt the visceral pain of it yourself, you won’t understand that feeling of anxiety so intense it feels like your hair is about to burn off.
When you’re a student, when you’re in your early twenties, you might say things like, “When I’m 30, I’ll do this and that.” When you’re slacking off, you might even think, “I’m not 30 yet, I don’t have to try so hard.” Then 29 hits, and your heart just sinks. Your job isn’t stable, you don’t have a house, you’re single, you’re even getting older. Every day is the youngest you’ll ever be, and every day is a day you get older.
Yan Jin is doing well—successful career, has a house and a car, is gentle and beautiful. What is she missing? She’s missing someone she can talk to, chat with, someone whose soul and body can resonate with hers. Although she loves Taotao, it’s not that other kind of love yet. At this moment, someone she doesn’t dislike appears, pursues her relentlessly, and even says all the right things. Wouldn’t she at least try to get to know him? Besides, they started from the most ordinary friendship.
There’s one more point no one has noticed. If you go back and look, wasn’t one of the reasons she chose Liao Chengyu because of Taotao? Because Liao Chengyu could accept Taotao, because he wouldn’t gossip about Taotao’s background.
Taotao is always on her mind.
Maybe some younger readers will say: Deng, I get the reasoning, but I just can’t stand seeing Yan Jin date someone else. Even holding hands is not okay!
Well, back then, so many of you typed out messages complaining that I wasn’t writing the transition to the romance plotline. Now that I’ve finally managed to force the groundwork into place and am starting to forge ahead, you’re not with me anymore. You even say you want to skip the waiting part, but if you skip, you’ll miss the details. You don’t have the patience to find the little sweet moments in each chapter, and then you might come back and question me: Deng, isn’t the romance too abrupt? How did they just start kissing out of nowhere?
Y’all tell me8, doesn’t that make sense? Don’t I have a right to feel wronged?
Y’all tell me, there are already people who read pirated versions9 and still flaunt it in my face all day, which is depressing enough, and now I have to feel wronged on top of that. Even if I’m old, I can’t take it. Doesn’t that make sense?
I would rather you read the whole thing and then righteously get in my face and throw it at me: “Deng! You just didn’t write it well. For example…”
I think I might be able to accept that! (Maybe…)
(Deng at 3:30 a.m. on June 29)
(Deng, who couldn’t sleep and stayed up cultivating truth10, writing a long review for herself instead)
Footnotes
- A common Chinese saying, 'píngpíng dàndàn jiùshì zhēn,' which suggests that true, lasting happiness in life and relationships is found in simple, everyday moments rather than grand, passionate ones.
- A popular internet slang term combining 'straight man' (zhínán) and 'cancer' (ái) to criticize misogynistic or chauvinistic attitudes in heterosexual men.
- Guīmì (闺蜜) is a modern slang term for a woman's closest female friend, her 'bestie' or 'bosom buddy.'
- A chéngyǔ (four-character idiom), 'qíng nán zì jīn,' meaning to be overcome by emotion or unable to restrain one's feelings.
- A chéngyǔ (four-character idiom), 'xiǎo tí dà zuò,' meaning to make a mountain out of a molehill.
- A chéngyǔ (four-character idiom), 'bùkě fāng wù,' used to describe beauty that is so exceptional it cannot be compared to any physical object; ineffably beautiful.
- A major public holiday in China, celebrated on October 1st.
- The author uses the character '港' (gǎng), a homophone for '讲' (jiǎng) that reflects Cantonese or online slang, to mean 'to say' or 'to speak.' I’ve rendered it as 'Y'all tell me' to capture the colloquial tone.
- Dàowén (盗文) literally means 'stolen text' and refers to unauthorized, pirated copies of the novel hosted on aggregator sites. This is a major issue for webnovel authors, who lose income and reader engagement from their official platform… I promise that this panda is buying the chapters!
- Internet slang. 'Cultivating truth' (xiūzhēn) or 'cultivating immortality' (xiūxiān) is a humorous way to describe staying up extremely late or pulling an all-nighter.
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