Although They're Mentally ill, They're Extremely Easy to Comfort - Chapter 54

Ling Xi, who had been hiding at home for many days, was close to suffocating, living in a state of daily drunkenness and near madness.

The vintage red wine, originally intended for a candlelight dinner with Lin Fangwan, was now used to drown an intractable sorrow. How ironic.

What was it that made Ling Xi resolutely walk away from the happiness Lin Fangwan offered?

Actually, even without a formal title, they could still be together peacefully, right? Could she really be at peace?

The ring that Lin Fangwan had secretly hidden in her clutch bag painfully pierced Ling Xi’s eyes. The engagement shattered all her fantasies, signifying an ending that could not be rewritten.

Lin Fangwan always called her “Kitten,” her voice filled with a doting affection that almost made Ling Xi lose herself.

Now, it seemed she was more like a pet carefully raised by its owner than a true lover.

Ling Xi woke up from the dream of Lin Fangwan’s lies.

The doorbell rang, pulling Ling Xi back from her wandering thoughts. She threw off the covers and hurried to the door barefoot. Just as she was about to open it, the hand gripping the doorknob froze.

Leaning her forehead against the door, she knew that opening it would mean falling into the passionate embrace she dreamed of every night, plunging her back into inescapable dependency.

“Flower!” Lin Fangwan’s tone was so deeply emotional. This single utterance of “Flower” made Ling Xi’s spirit collapse again.

“I know you’re in there… will you open the door… I just want to see you. I won’t do anything, I just want to see if you’re okay.”

Lin Fangwan’s voice grew shaky and pleading. She had turned into a woman humbled by love.

Ling Xi desperately shook her head and tightly bit her lip, but muffled sobs still escaped her clenched teeth.

Click. The door opened. Ling Xi ultimately couldn’t bring herself to refuse.

Lin Fangwan’s face was devoid of sophisticated makeup; exhaustion and pain ran wild in her eyes. In her arms, she held a pot of slightly blooming daisies.

The daily flower delivery of three hundred and sixty-five days had finally returned to its starting point—the pot of daisies Ling Xi didn’t love—just like the movie that night, an ending that came to nothing.

When the third cold winter arrived, they no longer possessed happiness, failing to hold on until the spring flowers bloomed.

Ling Xi sobbed, placing her gaze on the flower. She sniffled, turned her head away, and forced a smile: “Why do you insist on shaking my resolve?”

“Then why do you insist on leaving me? Tomorrow, I will call off the engagement!”

“Lin Fangwan! Does calling off the engagement mean you can still give me happiness? This will only burden me with self-reproach and forever place us on two uneven ends! You broke into my world with a lie, so it was wrong from the very beginning!”

The bottled-up anger finally exploded, and Ling Xi cried out hysterically.

Lin Fangwan stared in surprise at her beloved Kitten “flaring up,” but she didn’t know what to do. Ling Xi was right; her concealment was unforgivable.

Ling Xi lowered her gaze and said sadly, “You’ve always pampered me, afraid I’d suffer the slightest harm, protected me within your world, and given all your tenderness to me. Aren’t you tired? If you love me, please give me back my freedom.”

Lin Fangwan raised her hand and gently stroked Ling Xi’s cheek, silently wiping away the tears at the corner of her eyes: “Then… do you still love me?”

“Yes.”

“Alright. If freedom can bring you happiness, I will give it back to you. Go wherever you want, but I won’t wait for you.”

Lin Fangwan slowly bent down, placed the daisies by the door, and turned around. Her figure gradually disappeared from Ling Xi’s sight.

Ling Xi slid down the door, collapsing onto the floor. Her tears burst forth, uncontrollable, streaming down her face no matter how frantically she wiped them away.

But what could she do? Lin Fangwan hadn’t looked back.

Ling Xi packed her sparse belongings.

Before leaving, she sat alone on the sofa, looking up to survey the apartment she had lived in for three years.

In her memory, Lin Fangwan had said they had to buy this house, no matter the cost, so they could share a cup of coffee in the morning, gaze at Central Park’s dawn view, and enjoy the sunrise and sunset throughout the four seasons.

Hopes, like blooming roses, later only remained to wither.

The photo frame in her hands was shattered. In the picture, they were wearing thin strap vests, having a chaotic pillow fight on the clean, soft bed.

The flying goose down was captured in that instant, a scene of romantic warmth that would make anyone envious. It was an accidental snapshot when one of them had inadvertently touched the phone’s camera setting.

When they discovered it, the two had leaned against each other, laughing for a long time. Ling Xi had specially ordered a frame and put the printed photo on the bedside table in the bedroom.

Since that day, Lin Fangwan had vanished. Perhaps with the wedding day approaching, she had already withdrawn her attention from this short-lived love.

Ling Xi did not take the photo from the frame, leaving herself one last piece of dignity.

Early spring in Cincinnia was like a vibrant oil painting. Ling Xi had cut her long, permed hair. The shoulder-length short cut was much fresher and swayed with the capricious spring breeze.

She would always walk alone into the Cincinnia National Library on her class-free Wednesdays.

The outside world was immersed in vigorous joy, but it couldn’t disturb her frozen heart. Only here could she find peace.

Ling Xi had recently fallen in love with the Rubaiyat. She could ponder a single exquisite translation of a poem all day.

The sun today was warmer than usual. Ling Xi held the heavy poetry collection and found a secluded corner. The carved window frame, accompanied by the dark yellow of the years, had an old-fashioned scent she found enchanting.

“Come, fill the Cup, and in the Fire of Spring / The Winter Garment of Repentance fling…”

Ling Xi murmured to herself. The few words pierced her heart. She sadly closed the poetry collection and leaned against the window, gazing out at the street.

The graceful figure standing in the second-floor suspended corridor was wearing a rose-colored wrap-around dress, but its beauty was surpassed by the touch of bright red on her lips. Her golden hair was elegantly swept up, and she lightly held a pair of handheld spectacles with a coiled snake pattern.

Though the glasses partially obscured her, they couldn’t hide her fair complexion and distinct features—a beauty beyond compare.

The emerald lens reflected the person by the window. The woman’s lips curved into a smile of delight, as if she had finally found a long-lost pearl in a vast ocean.

But quickly, her smile faded as she noticed the melancholy look of the person in the reflection. Her gaze fell upon the poetry collection in her palm. She, too, murmured: “Who has caused your brow to furrow? My dear, sorrows cannot be carried by the wind. It’s fine if no one understands your pain, I will be with you in the crowd.”

Leaving the Cincinnia University Academic Affairs Office, Ling Xi had prematurely concluded her four-year advanced studies.

Walking towards the rooftop where she first met Lin Fangwan, Ling Xi held two bottles of iced tea.

Leaning securely against the cement parapet, with Coldplay’s Yellow on a loop in her over-the-ear headphones, Ling Xi took large gulps of the iced tea.

She looked at the exit. No one would disturb her again. Never again.

Placing the other bottle of iced tea where Lin Fangwan used to sit, Ling Xi stood up, a solitary figure on the rooftop, and yelled with all her might: “Lin Fangwan, I don’t love you anymore!”

“I don’t love you anymore.” Ling Xi cried out hoarsely, her heart aching. “I… don’t love you anymore…”

Goodbye, this ancient city rich in history. Goodbye, Lin Fangwan.

In her hand, Ling Xi clutched a world map, embarking on a long journey of healing—it was also a winding path home.

“Great Alps Mountain Range, here I come!” Ling Xi shouted, which served as a good morale booster.

With a burdensome backpack, the high altitude left Ling Xi breathless. Despite her heavy steps, she walked forward happily, accompanied by the beautiful scenery.

The perennial snow on the peak of Mont Blanc still stung Ling Xi’s eyes. She found it hard to love the white snow again. But the beauty of the golden sunlight on the snow-capped mountains was like a saving grace amidst the torment.

The sandstorm under the Egyptian pyramids ravaged the clear sky. Even the thick cloth covering Ling Xi’s face couldn’t stop her mind from guessing about the Pharaohs of millennia ago. “The mummies are as withered as my love. How funny!”

Wearing camouflage, Ling Xi traversed the Iranian border, feeling the illusion of shrapnel flying past her ear. At that moment, she genuinely admired the courage of war correspondents.

Solitary and walking alone, the journey of life itself surpassed the path beneath her feet, even if she was by herself.

Ling Xi bought a beautiful Thangka near the Indian border and then resold it to someone else for a significant profit, earning some travel money. Who would say no to money?

In Bangkok, amidst a chorus of Sawasdee krap, she indulged in seafood, or perhaps, with a lonely back, she would cry heartbreakingly late at night with a beer, but the pain began to mix with a joy that had no one to share it with.

Ling Xi was saving herself amidst laughter and cheer. She was almost forgetting what Lin Fangwan looked like.

It was time to go home.

A beautiful new life was beckoning right in front of Ling Xi. She reached out her hand without hesitation, praying, “Pull me up. Please don’t let my dreams shatter again.”

Teaching children authentic Mandarin in a noble estate in Sri Lanka, the generous host gifted her a magnificent sapphire ring. Ling Xi slipped it onto her finger and held it up to the moon.

Xiao Mo’s call came without warning. Ling Xi, while admiring the sapphire, easily informed him: “Xiao Mo, I’ve booked my flight. Remember to pick me up at the airport the day after tomorrow.”

“Ling Xi.” Xiao Mo’s voice was coated with a painful hoarseness. He was silent for a long time on the other end of the phone before he managed to squeeze out a sentence: “We can’t wait until the day after tomorrow. Change the ticket. Come back tomorrow.”

“But international flights are difficult…”

“You must come back!” Xiao Mo interrupted Ling Xi with a desperate roar.

Ling Xi had a bad premonition. Her throat was constricted with unasked questions, as if not asking would prevent the bad news from arriving.

The phone dropped heavily to the ground. Ling Xi’s legs gave out, and she collapsed onto the floor.

In the late-night garden, the girl who was about to rally herself wept helplessly, crying all night long.

Ling Xi knelt in the living room, distraught. In her memory, this small two-bedroom apartment used to be filled with the fresh scent of laundry detergent.

Her father would sit in the rocking chair on the balcony, flipping through the latest archaeology journals, or carefully tending to his beloved potted plants.

Her mother would be in the kitchen meticulously preparing a table of fragrant food—simple home-cooked meals, the taste of home.

After dinner, they would sit in the living room watching prime-time TV. There would be peeled fruit handed to her mouth. She would hear them bickering over the plot, only to continue eating and laughing.

But their smiles were frozen in the memorial photo on the table.

The urn couldn’t hold them. All that remained was a jar full of the merciless yellow sand that had swallowed them up.

Ling Xi curled up on the ground, kneeling, clutching the jar tightly. The escaping yellow sand mixed with her tears. She let Xiao Mo and Su Yunjin pull at her, but she couldn’t get back up.

Ling Xi had no mother and father anymore.

That day, the beautiful life failed to grab Ling Xi’s hand; instead, it brutally pushed her into a abyss from which she could no longer save herself.

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