Chapter 13 – Li Jiangluo 0.6

Brother Baichuan has left, leaving behind prepared meals and a note for me.

I feel incredibly guilty towards him. Despite his greater suffering, I constantly cause him worry.

When I woke up this morning, my entire body ached. Walking into the living room, I spotted the sticky note on the coffee table. I read it several times before fully comprehending its simple message.

My brain might be broken now; I’m unsure if it will remain damaged or slowly recover.

Brother Baichuan’s handwriting is very different from Bolin’s, revealing that the two brothers have entirely distinct personalities.

Bolin tends to be more assertive, whereas Brother Baichuan is more composed.

Perhaps it’s due to him being accustomed to the role of ‘big brother.’

He informed me that he returned to Canada and that it was time for Bolin’s situation to be honestly disclosed to their parents.

He urged me to eat well and rest properly, promising to come back soon.

After reading the note, I took it to my room and placed it between the pages of a book beside my pillow.

Last night, I couldn’t sleep, so I picked up a book to read.

Love in the Time of Cholera, with its red cover, was bought by Bolin. It had been sitting on the bookshelf, untouched by me until now.

Coincidentally, this note became my bookmark.

I had no appetite and, looking at myself in the mirror, saw a gaunt reflection—more unattractive than ever before.

The doorbell rang, and I guessed it was Xu Zhao.

I couldn’t find my slippers, so I went to open the door barefoot.

Upon seeing me, Xu Zhao lifted the bag in his hand, its contents emitting a delicious aroma of food.

“I knew you hadn’t eaten,” he said with a smile as he stepped inside, noticing my bare feet on the floor.

He frowned and told me sternly, “Stay still.”

He rushed inside and placed the bag containing the meal on the table before coming back to me.

I looked at him in puzzlement as he suddenly scooped me up in his arms.

I was startled, nearly falling out of his grip.

“It’s a wonder you don’t get sick walking around barefoot!” His tone was scolding, yet there was a smile playing at the corner of his mouth.

I didn’t say anything as he carried me to the bed in the bedroom.

“Where are your socks and slippers?” He searched around, finding nothing.

“They’re in the opposite room.” The room we were currently in was reserved for Brother Baichuan, while I slept in the one across the hall last night.

This apartment has two bedrooms, which would indeed be inconvenient when Bolin’s parents arrive.

“I’ll go get them for you. Wait here,” Xu Zhao patted my head, and I lowered my gaze to see a strand of my hair resting on my hand.

He quickly returned with my socks and slippers. It was strange how he seemed to find them right away, while I couldn’t locate them earlier.

I reached for the socks, but Xu Zhao dodged my hand.

Then, he squatted down in front of me.

I furrowed my brow and pulled my foot away.

“I can put them on myself.” I knew I was being stubborn, but I couldn’t accept such care from Xu Zhao—it felt too excessive.

Since childhood, I’ve known that if I wasn’t planning to be with someone, I shouldn’t overly accept their kindness and should clarify my boundaries appropriately and timely.

Xu Zhao looked up at me, his expression slightly awkward.

I snatched the socks from his hands and put them on myself.

Indeed, wearing socks made me much warmer.

“Let’s talk,” I said. “It’s good that Bolin’s brother isn’t here.”

“Alright,” he sat down beside me, both of us looking out the window.

In my youth, I memorized ancient poetry—words like “withered vines, old trees, and evening crows.” That’s pretty much what it looks like outside now. Winter has arrived, and a heavy snowfall has passed, yet it fails to conceal the vivid crimson of Bolin’s blood.

“Is there anything about Bolin’s case you’re still hiding from me?” I avoided looking at Xu Zhao, unsure why I recently disliked making eye contact with him.

He remained silent, seemingly unwilling to divulge more.

“I know what I need to know, but there are some things I don’t understand.” I touched my pocket, suddenly remembering that I had torn Bolin’s letter and almost swallowed it.

“He did indeed commit suicide,” Xu Zhao finally spoke. “The reason is clear—he knew he wouldn’t live much longer. However, whether he intended to deceive his insurance company cannot be definitively concluded. The method of his suicide was peculiar—he used a knife first, then hanged himself. You’re aware of these details, so I won’t elaborate further. There’s one point I haven’t mentioned to you.”

I suddenly recalled Bolin’s request in the letter for me to closely examine his body. When I entered the house, I was paralyzed with shock, and later, I couldn’t bear to look at the crime scene photos provided by the police.

“What is it?” My voice trembled.

“He carved your name into his chest with a knife.” Xu Zhao looked at me, his eyes deeper than the sea.

Carved my name…

Another suffocating moment, I wished I could instantly return to the scene days ago.

When writing the letter, he mentioned wanting to find a knife to carve my name onto his chest.

I fell silent, feeling something rising within me.

I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand, but there were no tears—I could no longer cry.

“You previously mentioned that on the afternoon when Xing Bolin called you, saying there was an emergency at home and asking you to return as soon as possible, you took leave early from work. You should have been home before five o’clock, but ended up returning nearly an hour late due to an unexpected trip to the supermarket.” Xu Zhao’s voice was icy as he continued, “I didn’t tell you this before, fearing it would upset you. In reality, based on our analysis, Xing Bolin likely intended to die alongside you.”

I stared at him in disbelief, shaking my head. “No…that wouldn’t happen…”

But upon reflection, if he had actually taken my life along with his own, it might have been better—at least I wouldn’t be enduring this torment now.

On one side is guilt, and on the other, resentment. Caught between these two emotions, I’m on the verge of madness.

“Jiangluo, have you ever wondered why, when hanging alone would have sufficed to achieve his suicide goal, he chose to also use a knife?” Xu Zhao asked. “I have a theory. Would you like to hear it?”

I shook my head repeatedly, having no interest in hearing his conjectures.

I retreated further into the bed, trying to create distance between us.

He looked at me, insistent. “Because he had AIDS. If you happened to come home at that moment, the knife would have served its purpose. One outcome could be that he directly killed you, and you both died together. Another possibility is that he died, but infected you with AIDS in his final moments. Jiangluo, this was his plot. Even in hell, he didn’t want you to have peace!”

Xu Zhao nearly shouted by the end, his neck veins bulging as he glared at me. The closer I moved away, the closer he pressed, until I pushed him, only to be enveloped in his embrace.

I disliked this embrace. Once, there was only one person whose hug brought me comfort and security. Now, that’s gone, never to return.

Xu Zhao held me tightly, his cheek against my ear, feeling cool.

I struggled, but he tightened his hold, compressing all my bones as if they would shatter.

“Pain…” My voice was probably too faint for him to hear.

Xu Zhao eventually calmed down, his tone returning to normal.

He said, “Jiangluo, forget about him. He doesn’t deserve your love. Be with me, and let me take care of you for the rest of your life.”

I don’t understand what’s happening in this world, why everyone wants to look after me.

Clearly, I’m a man with the ability to survive. I’m not inferior to them in any way, except perhaps for my inexplicable illness.

I don’t need anyone’s care, nor do I require a ‘lifetime’ commitment.

In the past, the thought of sex repulsed me. Now, the mention of promises makes me nauseous.

I will no longer foolishly believe in love and human nature. Reality has shown me that nothing can overcome desire.

I just want to live quietly on my own, from now on, to live and die by my own means, without anyone disturbing me.

Still, I pushed Xu Zhao away, weakly shaking my head.

He persisted, his strong hands gripping my shoulders. “Jiangluo, after all these years, don’t you understand my heart? I love you, no less than Xing Bolin did, and I will be absolutely faithful. I can swear on my badge.”

I looked at him, and for some reason, the person in front of me seemed increasingly unfamiliar.

I asked, “What do you gain from this? What about me is worth loving?”

His brows furrowed as he stared at me, then pulled me into another embrace.

This time, I didn’t resist, my hands dangling limply as I leaned against him.

His voice was gentle, but I found it unbearably irritating.

“I’ve liked you since we were young. Your eyes, nose, mouth—even the strands of your hair—are perfect to me, Jiangluo. I truly love you.”

Once again, I vomited violently.

Because Xu Zhao kissed me.

While I was lost in thought, he suddenly captured my lips. In that instant, it felt as if countless ants were crawling through my body. I couldn’t breathe, nearly dying.

I forcefully pushed Xu Zhao away, running to the bathroom amidst his shouts.

After vomiting, I leaned against the wall, exhausted, wiping my sweat. Then, I heard Xu Zhao say, “Jiangluo, I never expected you to despise me so much.”

There you go, that’s how it is.

Everyone would think this way.

You kiss the person you love, but they push you away and vomit.

Even if they claim to be ill, it still hurts your feelings.

Xu Zhao is unaware of my condition, and I have no intention of informing him. Since the misunderstanding has occurred, let it be.

I’m too tired to explain anymore.

Xu Zhao left, leaving me with hot water and a made bed.

I didn’t drink the water nor did I go to sleep.

Instead, I sat on the sofa, staring blankly into space.

I thought about nothing, merely emptying my mind.

This house is significantly larger than the one Bolin and I shared previously. With Brother Baichuan absent, it feels emptier.

As darkness fell and the lights outside illuminated, I finally felt a pang of hunger. I got up and went to the refrigerator, retrieving the meals Brother Baichuan had prepared before leaving.

A sticky note was attached to the container, reading: No matter what, life goes on. Eat well, don’t starve yourself.

Hugging the container, I sat against the fridge, too lazy to heat the food. I simply opened the lid and began eating.

Recalling the days when I concocted various dishes to please Bolin, who would have thought that now we’d be separated by the veil of life and death.