Resisting Arranged Marriages: Starting with Myself - Chapter 22

“Hello, the number you have dialed is temporarily unavailable.”

Listening to the mechanical prompt on the other end of the line, Le Xiao’s gaze turned a bit vacant.

He had tried calling twice without success. At this hour, what could Ye Jiming be doing? In the past, even if Ye Jiming worked late, he would pick up and say a few brief words to coax him, “Xiao Xiao, I am working overtime. Can we talk tomorrow?” If he were out at a business social, he would provide a detailed report including the time, location, and companions without missing a single detail.

What happened today?

Le Xiao stared at his phone screen in bewilderment. After a moment, he drew his own conclusion: Ye Jiming must have been so exhausted from work that he fell asleep and did not hear the ring. Busy work was understandable, so Le Xiao simply shrugged. Since he was heading home in two days anyway, this phone call was not strictly necessary.

Currently, he was on a small overseas island filming a music video for his new album. Here, the sun shone brilliantly, as scorching as midsummer. Even the wind came in waves of heat, carrying the scent of brine and the sound of the tide as it crashed against the shore.

On their last day on the island, the music video filming concluded successfully, and Le Xiao’s heart had already flown back home. Moreover, Ye Jiming seemed to have prepared a surprise for him. Although he had not said it explicitly, his slightly upturned tone and the smile in his voice during their calls over the past few days had given the surprise away entirely; he seemed itching to show it off.

What could the surprise be? Le Xiao had been secretly speculating for days. Several times he had nearly succumbed to the temptation of asking Ye Jiming directly.

He gripped his phone, silently telling himself to stay calm. In a surprise, the greatest joy comes from the unknown and the anticipation of the “surprise” itself. If he asked directly, he would ruin the sentiment behind it.

It felt as though hundreds of tiny kitten claws were scratching at his heart. The more he guessed, the more his heart fluttered with excitement. He was so restless that he wished he could land at the airport immediately.

Was it a gift? New clothes? Or the plushies he had always loved? Small ornaments? Snacks? Flowers would be fine too, perhaps a large bouquet of roses? Or perhaps colorful Chinese roses, just like the ones at the Nanfeng Village market?

The more curious he became, the higher his expectations soared. During the eight-hour flight, he felt no sleepiness at all. Like a child taking a plane for the first time, he watched the scenery outside the window with eyes full of excitement.

When the plane finally landed at the Capital Airport, he was the first to rush out of the terminal dragging his carry-on suitcase. His eyes scanned the hall rapidly, searching for the person he longed for.

However, aside from a few fans who had learned of his itinerary and came specifically to meet him, there was no sign of Ye Jiming.

Was he worried about being recognized and waiting in the parking lot instead?

The cheers brought him back to his senses. Putting on his professional smile, he patiently accepted the posters, photos, and CDs handed over by fans, signing his name and expertly reciting well-wishes for them.

Yet, even while working, doubts inevitably began to sprout in his heart.

After walking out of the airport surrounded by fans and reminding them to get home safely, Le Xiao finally had a chance to catch his breath. He asked his assistant, “Where is Ye Jiming? Did he say where he is?”

Le Xiao’s phone was with his assistant. Gan Tiantian opened it to check. “No, President Ye has not sent any messages.”

Le Xiao reached out, signaling Gan Tiantian to hand him the phone. “I will give him a call.”

He dialed the number with great patience, listening quietly as the ringing repeated for over fifty seconds, followed by the familiar “Hello.”

What on earth was Ye Jiming doing? What kind of surprise required such secrecy that he would not even show up at the airport?

His smiling expression gradually cooled as the wait lengthened; eventually, he even frowned, biting his lower lip hard.

Standing nearby, Gan Tiantian could not help but offer a word of comfort. “Xiao Xiao, do not worry. Maybe President Ye is waiting for you at home.”

Le Xiao turned to her and forced a smile. “Yes, I know. He probably prepared something good at home and does not want me to know yet.”

“It is fine, let us head back.”

Two hours later, Le Xiao’s car slowly entered Jing’an Zhou.

After moving all his luggage onto the porch, he signaled Gan Tiantian to head home early. She had accompanied him on the week-long shoot and was exhausted from running around; she deserved a good rest.

Standing alone on the porch, he even began to fantasize. What would greet him when he pushed open the door?

In TV dramas, this was usually the part where the protagonist casually opens the front door, thousands of ribbons fall from the sky, and friends jump out from behind furniture with excited smiles, shouting various blessings. There would be cake and snacks on the table, and the kitchen would be filled with prepared dishes still emitting curls of steam.

And the protagonist’s lover would usually appear last. As the crowd parted and the noise died down, the lover would walk out gracefully with a bouquet of flowers. He would be dressed impeccably in a full suit, his leather shoes polished to a shine, walking toward the protagonist with a smile; every step was slow, steady, and solemn.

At that moment, all background music would stop. The guests would hold their breath, their eyes fixed on the couple, looking at the stunned protagonist and his beaming lover.

His lover would walk slowly up to him, hand him the bouquet, give him a hug, a deep kiss, or drop to one knee. He would smile and wish the protagonist “Happy Birthday” or “Welcome Home.” Or, as all the guests gasped and whispered “Oh my God,” he would utter that request: “Will you marry me?”

What would the protagonist do then? He would snap out of his daze, smiling as he returned the embrace and kiss, or perhaps weep with joy as he held out his left hand to be fitted with the prepared diamond ring, sobbing “I do.”

The fantasy gradually faded, and he realized he had been staring blankly at his own front door. Indeed, love makes one dull, and longing makes one ill.

He shook his head with a smile and pushed open the door.

Nothing. There was nothing.

There were no flowers or ribbons, no friends gathered to celebrate, no cake, snacks, or dishes.

There was no lover making a grand entrance like a Prince Charming, no full suit or polished leather shoes, and certainly no hug, deep kiss, or bended knee.

There was nothing at all.

The house was quiet and cold. All the decorations were exactly the same as when he had left a week ago; they were completely unchanged.

Even the fresh Chinese roses he had placed in a vase before leaving were now withered and dilapidated, in a state of ruin. The petals had lost their once tender and vibrant color; they were now gray, curled, and tinged with a sickly black. The stems and leaves had lost their moisture, shriveling into a ball and falling onto the table in a brittle heap.

Le Xiao stared blankly at the scene as if he did not even recognize his own home.

Had the days of anticipation, the eight hours of excitement, and the minutes of daydreaming all been a mere bubble?

His lips began to tremble slightly, and his hand holding the suitcase involuntarily let go. He even forgot to change his shoes, drifting into the house like a withered ghost.

Maybe there were cakes and delicacies prepared early in the kitchen? Maybe there were large bouquets of roses blooming in the master bedroom, with red petals covering the bed? Maybe there was someone in the study who had accidentally fallen asleep from exhaustion and had not heard him come home?

No, there was nothing.

The more he searched, the more disappointed he became. By the end, Le Xiao seemed possessed; he would rather expend all his energy turning the house upside down than believe his expectations had come to naught.

With trembling hands, he tried fingerprint unlocking several times before finally opening his phone. He went straight to his “Recent Calls” and dialed the first number.

The familiar electronic voice returned. With every long ring, Le Xiao’s heart shuddered, as if it might jump out of his chest at any moment.

Another fifty seconds of waiting. Another emotionless mechanical female voice.

He hung up, turned around, and dialed again, mechanically repeating the process over and over.

Until the final time, there was no ringing, only a cold: “Hello, the number you have dialed has been powered off.”

Le Xiao collapsed onto the sofa, nearly drained of strength.

So this was the “surprise” he had been expecting? A giant practical joke? Was a “surprise” consisting of absolutely nothing the true surprise?

Though his heart was so sour he wanted to cry, his tear ducts seemed to have malfunctioned; his eyes were dry and painful.

Late at night, Ye Jiming walked out of the conference room looking utterly dejected, his eyes swollen and his body aching.

Last night and the night before, he had stayed at the office for at least two full nights. His body was covered in the choking smell of cigarette smoke from the conference room and the lingering scent of instant noodles.

His once neat white shirt was full of wrinkles, his tidy tie was crooked, and even his usually meticulously styled hair was a mess. Anyone looking at him would think he was a frustrated, destitute office worker rather than a brilliant young talent and authoritative CEO.

If his body had not reached its limit, he would not have chosen to go home to sleep.

He would take a shower first, then fall asleep, and then he would have to get up for work as usual the next day.

He calculated silently in his mind. He pressed his phone a few times only to find it had long since powered off due to low battery.

Lacking even the strength to sigh, he got into the car, connected the charging cable, and waited quietly. Having not slept for three days, he did not dare drive in such an exhausted state, so he let the driver take over while he sat in the back to rest his eyes.

However, even as he relaxed, his brain refused to stop, as if a storm were brewing, leaving him no peace. He had a faint feeling that he had overlooked something important, but he could only grasp scattered fragments of memory and could not recall the full picture no matter what.

A few minutes later, the phone regained enough charge to restart. After a long boot animation, it finally entered the lock screen.

With just one look, Ye Jiming broke into a cold sweat.

On the lock screen were dozens of missed call notifications. Two were from the restaurant he had booked, and all the rest were from Le Xiao.

The time on the lock screen showed 23:29.

He had forgotten everything. It was too late now.

The driver, looking through the rearview mirror, saw his superior’s expression shift from exhausted calm to instantaneous panic; it was as if a tranquil lake had been hit by a tidal wave.

His palms sweated with nervousness, and he discreetly sped up, racing toward Jing’an Zhou.

When the car came to a smooth stop at the front door, Ye Jiming nearly jumped out. With his long legs, he reached the door in a few strides.

Pushing the door open, the house was pitch black and silent.

Ye Jiming’s heart began to pound uncontrollably: Where was Le Xiao? Was he not home? Had he left in sadness? Where could he go?

It was not until he turned on the living room lights that his racing heart returned to its place: a small figure was curled up asleep on the sofa, clutching a pillow with a blanket draped haphazardly over his waist.

Perhaps irritated by the bright light, Le Xiao opened his eyes dizzily. Seeing Ye Jiming at the door, he subconsciously called out, “Ye Jiming.”

The next second, he remembered he still had a belly full of anger to vent. He pursed his lips and intentionally turned his head away, refusing to look at him.

Before Le Xiao could even speak, Ye Jiming had already strode to the sofa, pulling the thin figure into his arms and closing his eyes to kiss his lips. “Xiao Xiao.”

He kissed patiently and affectionately, as if a thousand words were contained in that single kiss.

Lying in his arms, Le Xiao tilted his head and instinctively responded. Their teeth and lips intermingled, making ambiguous watery sounds.

When the kiss ended, Le Xiao panted slightly and grumbled, “Your beard, it is prickly.”

He only then reacted, cupping Ye Jiming’s face to examine it closely. His fingertips brushed over the exhausted eyes, lightly stroking the deep dark circles beneath them, finally resting on his chin. After days without grooming, a layer of dark stubble had grown there, making him look somewhat unkempt.

“What happened to you?” In an instant, Le Xiao forgot all his other emotions, looking at his lover’s disheveled and bedraggled state with heartache.

“There were some small problems at the company. I have been working overtime lately,” Ye Jiming said briefly, not wishing to elaborate.

Sitting on the edge of the sofa, he earnestly grasped Le Xiao’s hand. “Xiao Xiao, this time it was my fault. I was in meetings and completely forgot what I promised you. I did not get your calls either.”

He gently kissed Le Xiao’s fingertips. “I originally planned to take you to that hotpot restaurant. Do you not really like their seafood hotpot? I broke my word this time. It will never happen again, okay?”

“No matter when, your affairs, our affairs, are always the highest priority.”

Listening to his sincere apology and confession, Le Xiao could not help but smile.

“You are already this exhausted, why worry about hotpot?” He reached out to hug Ye Jiming’s neck and kissed his cheek. “You did not forget on purpose. Stop apologizing.”

“But you cannot ignore your phone.” He stopped smiling and glared at him childishly. “I could not reach you at all; I thought…”

He thought once again that Ye Jiming had been lying to him; he thought once again that Ye Jiming would not want him; he thought once again that Ye Jiming did not love him at all.

“Okay,” Ye Jiming agreed immediately. “I will definitely pick up the phone from now on.”

He scooped Le Xiao up, carrying him all the way to the master bedroom with steady steps. “Why were you sleeping on the sofa? You will catch a cold; the temperature started dropping a while ago.”

Le Xiao pursed his lips and made a face in his arms without answering.

He had not intended to sleep on the sofa. It was just that the days of filming and the eight-hour flight were truly exhausting. Combined with the emotional roller coaster after coming home and the accumulated disappointment, he had curled up alone on the sofa to brood and fell asleep shortly after.

After settling Le Xiao into bed, Ye Jiming wanted to say something more, but Le Xiao covered his mouth. “Go wash up quickly. You smell so strongly of cigarette smoke and instant noodles; it is very obvious.”

Ye Jiming laughed helplessly. Without further words, he obediently turned and went to the bathroom to wash up.

As Ye Jiming closed the bathroom door, Le Xiao tucked himself into the quilt like a snail retracting into its shell.

Hearing the sound of water in the bathroom, his nose suddenly felt stinging. The sadness he could not force out in the afternoon now flowed silently down his cheeks, leaving deep marks on the bedsheet.

All the disappointment, anger, and sadness had vanished the moment he saw the exhausted Ye Jiming, replaced by the heartache and understanding of a lover.

Yet, he still felt so aggrieved.

His heart felt like an unripe persimmon being ruthlessly crushed by a giant hand, squeezing out a drop of juice that was astringent and sour.

Tucked under the quilt, he pursed his lips, his mouth trembling slightly as he let out faint, fragmented sobs. Then, he bit the corner of the quilt, swallowing the last of his crying.

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