Bending down to enter the chess game

Chapter 38 Worried about you

Qiao Yi went out.

The street gleamed blindingly white in the midday sun, the zebra crossings cutting into the asphalt like the deliberately avoided cracks in a marriage. She wandered across the traffic lights like a ghost; the mannequin in the shop window, wearing a new dress, the pearl necklace around its neck reflecting a cold light, seemed just like the necklace worn by that woman.

I forgot to ask. Was that a gift from Zhang Zhirong?

As the automatic doors of the convenience store opened and closed, Jay Chou's "Sunny Day" drifted out. "Once upon a time, there was someone who loved you for a long time." She was struck by a memory. She said she lacked passion, but the image of him playing guitar and singing this song for her in front of a thousand people in the university auditorium—wasn't that real? Wasn't that passion back then? Times have changed. The boy who would hold an umbrella for her in the rain had become a husband shielding another woman from the wind. Qiao Yi took out her phone. She felt no excitement anymore. She wanted to talk to someone, but who could she talk to?

Qiao Yi is a designer. Working past midnight is a regular occurrence. The aroma of caramel macchiato wafts from the coffee shop around the corner—her favorite scent. Three years ago, he would always buy one on late nights and place it in the entryway, along with a handwritten note: "Recharging for my Miss Qiao." Right now, a young couple sits in the shop window, the girl smearing whipped cream on the boy's nose...

So, will he also give her this coffee, this care, this affection?

At the end of the pedestrian street lies the moat, where a few dilapidated wishing lanterns float. Who made these vows of lifelong commitment here? Do they even know that everything will change? The music from the square dancing is deafening. The brightly colored scarves of the aunties flutter in the twilight, like a flock of tireless butterflies. Qiao Yi suddenly envies them; at least their happiness is real, while her own marriage is nothing but a mirage. Perhaps she doesn't want to talk to anyone, doesn't want to face anyone's comfort.

She walked along the riverbank for a long time, until her high heels blistered her heels. When she sat down on a bench, the moon had already climbed above the treetops. She stroked her wedding ring on her ring finger; the platinum band was engraved with their initials.

Just as the dew that had dampened my calves began to feel cool, a cell phone rang shrilly. The caller ID on the screen read: Mom.

It's my mother-in-law.

She pressed the answer button: "Xiaoyi, where are you?" Her mother-in-law's voice revealed anxiety and worry: "Gang Zhirong called me. That guy's not thinking straight, he's got problems. I've already scolded him. Don't worry, when I get back, you can scold and hit him as much as you want, I guarantee he won't say a word." She said cautiously, "Xiaoyi, go home first. It's past midnight, and I'm worried about you not being back yet."

Tears suddenly welled up. The advantage of marrying someone of equal social standing was that her mother-in-law had watched her grow up, and their relationship over the years was closer than that of mother and daughter. She knew that her mother-in-law was indeed worried about her.

But what if the other side of the scale is your own son?

No one inhuman would be willing to gamble on that possibility.

"Okay, I'll be right back."

She hung up the phone, stood up, and threw the ring into the river. Small ripples spread across the surface, quickly returning to calm. She turned. Under the streetlights, her shadow stretched and shortened, shortened and stretched again. Her phone vibrated again; this time it was a WeChat message from her husband: "Come home, don't worry Mom." She deleted the message and hailed a taxi. In the rearview mirror, the city lights gradually illuminated, like countless shattered hopes. These nights to come were destined to be spent alone.

"Do you want a divorce?"

"No." The man opposite said firmly.

When did you break up with her?

Zhang Zhirong lowered his head.

"Zhirong, are you out of your mind? Is your brain full of water? Do you want me to pour it out for you?" Mother-in-law Zhang Yun jumped up from her chair in anger and went to the kitchen to find a rolling pin.

"Break up tomorrow. No, break up with that woman right now. Block her, you hear me?"

"Mom!" Zhang Zhirong said helplessly, "This is between Xiaoyi and me."

"What do you mean 'you two' and 'us two'? Your business is my business. I'm telling you, you'd better break up now. If you don't, I'll take Xiaoyi with me, and you can move out." Zhang Yun said decisively, pointing the rolling pin at his head.

Zhang Zhirong took out a lighter and twirled it in his hand. Qiao Yi knew this was a symptom of his anxiety.

"It's the middle of the night, everyone else is asleep."

Zhang Yun smacked her on the back with a stick: "You still care whether she sleeps well or not? How did I give birth to such an idiot like you?"

Qiao Yi stood up without saying a word.

"Hey Xiaoyi, where are you going?"

Zhang Yun threatened Zhang Zhirong with her eyes to get rid of that woman quickly. She didn't stop and chased Qiao Yi to the bedroom.

Her daughter-in-law, who always paid attention to her appearance, hadn't washed her face, her short hair was a mess, and she was still wearing a gray pajama set, with black dust stuck to her bottom somewhere. She sighed inwardly, feeling extremely uncomfortable.

"Xiaoyi, what are you thinking? Tell me."

Qiao Yi moved her eyes like a withered tree trunk, turning them toward her with a blank stare: "My marriage has cracked."

"I know." Her mother-in-law, Zhang Yun, looked even more distressed than she was. Her gaze repeatedly swept over Zhaoxing's hand, which hung limply by the bedside, as if she wanted to reach out and touch it. "Think about Zhaoxing, can things really go on like this? Don't worry, I'll make sure Zhirong breaks up with that old woman!"

Qiao Yi asked, puzzled, "Mom, how are we going to go on like this? This isn't about love, and it has nothing to do with Zhao Xing. It's just..."

She didn't know how to describe it.

"I was hungry, so I walked down the street and randomly picked a restaurant to go into. In the past, I would have thought: Ah, I wonder if Zhirong has eaten? This restaurant looks pretty good, will he like it? But now I think, have they eaten here before? Has he brought her here to eat? Have they ever eaten a meal like this together? Are they eating together now? What are they like when they eat? Does he eagerly put food on her plate? Will he finish eating halfway through..."

"Okay, stop thinking about it." Zhang Yun's eyes were also swollen. "Xiaoyi, stop torturing yourself."

"This isn't self-destructive parenting. Once you finally accept that you're not loved, needed, or respected, you think you can let go. But..."

She covered her face: "But Mom, I can't do it. Why did he hurt me! Why doesn't he love me! Why does he like her? Did I do something wrong? Did I do something wrong? It's me, it's me, I'm not like myself anymore, Mom..."

Having said all that, Zhang Yun had nothing more to say, nothing more to persuade. As a woman herself, she might not fully empathize, but she would never add fuel to the fire. She put her arm around her shoulder. "Xiaoyi, if you can't stand it, then get a divorce. Mom will go with you to the divorce tomorrow. Don't worry, you won't lose a single penny of what you're entitled to!"