Broken
Song Yuhang’s eyes were wide with fury, she screamed hysterically, “Don’t touch it, don’t touch it! Stop, just stop!”
The bailiffs nearly couldn’t hold her back, and amidst the chaos, it was unclear who kicked her.
Song Yuhang’s knees buckled, and with a thud, she fell to the ground, struggling as she rained down punches.
Several staff members went up the stairs again, carrying furniture, Lin Yan’s fitness equipment, tables, chairs…
With just one glance, she saw the person walking at the back holding a few glass bottles in their hands. The bottles were filled to the brim with her origami cranes, and they were cautiously trying to go downstairs.
Song Yuhang, fueled by some unknown strength, gritted her teeth and struggled to climb up. She kicked, stomped, tore, and bit, breaking through the encirclement and rushed forward, clenching her fist and delivering a punch.
“I told you not to touch it!”
The staff member was caught off guard and blood spurted from his nose. He screamed at the top of his lungs, “Madman, madman! Why are you just standing there? Throw this crazy woman out!”
Several imposing bailiffs again came up to grapple with her. Song Yuhang wrested the glass bottle from his grip, clutching it tightly, unmoved by the others’ punches and kicks. No matter how they tried to snatch it away, she wouldn’t let go. In the end, she was thrown out, bottle and all.
She hit the steps outside, bruised and battered, the glass bottle shattering on the road, and the colorful origami cranes scattered everywhere.
This was Lin Yan’s dream, Lin Yan’s hope, her fervor for forensic science, and her reverence for the deceased.
It was also her pure, albeit battered, heart—clean and innocent.
Now, this heart lay on the street, broken in the mud.
Song Yuhang had gone mad; she lunged forward, using her hands to scoop and her sleeves to gather, meticulously picking up her dust-covered dreams one by one.
The bottle was shattered, no longer capable of holding them; so she stuffed them into her pockets, bulging out the pockets of her clothes, her trouser pockets filled to the brim as well.
As Song Yuhang wept, she continued to collect them. When there was no more room, she carefully cradled them in the palms of her hands. She crawled on her knees, the cranes falling as she moved.
Some landed in the nursery, caked with mud. She picked them up, blew them clean, scraped off the clinging earth, and tenderly tucked them close to her chest.
(Originally translated on littlepandatranslations.com, let's go!)
A car drove by, kicking up dust that obscured her view, and the cranes in her hands were once again scattered by the wind.
While Song Yuhang frantically scrambled to pick them up, a hand had already begun to do it for her.
Looking up with surprise and delight, she exclaimed, “Lin Yan, you’re back—”
Her smile gradually froze on her face.
Jingzhe was clad in a suit of black, donning a peaked cap that concealed his ostentatiously red hair.
From behind, he fished out a familiar object and handed it to her.
Just one sentence brought her to tears.
“The young lady’s belongings; returning them to their rightful owner.”
The repaired mechanical stick, after enduring a harsh battle, was marred and no longer retained its original shape; its tip was bent, the freshly applied paint had flaked off, and dark red stains – bloodstains – were visible on it.
Song Yuhang didn’t reach out to take it; she clenched her teeth, eyes reddening, her voice took on a chilling tone, “What do you mean by ‘belongings’? Make yourself clear.”
Jingzhe had the face of a mixed-race individual but was not inclined to smile, nor was he fond of talking. His usually expressionless face, however, now slightly lowered his gaze and furrowed his brows.
Song Yuhang read a trace of sadness in his expression.
“Speak up! What do you mean by ‘belongings’?” She emphasized the word “belongings” heavily, her heart bleeding as the words left her mouth.
Jingzhe extended the stick further toward her: “I followed her instructions, sending the person to the hospital and when I turned back, everything was over; on the bridge, only this remained.”
“By the time I got to the hospital, the resuscitation had ended too…”
Song Yuhang had survived, but Lin Yan succumbed to her grave injuries despite efforts to save her.
Jingzhe paused briefly, but Song Yuhang had already pounced on him, clutching his shoulder tightly.
Her eyes were filled with bloodshot veins: “You’re lying! You’re talking nonsense! She promised me she would live on, live well!”
Jingzhe brushed off her hands and stepped back.
“I’ve seen her, in the morgue.”
His words struck Song Yuhang like a bolt of lightning; she staggered back two steps, her vision darkened, and just as she was about to say something, rage surged up within her. Coughing violently, tears streamed down her face.
She pressed her lips, specks of blood splattering onto her hospital garment.
Jingzhe seemed to show compassion, feigning support for her: “You need to go to the hospital.”
Song Yuhang waved him off, pushing him away as she shook her head, struggling on her own.
“I don’t believe it, I don’t believe it, you are all deceiving me, deceiving me…”
Jingzhe said, “Miss has saved my life, and I obey her alone, I wouldn’t deceive you.”
Song Yuhang wiped the blood from the corner of her mouth, shook her head, and laughed, but her laughter soon turned into crying.
“Hehe… Hahaha… I don’t believe it… I don’t believe… I don’t trust anyone… unless she comes to me in person and tells me she doesn’t want to live… She promised me she wouldn’t seek death lightly… She promised me she would marry me…”
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Seeing her in this state, Jingzhe knew that further words were useless. He gently placed the mechanical stick beside her and nodded before he left.
“Miss talked to me a long time ago, saying that she had fallen in love with someone, a woman named Song Yuhang.”
“She said that her only purpose in life was revenge, and she didn’t know how long she could live, so she didn’t dare to give her heart away.”
“Miss Song, I think she… truly liked you a lot.”
“If you need anything in the future, Jingzhe will be at your beck and call.”
After Jingzhe left, she sat there alone, not knowing how long it had been until a kind passerby offered her a tissue.
“Miss, are you alright?”
Only then did she realize that she had been crying the whole time.
“No, I’m fine.” Song Yuhang forced a smile, but tears welled up again. She got up unsteadily, lifted the hem of her clothing and gathered all the origami cranes that had fallen on the ground. Limping and looking utterly forlorn, she started heading home.
Without a mobile phone and not having brought any money with her, she couldn’t hail a taxi. She walked from daylight into night, from the suburbs to the city center, still wearing the thin patient’s gown she had on when she left the hospital. In the biting early spring weather, she was shivering from the cold wind, her complexion deathly pale, her lips a shade of blue and purple.
By the time she walked home, her feet had developed blisters.
Mother Song, with her heart aching, welcomed her into the warm room, nearly in tears, “Where did you run off to? If I couldn’t find you, I would have had to call the police.”
Song Yuhang’s tears had long been dried by the wind, and she managed a smile: “Mom, get me a glass jar.”
Mother Song didn’t understand what she meant by looking at the big bunch of origami cranes but still fetched the item for her.
Song Yuhang began to place them into the jar one by one: “One thousand, one thousand and one, one thousand and two…”
Not until all the paper cranes from her entire body were placed inside did her tears suddenly start rolling down.
“It’s done, but there are still so many missing. When Lin Yan comes back, she will definitely blame me for not taking good care of her stuff.”
“Yuhang…” Mother Song seemed to want to comfort her.
Yet she stood up as if nothing had happened.
“Mom, I’m going to take a shower.”
Saying this, she staggered towards the bathroom.
She turned on the shower, turned the bath heater up to its highest setting, and the dirty water began rolling down from her head, with a pale red trace of blood seeping out from the tiles at Song Yuhang’s feet.
Trembling, she hugged herself tightly, and in the quiet, sealed space, she finally allowed herself to burst into unrestrained sobs.
Mother Song heard from outside, her heart wrenching as if cut by knives.
That bath took a very long time, until late at night, until her skin pruned up, until the wounds that had been rubbed raw swelled, revealing the raw flesh beneath.
Wearing slippers, Song Yuhang walked out, not expecting that both Mother Song and Ji Jingxing were still awake.
They sat on the living room sofa waiting for her.
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Head bowed, Song Yuhang walked over: “Sis, I’ll sleep in my brother’s room.”
Mother Song patted the spot next to her: “Yuhang, come sit.”
Ji Jingxing also mustered a smile: “Yeah, Xiaowei has gone to sleep, let’s have a chat.”
Song Yuhang remained still, looking at their faces filled with cautiousness and nervousness, and bitter-smiled: “Sister, back when my brother… did you ever think of going with him?”
Ji Jingxing nodded and then shook her head: “I thought about it, but there’s Xiaowei, and there are my parents, Mom, you, I couldn’t do that.”
“Isn’t that the point, I feel the same.” Song Yuhang’s eyes grew hot, and tears fell involuntarily again.
On her way home today, there were countless moments when she wanted to step into the raging traffic, but remembering the words she had advised Lin Yan, she held back.
Her life was exchanged with another’s life; if she really had done such a thing, and they had met in the netherworld, Lin Yan would probably leap up and slap her hard across the face, spit flying onto her face as she cursed her for being a coward, a good-for-nothing, and swore to never associate with her even in death.
Trembling, Mother Song stood up, took her daughter’s hand, and pressed her to sit down on the couch, her eyes brimming with hot tears.
“Mom knows, Yanyan is a good child… If she has a spirit in heaven, she would definitely want you to live well, healthy and safe.”
Song Yuhang’s voice choked up, and she threw herself into her mother’s arms: “Mom, I’m alive, but I feel like I’ve already died.”
“Mom knows, Mom knows, everything will be alright, ah, everything will be alright…” Mother Song, with tears streaming down her face, also pulled Ji Jingxing, who had teary eyes, into her embrace, gently patting their backs.
“Whether it’s you, Jingxing, or Xiaowei… It will all be alright, everything will pass, ah…”
In her mother’s embrace, she finally felt a trace of long-missed warmth.
She knew that even for these family members who loved her, for the behind-the-scenes mastermind who had yet to surface, she should live well. However, her heart seemed to have a huge hole, whistling with the wind, causing her internal organs to ache.
And this pain would accompany her for a lifetime.
Song Yuhang knew that she would never be alright again, never.
After locking herself in the dark room for three days and nights without eating or drinking, Song Yuhang used her mother’s phone to call Jingzhe.
Her voice hoarse on the other end of the phone, she said: “If she is alive, I want to see her; if she is dead, I want to see her body. Wherever she is buried, I need to find her.”
LP: Despair ദ്ദി(˵ •̀ ᴗ – ˵ ) ✧