Chapter 43

If you really had to pick out a mistake Yan Yang had made over the course of our relationship, then it would probably be how he had lured me in at the start. He had flipped this incorrect switch. As for the pain and challenges that had come after, I should be the one responsible for them.

Because the fact of the matter was, my existence really was a mistake as large as the heavens.

But I simply hadn't realised that.

That year, on the eve of the Spring Festival, I returned to China right on the heels of Yan Yang. He, naturally, was staying at home, but I wasn’t. I didn’t say a single word to anyone after getting down the plane. I found a hotel to stay at, and began to prepare for what I was about to do next.

I was determined to not let that family enjoy this reunion.

Speaking of this now, during that time, I had been harbouring hatred towards Yan Yang as well. I hated how he had actually banished me to the side. His parents could take me to not be a part of the family, but this time, he had abandoned me too.

I hated him as much as I loved him. I was like a caged beast, constantly thinking about how I could rip this world apart.

During the few days I was in China, I spoke to Yan Yang a few times. I did my best to remain calm, appearing to be as usual. I tried to find out why he had chosen to go back alone, but unfortunately, Yan Yang had grown up. He was starting to keep secrets from me now.

In order to have him lower his guard, I even said some flirtatious words over the phone to tease him. I said I missed him; we hadn’t done it for very long now.

It had indeed been a while since the last time.

In the past, such a simple line like this would already have been enough to light up the flames of Yan Yang’s desire. He was actually very sensitive, his libido high. Previously, I could always easily make him moan out loud.

But this time, he was running away from it. We didn’t talk for very long before he hung up.

The more he was like this, the more anxious and angry I became.

People sometimes really do find themselves trapped in such a frightening, vicious cycle. When you are finally pulled out of it and look back, you will see how problematic it was with just a glance. But when you’re inside it, you simply cannot tell.

It was also precisely because of this that I did something that even I could never forgive myself for.

I calculated the best time to send out the parcel, then walked out of the hotel room at half past nine in the morning on the eve of Chinese New Year.

I smoked three cigarettes below Yan Yang’s dad’s office building. These three cigarettes were like offerings[1].

Offerings to the dead and the soon-to-be ‘dead’.

I quietly waited there, amid the cold wind of the unbridled winter, patiently waiting for the moment I desired.

While smoking my third cigarette, I saw the delivery man walk in. Soon after, my phone received the delivery notification.

I smiled as I continued to smoke. When the delivery man came out, I said to him, “Thanks.”

He was stunned for a moment, confusion written on his face as he stared at me.

Perhaps he thought I was a lunatic. So be it; I probably was one anyway.

After the delivery man left, I took a sharp drag of my cigarette, then pinched it out like I was snapping a person’s neck. After that, I strolled forward and took the stairs up.

As I walked up the stairs, I was in a good mood. The thought of the expression that would be on that man’s face when he opened the parcel and saw what was inside made me feel incredibly happy.

I really wanted to know which moment would be more painful for him – this one, or learning that my mother had committed suicide?

But the answer to this question should be plain as day. Who would care about whether a lunatic was dead or alive?

I slowly walked up the stairs to the fourth floor and pushed open the door of the stairwell. He was there, in the second office on the left.

This was my first time here, but Yan Yang had often come here in the past.

The person here knew that he had a musically gifted son, but didn’t know that behind this Yan Yang, there was another ‘Yan Yang’, like a shadow.

It was the last half-day of work before the Spring Festival. In another two hours, the holiday would commence. Everyone was looking forward to going home to celebrate.

The walkway was very quiet, my footsteps echoing. At the same time, I was whistling a tune, a hint of mirth inside it.

At that moment, I was like the murderer in ‘Kill Bill’, walking into the hospital about to carry out a bloody assassination. The sound of my whistling and footsteps heralded death. I was an escaped prisoner, here to seek his life.

I stopped in front of his office. The door to his office was open, but I did not immediately walk in. Instead, I very politely knocked on the door.

“Good morning,” I stood at the door, smiling as I asked him, “Do you like the New Year’s gift I sent you?”

Footnotes:

[1] ‘offerings’: Usually involves using incense sticks to pray, hence the parallel drawn to cigarettes.

Also, on Chinese New Year's Eve, it’s tradition to have a ‘reunion dinner’ for a family to come together and celebrate.