Falling After Marriage - Chapter 86

Chapter 86: Longing Becomes Thick and Heavy

Beep— Beep— Beep.

“Hello? Hello?”

Cheng Sangluo heard the cold dial tone and instinctively called out twice before realizing that Lin Jin had coldly ended the call.

“She hung up on me!?” The “puppy” stared at the screen, her expression dazed for a moment before being replaced by a surge of grievance.

That heartfelt “I miss you” had required so much courage to squeeze out. She thought she would get a tender response from the madwoman, but instead, it ended in such a perfunctory dismissal.

Cheng Sangluo stood alone in the bustling pedestrian street, clutching her battered phone, looking disheveled for a while before her brow furrowed tight. She stuffed the phone into her pocket and grumbled, “If I ever reach out to you first again, I’m a thick-skinned dog with no dignity!!!”

Looking around at the noise and excitement again, this person—who was so used to being a loner—felt an unprecedented sense of discomfort.

Groups of friends laughed together, couples walked hand-in-hand, and families passed her by in warm clusters. The warmth of strangers only made Cheng Sangluo’s isolation feel heavier. This sharp contrast triggered a deep loneliness that led her to a realization.

She suddenly understood that if she hadn’t barged into Lin Jin’s life, she would still be living in this noisy world without any way to truly belong. This loneliness was thick and heavy, stemming from a lack of connections. Her broken biological family only provided disappointment and pain. Aside from Bai Mu, who was abroad, and Wei Lian in the military, she couldn’t find a third person she could truly call a friend.

And when she thought of love… that slender woman had unknowingly occupied her mind, manifesting in different memories.

The decisive, unyielding Lin Jin at the office. The Lin Jin at the convenience store, turning the rain into an ink-wash painting. The Lin Jin at home, swaying gracefully in her camellia robe. The Lin Jin in their embraces, their kisses, and those thick, indulgent nights.

This Lin Jin, that Lin Jin. The good one and the bad one.

Cheng Sangluo shook her head violently, smiling bitterly at how she had categorized the madwoman under “love.” Yet, there was one thing she couldn’t deny: whether it was family, friendship, or love, she had lived so hollowly that in this vast sea of people, she truly had no one else to accompany her.

She watched the hurried faces of passersby, took a sip of her milk tea, and sighed with a wry smile. “So this is what it feels like to not fit in.”

She finally realized that while she always thought the madwoman was the one pestering her, the person who had actually become dependent was herself.

Having no appetite, Cheng Sangluo drove the Bentley back to the mid-hill villa. Without the madwoman’s orders, she felt listless. She grabbed some stone materials and engraving tools and sat on the edge of the mountain road cliff to watch the sunset.

The late autumn evening was desolate, matching her solitary shadow. Fortunately, the sunset was vibrant, dispersing some of the loneliness. She sat hunched over the guardrail. Her technique was becoming more refined; she was slow, but she no longer wasted materials, and Lin Jin’s name was no longer crooked.

She engraved with extreme focus, occasionally blowing away the dust and smoothing the surface with her fingertip. When one’s mind is fully immersed, time seems to stop.

Yes, time became very slow, and so the longing became very thick. Since saying “I miss you” was so hard, she would hide it in every stroke. Even if this felt meaningless, because it concerned Lin Jin, it became something she had to do—and do well.

By the time the city neon replaced the sunset, the mountain wind was howling with autumn’s chill. Cheng Sangluo held up her finished seal against the soft glow of a streetlamp. Her eyes were bright with a faint smile, satisfied with her masterpiece. Indeed, this was her best work to date.

“How is it? The one I carved…” Cheng Sangluo instinctively moved to show the seal to the person beside her, but her words died in her throat. Her smile froze.

Right. Lin Jin isn’t here.

She pulled her arm back dejectedly and put the seal into a small cloth bag, thinking that the person she wanted to show off to was probably having a candlelight dinner with someone else.

The “puppy” was now suppressing her longing—a whimpering, aggrieved, resentful puppy.

Who? Who is it? What candlelight dinner? Will you die if you don’t eat it?!

Loneliness turned into a monster in the night, fueling wild thoughts and agony. She didn’t leave; she stayed there, hugging her knees and looking at the city lights below. “So lively,” she murmured.

She was constantly envious—envious that everyone seemed to live colorful lives while she had only briefly escaped the struggle for survival. This led her to a question Lin Jin once asked: After revenge, what do you plan to do?

She fell into deep thought. After revenge, would they divorce? And then? Forget each other? And then?

She felt lost. “Live in the moment. Why think so much? What if I die tomorrow?” She let out a long breath and stood up, patting the dust off her pants. She felt she was drifting off course, her emotions easily manipulated by the thought of Lin Jin. She began to “gaslight” herself: Don’t fall for her. Do not fall for her. Don’t pour non-existent feelings into a hopeless situation.

Ding!

A spark lit up her brain. Why not take this chance to do something productive to block out the expanding longing? She looked at the dark sky. There was one place she needed to investigate while the madwoman was away. Tonight was the perfect time.

To spite the woman who was making her overthink, she pulled out her phone and grumbled, “Hmph! Vanishing act—Power Off!”

The “dog thing” had apparently forgotten her promises at the airport.

Midnight.

Cheng Sangluo appeared outside Xu Songheng’s villa. Following her previous route, she scaled the wall and dropped into the basement garden. As an experienced scout, her preparation for the break-in was meticulous.

Knowing Ji Nanxing might come to examine the scene, she couldn’t leave any suspicious traces. She wore sleek black clothes, a baseball cap, and a mask to avoid being identified by cameras. She even wore gloves and shoe covers.

Standing before the sliding door to the long corridor, she pulled out her lock-picking tools. To her surprise, they weren’t needed. The door was unlocked—likely overlooked by the police or never noticed by Xu Songheng.

She moved quickly through the corridor. A foul stench filled the air, and she had to cover her nose. Reaching the koi pond, she saw the fish floating belly-up due to neglect. This confirmed no one had been here for a long time.

Even so, she didn’t relax. She avoided camera angles and moved toward the upstairs study. Her goal was simple: get the key from the desk’s hidden compartment and find what it unlocked. There was likely a secret hidden here.

With plenty of time, she might find even more information. Entering the study, she immediately opened the hidden drawer. The key was still there. She took it to the window to examine it by the outside light. It was an old-fashioned, round-handled aluminum key, usually used for a small iron padlock.

She ruled out large objects and began searching the room for a small locked box.

“The more dangerous a place is, the safer it is.”

For some reason, she recalled Lin Jin’s story about hiding in the closet as a child. She searched the room again. If the key was hidden in the study, the object it unlocked must be nearby for convenience. The study was flashy—antique ornaments were everywhere, and the desk drawers were unlocked. Where would someone look but not notice?

Her eyes swept the decorative book wall. Then it clicked. There’s another kind of lock for this key: an old-fashioned privacy diary.

She scanned the bookshelves like a game of “Spot the Difference.” The endless titles looked normal until her gaze landed on an inconspicuous black hardcover spine. Specifically, it was the only “book” on the wall with no title on the spine. It blended in perfectly.

She pulled it out. It was heavy. It wasn’t leather; it was a steel box wrapped in leather to look like a notebook. Prying it open took some effort, and the lock was exactly as she suspected.

Click.

She opened the iron box and pulled out a notebook. She flipped through it, but it was empty. In the back, however, a section had been hollowed out. A USB drive fell out.

Cheng Sangluo squinted at the drive. “Taking off your pants to fart—totally redundant.” (A Chinese idiom for doing something unnecessary).

There was no candlelight dinner or “beauty.”

After meeting Jin Manni, Lin Jin didn’t even stay for a meal to catch up. They both had too much work and had to start immediately. But as night fell, the large double bed felt desperately lonely.

Lin Jin had no appetite and hadn’t eaten all evening. By late night, her insomnia was severe. She didn’t know if it was because of the separation or the lack of medication, but it was mostly because Cheng Sangluo’s phone was off.

Stubbornly, she redialed the number over and over as soon as the call failed.

“The phone you are dialing is powered off…” “The phone you are dialing is powered off…”

The alcohol cravings she hadn’t felt in a long time came back with a vengeance. Cup after cup couldn’t drown her loneliness. She leaned against the headboard, the wine bottle half-empty. The dial tone played on a loop.

Longing was an agony that even getting drunk couldn’t suppress; the wine only made it heavier.

“Dog thing, where the hell are you?!” Lin Jin snapped, throwing her phone onto the bed and cursing drunkenly. “You promised to report to me. How can you break your word? You said you missed me—a woman’s mouth is a lying ghost!”

Ring— Ring.

The phone suddenly blared, causing a panic in the spacious room. Lin Jin lost her usual arrogance, scrambling across the bed for the phone, forgetting her injured foot. She winced at the pain in her ankle as she lunged forward. Her eyes were blurry with wine and expectation.

When she saw the name “Dog Thing” flashing on the screen, her heart—which had been hanging by a thread all night—finally settled. But her tenderness vanished the moment she answered.

When she said “Hello,” her tone was like ice. The person on the other end was silent. Lin Jin didn’t even bother pouring a glass; she took a swig directly from the bottle, her voice low with anger: “Speak!”

Cheng Sangluo’s voice came through, muffled and blunt: “Are you sorry?”

“Am I sorry?” Lin Jin snorted. Even though the stubborn mule wasn’t in front of her, she could imagine the annoying expression on the puppy’s face. “I should be asking you—are you sorry?”

“What did I do wrong!?” Cheng Sangluo exploded, her voice rising. “You hung up on me! You wanted a candlelight dinner and beauties! You’re the one trying to give me a green hat! How do you have the nerve to ask if I’m sorry?”

“Heh. So you called me in the middle of the night just to pick a fight?” Lin Jin was even angrier now. she thought the puppy was calling to back down, but it turned out she just wanted to cause trouble.

“Who wants to fight with you? Am I that bored?” Cheng Sangluo didn’t indulge her either. She gave a mechanical report before hanging up: “I didn’t eat dinner. I carved one seal. I’m lying in bed ready to sleep. Report finished. Go stay wherever it’s cool. Bye.”

Beep— Beep— Beep.

Lin Jin’s lips parted, her eyes wide as she listened to the dial tone. Her dazed expression was slowly replaced by fury. She glared at the screen and redialed immediately.

“Cheng Sangluo! If I’m having a hard time, don’t you dare think you’re going to have a good one!!!”

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