Chapter Ninety-Five: But You Are With Me

For several days in a row, he appeared right on time beneath her office building. He would even smile as he opened the car door for her and fastened her seat belt, to the point that all the women in the company were green with envy.

“You’d better not come tomorrow,” she finally said after putting him off for days. Ever since she had joined the company, she had been a minor, unnoticed figure, keeping quietly to the corner. But after Lin Shuo came back, everything was different.

He did not even look at her. “You don’t like it?”

It was not that she disliked it; it was simply too ostentatious. Where there were people, there was trouble, and anyone who stood out became a target for resentment. In those years, she had longed to cling to her boyfriend all day long, to be as sweet and obvious as possible, wishing only for some platform from which to broadcast her happiness to the whole world. But later, she grew more and more cautious, more and more restrained. Usually, the reason one did not bring a partner out in public was one of two things: either the other person was of no account, like wearing ragged clothes and fearing ridicule, so one chose to keep one’s shortcomings hidden; or the other person was beyond reproach, like carrying gold and silver close to one’s chest, fearing others might covet it, so one chose to conceal the treasure.

But life could not always be the same. There were many unusual situations: secret affairs, for instance, or taking back an old flame. Especially now that Lin Shuo’s status was so exalted, she did not even need to think hard to know how many people were watching her with mockery as she flapped her wings toward the great tree, or how many were waiting with derision to see her crash hard to the ground.

So, one should not be too exceptional in life. She felt there was no need to make a grand entrance; that way, when it ended, there would be no sense of loss.

She did not answer, and he asked, “Are those people paying your salary?”

“What?” She did not quite understand.

Lin Shuo simply put it plainly. “The people pointing fingers and whispering behind your back—are they paying you? Supporting you in your old age? Or providing you with sunshine, air, and water?”

“None of that. But does it matter?”

“Exactly. Since it doesn’t matter, why should you care?” Lin Shuo said indifferently, yet every word struck at the heart of it. He did not understand why, over these years, she could sometimes needle him so fiercely that he would fly into a rage, and at other times be so timid that he could hardly recognize her. Suddenly, he thought of an old song and hummed a few lines under his breath: “Cry today, laugh tomorrow, asking no one to understand, all pride...”

Xiaoxiao could not help but laugh. She did want to agree with him, but once the words were out, they lost their flavor. “That’s you. You can afford not to care because you have the means not to care. Me?” She shook her head with a self-mocking smile. “I’m not that carefree.”

“But you’re with me,” he said lightly. Then he turned his head and smiled at her. Her face flushed, and she pretended to be angry. “Watch the road.” Seeing her shy expression, the smile on his face was enough to warm the chill gathered through four winters.

Little by little, Lin Shuo began appearing more and more often at her place, and staying longer each time. The two of them could even cook together while chatting and laughing, and turn a boring variety show into something fresh and amusing. Usually they held stubbornly to their own opinions, even digging up one scrap of evidence after another to support their points, without caring who won or lost. They simply found it fun. As the days passed, he became somewhat shameless about it, sometimes lingering until she had to call him away three or four times before he finally left, still not entirely satisfied.

These changes made her both happy and uneasy. Her confession in Shangri-La had almost exhausted all her tenderness and courage, only to be met with his cold and merciless rejection. Yet after she had given up hope, he returned with apology in hand. It had to be said that the timing was dangerously perfect; not too raw to be left unattended, not too late to avoid harm. She was terrified that all of this was an illusion, a deception of the senses masquerading as feeling. She was like a kite that could not quite take to the sky, yet always lived under the threat of a disastrous fall.