STT – Chapter 30

by Little Panda

Only Later, Through Tears, Did I Understand: Some People, Once Missed, Are Gone Forever

Xu Bohan gently turned her wheelchair and approached a door attached to the bedroom. She took out a key, turned it, and opened it.

Lu Zizheng had assumed it was a bathroom, but when the door swung open, she saw only darkness inside. Xu Bohan turned sideways, beckoned to Lu Zizheng with a wave of her hand, signaling her to follow, and then disappeared into the blackness of the inner room.

Lu Zizheng hesitated for a moment before stepping in with heavy, slow footsteps. The room was pitch black, so dark she couldn’t see her hand in front of her face. Her nose tickled; she could smell a thick, dusty odor. This room, it seemed, was rarely entered and hadn’t been cleaned in a long time.

Xu Bohan’s gentle, calm voice sounded in the darkness. “Zizheng, feel along the wall for the light switch and turn it on.”

Lu Zizheng did as she was told, groping along the wall in the dark until her fingers found the protruding switch. With a click, the light came on.

The sudden brightness stung her eyes, and for a moment she couldn’t open them. She blinked, waiting until she’d adjusted to the light, then slowly opened her eyes. As she looked around, her entire body froze.

The first thing she saw was painting after painting, hanging low and neatly covering all four walls. The room wasn’t large, but dozens of easels were arranged in an orderly fashion, each with a canvas bearing a painting. And every single painting featured the same subject: a young girl of fifteen or sixteen, with long hair reaching her shoulders, delicate and cold features, and an expression that was utterly indifferent. Not one of them showed her smiling.

Xu Bohan’s eyes, filled with deep longing, swept slowly over the paintings. She turned to Lu Zizheng. “Remember how I once told you I had a younger cousin, the same age as you? And I showed you her middle school graduation photo?”

Lu Zizheng nodded. It had come up in passing during a conversation, and Xu Bohan had seemed reluctant to talk about it, so she hadn’t pressed. The graduation photo was a group shot, and Lu Zizheng had only glanced at it briefly. But even in that blurry image, Xu Bohan’s cousin had stood out. Lu Zizheng had spotted her immediately, because she was so strikingly beautiful. And then she’d found herself looking again, because everyone else in the photo was smiling, but this girl was staring straight into the camera, her face utterly expressionless, revealing nothing.

Xu Bohan wheeled herself to one of the easels. Her thumb gently traced the girl’s cheek in the painting, as if caressing it with the utmost tenderness. She began to speak, her voice unhurried. “These are all paintings of her. Her name is Yun Bai. Same bai character as mine, the one with the ‘wood’ radical. But she always preferred to write it as Yun Bo, with the ‘water’ radical. She said she was like a cloud—rootless, free and easy, destined to drift.”

She saw Lu Zizheng standing stiffly, listening, and smiled. “It’s a long story. It might take a while. Are you sure you don’t want to sit down?”

Lu Zizheng gave an embarrassed little laugh, then went to fetch a chair and sat down across from Xu Bohan.

She was almost afraid to guess what story Xu Bohan was about to tell.

Once Lu Zizheng was settled, Xu Bohan continued. “Yun Bo was my tangmei—my paternal cousin. Her grandfather was a close friend of my grandfather’s from when he was sent to the countryside. Later, her grandfather died saving my grandfather’s life, and her grandmother passed away not long after. So my grandfather took her father in and raised him as his own son. Later, my grandfather returned to the city, married my grandmother, and had my father. But they always treated my uncle like their own flesh and blood. They sent him abroad to study, helped him raise capital to start a business. My uncle married young and had four daughters, but no son. My aunt was already too old to have more children. So my uncle started fooling around outside to try for a boy. Yun Bo’s mother was one of those women. But she only had a daughter, too, so my uncle refused to acknowledge them. Eventually, Yun Bo’s mother abandoned her at my uncle’s doorstep and ran off with another man. My aunt made a huge scene and absolutely refused to let Yun Bo into the house. My uncle couldn’t be bothered, so he sent Yun Bo to live with distant relatives in the countryside. She stayed there until she grew up, and he never brought her back. When it was time for Yun Bo to start school and she needed to be registered in a household, my uncle had her registered under the relatives’ surname, Yun. He gave her a name that followed our generation’s naming pattern, just a single character: Bai.”

Lu Zizheng lowered her eyes and listened quietly. Yun Bo. Her name fit her life story all too well. Like a cloud—rootless, free and easy. Lu Zizheng couldn’t tell if she saw things too clearly, or if she just couldn’t see past them.

A faint smile touched Xu Bohan’s lips. “I first met her when I was twelve. She was only a year younger than me, but a whole head shorter. My father had developed a resort in our hometown that summer, and my younger brother and I went there for the summer vacation. My father had always felt sorry for Yun Bo, thought my uncle had wronged her, but he could never do much to help. So when we went, he brought Yun Bo along.”

She seemed to be recalling the scene, her eyes full of laughter. “She was so proud back then. After she came with us, she called my father ‘Uncle’ in a flat voice, and then she ignored everyone. She just curled up in a corner and entertained herself. But I was drawn to her looks, and her personality was so unique. I couldn’t help but be curious and fond of her. Even though she turned me down again and again, I kept going back to ask her to come out and play with us. In the end, I finally succeeded.”

Xu Bohan asked Lu Zizheng with a hint of pride, “Can you guess why?”

Lu Zizheng looked at Xu Bohan’s rare playful expression and gently shook her head. How could she possibly guess?

Xu Bohan laughed. “Later, she told me it was because I smiled so brightly at her that day. She said it felt like she’d seen the sun in her life.”

Lu Zizheng pressed her lips together, amused. “She talks like a romantic poet.”

Xu Bohan’s eyes lit up. “She was more than just a romantic poet. After that first meeting, every summer vacation, my brother and I would pick up Yun Bo and go to the resort. We didn’t have cell phones back then, so Yun Bo would send me letters every month. Sometimes one, sometimes two. Our correspondence grew more and more passionate, and we got to know each other better and better. Sometimes I felt like she was a born artist. She could pick a random blade of grass by the roadside and weave it into all kinds of lifelike little animals to make me laugh. She could pluck a leaf and play a beautiful tune on it. She even taught herself to sketch lifelike portraits of me with a simple ballpoint pen. I admit, I became more and more captivated and intoxicated by her talent and tenderness. So the first time she looked at me with that burning, ambiguous gaze, I didn’t look away. And when she was fifteen, the first time she kissed me, gently and passionately, I didn’t refuse her.”

As she spoke, a faint blush crept onto Xu Bohan’s cheeks. Lu Zizheng could imagine, through her words, the innocent, carefree days they’d shared.

“After that, her letters to me became passionate, beautiful love letters, written like poetry. Every time I received one, my heart would race and my face would burn as I read them. Sometimes she’d send me music she’d composed herself, songs with her own lyrics. I’d learn to sing them one by one from the scores she sent. I’d imagine her burning eyes fixed on me, her low, gentle voice humming in my ear, and I’d feel my cheeks grow hot, my ears burn. I knew clearly how much she attracted me.”

She paused, glanced at Lu Zizheng, and seemed to gather her courage before continuing. “So when she was sixteen, when she climbed into my bed, gently bit my lip, pulled down the strap of my nightgown, and reached out to touch me, I silently indulged her, even responded. She told me she loved me, over and over. I just held her and said nothing.”

Lu Zizheng couldn’t help but be shocked. In all the years she’d known her, she’d always seen Xu Bohan as an extremely rational, level-headed person. At sixteen, so young… how had she dared? How had she been willing to give herself so easily?

Xu Bohan gave a bitter laugh. “Zizheng, the truth is, I was terrified afterward. Yun Bo’s nature was a little obsessive. Her love was so intense it scared me. Sometimes she’d hold me and beg me. She said I was the only person she loved in the whole world. Could I love her just a little bit more? For me, she said, she could give up everything, fear nothing. She said ‘I love you’ so many times, but I gritted my teeth and never dared to say it back even once. I knew she was the kind of person who meant what she said. But she didn’t know how afraid I was. I was afraid of our family finding out. Afraid they’d know I not only loved a woman, but my own cousin. I never thought about how to make it last forever with her. I just thought, take it one day at a time. I even secretly planned how I might get out unscathed. I was afraid of so many things. But the one thing I never worried about was losing her.”

She sniffled, let out a soft laugh, her voice low and hoarse. “But the sad thing is, in the end, she was the only thing I lost.”

By this point in the story, Lu Zizheng didn’t have the courage to ask Xu Bohan, “And then what happened?” Xu Bohan’s grandfather was a hospital director, her mother a university professor, her father a former doctor. She came from a scholarly family. The education she’d received since childhood was to follow the rules and be a proper lady. The fact that she hadn’t resisted Yun Bo from the very beginning was already beyond Lu Zizheng’s expectations. It proved that she really, truly loved Yun Bo.

She didn’t dare imagine how much it must have hurt when Xu Bohan let go.

Xu Bohan stared at Yun Bo’s portrait for a long time before continuing, her voice heavy with silence. “Two days before the end of that summer vacation, when I was sixteen, my brother wanted to play on a beach at the resort that hadn’t been fully developed yet. I was worried, so I went with him. Yun Bo followed me. Yun Bo couldn’t swim. She was instinctively afraid of the water, so she stood on the shore and watched us play. As time passed, the waves grew bigger and bigger. Neither my brother nor I noticed. Not until Yun Bo suddenly ran from the shore, grabbed me, and pulled me back, did I realize something terrible was happening.”

Her voice began to waver, a slight tremor at the end of her words.

“I ran with her before I even knew what was happening. In the middle of running, she let go of my hand, and I didn’t even notice. Not until I reached the shore and turned around did I see that she had fallen. The waves had already washed over half her body, quickly swallowing her, pulling her out to sea.”

Lu Zizheng’s heart trembled along with Xu Bohan’s voice.

“I ran back like a madwoman, trying to save her. But closer to me, not far away, my brother was also being swept away, crying out pitifully, ‘Sis, save me! Sis…’ Yun Bo and my brother were both thrashing in the water. She didn’t call out to me, but I could feel her eyes locked on me. But at that moment, I couldn’t do anything…” Her voice was thick with tears now.

“There was no one else on the beach. I could only save one person. Yun Bo was being swept further and further out, but my brother was still near the shore. In the end, I gritted my teeth, changed direction, swam to my brother, and dragged him back with all my strength. The moment I turned my back, I heard Yun Bo’s heart-wrenching scream from the sea: ‘Xu Bohan, I hate you…'”

Lu Zizheng saw the tears slip from the corners of Xu Bohan’s eyes, but she couldn’t open her mouth to say a single word of comfort. She had never imagined that behind Xu Bohan’s years of smiles lay such sorrow. And no matter how heartfelt the comfort, it probably couldn’t make Xu Bohan feel even the slightest bit better.

Xu Bohan lowered her eyes, her voice hoarse. “I had no choice. I wasn’t afraid of saving Yun Bo, even if it meant we both drowned. But the one calling me ‘Sis’ and begging for help was my brother, who I’d grown up with, who I had a deep bond with. I couldn’t just watch him die. I could only keep shouting in my heart, praying she could hear me, telling her, ‘Yun Bo, don’t be afraid. Wait for me. I’ll come with you. Don’t drift too far, don’t go too far. Wait for me…'”

“After I saved my brother and turned around, Yun Bo was gone. I ran into the sea again, but by then, adults had heard the commotion and come running. They held me back, wouldn’t let me go. I struggled, I cried, I screamed, until I finally collapsed on the beach.”

Lu Zizheng bit her lip. Her gaze fell on the painting of the girl hanging on the wall nearby. The girl was standing by the sea, looking at the shore, her eyes filled with despair and sorrow. Lu Zizheng’s chest ached with a dull pain.

Xu Bohan’s gaze followed Lu Zizheng’s to the same painting.

“When I woke up, I was in the hospital. My mother was sitting beside me. The first words out of my mouth were to ask her, ‘Where’s Yun Bo? Where is she?’ But my mother avoided my eyes and didn’t answer. I knew then that Yun Bo was gone. She had saved me, and I had abandoned her. I couldn’t cry anymore. All I could hear, over and over, was that ‘Xu Bohan, I hate you.’ I started to ache for her. I was so afraid she’d be scared, walking alone on that dark road. Afraid the cold, icy seawater would be too much for her… It was only then that I truly understood how much, how deeply, I loved her… When my mother left at noon, I pulled out my IV and jumped from the fifth-floor window of the hospital. I couldn’t bear to let her walk that lonely path alone…”

Lu Zizheng’s heart pounded with fear. She couldn’t help but tremble. Xu Bohan noticed and reached out to pat her legs, comforting her with understanding.

“The fifth floor wasn’t high enough to let me join Yun Bo. It only took my legs. My family all thought I was consumed by guilt for not saving Yun Bo. They told me that in that situation, it was impossible to save everyone, that I’d done my best, that no one would blame me, that Yun Bo would surely understand. But I knew they didn’t understand Yun Bo. She was someone who loved and hated so clearly, who couldn’t tolerate even a grain of sand in her eyes. The moment I turned away, to her, it was abandonment and betrayal. The ‘I hate you’ she screamed with the last of her strength proved that Yun Bo blamed me, loved me, and hated me…”

Lu Zizheng didn’t know what to say. Her throat felt blocked. She managed to choke out, “Jie…” and couldn’t go on.

A faint, self-deprecating smile touched Xu Bohan’s lips. “Later, I tried to end it a few more times. My parents begged me. They said, ‘Bohan, wait a little longer. Maybe Yun Bo was rescued. The search team has been looking for days and hasn’t found her. It’s not impossible. When Yun Bo recovers, she’ll come back to you. What would you do if you weren’t here?’ So I clung to that last straw, dragging out this miserable existence for years. Waiting. Searching. I naively refused to treat my legs. I’ve been in this wheelchair for twelve years, hoping that if Yun Bo ever came back, if she still blamed me, I could use it to prove that I really loved her. That I loved her so, so much.”

“But I know I won’t get her back. She’ll never hear the ‘I love you’ I owe her…” Xu Bohan’s smile slowly faded from her lips.

From outside the room, Jiang Huaixi’s cool, clear voice drifted in, slow and melodic. “Withered flowers can no longer be picked. A love that has faded can never return. How many people, in the ‘later’ that never came, only then begin to regret the mistakes they let slip by. The last song, 《Later¹》, for all of you.”

“Only later did I finally learn how to love, but you had already gone, disappeared into the crowd. Only later, through tears, did I understand: some people, once missed, are gone forever…”

Xu Bohan leaned forward and gently kissed the still-rosy lips of the girl in the painting before her. A slight curve appeared at the corners of her mouth. Her voice was terrifyingly calm. “Zizheng, I don’t want to keep lying to myself and waiting anymore. Yun Bo must be tired of waiting, too…”

The author has something to say:

Zizheng was scared by Xu Bohan’s story. Were you all scared, too? Haha ^_^

Goodnight, everyone~ \(≧▽≦)/~