Resisting Arranged Marriages: Starting with Myself - Chapter 29

Le Xiao stared blankly at the two objects before him until his eyes grew dry and painful, as if he might burst into tears without warning at any second. Inside the velvet box, the brilliance of the diamond was dazzling; on the white paper, the words “Divorce Agreement” were piercingly sharp.

Ye Jiming’s voice seemed to be drifting away, sounding as if it were coming from another world, blurry and indistinct.

“I prepared the ring some time ago. I originally intended to give it to you after this busy period, but now, the agreement was drafted just now. It was a bit rushed, so there might be errors. The division of assets should be quite fair. If you truly want a divorce, you can check it carefully. If everything is in order, you can sign it.”

“I have not signed it yet. You, you sign first.”

Le Xiao did not actually hear a single word he said. His eyes were fixed solely on those stark black characters, which looked like black holes in the universe, threatening to suck in all matter and never let it leave.

He had thought that when this day arrived, he would be so overjoyed that he would want to set off fireworks in celebration. He imagined he would shake Ye Jiming’s hand with a smile and say, “Let us part ways and each find our own happiness.”

He never expected it to be like this: shock, anger, grievance, and reluctance. He could not tell which emotion was strongest as they wove together into a bloody tragedy.

The divorce he had dreamed of months ago, the divorce he had loudly demanded last night, was now sitting calmly on the desk. As long as he picked up a pen and signed the familiar name he had written millions of times, it would all be over. The absurd arranged marriage, the suffocating constraints, and the heart-wrenching breakup would all vanish with a single sheet of paper.

But the alarm of the monitor, the light brush of skin, the indigo embrace, the lingering gazes, the deep kisses, and the time spent laughing together, all that past sweetness would also turn into the mists of yesterday, leaving no trace behind.

Ye Jiming, how, how did he dare to suggest a divorce! He did not even say a single word to ask him to stay!

An indescribable sourness suddenly surged into Le Xiao’s heart, and his aching eyes were soon filled with tears. They had lived together for months; did Ye Jiming not know that he was someone who could be swayed by kindness but never by force? No matter how big a temper he threw, as long as Ye Jiming softened his tone, apologized, and held him, anything could be settled. Why did he not even try this time before bringing out a divorce agreement?

Even if he was the one who said he wanted a divorce, could Ye Jiming not apologize one more time and coax him once more? In so many previous minor conflicts, Ye Jiming had always been patient and gentle, apologizing and soothing him. He had already walked ninety-nine steps; he only needed to take this last one.

Le Xiao even began to beg himself inwardly, childishly setting a standard: if Ye Jiming asks me to stay just once, whether it is an apology, a coaxing word, or a plea, as long as he asks me to stay once, I will not divorce him. Just once would be enough.

However, Ye Jiming said nothing. He simply knelt silently by Le Xiao’s hand, watching tears stream down his cheeks and wet a corner of the white paper. Then he reached out, using his sleeve to gently wipe Le Xiao’s face, and whispered, “Stop crying.”

It would have been better if he had stayed silent. The moment he spoke, Le Xiao’s anger flared up. Stop crying? What use was telling him to stop crying! This normally soft and meticulous person could not even utter a single apology now? He was truly a blockhead! Clearly, with just one sentence, they would not have to divorce.

Anger rising to his head, he slapped Ye Jiming’s hand away and shouted, “Do not touch me!”

He did not use much strength, not enough to actually hurt Ye Jiming, but it left a reddish mark on his hand. Yet Ye Jiming looked as if he had been wounded. He gave a bitter smile and lowered the hand he had been using to wipe the tears.

“You want a divorce? Fine!” Le Xiao snatched the divorce agreement from the nightstand, grabbed a pen, and flipped straight to the signature line at the end of the document. As if using ten thousand pounds of force, he viciously scrawled his own name. In this state, he completely forgot that he was the one who had wanted a divorce all along.

The final stroke of his name was exceptionally long. His hand seemed to tremble as he wrote, creating several jagged waves.

“Are you satisfied now?!” He threw the signed document heavily into Ye Jiming’s arms.

The ring box on the nightstand was swept onto the floor. The ring fell out and rolled a few times before vanishing into a dark corner, its light no longer visible. Like an enraged lion, he began pushing Ye Jiming toward the door, crying out, “Go! Get out! I never want to see you again!”

Great energy suddenly erupted from his thin body, forcing Ye Jiming to retreat repeatedly. Ye Jiming could not argue and certainly could not fight back. For the first time, he was extremely passive as he let Le Xiao handle him, all while worrying that the younger man might trip. His hands were held loosely around Le Xiao’s sides in a protective gesture, ready to catch him if he fell.

If one ignored the anger and sorrow on their faces, it almost looked like a strange sort of waltz.

Retreating step by step, Ye Jiming nearly stepped into thin air at the top of the stairs. He caught the railing just in time to steady himself.

“Xiao Xiao, let us talk after we get down the stairs, okay? This is too dangerous.”

Even as they went downstairs, Le Xiao did not stop. Though he no longer pushed, he glared at Ye Jiming with angry, fierce eyes as if he wanted to burn right through him. Once they reached the bottom, he immediately reached out and pushed Ye Jiming with all his might. “Get out, go, I do not want to see you again, just go!”

Ye Jiming almost followed the force and moved outward, not daring to resist until he was outside the front door.

“Xiao Xiao,” he called out.

The door slammed shut in front of him, nearly catching the bridge of his nose. He immediately tried to enter the code and press his fingerprint, but inside the house, Le Xiao had beaten him to it and removed the batteries from the electronic lock.

The fingerprint and code were both useless. The doorbell did not ring, and no one answered his knocking. He was locked out of his own home.

With his forehead pressed against the cold security door, the bitter smile he had hidden for so long finally crumbled. He slowly closed his eyes, and crystal drops rolled from the corners of his eyes.

Inside the house.

After locking Ye Jiming out completely, Le Xiao was suddenly overwhelmed by a massive sense of emptiness. He seemed to forget what he was doing, what he had said, and even who he was. It was not until his gaze refocused on the white papers scattered across the floor, covered in twisted text like ants, that he finally reacted.

He said he wanted a divorce. Ye Jiming really wanted to divorce him.

The tears that had just been wiped away surged forth again, blurring his vision instantly. No longer the aggressive person he was moments ago, he sat on the cold floor like an abandoned cub. He curled his legs, hugged his knees, and rested his head on them, letting salty tears soak his thin pajamas.

Outside the door behind him, the knocking continued, accompanied by Ye Jiming’s voice calling his name. He ignored it completely. Not until his eyes ached from crying did he look at the papers on the floor through his blurry vision. The sheet near his feet clearly bore his signature. Every stroke had been pressed hard into the paper; every stroke was heart-wrenching.

He finally stood up like a mindless machine and mechanically bent down to pick up the papers. Holding the sheets haphazardly in his arms, he stumbled toward the piano. The papers scattered across the piano like a messy musical score.

Notes that did not form a melody flowed from his fingertips unconsciously, like a drizzling stream that gradually found its direction, gathering into a brook, a river, and eventually an ocean. His fingers danced and the keys rose and fell as music spread out from the piano like flowing silk, pouring across the floor.

Suddenly, as if a great wave had risen on a calm river, the music shifted from slow to urgent. His ten fingers crashed onto the keys as if holding a sharp blade to cut through millions of years of chaos. A flood of anger rushed out, and the instrument emitted a heavy roar, as murky and oppressive as a dull summer thunderclap. Veins bulged on his fair, slender hands as if a trapped beast were roaring and thrashing inside his thin body.

Sharp sorrow tore through the music, like shredding a thick oil painting canvas. High notes screeched like invisible ice shards scraping wildly against glass, or like a long sword repeatedly stabbing into flesh. That trembling shriek sounded like the wail of a cub calling for its parents, piercing and heart-breaking.

Every note, low or high, gathered into this majestic wave of sound. The melody surged, nearly swallowing the performer whole.

As the music poured out, physical pain began to emerge like bamboo shoots after rain. His temples tightened as a vein throbbed uncontrollably, feeling as if a noisy rock band were living inside his brain. His eyes were dry and painful; in the cold, dry winter air, the tear tracks on his cheeks had long since dried, leaving the skin tight like a membrane that might burst at any moment.

There was a sharp ringing in his ears, like the high-pitched siren of a police car or someone with no sense of rhythm singing at the top of their lungs. A sourness rose in his nose, surging back to his eyes to force out tears before sinking into his throat, where it felt stuck. A bitter, metallic taste filled his mouth, as if he had just swallowed a handful of damp earth. Even his back molars ached as if they were rotting from the roots.

Even his gland began to throb uncomfortably. At first, it was just the familiar swelling pain he was used to, his growing pains. However, the temperature of the gland began to turn scorching hot, like an overripe fruit beginning to decay. It felt as if an evil witch were brewing a thick, boiling cauldron of foul potion inside the gland. The pain was like an octopus with thousands of suckers, clinging tightly to his nerve endings.

Then, the heavy pressure turned sharp and biting, as if a branding iron were continuously scorching the skin at the back of his neck. A dense, sticky stinging followed him, impossible to shake off or ignore. The pain seemed to take on a life of its own, like a stubborn poisonous weed that took root and sprouted with every beat of his heart and flow of his blood.

Every drop of blood began to boil, every cell clamored, and every nerve sent out an alarm, trying to get his attention. Yet Le Xiao turned a deaf ear to it all, playing even harder and more violently, as if to tell his brain who the true master of this body was. Even when his arms were too heavy to lift, even when his brain could no longer function normally, every note was a release of muscle memory and physical instinct.

In his world, only the piano before him remained. Physical pain, the passage of time, and the change from day to night no longer mattered. He forgot himself, forgot Ye Jiming, forgot sorrow and anger, and forgot the world and everything in it.

The sky outside had long since turned pitch black and was now beginning to turn slightly white, a new day had arrived. His body had become an exhausted machine with not a single drop of fuel left. When the final light and gentle note fell from his fingertips, a massive wave of pain surged through his body, as if he had been struck by lightning and torn apart.

His consciousness was severed in an instant. Everything went black, and his mind went blank. Like a bird with broken wings or a kite with a snapped string, he fell from the piano stool, unconscious.

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