STT – Chapter 20

I Can’t Afford to Lose You

Lian Xuan leaned against Lu Zizheng’s shoulder, her voice soft and slow, ethereal and distant. “Once upon a time, there was a little girl. Her parents were betrothed before birth¹ because their grandfathers were sworn brothers who had shared life-and-death bonds. The girl’s mother loved her father deeply, but when the girl was eleven, her father brought home another woman and a nine-year-old boy. Two years later, her mother died of a broken heart. That same year, the girl was sent by her father to study in the United Kingdom—it was practically an exile. Three years later, she fell gravely ill in the UK, nearly dying. Her maternal grandfather pressured her paternal grandfather, who felt so guilty toward his old brother that he finally made the hard decision to strip her father of control over the company. He recalled the girl and declared her the sole heir. To secure her grandfather’s support and affection, the girl spent years walking on thin ice, terrified of making a single mistake.”

Seeing no reaction from Lu Zizheng, she nudged her soft hair against the crook of Lu Zizheng’s neck, whispering, “Zizheng, can you guess who the girl in the story is?”

            

It was the first time Lu Zizheng had heard Lian Xuan speak of her family. Though she spoke of it so lightly, Lu Zizheng could still hear the hardships and bitterness hidden within. Losing a mother at a young age and being cast away to a foreign land—the struggles a thirteen-year-old child must have faced were plain to see. If this had been that night years ago, she would have held Lian Xuan tight in her arms with a breaking heart, wishing she could make up for all the grievances her father had caused her. But now, she merely let out a sigh, feeling nothing but a boundless melancholy.

Lian Xuan knew Lu Zizheng understood what she was talking about. Lu Zizheng’s silence didn’t stop her from continuing. “When my mother passed away, she left a will stating that if my father ever remarried, her entire estate would be donated to charity. She used this to threaten him, keeping him from making any reckless moves. Before she died, she told that woman with absolute hatred that she would never allow her to set foot inside the Lian family home, and that her son would carry the title of bastard forever. After grandfather brought me back, he forbade my father from bringing them back to the Lian family mansion. Yet today, because grandfather went to Anzhou to recuperate from his illness, my father brought that woman and her son, openly appearing at my birthday banquet. They acted as if they were a picture-perfect family—a loving father, a filial son, and a deeply devoted couple.”

She paused, her voice falling low and bleak. “In that moment, I suddenly felt it was so ironic. Why even throw such a grand birthday celebration? Looking at the bustling noise and excitement all around me, I didn’t know what they were celebrating so wildly. When even I can’t find the meaning of my own existence, who could possibly be grateful that I’m alive…”

            

Lu Zizheng felt her sweater growing damp, and with it, her heart felt a little damp as well. In the end, her heart softened. She finally uttered the name she hadn’t spoken once since their reunion. “Lian Xuan…”

Her voice was very soft. “Lian Xuan, happy birthday.”

She saw Lian Xuan lift her head slightly from her shoulder. Though crystal tears still shimmered in her eyes, a sweet smile bloomed on her face. “Zizheng, ever since we met again, I’ve been waiting… waiting for you to call me like this once more.”

            

Lian Xuan said, “My mother never understood how to fight for her own love in her entire life. She only knew that she couldn’t let go of what belonged to her—her husband, her status, and her inheritance. So, she only taught me how to secure what is rightfully mine. She never told me whether I should let go if holding on still made me unhappy. If what I get isn’t what I wanted most, should I discard it? Zizheng, teach me.”

Lu Zizheng looked deeply at Lian Xuan, but she avoided the question, turning her head to offer mild comfort. “You’ll be happy.” Lian Xuan didn’t even know what she wanted herself, so how could Lu Zizheng teach her? She didn’t know what kind of answer Lian Xuan wanted from her, or perhaps, Lian Xuan had never truly expected her to have one anyway.

Lian Xuan let out a long sigh, her voice laced with nostalgia. “Zizheng, since my mother passed away, the only truly happy days I’ve ever had were that brief year I spent with you. After that, I’m afraid it’ll be hard to find happiness again.”

            

Seeing how the sweet, lovely face that once enchanted her was now filled with bitterness and melancholy, Lu Zizheng felt her own heart sink. She watched as Lian Xuan raised her head from her shoulder and looked around, her slender finger pointing into the distance as she counted. “I remember there was a fishing platform over there. You were so clumsy back then—you didn’t catch a single fish. Right next to it was the water park. You were so timid then, not even daring to walk across the suspension bridge alone. And a bit further down was our dormitory. The curfew was so strict at night, and the warden was terrifying. But that was when you suddenly got brave, insisting on bringing me out here. In the end, the warden caught us, and we ran all the way, laughing all the way…”

“Ran all the way, laughing all the way…” That last word, “laughing,” died out in Lian Xuan’s bitter chuckle.

Lu Zizheng remembered all these memories vividly as well. Years ago, when she was in love with Lian Xuan, thinking of them was as sweet as honey in her heart. But for a long time after Lian Xuan left, remembering them was like pouring salt on an open wound.

            

During their grade’s spring outing that year, Lu Zizheng had originally planned not to join. She had always avoided group activities like this, because whenever it came to choosing roommates, she would always face the awkwardness of being unwanted by anyone. This time, however, there was an exception because of Lian Xuan.

Lian Xuan had invited her to share a room. Furthermore, because the outing venue was one of the Lian family’s properties, Lian Xuan had a special status, allowing them to apply for a double room. Naturally, Lu Zizheng agreed without a second thought, looking forward to it with immense anticipation.

Throughout the trip, Lian Xuan stayed by her side. After touring several exhibition halls with the large group, Lian Xuan asked the supervising teacher for permission to go off with Lu Zizheng on their own. Thus, what was supposed to be a group spring outing turned into a trip for just the two of them.

            

With the spring weather so beautiful, Lian Xuan felt inspired to sketch. The two of them found a perfect spot where Lu Zizheng could fish in peace while Lian Xuan painted to her heart’s content, neither disturbing the other.

But when Lu Zizheng rented a fishing rod, cast her bait, and tried to focus on fishing, Lian Xuan stared at her for a long moment before teasing, “The scenery here is beautiful, Zizheng, but it’s not even a ten-thousandth of you.”

Lu Zizheng’s face instantly flushed deep crimson.

            

Lian Xuan grew even more pleased with herself, deciding on a whim, “You’re as beautiful as a painting, Zizheng, how could I miss this? Let me paint you and freeze this beautiful moment in time.”

Lu Zizheng was too shy to agree. She set down her fishing rod and started to stand up to snatch Lian Xuan’s drawing board, but Lian Xuan frowned and told her with an entirely serious face, “Zizheng, don’t move.”

Seeing her so earnest, Lu Zizheng was still shy, but her heart was full of joy. She let Lian Xuan have her way, picking up her fishing rod again to serve as her model.

            

Later, Lian Xuan always teased her for being clumsy because she hadn’t caught a single fish after half a day. What she didn’t know was that Lu Zizheng had actually felt the fish biting. She’d only been worried about disrupting Lian Xuan’s sketching, so she hadn’t dared to move, letting the fish nibble the bait and leisurely swim away.

Lu Zizheng never succeeded in claiming that drawing afterward. Lian Xuan said she wanted to take it home and frame it in her bedroom, so that the first thing she saw when she opened her eyes and the last thing she saw before she closed them would be her.

Lian Xuan had spoken with such tenderness and earnestness back then that Lu Zizheng had almost fallen for one of life’s three great illusions: she likes me too.

            

Later, they went to the water park next to the fishing platform. The suspension bridges there were thrilling and shaky, and the air was filled with constant screams and laughter. Lian Xuan had no interest in it, but Lu Zizheng wanted to give it a try, so Lian Xuan encouraged her to go ahead. However, Lu Zizheng had the desire but lacked the courage. After taking only a few steps onto the bridge, the student in front of her took such heavy, wide strides that the bridge began to swing violently. The wooden planks dipped, wetting her shoes. Lu Zizheng gripped the iron chains with both hands, too terrified to take another step.

But Lian Xuan stepped onto the bridge at some point, gently taking her hand and smiling to reassure her. “Zizheng, don’t be afraid. I’m holding your hand. Even if we fall in, I’ll be right there with you.”

She squeezed Lian Xuan’s hands tightly, feeling as though she were holding the entire world. Boundless courage welled up in her heart. With Lian Xuan beside her, let alone this tiny suspension bridge, even if she had to walk through a mountain of daggers or a sea of fire, down to the depths of the underworld or up to the vault of heaven, she would have nothing to fear. And so, they crossed that small lake calmly, holding hands as they made their way over the swaying iron chain bridge.

            

That night, after returning to the dormitory from the evening gala, Lu Zizheng stood by the window counting stars. Spotting a grassy slope in the distance, she suddenly felt a rush of romantic whimsy and insisted on coaxing Lian Xuan into going out with her.

“The sky is full of twinkling stars, a cool breeze is blowing over the slope, and fireflies are drifting right before our eyes… Don’t you want to go experience it?” Lu Zizheng made it sound so tempting that Lian Xuan was swayed too.

So the two of them turned off the lights and crept downstairs. Who would’ve thought that just as they were about to slip out of the dormitory area, the warden spotted them from afar? The warden shouted, “Go back!”

            

But Lu Zizheng grabbed Lian Xuan’s hand and ran. The louder the warden shouted, the faster they ran. Out of breath, they fled a long, long way. Panting, Lian Xuan wheezed, “She… she shouldn’t be chasing us anymore. We can stop…”

Lu Zizheng slowly stopped and looked back. Sure enough, on the empty road, there was no one else but the two of them.

She looked at Lian Xuan and saw that her face was flushed red from running, her hair was disheveled, and she was panting softly—it was uniquely adorable. Lian Xuan grumbled at her, “It’s all your fault. Didn’t you say we wouldn’t get caught? Liar…”

            

Embarrassed, Lu Zizheng shook Lian Xuan’s hand and obediently admitted her mistake. “It’s me, it’s all my fault. If we get caught, I’ll definitely take the blame and say I led Lian Xuan astray. Lian Xuan is a good girl…”

Seeing her acting so cute to win her over, Lian Xuan couldn’t help but burst into laughter. Seeing her smile, Lu Zizheng let out a bright laugh too. She took Lian Xuan’s hand and started running again, running and laughing. Their laughter, mingled with their scattered footsteps, echoed along the quiet road…

But times had changed. What was the point of bringing up the past? Lian Xuan did not know that every memory she had given her only served to remind her of one thing now: nothing in this world was more unpredictable than the human heart, and nothing was more fickle than human emotion.

            

She felt sorry and sad for the grievances and pain Lian Xuan had suffered, but that didn’t make her past malicious accusations and the pain she had inflicted any more justified.

Another gust of cold wind swept over, making Lu Zizheng shiver. Noticing this, Lian Xuan pulled herself back from her memories and said, “I’m sorry. I was too impulsive tonight, driving you all the way out here on the highway without thinking of the consequences. It’s late now, so I’ll have to ask you to make do and spend the night here with me. I’ll drive you back as soon as it’s light tomorrow morning.”

Lu Zizheng shook her head to show she did not mind.

            

Lian Xuan stood up, draped her coat back over Lu Zizheng’s shoulders, and walked quickly ahead to lead the way.

Fortunately, once they went down the slope, there was a hotel not far away. Lian Xuan showed her identification and booked a double room. Lu Zizheng quietly followed behind, letting her handle the arrangements.

Inside the room, two beds lay side by side. The layout was just like the dormitory they had once shared. Everything that happened tonight bore a striking resemblance to that year, yet it was drawing to a close in a completely different manner.

            

That year, they had returned after enjoying themselves to the full counting stars on the grassy slope. In the deep, cold night, after washing up, Lian Xuan was reluctant to crawl into her own cold bed. With a beaming smile, she climbed into Lu Zizheng’s bed, sliding under the covers and wrapping herself around Lu Zizheng like a koala. “Zizheng, you’re so warm,” she murmured playfully in a spoiled tone. “Should I take you home and hide you away so you can warm my bed every night?” She didn’t see Lu Zizheng’s bright red ears hidden beneath the sheets or the shy smile on her lips. Back then, as Lu Zizheng held her back, she didn’t know how many times she had whispered in her heart, I’m willing.

Now, the two of them briefly washed up in the bathroom, said goodnight to each other, climbed into their respective beds, turned off the lights, and went to sleep.

Her wristwatch ticked away. Lu Zizheng could hear it clearly. In such an unfamiliar bed, she couldn’t fall asleep.

            

After a long while, Lu Zizheng realized that Lian Xuan also couldn’t sleep. She heard Lian Xuan’s soft voice calling her name in the darkness, “Zizheng, are you asleep?”

Lu Zizheng closed her eyes and pretended to be asleep, giving no reply.

Then, she heard the rustle of sheets and blankets, followed by the sound of Lian Xuan’s light footsteps as she got out of bed.

            

Lu Zizheng felt Lian Xuan standing by her bedside. As the sound of her breathing drew closer, a pair of slightly cool hands brushed against her lightly furrowed brow, slowly and gently, as if trying to smooth away that tiny crease.

Finally, Lian Xuan’s breath drew closer still, and she pressed a warm kiss to Lu Zizheng’s forehead.

In the silence, Lu Zizheng heard Lian Xuan murmur softly, “Zizheng, I’m so tired. I really wish I could hear you play Canon one more time…”

            

Back then, Lu Zizheng had told Lian Xuan: Canon represents joy within sorrow, happiness in tranquility, light in the dark, and hope in despondency.

Once, Lian Xuan had been that kind of presence in her life. But without her realizing it, that unique place in her heart had already been replaced by Jiang Huaixi.

Feeling Lian Xuan’s warm breath beside her, Lu Zizheng’s heart felt freezing cold. She couldn’t help but ask herself in bitter self-reproach: How can you demand an everlasting eternity from someone else? How many times did you promise in your heart that you would love Lian Xuan for the rest of your life, that you would shield her from all worries and guard her peace forever? But now, Lian Xuan hasn’t changed, yet haven’t you changed as well?

            

In this world, where could one ever find a flower that never fades, people who never part, or a heart that never changes?

Huaixi, in the end, I still don’t dare to gamble again.

Simply because I can’t afford to lose you.

            

On the back of the photo left forgotten on the study desk, the period following those ten characters—“May we live long, sharing the beauty of the moon even from a thousand miles away”²—was drawn as only a half-arc. In the end, it was still so hard to make it a complete circle…

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