Chapter 58 – I Can Give You My Loneliness

This was the third time he had delayed things using time as an excuse.

But this time, he only wanted five minutes. No matter how resolute Jiang Ruo was, there was no reason to refuse him.

It was just that he hadn’t expected Xi Yufeng to want these five minutes to tell a story.

However, he didn’t bother with the pretense of “I have a friend.” Instead, he dove straight into the topic: “I’ve told you before, my birth was a joke… This isn’t exaggeration, it’s the truth.”

Pausing briefly, Xi Yufeng continued with a voice darker than the night, “Back then, my mother was the daughter of a wealthy merchant, marrying Xi Chengli, who came from humble beginnings. It was truly a case of her marrying down.”

It was the beginning of a typical love story.

In those days, Qiao Jiamue was filled with joy, believing she had found someone worthy of spending her life with. Even though she had to help her husband secure investments and use her connections to get him into high society, she didn’t mind at all.

Under her help, Xi Chengli’s career became increasingly successful, and he got busier, leading to the most obvious change – he returned home less frequently.

But gradually, Qiao Jiamue realized that Xi Chengli’s busyness wasn’t solely due to work.

Especially after giving birth to Xi Yufeng, postpartum depression made Qiao Jiamue extremely sensitive, and if Xi Chengli didn’t pick up her call after three rings, she would start to overthink things.

After countless days and nights of suspicion, finally, three years later, when Xi Yufeng was three years old, Qiao Jiamue hired a private detective to find out about a location Xi Chengli often visited. She caught her husband and Xiao Yin, whom she once considered her best friend, in bed together.

Later, Qiao Jiamue learned that these two had been involved even before she and Xi Chengli got together.

What Xi Chengli wanted from marrying her was clear.

At that time, Xiao Yin was already pregnant.

Qiao Jiamue could have chosen divorce, returning to her family with her child to continue living. At the age of less than thirty, still young and beautiful, she had a good chance of finding true love. But she refused to back down, unwilling to concede defeat.

Thus began a protracted “war.”

She had the moral high ground; even if they went through a divorce lawsuit, Qiao Jiamue would come out victorious. But she was too proud to lose face to Xiao Yin. She disdained the antics of crying, making a scene, and threatening suicide. With no other methods in mind, she could only exert effort on trivial matters.

Like having Aunt Fang prepare various dishes that Xi Chengli liked, calling him back home.

Or using her former connections to set up informants, who would notify her whenever they saw Xi Chengli so she could chase after him.

Or being even stricter with Xi Yufeng, demanding that his grades in every subject were top-notch, ensuring he surpassed his peers in everything, then using him as an excuse to get Xi Chengli to return home and reward him.

And as a father, as a husband long oppressed by his wife and ridiculed by others, unable to hold his head high, what was Xi Chengli’s reward to Xi Yufeng?

He would take advantage of Qiao Jiamue’s unconsciousness after taking her antidepressant medication, bringing Xi Yufeng to an empty storage room, drawing the curtains, turning off all sources of light, locking the doors and windows, leaving Xi Yufeng alone inside.

Xi Chengli vented all his grievances and humiliation onto a child not yet ten years old.

And he strictly forbade the household helpers from letting Xi Yufeng out.

So often, however long Qiao Jiamue slept, Xi Yufeng would be locked away for that duration. Sometimes, Qiao Jiamue would fall into a deep sleep for over ten hours, and Xi Yufeng would be locked away from day to night, and sometimes even another day.

In Xi Yufeng’s memory, his mother was always asleep.

Occasionally lucid, she showed indifference towards him. Only at certain times would she take him to look for Xi Chengli.

Sometimes they went to his company, sometimes to Xiao Yin’s residence.

Upon arrival, Qiao Jiamue would say unspeakable words, and he could only listen by her side, unable to leave.

They, mother and son, were undoubtedly unwelcome wherever they went.

Once, Xi Yufeng was left by Qiao Jiamue in the lobby of the company building. He was thirsty and wanted to find water to drink, walking near the break room, where he heard employees laughing and chatting together, saying he looked more like a bastard, saying his birth was an enormous joke.

This was the first time Xi Yufeng learned to hide his emotions. When Qiao Jiamue returned and saw his red eyes, asking him what was wrong, he shook his head, saying nothing.

Later, through constant “real-life” training, Xi Yufeng developed a set of survival rules unique to himself.

He started spending less time at home, lingering at the school playground after school, or immersing himself in the library.

After becoming friends with Meng Chao, Xi Yufeng had another place to go – the Meng household.

The Meng household had countless books. Even reading one book per week, he would never finish them in his lifetime.

As he grew older, Qiao Jiamue found it harder to control him, and Xi Chengli couldn’t lock him up anymore. Instead, he began to fear this son who always looked at him coldly. During their rare meetings, he would ask about Xi Yufeng’s studies with a smile.

Because Xi Yufeng was already taller than him, and because the illegitimate child who wasn’t a bastard was a useless waste, he feared that his hard-won empire would have no heir, and that he would have no face to meet his ancestors after his death.

But in this long, dark night that dominated the beginning of his life, Xi Yufeng had become accustomed to the darkness, unable to discern the alternation between day and night, the passage of time.

He was unaware of when he should sleep and when he should wake. Even lying in bed, his mind and body couldn’t relax, so he closed his eyes, pretending to sleep.

He even mastered a technique to adjust his breathing to resemble deep sleep.

For many years, he honed this skill to perfection. He deceived his roommates during high school, deceived his friend Meng Chao, and after studying abroad, during weekend parties in the dormitory, when someone worried about disturbing him with the door closed, his roommate said, “He sleeps deeply, thunder won’t wake him.”

He even deceived himself, thinking he had adapted to the darkness and didn’t need light.

Speaking up to this point, Jiang Ruo heard himself exhale lightly.

The breath was light because he didn’t want to miss a single word Xi Yufeng spoke, a single moment he experienced.

His voice, compressed through the phone, sounded somewhat distant.

Unable to resist, he switched from speaker mode to earpiece mode, pressing the phone as close to his ear as possible.

Xi Yufeng said, “You’re the first one to realize that I was pretending to sleep.”

Hearing this, Jiang Ruo couldn’t help but think back to that day when Xi Yufeng gifted him a dance studio, telling him, “There’s light in your eyes.”

It turns out that not caring doesn’t mean not yearning.

The events that occurred later, Jiang Ruo either heard about or witnessed firsthand.

What Xi Yufeng narrated were the things he didn’t know.

“My mother died when I was nineteen,” Xi Yufeng said. “When I rushed home from abroad, she was on her deathbed. Those two days, she was lucid. She wrote a will, transferring her shares to me, telling me not to miss her.”

“I didn’t protect her well enough, I must become stronger.”

Jiang Ruo understood very clearly that what he was hearing now weren’t words that a man seen by everyone as powerful would easily say.

Xi Yufeng had completely let down his guard, almost speaking incoherently.

“I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

“After you left, I fell asleep several times, each time dreaming the same dream. In the dream, it’s your back, and no matter how much I reach out, I can’t grab you.”

That’s why when he rested at Jiang Ruo’s place and opened his eyes to see Jiang Ruo, his first reaction was to catch him.

“You’re right, I’m arrogant and conceited, always thinking I have everything under control. But facing you, I always lose control, doing things I’ll regret.”

“Whenever I recall that day, I feel that the me back then was so detestable.”

Jiang Ruo knew which day he was referring to.

Therefore, he held his breath momentarily, fearing he’d miss the upcoming explanation.

“Sorry.” Xi Yufeng spoke slowly, but his tone was sincere and determined. “Even if it’s already late, I still want to tell you, what I did back then was to retain you.”

“Breaking off the engagement was for you, getting back the wine was also for you. Changing my profile picture to your poster was because you like making movies, you said you want everyone to watch your movies.”

“If I just wanted you back, I have a thousand ways to force you to comply, making you have to return to my side.”

“But I don’t want you to be sad, I don’t want to make you cry again.”

At this moment, the sun had risen, yet Jiang Ruo felt like he was still soaking in the cool lake water under moonlight, able to smell the damp, sour scent with each breath.

It turns out he also exposes weaknesses, it turns out he isn’t omnipotent.

His heart was so soft that he couldn’t bear to interrupt the silence on the other end, waiting until Xi Yufeng regained his train of thought and spoke again.

“You’re not a plaything, and I’m not a savior. Love isn’t presumptuous giving, nor is it one-sided sacrifice.”

Mentioning that word, Xi Yufeng paused, then asked, “You said you like obscure confessions, did you see the wine I sent?”

Jiang Ruo subconsciously shook his head, but after a while, he realized the other party couldn’t see him, and couldn’t help but laugh.

Then, in a place Xi Yufeng couldn’t see, he secretly nodded.

How could he not want to see?

The day he received that bottle of wine, Jiang Ruo suffered insomnia until midnight, forcing himself to get up and examine the poem etched on the bottom of the bottle under the light.

Fortunately, Jiang Ruo had read this Spanish poem before, finding it familiar. Following his memory, he searched online and indeed found it was the same poem –

Te voy a dar mi soledad,

mi oscuridad, mi corazón esta con hambre;

I can give you my loneliness,

my darkness, the hunger of my heart;

He intenté utilizar la confusión, el peligro, no le sorprendera

I am trying to bribe you with uncertainty, with danger, with defeat.

However, Xi Yufeng couldn’t see this from the other end, thus assuming that Jiang Ruo was still unwilling to touch that bottle of wine.

Deciding to speak up, he said, “Long ago, I realized that anything that makes one lose control is a dangerous factor. According to a businessman’s habitual way of thinking, the first thing to do is to eliminate the dangerous factors. But I don’t want to. If you’re my dangerous factor, I’m willing to lose control for you.”

“If my loss of control ever hurt you, that wasn’t my intention.”

“Jiang Ruo… don’t hate me.”

Time rewound, returning to this time a year ago, the broken beginning.

It seemed that from a certain moment at that time, after Jiang Ruo asked him to call his name a few more times, almost every sentence Xi Yufeng started would include his name.

How could one call be enough after finally getting through on the phone?

So immediately afterward, Xi Yufeng said, “Jiang Ruo, I love you.”

“I love you, so I repeatedly, repeatedly lose control… This at least proves that in front of you, I have no secrets.”

“Jiang Ruo…”

“I love you.”