On My Way - Chapter 43

Chapter 43 - I Love You, But I No Longer Need You

In movies, heroes withstand all sorts of heavy impacts and explosions, only to be discharged from the hospital after slapping on a Band-Aid. That, as it turns out, is just a beautiful lie.

I suffered from a concussion along with some very complicated fractures, so by the fifth day of the Lunar New Year, I had no choice but to head to Beijing to seek out specialists at Jishuitan Hospital.

Grandma spent the entire time crying and wailing; at her most frantic, she even knelt before Old Feng, begging him to fire me.

Cheng Xia handled everything, from buying the wheelchair and arranging my hospitalization to contacting the specialists and taking turns with Grandma to keep watch at night.

Sometimes he would sit in the chair beside my bed, sitting there for the entire night.

We spoke very little. There was too much we wanted to say, but we never found the right moment to start, so all that remained were exchanges like, "Are you eating?" "Let me help you to the bathroom," and "Thank you."

I underwent a reduction surgery and stayed in the hospital for half a month, losing seven pounds in the process.

When I was finally discharged, the New Year season had passed, but the weather was still cold. The sunlight was thin and pallid, and the streets were filled with commuters rushing to work.

Cheng Xia pushed me slowly as we walked. "Now that you're in Beijing, is there anywhere you want to go for a bit of fun?"

Grandma was furious, rushing forward to seize my wheelchair. Although the doctor said my recovery was going well, sickness was sickness—how could I go sightseeing? It was preposterous!

But that was Cheng Xia. If he had a day, he would iron the days out until they were neat and flat; he couldn't handle living a messy, muddled life.

I said, "Let's go take a look at the Forbidden City."

It was a weekday afternoon, and the Forbidden City wasn't too crowded. There were a few scattered foreigners and some children bundled up in thick layers, shyly making peace signs at the camera.

Cheng Xia pushed me, and the wheels made a rhythmic clatter-clatter sound as we moved forward.

This was my first time visiting the Forbidden City. I had been to Beijing many times before for layovers or business trips, but I had never visited the tourist spots, let alone wandered around during work hours.

I tried hard to tilt my head back, looking up at this grand and magnificent palace. This was the greatest building in all of China. Many, many years ago, there must have been countless stonemasons and craftsmen who spent their entire lives pouring their heart and blood into building this behemoth, using those wages to support their families.

It had survived for hundreds of years and still stood tall, but what about those people? Who would remember that they had ever lived?

When it was Grandma's turn to push me, a young Black man suddenly walked over and struck up a conversation with Cheng Xia, carefully asking, "Could you please help me take a photo?"

Cheng Xia agreed.

After taking the shot, he made small talk with Cheng Xia, marveling at his Asian features, complimenting his shoes, and praising his English pronunciation.

Grandma grew impatient and had Cheng Xia swap places with her to push the wheelchair so she could go ahead and take photos herself.

Only then did the young man realize with a start that we were together, and he carefully inquired about our relationship.

Cheng Xia said, "She is my fiancée."

The young man let out an exaggerated "Wow," looking at me with a touch of disbelief.

"What a great love. It must be very hard for you to take care of her, right?"

We both froze for a moment before realizing he had conjured up some kind of soap-opera drama in his head—perhaps viewing me as a disabled person with an unyielding spirit, and Cheng Xia as the saintly man who didn't mind at all.

Cheng Xia said, "Actually, she is a very talented engineer who just happened to get injured while building a house."

The young man looked at me in disbelief: "Really?"

...

A sense of long-forgotten inferiority suddenly welled up. I realized in an instant that I was unkempt, wearing a Uniqlo down jacket I didn't know how long I hadn't washed, and speaking with broken English.

Meanwhile, Cheng Xia had fresh, neatly styled hair and a handsome face, dressed in a well-tailored British-style coat, with even the visible collar of his shirt being impeccably white.

The young man was blushing, stuttering in English to explain his offense.

I interrupted him: "Perhaps you are from South Africa? I once built a bridge in South Africa."

The young man was even more surprised: "Really?!"

I switched to Zulu: "Yes."

Zulu is a common language in South Africa, and of course, I had learned a bit. My English was garbage and my French wasn't much better, and my Zulu was only enough for simple conversation, but by combining gestures and speech, I had always communicated very smoothly with the workers.

The young man was very excited, shouting continuously about how he had heard of that bridge. He left Cheng Xia aside and spent half an hour discussing my work and his hometown with me.

When we finally parted ways, he shook my hand solemnly and said, "You Chinese have brought a lot to Africa. You are an amazing person."

"I'm just someone working hard to earn a living," I said.

After he left, I said to Cheng Xia, "Actually, I never thought about going into this line of work, but look, before I knew it, it became my career."

"Any insights?"

"I wouldn't call them insights, but for every job I've taken on until this day, I haven't let the client down, and even more so, I haven't let my past self down."

Civil engineering isn't a glamorous job. You throw several years of your youth into a single project, and you are forever covered in dust.

I would probably always be a girl who looked unrefined and sloppy, and the poverty of my humble origins was carved into my bones—it could never be hidden.

But when it comes to my career—the individual projects I have seen through with my own hands—I can stand tall and face anyone with a clear, untroubled conscience.

Grandma had said she didn't want to go, didn't want to go, yet she ended up having more fun than anyone, taking photos with every building and demanding to go to Tiananmen Square to watch the flag-lowering ceremony: "Oh my, to think that in this life, I’d actually make it to Tiananmen. It's so beautiful."

For dinner, Cheng Xia took us to a roast duck restaurant where we could see the Forbidden City. Grandma ate until her mouth was greasy, even posting to her social media: "My granddaughter and grandson-in-law are so filial."

That night, Cheng Xia booked a suite in a siheyuan (courtyard) guesthouse with three beds.

He slept on the outer bed to make it easier to help me to the bathroom at night.

Grandma was exhausted from playing and soon began to snore.

I couldn't sleep. I turned my head to look at the wall where Cheng Xia’s shadow was cast. I couldn't help but reach out to touch it; he had a high, prominent nose bridge and a full forehead.

He really was the best-looking person I had ever met in my life.

He was also the only person I had ever loved.

"Cheng Xia."

"Hmm?" His voice was clear and bright. "Do you need the bathroom?"

"I'll have to trouble you to take Grandma back tomorrow."

"Hmm."

"The company will send people to pick me up. For one, the project isn't finished yet, and for another, the case investigation still requires my assistance... I have to go back to Inner Mongolia."

"Will someone be taking care of you?"

"I'll hire a caregiver."

"Okay."

"Grandma definitely won't agree to it. You'll have to help me persuade her. Thank you for your trouble."

"It's what I should do."

We fell into another long, protracted silence. I wanted to say something, but I didn't know where to start.

In the end, we spoke at the same time.

I said, "In the future, find yourself a good girl."

He said, "I’m planning to study abroad."

Beijing is truly interesting—everything is dim and shadowy, and even the moon doesn't shine completely, just hanging by the brick wall with a sickly, pale color.

"Study abroad, that's great... isn't that what you wanted to do before?"

"Yes."

"I was actually going to ask, how did you manage to take such a long leave? You must have resigned, right?"

"Yes."

Silence enveloped the room once more.

I wanted to say something, but what could I say? Any words I could utter would be lies.

"I’ve realized that for someone like me, love is a luxury item... I want success too much. Rather than failing at both, it’s better to be decisive."

Cheng Xia didn't speak. He just remained silent for a moment and then asked, "Do you still love me?"

"I love the warmth you bring me, your care... and the vanity." I laughed at myself with self-deprecation. "But I can't fulfill the responsibilities of a girlfriend. This is for our..."

He interrupted me: "I’m asking you, do you still love me?"

I was stunned for a moment before realizing what he was asking.

"Of course I love you."

The real him was fragile and broken, like an expensive, shattered toy left in a display window.

But in my heart, he was still that sixteen-year-old high school student who told me his dream was to become an architect like Le Corbusier.

He was that gifted youth who took me to a top-tier university to see a bigger world.

He was the "white moonlight" who kept me going through gritted teeth while malaria ravaged Africa.

"But I," I heard my own voice, like a cold, gleaming blade, "no longer need you."

"I no longer need to look at someone else just to keep moving forward."

When did I realize it?

Was it when I went through those hardships on the grasslands?

Was it that rainy dusk when I made the resolution to return?

It was when I finally realized that what I wanted wasn't to chase after a more "respectable" life.

What I wanted was strength.

More money, a tougher heart, more successful projects, and a truly "irreplaceable" professional capability.

I chased Cheng Xia for fourteen years, and we were lovers for exactly one.

I finally didn't need him anymore.

And so, love, for me now, was a soft underbelly, a burden to be cast aside after traveling light.

He was a person who needed love so desperately.

His father was right: since I couldn't bear the weight of his life, I shouldn't covet this warmth.

"I'm sorry, Cheng Xia. I'm very selfish.”