Chapter Text
My mind turns your life into folklore
I can't dare to dream about you anymore
...
Gleaming
Twinkling
Eyes like sinking ships
On waters so inviting
I almost jump in
– Gold Rush, Taylor Swift
Jing Jing watched Yu Tu’s dark, retreating figure out of the back window of her car until he disappeared into the shadows where she could no longer see him. The car also turned a corner, and she could not even see his path anymore.
Should she have chased after him? Her heart had burnt to do it, but somehow, she couldn’t seem to make her voice call out for Driver Wang to stop the car. Even if she could, Jing Jing couldn’t sure she could even convince her limbs to move.
The truth was…she was no longer that fearless teenage girl who had boldly confessed her feelings to a boy, and then demanded he explain himself when he rejected her.
Jing Jing was sure she could not take it, if he were to reject her again.
And the rational part of her told her she should expect rejection, because what other explanation was there for him to be so obvious in his desire to be gone from her sight? He would have left her alone at the hotel if she had let him. His only words in the car had screamed of goodbye. The permanent kind of goodbye, where social media might remind you that it was their birthday and you would spend five minutes staring at the notification, wondering if you should wish them happy birthday, and then deciding not to, because what was the point when you no longer speak about anything else? And then you’d throw yourself into work, chasing a distraction until you could for a moment not think of them anymore…
He had told her they were friends now, and she had believed him. She did not think he had lied. But the truth was, beyond the game, what common topic did she have to talk with him about? He could not speak about his work, and what reason did he have to care about hers?
Because they were friends now.
But then perhaps that was only true when they saw each other everyday. When they were still both on holiday and did not have the demands of their everyday life intruding.
And that was over now.
In the depth of the night, Jing Jing recalled the times in the last few days when she caught him staring at her. Sometimes it was with delicate awe but at other times in sadness.
She did not think she imagined anything. She knew she was not imagining anything. He was not so indifferent to her as he had once been, and there was something softer than platonic friendship in the rare moments he had permitted himself to let his guards down.
But what did all that matter when tonight he had made it abundantly clear that he did not intend to say anything to her, let alone to act? When he was clearly pushing her away, saying goodbye to her in a thousand different ways.
A thousand movie tropes appeared in her head, telling her that he was just being idiotically noble, letting her go because he thought that was best for her. That perhaps he would see the error of his way and would soon appear before her door. Or even, if only she had been brave enough to chase after him, then perhaps that would have moved him and he would let her in.
The last thought was so preposterous that Jing Jing had to laugh at herself, brushing away the tears that had spilled down her cheeks with the back of her hand.
If there was anything she of all people should know, it was that movies endings were not real.
And Jing Jing was tired of being the brave one. She couldn’t take that constant ache of her heart being crushed in her chest anymore.
There was nothing that demonstrated how empty fame could be when you spent your birthday alone.
Oh, that fan meeting to celebrate her birthday that Ling Jie had organised and Jing Jing had attended a couple of days before had been fun, but that had been arranged so that she could spend her birthday the way she wanted, without work intruding.
But now, waking up in an empty bed at 8am on her birthday, Jing Jing suddenly realised she was alone in her apartment with no plans for the day.
It was pathetic, if she really had to be honest with herself.
She should have plans.
She could make plans. She could call Chen Xue, who she was reasonably sure was in town, or any of her other friends in the industry. Pei Pei was in Beijing, but she had other close friends from university and high school she could spend the day with.
She could even go back to Yixing and spend the weekend with her parents, who would be absolutely thrilled.
But here she was, alone in her apartment, staring out into the Shanghai skyline, wondering if another person was looking her way too.
Because the truth was, the only person who she wanted to spend today with was doing a good job of pretending like he did not know what the date was.
He knew, she was sure of it. He had known, a mere ten days earlier, and someone so smart did not simply just forget. No matter how busy he might be.
But he had not called, or even texted. His name had drifted so far down in her WeChat that she would have to search for it now.
Here was the thing. If he had acted half-way normal about it, perhaps by casually wishing her happy birthday in that inane polite manner of passing acquaintances, she might have an easier time convincing herself that he was indifferent, that he felt nothing for her.
It was this telling, pulsing silence that seemed to stretch the length of the city, pushing against her heart, that allowed the thoughts she should not entertain intrude.
If he was not indifferent, why the silence?
It could not be fear of being unreciprocated. He could not be unaware of how she felt. He had not been unaware then, and he was smart enough to must have seen it now.
She recalled how sad he had looked when he confirmed to her that he was going back to the research institute, that night in the car. But he had never wanted to go into banking instead. The only reason he had all that time to dream with her that entire month was because he could not let go of his love for the galaxy and the stars so easily. So why did he tell her he was going back like it was the very thing that was breaking his heart?
Did he think she was so shallow that she would mind, or look down at him for it? It was clear that people did, if what Xiao Zhu told her of what she overheard his university classmates said were true. But he should know her better by now. How could he not understand that she had always knew that where he was now was where she had always wanted him to be? Did he think she was lying then, in that courtyard of the restaurant, when she told him that she wanted him to be an aerospace engineer more than anyone else? If she had thought of the words to explain herself, instead of running away, would he still disbelieve her now?
But dating her was complicated, she reminded herself, so maybe it didn’t matter what he believed.
But there was nothing she could do about that, not without unbecoming herself. She could not do it for Su Ye, and she could not do it for even Yu Tu, either.
It was coming into the afternoon, and Jing Jing had spent the entire morning wandering restlessly around her house, scrolling aimlessly through her phone, finding satisfaction in nothing. Her mother had called her earlier and she had lied through her teeth, cutting the conversation short with an excuse that she was meeting up with friends.
What she had done instead was throw her phone into a corner of the couch, burning with frustrated energy for which there was no outlet.
She picked up her phone again, and it was like some unknown force had taken over her. Jing Jing found herself scrolling through her contacts until she rested her eyes on Yu Tu’s name. She stared for a long time at his number, which by now she knew by heart.
Who even remembered phone numbers anymore?
She scrolled down and stare at the little line of red that said “Delete contact”.
She should delete his number. What was even the point of keeping it anymore?
(It was imprinted into her brain now.)
She should delete it, so at least she could avoid future moments like this, staring at her phone like a soul possessed.
God, she was supposed to have outgrown all of this nonsense.
What was it about him that made her feel like she was fifteen again?
Yu Tu was heading to the meeting room, when his phone buzzed. For barely a second. Then it was still again.
He pulled it out of his pocket and stared at the name on the missed call.
Qiao Jing Jing.
He stood in the middle of the hallway, robbed of breath, his heart hammering in his chest. Why did she call him, today of all days?
But then the call had been so short. It had not even rung long enough for him to reach for his phone. She had clearly misdialed.
But then why, of all the people whose contact must be on her phone, had she misdialed his number, today?
When her finger slipped and pressed on Yu Tu’s number, Jing Jing’s heart leapt to her throat and her first instinct had been to throw her phone away again. Somehow she managed to stop herself doing so and ended the call instead.
Maybe, she thought to herself, the call didn’t connect through, and he would be none the wiser. It would probably take a miracle for that to be the case.
But it was her birthday. If there was any day when she deserved a miracle, maybe it should be this day.
When Yu Tu exited the meeting room, he found no new missed call on his phone.
There were messages from Xia Qing instead.
Yu Tu read the messages, and then inexplicably found himself switching to his call history.
Jing Jing’s name was still there, red like a siren song, pulling him into depths that he knew would drown him if he only let it.
The only question was, drown him in what?
Standing underneath the yellow light shining his way home from the research institute, Yu Tu felt a prickling sense of déjà vu. Once again, he was back in that subway station, faced with a train that led him back to his apartment and one that led him to Jing Jing’s door. That night he confessed to her the reason he was thinking of leaving the research institute. The reason that he told no one but her. Not even Professor Zhang, not even Guan Zai.
Now, the road seemed to fork once more before him. One again would end in the dark, lonely emptiness of his apartment, one to the dead end that he knew any meeting with Xia Qing must be, and one…
…one back to her.
Jing Jing stared at the way Yu Tu’s name was lighting up her phone. Her body seemed to have turned into lead and she could not move to pick up the phone.
She wasn’t even sure she wanted to.
It was past 8 o’clock in the evening, why was he calling her now?
The phone eventually turned dark and silent, and Jing Jing let out a slow breath.
Maybe it was in relief.
But if it was relief, it must be short lived. Because her phone rang again.
Still Yu Tu.
Yu Tu didn’t know why he had called her again when she didn’t pick up the first time. What right did he have to demand her attention now, when he had so callously left her in the cold?
But it was as if being confronted with all the choices in front of him made the fog clear in his mind, and a new realisation blinded him.
He did not think he could end this day without hearing her voice. He would not be able to forgive himself.
Maybe she had blocked his number. She had most likely deleted it, and now no longer knew it was he calling her. She did not answer unknown numbers on this phone, after all.
Jing Jing did not know why she answered the call in the end. Perhaps the insistence of the second call convinced her that his fingers did not slip also.
But she did not speak.
“Jing Jing,” Yu Tu’s voice came through, vibrating in the silence of her apartment.
If she closed her eyes, maybe she could even imagine he was here, beside her.
“Yes?”
“You called me earlier…I was in a meeting that just got out now.”
“Oh.” Her answer came out in a rush of breath, but she still didn’t know what to say.
The silence stretched on between them, broken only by distant sounds of car horns and engines, betraying the fact that he must be outside.
“I should wish you a happy birthday,” Yu Tu finally said, when she could not trust herself to speak and not have some sort of embarrassing breakdown.
It was easier, when he gave her openings like this that she just had to answer. So she said, “Thank you.”
That, too, fell into silence, like a rock dropped into the middle of a lake, the other words still unspoken between them rippling out in the darkness.
“Why did you call me earlier?” he asked, pretending to not know that it had only been a slip of her finger. “Did you need anything?”
Jing Jing didn’t immediately answer, until her eyes fell on a white box in the corner of her living room.
“If I told you my air purifier is broken, what would you say?”
This time, it was he who was quiet for a long moment.
“Is your air purifier broken?”
“What would you say?”
“I would say…I can come and have a look at it for you.”
Two months ago, Yu Tu had decided to take a train in the dark of the night across the length of the city to check on Cotton’s air purifier as a matter of professional pride.
He should have known then that he wasn’t ready to leave it all behind.
Now, sitting on the train watching the dark landscapes of the city blur past him, Yu Tu wondered what awaited him at the end of this journey that he now knew like the back of his hand.
He had called her, in the end, but she had made the opening.
Yu Tu just didn’t know if he had any right to hope anymore.