CH 13

Struggle and Embrace

Yi Zhize found the spare car keys in his office drawer.

Since he had to go to Anhe Mountain to pick up his car, he left work early that afternoon.

He took a taxi to the foot of the mountain and then drove home, a round trip that took a lot of time for nothing.

By the time he arrived home, the stars were already in full bloom.

It was the 30th of September.

It was his birthday.

But ever since his mother had passed away, he no longer had a birthday.

He stopped at the bakery downstairs to pick up some random food for dinner tonight.

Unexpectedly, a strange letter appeared again in the potted plant outside his home.

The plain white envelope was marked with his name in bright red letters.

The picture of the street scene on Lijing Road came to mind again, and Yi Zhize's breath trembled slightly as he stared at the letter for a long time before finally mustering up the courage to take it out.

Holding the letter in his left hand, the light object was as heavy as a thousand pounds; the normally simple opening of the door failed twice in quick succession.

It was only on the third attempt that the key was inserted securely into the lock.

Entering the house, not even bothering to change his shoes, Yi Zhize sat down on the sofa and placed the letter in front of him.

There was no stamp, no sender's name, so it was obvious that someone had placed it there on purpose.

Who was it?

Why did they do this?

Yi Zhize slowly closed his eyes and tried to remember those past events that he had deliberately forgotten.

He remembered images from his childhood, people or things that came and went.

Like a thousand midnight dreams, there were always only fragmented fragments.

Can't remember.

Can't remember.

Irritation and anxiety overwhelmed him, a headache almost tore him apart, and Yi Zhize's eyes were bloodshot, as if he was fighting with himself. He bit his lower lip and ripped open the envelope, but it was empty.

Only a note.

Only one sentence.

———

You're the one who killed her.

———

Such simple words easily tore at his most fragile and sensitive nerves.

Yi Zhize's face turned pale and his memory seemed to be gnawed at by millions of ants and worms, suffocating him like an endless purgatory of pain.

He untied his tie and took off his jacket, veins leaping at his temples.

He stuffed the note back into the envelope, clutching it tightly, and went to the bathroom in the dim light.

There were no lights on.

He opened the cupboard in the rightmost compartment above the mirror and took the lighter from it.

Trembling, he lifted the envelope and lit the flame, and tongues of magnificent fire leapt through the night.

As it burned, everything turned to grey embers and fell into the clean white sink.

Yi Zhize felt a lump in his throat as the words of some unknown person exploded into his mind.

"What a pity."

"Your name is Yi Zhize, right?"

"Damn it was you, oh."

You're the one who killed her.

You're the one who killed her.

You're the one who killed her.

Yi Zhize felt his heart being squeezed by an invisible hand, clearly ready to be crushed, yet inch by inch the torture was slowly applied.

It was too painful.

He braced one hand on the marble countertop and reached for something in the cupboard with the other.

Bringing it in front of him, it was a packet of cigarettes.

In reality, he didn't smoke, nor did he have an addiction to cigarettes.

And every now and then, when the pain was more than he could bear, he would try to numb himself with nicotine.

Sometimes it was alcohol.

He also doesn't drink.

But there was no alcohol at the moment.

Eagerly, he lit the roll of tobacco and the dull, slightly choking scent rushed into his mouth, stimulating his already extremely sensitive senses.

He started coughing violently.

He looked up and saw himself in the mirror.

It was so strange.

His eyes were bloodshot, his expression disillusioned and misanthropic, and underneath his eyes, which were growing indifferent with pain, was an unfathomable despair.

It was as if he was deliberately trying to torture himself, and even though his body was resisting, he held the unburned cigarette in his mouth.

The vapour under his eyes mingled with the dense smoke.

He didn't know whether it was pain or pleasure.

Yi Zhize began to laugh.

The laughter was mixed with a subtle coughing sound, which completely degenerated…

He imagined that this was the end of the world, or the end of his life.

Yi Zhize closed his eyes and let himself fall backwards.

"What are you doing?"

Someone caught him from behind.

Yi Zhize tilted his head in disbelief and saw Ou Tingyun.

"Zhize, are you not feeling well?" Ou Tingyun wrapped his arms around him and asked close to his ear, "Why are you smoking?"

Yi Zhize didn't say anything, he just looked at him in silence.

"Zhize, you're not quite the same as you normally are. That’s not right.” Ou Tingyun was alert: "You're not quite the same as any other moment I've ever seen, what's irritating you?"

Yi Zhize's voice was tired, "It has nothing to do with you."

"Zhize, I am your therapist and you are my patient. I think, right now, you need me."

"No need, let go."

“I won't let go."

"Let go."

"No,” Ou Tingyun held him a little tighter, “Zhize, answer me seriously, did you try to kill yourself?"

"No."

"Really?"

"Suicide doesn't solve anything, I don't do those kinds of pointless things."

"That's great,” Ou Tingyun rubbed his hair, "I'm relieved that you recognize that."

"Don't touch my hair."

"It's an act of reassurance, Zhize, you need to learn to accept the kindness of others.” Ou Tingyun asked, “Then what were you doing just now?"

"Smoking."

"You don't look like you know how to smoke, just as you don't know how to drink."

When Yi Zhize regained his footing, Ou Tingyun let go of him.

He asked Ou Tingyun, "How did you get in here?"

"Have you forgotten? We had an appointment to go to a concert together tonight."

Yi Zhize looked bewildered.

"You really don't remember. I started messaging you at six o'clock, and when you didn't reply and didn't answer your phone, I was worried that something had happened to you, so I came to your house."

"But you don't have a key," Yi Zhize leaned against the wall, "how could you come in?"

"Zhize, you didn't close the door."

Yi Zhize suddenly remembered that he had been so anxious when he entered earlier that he did seem to have forgotten about it.

Ou Tingyun pursued, "From what I know about you, as an elite lawyer known for his rigour, you don't make so many low-level mistakes one after another. Something must have happened, right?"

Yi Zhize concealed it by saying, "I just forgot to close the door, where else did I go wrong?"

"Zhize, you've always been disciplined and tidy. If there was no reason, how could you forget to close the door? And why would you go indoors without remembering to change your shoes?" Ou Tingyun looked at him with a smile, thoughtful and gentle: "People who have smoked for a long time or are addicted to smoking are used to holding their cigarettes between their middle and index fingers, which will have distinct smoky yellow features, but you don't. Cigarettes contain nicotine, tar and other substances that have a depressing effect on the nerves when inhaled. Infrequent exposures generally produce numerous symptoms of discomfort, which is what you are experiencing now."

Yi Zhize avoided eye contact with him, "I'm going to close the door."

Ou Tingyun blocked his path, "I've already closed it."

In the silence of the night, the scent of nicotine filled the darkened room.

The doctor patiently reassured and seduced his patient as if he were rescuing a drowning swan in a cold polar pool.

“Zhize, you can trust me completely."

"At this moment, I have no position, no judgement, not even morality."

"My only mission is to help you."

“Be obedient and tell me what is going on."