Chapter 6 – Li Jiangluo 0.3

Perhaps I should be the one to die.

Xing Bolin’s health examination report was like a thunderclap, jolting me out of my fantasy. In that instant, I experienced the numbing sensation from the top of my head to the tips of my fingers, my spine drenched in cold sweat.

I snatched the paper from his brother’s hands, staring at that row of words, then slapped myself hard.

It hurt, it was real, I wasn’t dreaming, and I wasn’t seeing things. Bolin had indeed contracted HIV.

What did this mean?

I didn’t bother to think about it.

We had been together for five years, he knew about my condition, so the most we did was hug.

But he had AIDS.

I recalled the past, how he always liked to hold me and whisper how much he loved me. Not just me, the lamp, sofa, curtains, and air conditioner at home had all secretly listened to those sweet nothings countless times, enveloped in his love, every day and night had now transformed into notes of a funeral dirge, scrambling to mock me.

Perhaps I should never have dared to hope for a faithful love, because someone like me simply didn’t deserve it.

So, in the end, it was still my fault, and the culprit behind Bolin’s death was actually me.

It was my inability to satisfy him that led him astray into the outside world. I immersed myself in the beautiful fantasy I wove, while he struggled bitterly and then plunged into the abyss.

If it weren’t for me, he would have surely encountered another lover, possessed a healthy relationship. They could hug, kiss, make love, and then just like we had once planned, have a lifelong romance.

It was my fault. I shouldn’t have deluded myself with love, shouldn’t have intruded into his life.

But despite knowing it was my fault, I still harbored some resentment toward him, because the person I trusted most had deceived me.

From the first day we were together, I had prepared myself for the possibility of him breaking up with me at any moment. I waited for five years, living on tenterhooks, cautiously preparing for five years, he didn’t say it, but the result was even more cruel.

Originally, five years of love was enough for me to be grateful, grateful that life had allowed me to meet such a person, who held my hand and strove to love our life together.

No one knew what kind of life I had lived before. Every day, I pondered how to die. I didn’t dare to love others, nor did I dare to accept love from others. Those years, I lived alone, always restraining myself, preventing my young heart from stirring for anyone.

I had liked others before, a boy who played basketball very well. During gym class, I would sit under a tree with a book in my lap, my ears plugged with headphones, listening to music while secretly watching him play basketball.

That crush started and ended without anyone knowing besides me, because I didn’t dare.

I was not qualified to be in a relationship with anyone.

No matter how much you loved someone, the mere thought of having sex with them made you nauseous. This was torture for yourself.

I had always been pessimistic. Some people might not understand, it was just that I couldn’t have sex, what was there to be melodramatic about.

This wasn’t just about not being able to have sex, it was about not being able to love.

Until I met Bolin.

I didn’t fully believe his promises at first. I just wanted to try it out, because he was genuinely sincere, and I truly loved him.

I learned cooking for him, worked hard, and even brewing a cup of milk for him on weekend mornings became my favorite thing.

He often worked overtime, sometimes after work, I would wait for him at the 24-hour coffee shop across from his company. I had tasted all the coffees in that store, knew the staff’s shift schedules by heart. In five years, at least two days a week, I would sit there until late at night.

I didn’t feel tired, I even felt happy.

Waiting for my lover to finish work, that was the most satisfying feeling.

But he betrayed me.

The man I had always regarded as my savior slapped me in the face after his death. He told me not to believe in any hollow promises and not to have too much faith in men’s desires.

I knew I shouldn’t feel this way, but I really couldn’t stand up, only squatting here, burying my head in my arms.

Greatest sorrow comes when the heart dies, a lesson taught by Xing Bolin.

Xu Zhao sent me back to the hotel.

The entire way, he tried hard to find topics to talk about, first asking if I was cold, then if I was hungry.

Xu Zhao was always like that, regardless of my state, he always tried to play the role of a family member.

But he wasn’t my family, he was just my old neighbor.

I met him when I was five years old, he was eight at the time.

For the following twenty years, we always stayed in touch. When he was in police school, he would sneak out to see me, taking me out for midnight snacks. When he couldn’t return to school, he would drag me to stay at a small inn that cost twenty yuan a night.

He said he treated me like a younger brother, forcing me to call him “Brother.”

My relationship with Bolin was something he had always opposed. Because of this, we had a big argument.

I still remember our conversation at the time. He said no one could make me happy, only he would accompany me for life.

But I firmly replied, “Xu Zhao, don’t be so presumptuous. Do you think you’re someone special to me? What gives you the right to meddle in my love life!”

I was furious then, later apologized to him. He didn’t say much, continued to treat me well, but we never mentioned my dating again.

Xu Zhao said I could move back in a few days after the case was closed.

He was still the same, expressionless, squatted next to me and smoked a cigarette, then left by himself.

I didn’t want to move back. That place could only make me suffer more.

Initially, we looked for houses together, hamburgers for dinner, riding buses everywhere to check them out. We considered the convenience of work, the surrounding environment. We were both lazy, once settled somewhere, we didn’t want to move again, so stability was important, a place we could live long-term.

Eventually, we rented a house in Swan Bay, a one-bedroom duplex. The house wasn’t big, empty when we moved in. Now, all the furniture inside was purchased by us.

From an empty house to a warm home, those fifty square meters were filled with our love.

Now Bolin was dead, and in front of me was this health examination report. How could I still live there.

The lights in the hotel corridor flickered on and off. I sat on the carpet outside the door, wondering why I clearly had a room key to the room next door but insisted on sitting here.

This room belonged to Bolin’s brother. I didn’t know if he was there, I just wanted to rest here for a bit.

Beside me was the scent of cigarettes left by Xu Zhao. I never smoked, but at this moment, I wanted to light one.

I don’t know how long I sat there, when someone emerged from the elevator.

I looked up, seeing a man who looked utterly worn out.

I thought, if not for these distressing events, this person should be striding elegantly through high-end office buildings, the sun shining through the glass onto him, that aura of excellence admired by others.

Unfortunately, he was now as dispirited and dejected as I was.

My legs were numb, I leaned on the warm hotel walls to stand up.

He opened the door, didn’t say anything, I took the initiative to follow him in.

The snow was getting heavier, I finished an entire pack of cigarettes.

Bolin’s brother and I sat together in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows, the room filled with smoke.

At first, I would cough from the smoke, later, I felt dizzy, but could adapt to it.

Actually, we needed some alcohol. I, who rarely drank, was now itching for a drink.

I finally understood why people liked to drink and smoke when they were upset. Perhaps it wasn’t just that, people just liked to harm themselves when faced with a chaotic world, perhaps a form of self-mutilation.

For instance, I also wanted to get a tattoo.

Tattoo those words from Bolin’s health examination report onto my skin. The pain during the tattooing process might make me clearer-headed. Many years later, when this pain gradually faded, each time I saw it, it would remind me not to try to love again.

I don’t know when I started crying again, probably when the cigarettes ran out.

It turns out you could get drunk without alcohol, like me now.

I kept apologizing to Brother Baichuan, although I resented Bolin’s betrayal, I regretted my initial decision even more.

In the end, it was still my fault that harmed him.

If time could flow backward, I would never have accepted his confession. Be ruthless, he would have been happier.

Love, it really drives a person to the brink.

If only when a person was born, they could choose whether to activate certain emotional programs. Then I would definitely choose to turn off the “love” option. Really shouldn’t have hurt others and myself.

I couldn’t forgive Xing Bolin, nor could I forgive myself.

Craving temporary satisfaction, for shameful selfish desires, I harmed an innocent person.

It was me who turned Bolin into this, it was me who forced him to his death.

Brother Baichuan went to wash his face in the bathroom, I heard the sound of running water.

The hotel’s balcony was open-air, the snow outside the sliding doors had already piled up thickly.

I pulled open the door, wearing only socks, stepped onto the snow, the coldness seeping from the soles of my feet, quickly chilling my entire body.

This room was on the 27th floor, I stood at the edge of the balcony, looking down.

What would happen if I jumped now?

I would bloom into a crimson flower on this pristine snowfield.