TIL - 42

Time passed quickly, and in the blink of an eye, two months had passed since the film festival. Wen Huo hadn’t been to school for two months either. During this time, all her communication with her supervisor had been through voice and video calls. Her supervisor’s attitude towards her hadn’t changed; he was as strict as ever, and they never discussed topics outside of their professional work.

Qiu Mingyun had called her after the film festival. Wen Huo was in the shower and missed the call, and she didn’t know what to say to her, so she didn’t call back. She wanted to go back to school to get some things and felt that she could now face some of Qiu Mingyun’s questions, so she let her know. When she saw Qiu Mingyun again, she found that her friend seemed to be in a similar state to herself.

At the CHONG COFFEE shop on Tsinghua East Road, Qiu Mingyun and Wen Huo sat face to face on the terrace, both silent. The difference between a friend and a best friend was magnified in this moment of awkward silence. It was harder to ask certain things of a friend than a best friend, and a relationship that wasn’t built on true intimacy was as fragile as paper.

During this time, Qiu Mingyun received a call. After she hung up, she finally spoke. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.”

With that one word, Qiu Mingyun felt the familiar closeness of living with Wen Huo again and slowly reached out her hand to her.

Wen Huo gave her her hand.

They both smiled as their hands met.

Qiu Mingyun didn’t ask her what was going on with Chen Cheng. Wen Huo was so outstanding that it didn’t seem wrong for her to be with Chen Cheng. She had seen the hickeys on Wen Huo’s body, and she didn’t believe Chen Cheng’s claim that Wen Huo was just his student.

After chatting for a while, Qiu Mingyun gave Wen Huo a talisman she had prayed for. “Gu Xuanyu died. I went to burn incense and prayed for a talisman for him, and I got one for you too. This one was blessed by a master, it’ll keep you safe.”

Wen Huo accepted it. “Thank you.”

She had also bought an English original book for Qiu Mingyun, which she had always wanted. She asked Su He to buy it for her. Qiu Mingyun’s eyes lit up when Wen Huo handed it to her. Knowing how to maintain distance while still thinking of the other person—this was a perfect friendship.

Wen Huo suddenly remembered what Qiu Mingyun had said. “Gu Xuanyu...”

Qiu Mingyun looked at the table. “Actually, when I found out he was sick, I wondered if he would be cured. It turns out he really couldn’t be.”

“Then you...”

“I’m fine, I’ve already gotten over the sad part. I used to think I would die if I couldn’t love him, and I treated my life as a joke. But as time went on, my life became filled with all sorts of things, and I really didn’t have time to think about him anymore. Looking back on the promises and vows I made then, I just wish they had never happened. People really do change, and time really can fade everything. I’m understanding those two things more and more now.”

Qiu Mingyun was smiling and seemed to have found peace, but to Wen Huo, she sounded very sad. Was love not unsolvable, just a matter of not enough time? Was that really true?

Qiu Mingyun pushed her untouched cheesecake toward Wen Huo. “Life is too fragile. You can’t imagine a living person suddenly disappearing, and you’ll never hear from them again. You might have seen them or talked to them just last night, heard their voice, and then suddenly they’re gone. The sense of loss is not just psychological; it’s physiological, too. You feel like a part of you has suddenly become numb.”

Wen Huo thought of herself. She, too, would become a person who suddenly disappeared someday, and the people around her would be very sad. A scene flashed in her mind: her parents, her brother, her teachers, and her classmates standing by her bedside, covering their mouths and crying her name, but she couldn’t hear them...

But she had tried her best. Living was just too difficult. When others were sleeping, she was awake, wondering how many more hours were left until dawn. Living like this was too difficult. She had been losing more and more hair recently. Before, she used to think about wearing hair extensions, but now she didn’t even have the desire for that.

It seemed that since Chen Cheng took Han Bailu to the film festival, she had not been doing well. The shock, the hurt, and the anger of being deceived, her own confused emotions, and the mental tension and physical pain from insomnia, all of it was weighing her down. It wasn’t that she couldn’t counsel herself to get out of this terrible state; it was that she couldn’t do it. It was too powerless. Life was too powerless.

She could pretend to be okay and speed up her thesis progress to create a facade of health, but how could a fake thing last? So, when she met Chen Cheng again, she revealed her true self. She had truly been in a terrible state during this time.

She couldn’t live like this anymore. She really couldn’t. Her insomnia was already affecting her heart. She just wanted to live the rest of her days without joy or sorrow, for as many years as she had left.

Qiu Mingyun saw her spacing out. She walked to her side and put her arm around her shoulder. “Huohuo, I hope you’ll be happy in the future.”

Wen Huo came back to herself and turned to look at her. “You sound like you’re saying we won’t see each other tomorrow.”

Qiu Mingyun smiled bitterly. “I really have this feeling that after today, we won’t have any more to do with each other. I’m going to England soon. I want to change places, change my profession, and start over.”

Wen Huo’s brows furrowed slightly. “That’s so sudden.”

“What happened between you and Teacher Chen was also sudden. But the most surprising thing was that he wasn’t married and the child wasn’t his.”

Wen Huo’s eyebrows scrunched together even more tightly at the sound of that.

Qiu Mingyun added, “Thinking that a man like Chen Cheng doesn’t belong to a drama queen like Han Bailu is a kind of comfort to me.”

Wen Huo’s shoulders stiffened. She slowly turned her head. “What did you say?”

Qiu Mingyun was startled by her expression, thinking she had said something wrong. She paused to think. It didn’t seem like she had said anything bad. “That Teacher Chen doesn’t belong to Han Bailu?”

“Chen Cheng isn’t married, and the child isn’t his?”

Qiu Mingyun was surprised. “You didn’t know? He said it at the press conference. He had evidence too, a DNA report for the child, and his household registration showed he was single... You didn’t know?” She then realized a problem. “You guys haven’t been in contact?”

Wen Huo felt like frozen earth was being poured into her body, freezing her from the inside out.

How could she describe her feelings? Her first reaction was disbelief, but Qiu Mingyun wouldn’t lie to her. Was Chen Cheng lying? He was certainly capable of it, but lying to the entire country? Was he still capable of that? At this moment, her emotions were more complicated than they had been in the past two months. She even began to doubt her own reality. Was she real?

Qiu Mingyun found the video of the press conference that day and showed it to her. Chen Cheng had just started speaking when Wen Huo turned it off. It was a very subconscious act. She was repulsing it. She didn’t want to know the truth, didn’t want to know that everything between her and Chen Cheng was now explainable.

Qiu Mingyun no longer forced it. After she did this last thing for Wen Huo, she disappeared from her life. It seemed sad, but in reality, everyone meets countless people for the last time every day, and for many, the first meeting is the only time their lives will ever intersect.

________________________________________

At Cheng Cuo’s studio.

Chen Cheng just wanted to know how serious Wen Huo’s insomnia was.

Cheng Cuo wouldn’t tell him. “You’ve already gotten a lot of information from me. If I tell you any more, there’s no point in me being a doctor. Please be understanding; I can’t do that.”

Chen Cheng asked him, “What are you?”

Cheng Cuo was stunned. “Huh?”

“What are you?”

Cheng Cuo didn’t understand and tentatively replied, “A doctor?”

Chen Cheng showed him a picture of Wen Huo as she was now, emaciated. “The patient is like this. Maybe there’s a way to cure her now, and you’re refusing? And you’re telling me you’re a doctor?”

Cheng Cuo frowned when he saw Wen Huo’s condition.

Chen Cheng continued, “Is a doctor’s duty to heal and save people, or to stick to the rules and follow professional ethics to the letter?”

Cheng Cuo was silent.

Chen Cheng’s strong, rational demeanor softened a bit, and the weight in his voice became much lighter. “She’s not doing well.”

Cheng Cuo looked up, staring at Chen Cheng. He didn’t believe the concern in Chen Cheng’s words was real. Chen Cheng was too good at pretending. He had been deceived by him many times since they were kids. Every time, he believed him, and every time, it wasn’t real. However, he also wasn’t sure that he was lying.

Cheng Cuo pursed his lips, took out his logbook, and said, “You’re right, she’s not doing well. She can’t sleep. Her brain is always overly excited and constantly racing. She’s taken a lot of medication and seen many doctors, but nothing has cured her.”

Chen Cheng flipped through the pages, one by one. Cheng Cuo had recorded everything in great detail, writing down all of Wen Huo’s states during her consultations.

May 21, 2018: Wen Huo stood on Chang’an Avenue all night, watching the endless stream of cars. She said she felt pain somewhere, but she couldn’t say where.

June 14, 2018: Wen Huo ran out of medication. She asked me, “If I take another bottle, will I be able to sleep?” I didn’t answer.

July 3, 2018: Wen Huo watched four suspense-horror films in one night. I had seen them, too. I only remember the images of blood, severed fingers, eyeballs, darkness, and eeriness, yet she could precisely analyze the logic and the killer. I knew her condition was getting worse.

...

January 19, 2019: Wen Huo wanted to go clubbing, but she hadn’t slept in a long time, so I didn’t allow it. She asked me, “I can respect my body’s choice, can’t I? It doesn’t want to rest; is it bad if I indulge it?” I didn’t answer.

March 8, 2019: Wen Huo’s condition was very bad. Her heart was already overloaded. I made an appointment for her with a cardiologist.

...

April 4, 2019: Wen Huo thanked me. She had found someone who could help her sleep. Every time she left him, she could fall asleep. I had known her for so long and this was the first time I had seen her so happy. But the method of finding a sleep tool was something I had made up.

June 10, 2019: Wen Huo’s arm had marks from being restrained by a hard object. I was afraid she was self-harming, but she said it was an accident.

...

August 2, 2019: Wen Huo’s condition was much better. Her eyes were bright, and her physical indicators were finally close to normal. She said she had been sleeping recently, and I was very happy.

November 11, 2019: Wen Huo’s neck had marks from a collar, with a deeper elliptical-shaped injury in the middle. I was very worried about her, but she said she was fine, that the feeling of being able to sleep was too good.

...

March 9, 2020: Wen Huo’s sleep quality seemed to have regressed recently, but it was still better than when she first couldn’t sleep. The strange injuries on her body were gone. I don’t think she likes her current state.

May 29, 2020: Wen Huo was going to find a professor whose mother and sister both died from heart conditions caused by heart failure from insomnia. I asked her if the sleep tool wasn’t working anymore. She didn’t answer.

June 3, 2020: It turns out that Wen Huo’s sleep tool was Chen Cheng.

...

As Chen Cheng watched and listened to Cheng Cuo, he felt a cold sensation run down his spine. The fatigue set in, and he knew his bipolar disorder was acting up on the depressive side. He was consumed by a great sense of unease and self-doubt. The all-powerful Chen Cheng was not immune to the depressive side of his disorder. He had no control over his melancholy self, so he always avoided things that made him feel negative, trying to stay in the manic state, a state of high spirits.

In this state, he was often full of energy, quick-witted, and highly efficient. Of course, this would often make him irritable and seem to have a bad temper. But he could control it. Controlling himself was his strong suit. He couldn’t control his high spirits, nor the occasional symptoms of visual and auditory hallucinations, but he could control how he acted. The main reason was that he was on medication, so he was aware of his behavior.

Depression was different. Apathy, lack of desire, no joy or sorrow, fatigue, negativity, and low self-esteem—even if he knew these feelings were there, he couldn’t hide them.

The marks on Wen Huo’s arms and neck were all his doing. At first, he didn’t understand why she felt hurt. How could she feel so wronged? How had he treated her badly? But after reading Cheng Cuo’s log, how had he treated her well? He had initially thought he was an innocent party in his relationship with Wen Huo. After all, she was the one who had started the conflict, so she should have been mentally prepared for anything. She shouldn’t have felt wronged.

Later, after she left, he experienced things that had never happened to him before, and he realized how important she was to him. Maybe there was a factor of habit in it. He was used to Wen Huo’s body, used to her cleverness and her sense of boundaries. People naturally surrender to things they are used to. He had accepted this as the reason why he started to care about Wen Huo. This included his occasional thought of marrying her and spending his life with just her.

Because he cared, he wanted to bring her back into his world and never let her escape, even if it killed him. This logic made perfect sense to him. He even felt touched by his own actions. He had forgiven her for deceiving him and was being so good to her. What more could she be hurt or dissatisfied about?

It was only when he read Cheng Cuo’s notes that he realized she was also sick, and very seriously so. She had been using him, Chen Cheng, as a lifeline. He seemed to already know the answer, yet he still asked Cheng Cuo, “Am I the only one who can make her sleep?”

Cheng Cuo had never seen Chen Cheng this dejected. From the perspective of a psychologist, he seemed to have a bigger problem. “Cousin, you...”

“Is it?”

“Yes.”

With a loud crash, the castle Chen Cheng had built for over 30 years had its outer walls peel away, its main beam crack, and then collapse. He had asked her that day, “Did you sleep with him?” She must have been in so much pain, knowing that she had only slept with him.

________________________________________

That night, Wen Huo lay in bed looking at Chen Cheng’s phone. He had taken over four thousand pictures and six hundred videos of her. This old man was terminally ill. She knew that Chen Cheng had a fetish for taking pictures and videos during sex, but she was never worried they would leak because she trusted him. It wouldn’t benefit him, and he wouldn’t allow it.

She then thought of what Qiu Mingyun had said, and of Chen Cheng exposing her at the film festival... Why hadn’t she thought of this back then? How could Chen Cheng have allowed himself to get caught in a cheating scandal and let the situation escalate like this?

The parts she had ignored because of her emotional state suddenly became clear. It was not necessary to doubt that Chen Cheng and Han Bailu were not married, and that the child was not his. He had swapped his phone with hers, and that was probably intentional, too, wasn’t it? Maybe it wasn’t at first, but the moment he saw her phone fall out, he must have decided to do it on purpose.

Even if it were true that Chen Cheng wasn’t married and didn’t have a child, and that she wasn’t his mistress, what did it matter? Would she actually fall for him and be with him for real? She hadn’t watched the press conference, but she could guess that Chen Cheng had thrown Han Bailu to the wolves. Maybe there was no love between them, and maybe there were other grudges between them besides Han Bailu’s cheating and hiring her to seduce Chen Cheng, but none of that could be a reason to whitewash Chen Cheng’s malicious actions.

A man this vicious, who would treat a woman like that—Wen Huo was no match for him. She didn’t want to become the next Han Bailu. And she was very clear that Chen Cheng’s little tricks were not because he cared about her, but because he was having a hard time finding another toy that suited him as well as she did.

But he had miscalculated. The old Wen Huo would play his game because of the contract. Without the contract, it might have been for the sake of sleep. But now, her attitude towards sleep was take it or leave it, so how could she possibly go back to that wolf’s den?

He gave her a car and a house, but Wen Huo wasn’t in need. She wasn’t one to say no to more money, but earning money only appealed to her when it was tied to other needs, like her need for sleep before. Now that her need for sleep wasn’t as great, earning money had become boring, and besides, she was never short on money.

Wen Xinyuan was biased towards Wen Bing, but he never deprived her of food and clothes. She couldn’t spend thousands of dollars like a second-generation rich kid, but her life was comfortable enough, at a middle-class level. Ruan Lihong also gave her money often, which she had been saving. She had been thinking that after her contract with Han Bailu ended, she would take her pay and her savings, go to Canada to find Ruan Lihong and Su Di, and tell him thank you for making her discover and fall in love with physics. She would then dedicate her life to it. She would rent the lab he used to do his experiments in, continue his research, and work with more like-minded friends.

...

Su Di was the one who made Wen Huo fall madly in love with physics, and he was also the one who gave her insomnia. Everything, the source of it all, was him. But he was dead.