Chapter 94
JIANG CHENG DIDN’T WANT to take the call. Ever since he’d arrived in this city—no, ever since he found out he was adopted—facing Shen Yiqing felt hard, and he was reluctant to do it again.
There was no serious conflict between him and that family. But the strict, almost oppressive discipline, the frosty atmosphere that had prevented him from truly relaxing even when he was at home, all layered on top of Li Baoguo’s hidden imprint within him… Perhaps all this was why he had entered a so-called rebellious phase when he started elementary school and never came out of it all the way up until his eventual departure.
He didn’t know what the family dynamic was like at home when he wasn’t there, but every time he’d stepped through the door, he could sense the irritation in the air. It had automatically activated all the thorns around his body. Pan Zhi’s home had provided him with far more warmth, ease, and a sense of groundedness—even if his parents spent most of their time playing mahjong.
Apart from his academic achievements, there was probably not a single thing about him that satisfied his parents. It was as if he’d been forcibly conscripted into a war with them as the commanders, but he’d never won a single battle.
That was why he always placed such importance on his grades. No matter how “ill-behaved” he usually was, he would always give his all when it came to tests and exams. Throughout almost two decades of “war,” this was his sole stronghold.
But eventually, that final explosive argument had severed the last thread that bound him to that home.
He had always thought he had nothing to do with his dad’s—no, not his dad, Jiang Wei’s—pneumonia-induced hospital stay, that it was only a coincidence it happened right after an argument between them almost escalated to a physical fight. The subject of that argument was nothing more than another skipped class. Jiang Cheng greatly resented how Shen Yiqing had always blamed the incident on him.
Now that he thought about it, perhaps it wasn’t entirely unrelated. Perhaps it had been the result of a chronic stress that had built up over years. It must’ve been tiring that the child they had adopted never fit into the family, always rebelling against their guidance like a bomb that might go off at any second.
Still quiet, Jiang Cheng picked up his phone, but the screen had already darkened.
If he’d never been told that he was adopted, if he hadn’t returned to this place, perhaps everything would still be the same now. Perhaps he would still be struggling within that household, violently fighting back with no regard for the consequences.
Now, it was as though he had left that chapter of his life behind. When he stood on the sidelines and looked back on the past, he finally had an answer for everything—both his own actions and those of the rest of his family.
His phone rang again. It was still Shen Yiqing.
Jiang Cheng picked up the phone, looked at it for a while, then swiped at the screen with one finger to answer. “Hello?”
“Xiao-Cheng?” It was Shen Yiqing’s voice.
“Yes,” Jiang Cheng answered.
Gu Fei got up and walked out of the bedroom, gently closing the door behind him.
Jiang Cheng leaned back in the chair. When he thought about it now, it hadn’t been very long since he’d last heard from her, but Shen Yiqing’s voice on the other side felt unfamiliar. A sense of dejection struck him as he realized how easy it had been, after almost twenty years of trying and failing to build a close relationship, for them to become strangers.
“How have you been?” Shen Yiqing asked.
“I’m okay,” Jiang Cheng answered.
“Then…what about Li Baoguo?”
Jiang Cheng frowned. He didn’t want Shen Yiqing to know about Li Baoguo. He was afraid of being asked to recall the events. What happened? Why? And then what happened…?
When Shen Yiqing didn’t get an answer, she pressed further. “Was it…suicide?”
“Yeah.”
“What happened?” From her voice, he could almost see the way she was furrowing her eyebrows.
“I don’t know.” Jiang Cheng shut his eyes briefly, then opened them again. “He had lung cancer and couldn’t pay for treatment.”
Shen Yiqing was quiet for a while before she spoke again. “Did you have anything to do with it?”
Jiang Cheng blinked. “What?”
“His suicide. Did it have anything to do with you?”
Jiang Cheng had never felt so shocked. “What the fuck?”
A sigh came through the receiver, conveying Shen Yiqing’s displeasure at his cursing. “Be honest with me. Even though you’re not part of this family anymore, I—”
“Be honest?” Jiang Cheng felt maybe spending all night studying had left his brain a little muddled; he couldn’t make any sense of Shen Yiqing’s question. “Be honest about what? What kind of honesty are you looking for?”
“Xiao-Cheng,” Shen Yiqing said. “Your older brother already called me.”
“Who the fuck is my older brother?!” Jiang Cheng yelled. The turmoil of seeing everything at once and yet understanding nothing at all nearly made him explode.
“Calm down!” Shen Yiqing also raised her voice. “I don’t want to hear you acting hysterical!”
Li Hui had called Shen Yiqing—that wasn’t surprising. He had no idea what Li Hui had said to her, but whatever it was, it wouldn’t surprise him.
Whatever Li Hui had said, Shen Yiqing hadn’t believed it. But what made Jiang Cheng suddenly blow up was that Shen Yiqing didn’t trust him either. She had to call to seek validation. She wanted to know why, less than a year after he came back, Li Baoguo had killed himself.
She wanted to know why Li Hui called her and said…
“Sure, I’ll calm down.” Jiang Cheng took a deep breath and patted his pockets, but he didn’t find any cigarettes. He got up and opened the bedroom door.
Gu Fei was standing by the living room window and looking at the moon. At the sound of the door, he turned around. Jiang Cheng walked up and found a pack of cigarettes in Gu Fei’s pocket. He took one out and put it in his mouth. Gu Fei lit it for him.
“Can you first tell me what Li Hui said to you?” Jiang Cheng went back into the bedroom and closed the door.
“Are you—” Shen Yiqing must’ve heard the click of the lighter, and she could probably tell that he was speaking with a cigarette in his mouth.
“Yes, I’m smoking,” Jiang Cheng said. “Sorry, I can’t help it right now.”
Sorry.
It was probably the one thing he had said the most at home. Every time he failed to gain the higher ground, he would open with “sorry.”
As time passed, and as the number of times he said this increased, the words “I’m sorry” would often take on a note of anger—like that day by the river when he roared out a string of “I’m sorry”s to Gu Fei, practically venting. Like right now—when he told Shen Yiqing “sorry,” he was almost bursting with irritation.
In certain situations, “I’m sorry” had become a form of self-expression for him.
It was kind of funny.