Hopeless Romance (GL) - Chapter 52

Chapter 52

After a long period of being busy, it wasn’t until August that Ye Du finally made it to Yongxing. It was the peak of the local heat, right when the late-season mangoes were preparing to hit the market. Yongxing and Yunchuan were situated at opposite ends of the country, south and north. Ye Du spent a long time on the train, but fortunately, the scenery along the way was beautiful; the midsummer sun was exceptionally bright, making the sky appear a brilliant blue and the grass a vivid green. Xu Jian arrived at the station even earlier than the train; the moment Ye Du stepped out of the gate, she saw her waiting there. Having not seen her for over a month, Xu Jian had tanned quite a bit.

“If you hadn’t come, I would have stopped recognizing you as a friend,” Xu Jian said, fanning herself vigorously with a folding fan. The air was still hot, but it felt a little easier to breathe.

“If it weren’t for your ultimatum, I really wouldn’t have come to Yongxing in this weather. Is this what you meant by ‘a little hot’?” Looking at the glaring sun outside the station, Ye Du felt she would soon be as dark as Xu Jian.

“If you had come two days earlier, I could have kept you company.” Under the pretext of filling out university applications and returning to school, Xu Jian had gone to Yunchuan in early July, delaying her return several times before finally heading back at the end of the month.

“You went to Yunchuan? Why didn’t you contact me?” On second thought, Ye Du realized it was normal; after all, Xu Jian hadn’t gone to Yunchuan for her.

“Well, you’re here now. Let’s get in the car. My cousins are waiting outside.” Hearing that Xu Jian’s best friend from Yunchuan was visiting, Chen Qingwen had specifically instructed Chen Dongliu and Chen Xichuan to host her well, even lending them the car. Otherwise, walking on the streets of Yongxing in this weather would be pure torture.

“Cousin…s?” Ye Du wasn’t used to this. Growing up, she had only ever known two relatives: Ye Sangshu and her grandmother. Plus, she had never been good at dealing with boys. She could already foresee the awkwardness ahead.

“Yeah, I think I mentioned them to you.” Xu Jian felt that her uncle’s two sons were decent enough, so she wasn’t ashamed to introduce them.

Flustered by the heat, Ye Du didn’t have the energy to talk much and quickly hopped into the back seat. As the cold air hit her, she finally felt her senses return. Chen Dongliu, in the driver’s seat, took off his sunglasses and turned around to greet Ye Du. In contrast, Chen Xichuan was much more enthusiastic, giving a full introduction of his relationship with Xu Jian—summing it up by saying they were partners who had “grown up in the same pair of pants.” Whenever Chen Xichuan mentioned embarrassing childhood stories, Xu Jian would promptly shut him down and lecture him. The two talked like a comedic duo. Ye Du finally understood how Xu Jian’s personality had been shaped; this lively sibling dynamic was entirely foreign to her. She couldn’t help but be swept up in the mood, laughing all the way.

Chen Qinghe hadn’t finished work yet, and there would be no one at Xu Jian’s house, so Chen Dongliu drove straight to his own home. Xu Jian’s aunt contributed to magazines, so she didn’t have to commute to an office. Usually, they had a cook, but the aunt would help in the kitchen whenever they hosted guests. By the time they entered, the food was already laid out on a round table. The TV was playing My Fair Princess—judging by the dialogue, it was the second season—and the aunt was sitting on the sofa eating an apple, absorbed in the show.

“Mom, we’re back.” The hostess came over, offering Ye Du a choice between shoe covers and slippers. When she smiled, faint lines appeared at the corners of her eyes; she looked healthy and vibrant, not at all like the mother of two grown sons.

Ye Du thanked her and took the shoe covers. Xu Jian entered as if it were her own home, slipped into her designated slippers, and lunged toward her aunt. Although Xu Jian had returned to Yongxing shortly after the Gaokao, she hadn’t found time to visit her uncle’s family until now. “Don’t! You’re covered in sweat,” her aunt rejected the heat-radiating girl with practiced poise.

Xu Jian led Ye Du to wash their hands before the boys could get to the bathroom. The spread was incredibly lavish: stir-fried beef, crispy ribs, braised pork, and spicy chicken—four meat dishes, each looking savory and flavorful. There was also cold kelp salad, sautéed seasonal vegetables, and hot and sour potato shreds. Ye Du, who hadn’t been that hungry, was suddenly famished. The aunt sat in her chair, looking at Xu Jian with a triumphant expression, waiting for praise. Xu Jian caught on immediately.

“How about it? Isn’t my aunt amazing? She doesn’t cook for just anyone.” Although she was asking Ye Du, she was saying it for her aunt’s benefit.

“It looks incredible. It’s way better than what my mom makes.” The aunt was satisfied with the answer. Having worked hard on such a big meal, she naturally wanted to be complimented.

“Try some, don’t wait for those two dawdlers.” The aunt began piling food onto Ye Du’s plate. Xu Jian watched from the side with puppy-dog eyes, wanting the same treatment. Xu Jian had eaten many meals at this table, and her uncle and aunt had treated her like their own. Although she had lost her biological father, in a way, she had been lucky enough to gain another mother. Heaven had not been unkind to her.

Despite the many dishes, they disappeared quickly under the onslaught of the group, especially the two boys. Ye Du felt they ate as much in one meal as she did in a whole day; she kept glancing at them, worried they might actually get sick from overeating. When the plates were licked clean, Ye Du naturally stood up to clear the table and wash the dishes. Chen Dongliu stopped her immediately—washing dishes was always his and his brother’s responsibility. Since Ye Du was a guest, they wouldn’t let her lift a finger. Ye Du tried to insist, but Xu Jian pulled her away.

Perhaps because she was so full, Xu Jian’s spirits weren’t as high as they had been at first. After resting on the sofa for a while, the aunt went back to her room to work on a draft, and Xu Jian pulled Ye Du into the study. Before high school, Xu Jian often did her homework here, occasionally sneaking onto the computer—something her uncle likely turned a blind eye to.

They discussed going to University R together so their families wouldn’t have to escort them, and talked about the news in the freshman groups, military training, and club recruitment. Ye Du wasn’t very interested in these things, and Xu Jian’s enthusiasm eventually waned. After a brief silence, Xu Jian hugged her knees and said in a low voice, “Teacher Meng broke up with me.”

“Is 그게 (that) why you went to Yunchuan?” Ye Du reacted quickly.

“Yeah. I had to. She wouldn’t take my calls.” Xu Jian took a deep breath.

“What are you going to do?”

“I couldn’t convince her. We’re over.” After crying many times, Xu Jian could finally speak about it with relative calm. Before Ye Du arrived, she had no one to tell. In such a taboo, underground romance, Xu Jian didn’t even have the right to be openly heartbroken. She couldn’t cry to Chen Qinghe and say she had lost her lover. As the details of their time together flooded her mind, she had to suppress her tears, hiding in small spaces to cry quietly when no one was around. Heartache doesn’t come slowly; it doesn’t allow you to accept it gradually. It swept over her with irresistible force. In that moment, Xu Jian felt like a narrow passage where the warmth of hugs, the moments of holding hands, and the promised future were shredded by the words “break up,” forming a presence called “lingering attachment” that crashed into her brain, trying to pierce and break her.

“What can I do to make you feel better?” The school counseling room didn’t have posters on what to do after a breakup. Xu Jian wasn’t crying, and she wasn’t losing her appetite. She was so “normal” that Ye Du didn’t know where to start.

“It’s enough that you know. Otherwise, no one would ever know about my first love.” Regarding this relationship, Xu Jian’s biggest regret was that even though she loved the other person so much and was working hard toward a bright future, until the day they broke up, it remained like a scandal that shouldn’t be known.

Ye Du didn’t ask why Meng Qing had initiated the breakup. It was a moot point. Reasons are easy to find—distance, status, gender. Such a fragile relationship required an immense amount of steadfast love and courage. If someone chose to be “cowardly” first, they shouldn’t be blamed. After all, no one wants to love so painfully.

The day before Ye Du was to return to Yunchuan, Chen Qinghe finally found some free time and took the two girls to a nearby mountain to pray. She wasn’t a devout Buddhist; she just felt the mountains were cool and the temples were peaceful. Chen Dongliu had already taken them to most of the entertainment spots in the city over the previous days, and Chen Qinghe felt it was time for a change of pace.

The temple was halfway up the mountain, so Chen Qinghe parked at the base to hike up. Along the way, she enjoyed the flowers and trees, feeling very relaxed. However, the two soon-to-be college students couldn’t keep up. Having spent years sitting in classrooms doing practice problems without even guaranteed PE classes, this level of exertion was a struggle. At first, Chen Qinghe waited for them, but eventually, she let them take their time and headed up alone to pre-order lunch. The temple’s vegetarian food was famous—especially the crispy rice crust, which was crunchy and fragrant without being dry.

By the time Xu Jian and Ye Du struggled to the temple entrance, Chen Qinghe was already sitting to the side, leisurely peeling peanuts. Seeing their bedraggled state, she laughed and handed them each a cup of water. When Ye Du drank it, she realized it was salty—salt water for electrolytes. Xu Jian was used to it. After resting, Ye Du felt the urge to go pray. She had quite a few wishes in her heart. Even though she knew there were likely no gods in the sky to hear her, what if? Besides, having worked so hard to get up here, it felt like a waste not to. Ye Du made her wish devoutly. Not wanting the gods to think she was too greedy, she chose only the one she wanted most. She also carefully introduced herself to the heavens so that God wouldn’t get the person wrong.

During lunch, Xu Jian asked what Ye Du had prayed for. Ye Du replied, “Wishes don’t come true if you say them out loud.” Chen Qinghe, who had been quiet, chimed in: “It’s fine. This temple isn’t very effective anyway.” Fortunately, there weren’t many people in the dining hall; otherwise, Ye Du feared a devout believer might overhear and cause a scene. Ye Du and Xu Jian looked at each other, wondering what the point of a temple was if it wasn’t “effective.”

“It’s true. When I was young, I asked the heavens here to let me and Xu Jian’s dad stay together forever.” Hearing this, Xu Jian nearly choked on a piece of fried tofu. After a sip of water, she struggled to say, “You can’t blame God for that. It was a problem with your attitudes.” Now that she was older, Xu Jian understood that Chen Qinghe had been entirely focused on her medical career back then; it was only natural that her marriage to Xu Zhen couldn’t last.

“Then God just didn’t protect us well enough,” Chen Qinghe said, catching crumbs from a piece of crispy rice. “Ye Du, don’t feel awkward. Xu Jian and I always talk like this. Nothing is off-limits.” Ye Du was indeed a bit awkward; it didn’t feel like a typical mother-daughter relationship. It felt like they might start arguing at any second, but she nodded politely with a smile.

“It’s more comfortable staying in a temple. There aren’t so many unhappy things to bother you, or even if there are, you can set them aside for a while.” For some reason, Chen Qinghe suddenly spoke these words. “Graduation inevitably means facing separation, but that’s just how life is. It arranges changes from time to time; you just have to endure and accept them. And things change. When I divorced Xu Jian’s dad, I was miserable for a long time. I wasn’t used to it. But now, I feel it’s a good thing we split up.” Xu Jian felt her mother might know something, but she couldn’t ask. Sometimes knowing too much only brings more pain. As her mother said, “endure and accept.” She had finally managed to feel a bit better and didn’t have the courage to look back.

Ye Du thought they would head down after lunch, but Chen Qinghe took them to a tea room behind the temple. It offered a view of the other side of the mountain. Sitting halfway up, looking out at the lush greenery, the traffic and figures of the human world became blurred by the distance. For a moment, she felt as if she were in a paradise separate from the world. “This is the hottest part of the day. Sit here and hide from the heat. Drink some tea, read a book, or take a nap if you’re tired. We’ll head back later.” With that, Chen Qinghe took out her glasses and a medical journal and began reading intently. Xu Jian and Ye Du hadn’t prepared, so they borrowed books from the tea room owner. Despite the quiet environment, Ye Du couldn’t settle into reading. Seeing Chen Qinghe, she realized a woman could live like this—not necessarily sacrificing her own life for family and children, but also striving for a career. Was it only “great love” if one pinned their entire life on their children? Ye Du looked toward the distant horizon, as if trying to find Ye Sangshu’s figure in the shifting light and shadow.