When Ning Manqing’s message arrived, Li Chu was at a bar listening to Ming Zhi sing and hadn’t noticed her phone vibrate. The bar, owned by a friend of Ming Zhi’s, was closed to the public tonight, hosting only a small gathering of friends for drinks, singing, and fun.
Ming Zhi’s friends were all from the music industry. Li Chu only recognized one folk singer; the other four were strangers. After exchanging greetings and names, however, they were acquainted.
Ming Zhi wasn’t singing her own songs. The melodies Li Chu heard were unfamiliar, but her languid tone, combined with her ethereal voice, had a unique appeal. Li Chu sensed a relaxed comfort in her singing. Sipping her fruit wine, she rested her chin on her hand, gently swaying her head.
After two songs, Ming Zhi stepped down, and one of her friends took the stage, singing a ballad in a minority language. Li Chu couldn’t understand the lyrics, but she found the melody and the language beautiful.
Ming Zhi sat on a bar stool, her long legs crossed and swaying slightly. Resting her head on her hand, she looked at Li Chu lazily and asked with a smile, “Having fun?”
“Very much!” It was Li Chu’s first time at a musical gathering of professionals. It felt completely different from her own experiences creating media with friends. These were seasoned artists, and their relaxed, joyful approach to music made every second a pleasure.
“You’re a very lovely person.” Gazing at Li Chu’s sparkling eyes, Ming Zhi couldn’t resist reaching out to pinch her cheek. Li Chu’s face had thinned while filming, but she had gained some weight back since leaving the set. Ming Zhi pinched one cheek, then the other, smiling brightly.
She was a captivating woman. Her face didn’t show her age, but her eyes held a vastness and weariness, yet they weren’t clouded. Li Chu imagined her with a cigarette in hand, complementing her short hair and cheongsam, her charm reaching its peak. But she suspected Ming Zhi didn’t smoke.
“For the New Year’s Eve event, several companies invited me, offering quite a bit,” Ming Zhi suddenly brought up, lifting her glass. The pale liquid shimmered amber in the light, like the affectionate gaze of a lover. “I was planning to go, even signed the contract, but I backed out, claiming vocal cord problems. My voice was a minor issue; I was just tired.”
Ming Zhi took a sip, her voice now carrying an intoxicating quality. “Was it something important?” Li Chu sensed Ming Zhi’s desire to confide and asked at the right moment. It must have been a very private matter. Setting aside vocal cord issues, something significant enough to make Ming Zhi cancel a signed contract and pay a penalty had to be personal.
“My ex-husband…” Ming Zhi swirled her wine, swaying her head gently to the music. She paused, then continued, “He got married that day. A good day, isn’t it?” She asked Li Chu, but didn’t seem to expect a reply. A relieved smile graced her face.
“I thought it was a good day. He’s a man who values rituals, always choosing the perfect date. The wedding was in the evening, not because of tradition or because it was a second marriage he wanted to hide, but because he wanted to exchange vows at the turn of the year. He’s always been so romantic.” Ming Zhi’s face softened with nostalgia, her tone a mix of playful teasing and wistful remembrance.
“It’s strange to suddenly tell you all this, considering we’ve only just met. But you seem like a good listener. There are times I want to talk to them about this, but I can’t. I’m afraid they’ll pity me, but there’s really nothing to pity.” Ming Zhi gestured towards her friends on stage, giving a thumbs-up to the current performer mid-sentence.
“When we divorced, they asked, and we drank together all night. Everyone else passed out, but I stayed awake.” Ming Zhi reminisced, her expression gentle. Li Chu listened, envious of such friendship.
“He asked for the divorce, but I was the one who took off the ring first. There was no betrayal, just endless, dull days that wore us down. He’s a romantic, so when we were just going through the motions, he couldn’t stand it. But he didn’t want to leave me like that.”
“Back then, we argued constantly, over trivial things, like why he didn’t take out the trash, why he spent all night at the internet cafe. That night, I searched for him everywhere, crying my eyes out. I swore I’d never live with him again. I thought we’d have a huge fight, and I’d throw out threats like always, saying we should divorce if we couldn’t get along.” Ming Zhi spoke with a surprisingly light tone, but Li Chu, as an omega, was highly empathetic. She could almost see Ming Zhi’s exhausted expression as she uttered those words.
“He said, ‘Okay, let’s do it.’ He’d said it before, and I’d thrown my ring in anger. He’d searched for it in the dark and found it. But this time, I didn’t throw the ring. He said it so calmly.
“In that moment, a wave of panic washed over me. I felt like I was really going to lose him. I wanted to give in, apologize, cry and beg him not to leave. But I also felt I wasn’t wrong. I had given so much, why should I feel like I was wrong?”
“So I didn’t throw the ring. I just took it off and placed it on the table. As I turned to leave, he called me back. I was so happy, thinking he would try to stop me again. But he said, ‘See you tomorrow at ten, bring your ID.'”
Li Chu felt a pang of sadness. It was just someone else’s story, a past event, and the storyteller seemed to have moved on, but as the listener, she felt a sense of melancholy and injustice.
“After the divorce, I moved out, but sometimes I’d unconsciously walk to our old place and try to open the door. We’d run into each other occasionally, and it was awkward. That awkwardness was unfamiliar, and I think it was for him too. But he’d invite me in, offer me a glass of water. I’d fidget, and after that, I never went to the wrong place again.”
“On the day of my appointment at the hospital, he went with me for the procedure. I wanted to go alone, but he insisted on coming.” Another singer took the stage, performing Ming Zhi’s song, “Rebirth,” a song filled with healing.
“Removing the mark was quite painful. Even with the suppressants, it still hurt. I felt his pheromones slowly leaving my body, the permanent mark he left fading away. I cried in the operating room, wondering if he was crying outside for my rebirth.”
“Why are you crying?” Ming Zhi asked with a helpless smile, reaching out to wipe Li Chu’s tears. Li Chu realized she had started crying without knowing it.
“I’m sorry, I lost control.” Li Chu sniffed, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.
“You’re cute even when you cry.” Ming Zhi tapped Li Chu’s reddened nose and finished her drink. “When I found out he had a new girlfriend, I was a bit surprised. But then I thought, it’s been five years. Actually, except for the first two years, I only thought of him when I couldn’t control my emotions or when my glands ached.”
Ming Zhi leaned in conspiratorially. “I went to his wedding, secretly, because he didn’t invite me. I was happy for him, for his new beginning. I didn’t want to make him and his bride uncomfortable, so I watched from a distance. And then I knew I had truly let go.”
“Looking at him in his groom’s suit, I realized how ordinary he looked. But I remember him being so charming before.” Li Chu was stunned by her words.
She sadly drank several more glasses of fruit wine, watching Ming Zhi laugh and chat with her friends. She took out her phone and finally noticed several messages from Ning Manqing. She quickly typed a reply.
【Teacher Ning】: Were you busy just now?
【Xiao Chu】: No, I’m out with Sister Zhizhi.
【Xiao Chu】: Sister Zhizhi is Ming Zhi!
Across the ocean, Ning Manqing felt a sudden surge of insecurity. Tao Tao was so honest and obedient, so easy to deceive.
【Ning Manqing】: Where are you? It’s late, aren’t you back yet?
【Tao Tao】: Listening to them sing, but I’m about to head back.
Li Chu checked the time. It was past ten. She had been there for two hours; it was time to go. A sudden video call startled her. She put on her Bluetooth earphones and answered.
The dim lighting made Li Chu’s face unclear. Ning Manqing wasn’t facing the camera either; Li Chu only saw her hand.
“What’s up, Teacher Ning?”
“Is your assistant picking you up?”
“Yes, I’m messaging Duoduo now.”
“Your voice is hoarse, and you sound congested. Have you caught a cold?”
“No… it’s nothing.” Li Chu remembered the story she’d just heard, her face clouding over. Why did even people who loved each other end up like that? What about her and Ning Manqing?
Would Ning Manqing always like her? Would she always like Ning Manqing?
Li Chu didn’t know. She was caught in a wave of pessimism.
“Tao Tao, find a brighter, quieter place.” The words from the earphones registered in Li Chu’s mind, and she went to the restroom.
The bright white light of the restroom revealed Li Chu’s red eyes and nose, impossible to hide. Li Chu realized her mistake. The camera now showed Ning Manqing’s face instead of her hand. Looking into Ning Manqing’s eyes, Li Chu gave up on trying to shift the camera angle.
“Why are you crying like this? Did someone bully you?”
Li Chu shook her head. “No, I just heard a story that made me sad.” She sighed. “I wish everything in the world were as simple as gaining weight.”
She looked sadly at Ning Manqing on the screen, wanting to ask something, but feeling it wasn’t the right time, or even necessary.
“I will.”
“Huh?” Li Chu was confused. She didn’t understand Ning Manqing’s sudden response. It didn’t seem to connect to her previous sentence.
“For some reason, I felt like your expression just now was asking if I would always like you. So I’m answering you, I will.” Ning Manqing’s eyes were soft, her affection seemingly traversing mountains and seas to reach Li Chu.
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