Chapter Sixty-Three: Let Me Tell You

At this moment, Gu Ruoyan looked like a helpless child, gazing at me with a pitiful, hopeful expression. I knew there was no other meaning in her words; she was simply afraid of loneliness and longed for someone to accompany her, to ease her unbearable solitude.

I sighed inwardly. Although it was indeed inappropriate for a man and woman to be alone in a room together, seeing her so pitiful made me feel a deep sympathy—how could I just leave her like this and not care?

I hesitated for a moment, about to speak, when Gu Ruoyan suddenly covered her mouth as if she were about to vomit. But the first attempt didn’t succeed; she immediately struggled out of bed and rushed to the bathroom. As soon as she got inside, a second wave of nausea finally erupted. I heard the harsh sounds of retching and her labored breathing, full of distress.

Worried, I followed her into the bathroom, only to see her kneeling on the floor, hunched over the toilet, still retching violently. I quickly grabbed a towel from the wall, soaked it in water, and handed it to her, gently patting her back with my other hand to help her feel better.

After a while, she didn’t throw up much, only a lot of sour, acrid liquid. It seemed she hadn’t eaten dinner and had just been drinking. When she finally couldn’t vomit anymore, she sat down on the floor, exhausted, leaning against the bathtub and panting. I wiped her face clean of tears, mucus, and the mess from vomiting with the towel, then asked, “Manager, how are you feeling now? Any better?”

She didn’t answer, her chest heaving, obviously still feeling sick. But after throwing up, her mind was much clearer. She reached for the towel, turned it to the other side, and started wiping her glasses.

I asked again, “Are you feeling better? Do you want me to help you back to bed?”

Gu Ruoyan looked at me, nodded, and said, “Wait a moment!” She blew her nose hard into the towel, wiped, then blew again, until the towel was too dirty to use.

She tossed it aside; her straight nose was red from the effort, but her breathing was finally steady. I slipped my hand under her arm and asked, “Are you all right now?”

She gave me an apologetic smile and tried to push herself up. I quickly supported her, helping her back to the bed.

It seemed all her strength had left her with her earlier vomiting; she lay limply on the bed, eyes closed, trying to recover. I picked up the water cup by her bed and said, “Have some water, rinse your mouth. After all that, your mouth must taste awful.”

She opened her eyes and murmured assent, struggling to sit up. Seeing how weak she was, I held the cup for her, supporting her back as she took three big gulps of water.

She seemed much better after the water, her eyes full of gratitude as she looked at me. “Thank you, Tang Qian. I’m feeling much better now.”

I set down the cup. Seeing her clearer, I asked, “These past few nights, have you really been out drinking till dawn and never come home?”

She turned her gaze away, her face full of pain and sorrow. After a long silence, she replied, “Not every night. Sometimes I just stay in the office all night, not going anywhere.”

I nodded and continued, “Are you really going to keep numbing yourself with alcohol like this? Don’t you realize you’ll ruin your life, your career, even your health? Divorce was your own decision. If you’re suffering so much, why did you agree to it in the first place? Now that you’ve chosen it, you must pull yourself together, leave your husband’s shadow behind, and find happiness again. If you keep living like this, do you think he’ll pity you? He won’t! That kind of heartless man will only laugh at you, and others who don’t know the truth will look down on you. What’s the point of living this way?”

My words brought tears to her eyes; she lowered her head and sniffed hard. After saying all that, I realized I was too harsh; after all, she wasn’t my family, and I had no right to lecture her like this.

But I was still angry. Out of habit, I pulled out a cigarette and lit it. I’d just taken a puff when Gu Ruoyan snatched it from my lips and took a deep drag herself. I was stunned—so now she was drinking and smoking, who knew how else she’d torment herself? She was good in every way, except for bottling everything up and punishing herself until she was barely recognizable.

I said nothing, lit another cigarette, and we sat in silence, the only sound the exhale of smoke.

To break the silence, I asked, “Why did your call suddenly cut off earlier? I kept trying but couldn’t get through. I remember you let out a cry before it disconnected—I thought something had happened to you. That scared me so much I ran right over, only to find you were fine and I’d just frightened myself. What happened?”

She flicked her cigarette ash and sighed. “You’re the only one who still cares about me. There’s no one else I can truly trust. I’ve lived to this point—what a failure, sigh…”

She paused, then added, “While I was talking to you, someone nearby got into a fight. Someone swung a wine bottle, which shattered at my feet. I was startled, dropped my phone, and it broke.”

“Oh,” I said, understanding. “How are you feeling now? Are you still uncomfortable after throwing up?”

She replied, “I feel clearer, but my head still hurts and I’m dizzy.”

“Then you should rest. Don’t keep drinking like this; it’s bad for your health. If you feel lonely, call me to chat. If I’m free, I’ll come over. Most importantly, you have to pick yourself up, forget the unhappy memories, and live happily again. Maybe you should travel for a while—see the beauty of the country, or even go abroad, experience something new. It might help you escape your pain, and when you return, you might already have forgotten your troubles and found joy again.”

She couldn’t help but laugh at this, but choked on the smoke, coughing between laughs. “Easy for you to say! If a trip could really make me forget, there wouldn’t be any suffering in this world!”

I said, “See? You finally laughed. Isn’t it better than crying? Sometimes not thinking about unhappy things is all it takes to be happy.”

She managed a wry smile and shook her head. “All right, I get it. I’ll try to learn to forget, so you don’t have to worry about me. Weren’t you about to leave? Then go ahead, don’t disturb my rest.”

I sighed, put out my cigarette, and stood up. “I’ll go then. If you need anything, just call. Get some sleep.”

I pulled the covers over her, but didn’t dare help her undress. I smiled at her, turned, and walked to the door.

As I opened it, I heard her call my name. “Tang Qian!”

I turned. “What is it?”

On her face, I saw fear, embarrassment, loneliness, and a hint of reluctance. She hesitated, then finally said, “Could you… wait until I fall asleep before you go? I’m afraid I won’t be able to sleep alone.”

I understood her. Though she’d spent many nights alone before, back then she still hoped her husband would return. The days were hard, but not unbearable. But since the divorce, endless emptiness had swept over her. The long nights would never again bring anyone to her side. The loneliness was ten times worse, the pain ten times harsher. That’s why she preferred to get drunk outside or sit in the office until dawn rather than go home.

I felt both sympathy and helplessness. I sighed, closed the door, and returned to her bedside. “All right, I’ll wait until you’re asleep.”

She smiled, quickly took off her shoes and socks, and slid under the covers. I pulled over a chair and sat by her bed. “Close your eyes and sleep. I’ll be right here.”

She murmured in assent and began to take off her outer clothes under the covers, tossing them aside. With her head resting on her hand, she looked at me and asked, “Weren’t you going to tell me why you resigned? Tell me now. If it’s not interesting, maybe I’ll fall asleep listening.”

I laughed. “I’m not telling a bedtime story, and you’re not a child who needs to be lulled to sleep by one, are you?”

She looked peaceful, clearly comforted by my presence. With a playful smile, she teased, “Judging by your tone, you must have experience telling stories to children. Do you have any?”

I said, “I don’t have a child, but I do have a sister nine years younger than me. When she was little, she wouldn’t go to sleep without a story every night, so it was up to me as her brother. I became quite skilled at telling bedtime stories!”

She said, “You must have a good relationship with your sister.”

“Pretty good, I’d say.”

“Tang Qian, you’re lucky to have family.”

I fell silent. In the course of our work, I’d learned that Gu Ruoyan lost her father at fourteen and her mother at twenty. After graduating from college, she’d come alone to this city, married her husband, and never had children. Here, apart from her husband, she had no family. Now even he had left her. No wonder she was so despondent, drowning her sorrows in alcohol.

I thought of how I often complained about being looked down on for my poverty, resenting the rich, feeling that fate had treated me unfairly. But compared to many, I was incredibly fortunate—healthy, well-fed, both parents alive, a loving family, and a girlfriend who loved me. What more could a man want? Yet fate likes to play tricks, constantly stirring up little misunderstandings and changes, pushing us along, altering our paths. If it hadn’t been for a series of incidents, would I have changed so much, even quitting my job?

I sighed softly and lit another cigarette.

Gu Ruoyan, seeing my silence, asked quietly, “Did I say something wrong? You look unhappy.”

I took a drag, smiled, and said, “No, I just remembered some things I can’t control. That’s all.”

She asked, “Does it have something to do with your resignation?”

I was surprised by her sharp intuition. No wonder she was the department manager—I could never be that. Even at her emotional low, her mind was keen.

“It does, in a way,” I replied.

“Then tell me. If I don’t fall asleep, maybe I can give you some advice.”

I smoked for a while, thinking it over. In the end, I decided to tell her everything, holding nothing back. When a person keeps secrets or worries buried too long, they become a heavy burden. Everyone needs someone to confide in—not necessarily a best friend, but someone trustworthy and safe.

Gu Ruoyan was the perfect choice. First, she was calm and reliable, even a bit cold, unlikely to gossip. Second, she now had secrets I knew, making us confidants of a sort. Third, she had nothing to do with my affairs, so I could speak freely. Fourth, I trusted her and thought her a good person.

Halfway through my cigarette, I finally spoke. “It’s complicated. If you want to understand, I’ll have to start from the beginning. It’s a long story—you might fall asleep halfway through.”

Wrapped entirely in her blanket, just her head showing, she smiled and said, “That’s all right. I want to hear it. Turn off the main light and leave the bedside lamp. Tell it slowly. If I fall asleep, then tomorrow night you can tell me the rest.”