Chapter 42 – He Didn’t Say Goodbye

Two days before the Spring Festival, Jiang Ruo returned to the large apartment in the city center to pack up his belongings and move out.

He had already confirmed from Aunt Fang’s information that he chose a time when Xi Yufeng wouldn’t be around.

When using his fingerprint to unlock the door, everything inside remained as it was when he left. Jiang Ruo stared at his slippers by the entrance for a while before pulling out disposable shoe covers from his pocket.

Fortunately, he didn’t bring much when he moved in, so half an hour was enough to tidy everything up.

For convenience, Jiang Ruo borrowed a small cart from the security guard and placed items that couldn’t be easily bagged, such as the few potted plants on the balcony, onto the cart.

Before leaving, he even stepped on a mop to wipe the floor clean, fearing he might leave any traces behind.

Passing by the master bedroom door, Jiang Ruo saw the ground by the bed neat and clean; the ankle chain was nowhere to be found.

Not allowing himself time to ponder his current feelings, Jiang Ruo quickly glanced away and then strode toward the door.

Thinking he had managed to move silently enough, he unexpectedly ran into someone he shouldn’t have met at the elevator.

Dressed as if for work, in a suit and tie, Xi Yufeng had his coat draped over his arm. When the elevator doors opened, he seemed to be taken aback for a moment.

Then, his gaze lowered, noticing the bags Jiang Ruo was holding and the cart full of plants. He pursed his lips and remained silent for a while.

The unexpected encounter made Jiang Ruo stiffen momentarily, almost loosening his grip on the bag handle.

It was the alarm warning of the closing elevator doors that broke the silence. Jiang Ruo reached out with the hand holding the cart’s handle to block the doors, but he was a beat too slow. Xi Yufeng lifted his arm half a second before him, propping it against the elevator frame.

As the elevator doors fully opened again, Xi Yufeng slowly stepped out, circled around to Jiang Ruo’s back, and took the bag from his hands.

His voice, as always, was calm. “I’ll take you downstairs.”

By “downstairs,” he actually meant all the way to the entrance of the community.

The van Jiang Ruo had booked online was parked at the main gate, its trunk open. Jiang Ruo bent down and stood up several times, stuffing the plants inside. Turning to grab the bag with his clothes, he reached out into thin air — Xi Yufeng had already passed him, placing the bag inside directly.

With a clang, the trunk closed, and the driver in the front seat started the car. Dust swirled under the wheels, and the old Wuling Hongguang emitted a buzzing rumble.

It was at this moment that Jiang Ruo realized they hadn’t formally said goodbye.

But he wasn’t prepared, having nothing to say. He simply lowered his eyes and, in a voice nearly drowned out by the noise, said, “Well, I’m off.”

He thought he heard Xi Yufeng say “Mm,” but he wasn’t sure.

After securing his seatbelt in the passenger seat, Jiang Ruo saw through the side mirror that Xi Yufeng was still standing there.

His expression, always calm and untroubled, seemed frozen in place.

Yet it gave Jiang Ruo a burning, piercing pain.

He raised his hand to touch the fading scar on his neck, belatedly realizing that Xi Yufeng had been staring at it the entire time.

That year, Jiang Ruo spent the Spring Festival in his rental apartment.

On New Year’s Eve, he woke up early to buy enough ingredients from the supermarket to last him for half a month. He planned to spend the holiday holed up in his room, studying scripts and avoiding any festivities.

However, just because he didn’t seek out the festivities didn’t mean they wouldn’t come knocking.

Hearing a knock on the door in the evening, Jiang Ruo was busy in the kitchen dealing with ingredients. Quickly wiping his hands, he went to open the door, only to first see a chicken dangling upside down, its claws bound. Then, a face emerged from beside the upright wings.

“Happy New Year,” An He grinned. “I’m not freeloading — I brought a chicken.”

Half an hour later, Jiang Ruo, following steps from Baidu, was clumsily plucking the chicken.

An He had hidden outside the door earlier, unable to watch the chicken being slaughtered and drained of blood. Now, however, he was talkative, holding his phone to guide him. “Before plucking the chicken, you can pour in about two ounces of liquor. A chicken that has drunk liquor has faster blood circulation, making the feathers easier to pull out…”

Jiang Ruo rolled his eyes at him. “I asked you to pry open the chicken’s mouth earlier so I could pour it in, but you were too scared.”

An He laughed sheepishly, putting his phone away and rolling up his sleeves to step forward. “Is it really that hard to pluck? Let me give it a try.”

Despite numerous difficulties, dinner was on the table before eight o’clock.

Before sitting down, An He went to turn on the TV in the living room. This television had broken down once two years ago and never quite recovered; even at maximum volume, it could barely be heard in the dining area.

Neither of them was good at drinking, but they both agreed that a good day required some alcohol. They took a bottle of liquor used for cooking, pouring themselves half a glass each.

When things calmed down, Jiang Ruo finally had the chance to ask, “Why didn’t you go back to your hometown for the New Year?”

He referred to the home of An He’s adoptive parents, in a rural village in the mountains of central China.

“They didn’t invite me to return for the New Year,” An He said. “As long as the money was sent back.”

Jiang Ruo asked again, “Shouldn’t you be with Meng Chao? How did you find the time to come here? Did you sneak out?”

“No, he has a business engagement tonight.”

“Why didn’t you go with him?”

“I didn’t want to, and I don’t think he wanted me to either.”

“Why? Didn’t you two often go to Jin Garden together before?”

“That was before.” An He stuffed a piece of chicken leg into his mouth, chewing while saying, “Now, he probably hopes I disappear.”

The TV was loud with gongs and drums, and Jiang Ruo didn’t hear the latter part of his sentence. “What?”

An He shook his head. “Nothing. Just consider it my longing to see you and wanting to celebrate the New Year with you. Okay?”

Of course, it was okay.

Jiang Ruo vaguely sensed something was off with An He’s state, but An He, although soft-natured and easy to manipulate, wasn’t completely spineless. Once he became stubborn, no one could pry open his mouth.

Jiang Ruo could only guess that he and Meng Chao had a disagreement, and An He came to him for comfort.

Dinner was finished by nine o’clock. The two of them collapsed onto the sagging fabric sofa in the living room, watching the Spring Festival Gala.

During a bland sketch, An He randomly initiated a conversation. “You and that guy, did you really break up?”

After a few seconds of silence, Jiang Ruo replied with a simple “Mm.”

There was no need to ask where he heard it. His breakup with Xi Yufeng was all over town, and now that they had separated, everyone knew about it.

“It’s better this way,” An He commented. “If you were going to split up eventually.”

The two of them lay on the sofa until the clock struck midnight.

Feng City banned fireworks, lacking the “New Year atmosphere” that the older generation spoke of. However, Jiang Ruo felt that the people on the TV were noisy enough.

There was nothing worth celebrating, after all.

Perhaps thinking along the same lines, An He picked up the remote control and turned off the TV.

Then, he returned to the dining area, fetching two glasses of unfinished wine from the table.

“Come on, make a New Year’s wish.”

Not wanting to dampen the mood, Jiang Ruo sat up, took the wine glass, and downed it in one gulp.

After finishing it, he stared blankly at the empty glass for a while before saying, “You go first.”

An He burst out laughing, also finishing his remaining wine. “Then let’s wish for us to live for ourselves alone in the new year, without caring about anyone else.”

“Alright,” Jiang Ruo also smiled. “Live for ourselves alone.”

In terms of alcohol tolerance, An He was slightly worse than Jiang Ruo, who could only handle three cups.

After helping the newly inebriated An He, who had just made his New Year’s wish, to bed, Jiang Ruo couldn’t help but walk towards the balcony and push open half of the window.

Instantly, a cold wind rushed in, and Jiang Ruo shivered violently.

Perhaps because he hadn’t stood here for too long, the night view outside felt unfamiliar.

But it was comforting and reassuring, without fear of sudden downpours with nowhere to hide.

Since he couldn’t see clearly with his eyes, Jiang Ruo simply closed them, silently uttering a phrase in his heart that he didn’t wish for anyone to hear — Happy New Year.

Unlike ordinary people, the Spring Festival for those in the business world was probably just a series of tedious and superficial social engagements and exchanges of courtesies that they had to face, regardless of how they felt about them.

The Xi family’s family banquet was held at noon on the first day of the New Year, specifically to free up New Year’s Eve for visiting familiar business partners and government officials to pave the way for a smooth and prosperous upcoming year.

As the successor of the Xi family, Xi Yufeng, despite his aversion to such occasions, had to attend. After wrapping up the tail-end work, he left the company and headed straight to the banquet.

Drinking until late into the night, he declined the suggestion from his business partner to stay in a hotel room for the night and insisted on returning home.

When he arrived at the flat in the city center and used his fingerprint to unlock the door, facing the eerily quiet emptiness of the room, Xi Yufeng took a long time before stepping inside.

Turning on the floor lamp, the adjacent sofa was empty. Passing by the dance studio on his way to the kitchen, there was no light inside. A breeze blew in from the slightly ajar window, rustling the leaves of the nearby monstera plant, and the curtains fluttered with the wind.

Initially intending to just grab a bottle of water from the fridge, upon seeing the two dishes wrapped in cling film and placed inside on one of the days last week, Xi Yufeng took them out and put them in the microwave to heat up.

The food, left untouched for several nights, hardly tasted the same, and it hadn’t heated through properly. Stabbing it with chopsticks revealed it was still frozen solid inside.

Nevertheless, he finished eating the leftovers before setting down his chopsticks. Having just filled his stomach with alcohol, followed by partially thawed food, the discomfort in his stomach made Xi Yufeng frown.

Aunt Fang’s call came at an opportune moment, asking if he had finished his social engagements.

Seeing that it was almost midnight, Xi Yufeng said, “You should get some rest early and don’t stay up.”

“I have to stay up,” Aunt Fang said over the phone. “Next year, I still have to go to the temple to offer incense and pray to the Buddha for your safety and prosperity in the coming year, free from illness and disaster.”

Aunt Fang’s son died young. Later, she came to the Xi family and stayed for nearly thirty years. Even though she didn’t say it, her actions showed that she had long considered Xi Yufeng her own flesh and blood, caring for and doting on him.

This was why she couldn’t bear to see him alone. On the phone, she asked again, “What about Xiao Jiang? Did he come back to celebrate the New Year with you?”

Xi Yufeng fell silent, and Aunt Fang sighed, saying, “Such a good child, adding plenty of common medicines to the house before leaving and sending a message to take care of my health… quarrels between young people are common. Sit down, talk things through, and coax him a bit, and everything will be fine, right?”

The day after Jiang Ruo moved out, Aunt Fang came to deliver food and tidy up the house. Opening the wardrobe and seeing half of it empty, she was frightened and hurriedly called Xi Yufeng, thinking the house had been burgled.

Exhausted from explaining, Xi Yufeng simply told her that Jiang Ruo had moved out and wouldn’t be staying there anymore. Aunt Fang, after mulling it over, assumed they had a fight and had given Xi Yufeng no shortage of advice these past few days, urging him to coax Jiang Ruo back.

To avoid future complications, this time Xi Yufeng directly said on the phone, “He’s gone, and I can’t coax him back.”

Saying these words, Xi Yufeng inexplicably felt a dampness in his palms, as if the tears that had fallen into his palm that day were deeply embedded in his palm lines, trickling out again.

Perhaps sensing something from his resolute tone, Aunt Fang didn’t press further. She told Xi Yufeng to take advantage of the New Year’s holiday to rest well before hanging up.

He sat at the dining table for a while longer before Xi Yufeng walked to the living room and sat down on the sofa next to the floor lamp.

Many nights in the past, Jiang Ruo had sat here, with a lamp lit by his side.

And yet, he had never told Jiang Ruo, for reasons unknown, that he had grown accustomed to the darkness and didn’t need anyone to wait for him.

But habits change, transforming subtly and becoming unrecognizable over time.

The steady ticking of the wall clock became strangely annoying, and the discomfort in his stomach spread throughout his body.

Without any awareness, Xi Yufeng stood up, lit a cigarette, and held it loosely between his lips. Then, he lifted his foot and purposefully walked towards the dance studio.

Stopping at the doorway.

No wind at the moment, the curtains ceased their movement, yet the staggered shadows on the ground still gave off a ghostly loneliness.

Xi Yufeng kept his hands in his pockets, his face solemn.

He stood there motionless, letting the smoke that threatened to engulf him swirl freely.

It was at this moment that he began to review the past and reflect on what had just happened.

— He’s gone, and I can’t coax him back.

It wasn’t just an excuse. He had truly left, and coaxing wouldn’t bring him back.

The word “coax” should be removed — not that he was unwilling to coax, but coaxing wouldn’t make him return.

He’s gone.

He didn’t say goodbye.

He wouldn’t come back.