Spring Night of Misty Rain - Chapter 38

While Xu Luosu was back home crying her heart out, Chen Ci received a call from the hospital. She packed Shen Zeyu’s winter clothes and rushed to the hospital early the next morning.

Chen Ci had been on edge the entire way. The moment she pushed open the door to the ward, she lunged toward Shen Zeyu, checking her thoroughly from head to toe.

Shen Zeyu sat upright on the bed with a helpless expression. “I didn’t attempt suicide, nor did I cut myself. Don’t worry.”

Chen Ci looked suspicious. “Really? Then why did you rush back from Haicheng just to get yourself admitted?”

Shen Zeyu gave a slight smile. In the gentle morning light, her pale face appeared somewhat ethereal. “It was the writing. I reduced my medication a bit.”

Mood stabilizers are not exactly good things—at least for creative work, they are disastrous. If inspiration is compared to boiling lava, then mood stabilizers are a torrential downpour; once poured over the head, all inspiration evaporates. To ensure the quality of the script, she had no choice but to take this inferior path.

Of course, that wasn’t the primary cause. The core issue of her episode was still emotional, but she couldn’t let Chen Ci know that.

Hearing this answer, Chen Ci was momentarily speechless. Her mouth twitched, and she was so angry that it took a while before she raised her hand and gave Shen Zeyu a swat on the shoulder. “You’ve really gone off the deep end this time!”

She was furious, lecturing Shen Zeyu from top to bottom, inside and out. Shen Zeyu was scolded until she didn’t dare make a sound. Finally, Chen Ci poked her nose and warned, “If there’s a next time, I’ll beat you to death!”

Chen Ci came and went in a hurry. In the evening, Shen Zeyu’s attending physician, Song Lijuan, came for her rounds and invited Shen Zeyu to sit on the sofa. “Shall we talk?”

Shen Zeyu didn’t particularly want to talk—at least not now. She sat on the bed and didn’t move.

Song Lijuan sighed, clutching her clipboard as she turned to look at her. “Is the reason for your episode this time, aside from the disordered medication cycle, also related to interpersonal relationships?”

As a renowned Doctor of Psychoanalysis, Song Lijuan could naturally tell that the girl who brought Shen Zeyu in yesterday had a special relationship with her. Although Shen Zeyu wasn’t very willing to cooperate, she still nodded. “Mm.”

Song Lijuan wasn’t annoyed; she had encountered plenty of “mute” patients. Shen Zeyu was at least the type who could speak and understood herself very well. She proceeded step-by-step, continuing her questioning: “She likes you? But you feel it’s not a good fit?”

Shen Zeyu gave a helpless smile. “Don’t you already know everything?”

“I was only guessing.” Song Lijuan sighed and asked tentatively, “What about you? Do you like her?”

Shen Zeyu didn’t give a direct answer. She simply smiled with a hint of mockery. “As I said, it’s not a good fit.”

Song Lijuan read her meaning. “I see. You’ve considered it, but you feel the risk is too great—more than you can bear.” She spoke bluntly and then followed up: “Is it because of your previous two relationships?”

According to Shen Zeyu’s family situation, she didn’t actually lack love. But that was only on the surface; in reality, she was very envious of the children her mother had after remarrying. Even though her grandmother, Yang Feixia, gave her plenty of care and concern, she still wanted to have a home with a lover of her own.

The breakdown of Shen Zeyu’s parents’ home began when her father cheated with one of his students and eventually committed suicide after being abandoned. Consequently, Shen Zeyu held herself to extremely rigorous standards of personal character. To have the ideal home, everything she did was the polar opposite of her father’s behavior.

Her father was promiscuous; she was upright. Her father cheated; she was single-minded. Her father was manic; she suppressed herself. As a result, she grew up as the “good child” in everyone’s eyes.

Until she met Shang Qiuchi.

This classmate, one year her senior, always loved to cling to her, chirping praises about her calligraphy, her drawings, and how well she made ceramics. Everything about her was perfect in the other girl’s eyes, even worship-worthy. Under Shang Qiuchi’s push, she entered the screenwriting industry and followed her to major in Drama, Film, and Television Directing.

The fundamental reason for all this was that she wanted something that was “mine.” During her psychological consultations, Shen Zeyu had been honest with Song Lijuan: “In this world, nothing stays unchanged. Parents will have other children, relatives will pass away, friends will have their own lovers. No one can firmly choose me. So, at the very least, in the category of a lover, I hope the other person can belong entirely to me.”

Song Lijuan believed her love for Shang Qiuchi was built on the foundation of Shang Qiuchi loving her; once Shang Qiuchi had a change of heart, Shen Zeyu would kick her out without hesitation. Shen Zeyu didn’t deny this, even though to outsiders, her refusal to give people second chances seemed very cold.

But she had been making pottery since childhood. Managing an emotion was, for her, just like making an exquisite piece of ceramic. Her relationship with Shang Qiuchi was the piece that stayed in the kiln the longest and was made with the most heart. Unfortunately, she didn’t control the heat well and ignored Shang Qiuchi’s personal will, causing the ceramic to shatter upon leaving the kiln. To a perfectionist like Shen Zeyu, such a piece couldn’t be shown to the world, so she simply smashed it to bits.

That failed relationship dealt Shen Zeyu a heavy blow. She was a very dignified person and absolutely could not tolerate a partner’s infidelity. Shang Qiuchi was the shame of her life; to wash away that shame, she decided to start a new relationship. Or rather, to make another exquisite piece of ceramic. Thus, she singled out Lin Pei.

Lin Pei had the same traits as Shang Qiuchi—she worshipped and admired her. Moreover, she was younger than Shang Qiuchi and easier to “cultivate.” But Shen Zeyu had misjudged. She forgot the basic principle of pottery: to fire good ceramic, you need a good clay base.

Lin Pei was not a good clay base. She was weak and greedy, wavering between new and old flames; her heart could hold several people at once. These traits were like grit and impurities in the clay; even in the process of throwing the pot, they cut Shen Zeyu until she was drenched in blood. Shen Zeyu had no choice but to give up and end the relationship.

Her “pottery theory” of relationships remained vividly in Song Lijuan’s memory even now. But interacting with people is not the same as making ceramics. Ceramics are inanimate objects with many controllable factors. People are not; people have their own thoughts and are independent individuals with far too many uncontrollable aspects. Dealing with people with that mindset would never yield a good result.

Song Lijuan knew her psychological knot but had no easy solution. Sometimes, a person has to figure things out for themselves; outsiders can’t help much. Seeing Shen Zeyu’s silence, she sighed. “In truth, you don’t need to be so resistant to the idea. Just let nature take its course. Falling in love is actually different from pottery. If a piece of ceramic fires poorly, you just destroy it. If a relationship doesn’t go smoothly, you can always change people and start over. There’s no need to lock yourself into the idea that it must be for a lifetime. Life is inherently turbulent; if you want a sense of stability, you must fully experience instability. Love also requires experience. Just treat it as…”

Before Song Lijuan could finish, Shen Zeyu raised her eyes and looked at her steadily. “Treat it as practice, right?” Her eyes were very deep; in the night, they gave off a golden hue. “But I can’t use her for practice. It’s not fair.”

If she clearly liked Xu Luosu, yet stayed by her side in an ambiguous way under the guise of being a “best friend” without giving her a definitive answer, how was that different from Lin Pei? More importantly, she was unable to provide Xu Luosu with a normal relationship; it was precisely because of this that she couldn’t trample on the girl’s feelings.

So, she could only push Xu Luosu away. Her resolve was firm, as immovable as a boulder.

Sometimes Song Lijuan felt this woman was truly miraculous. On one hand, she could cling to Shang Qiuchi like a vine for ten years, conforming to her every wish and being the “perfect partner” for her—it even felt like she had no self and lived entirely for the other person. On the other hand, she was as firm as a diamond; once a decision was made, she would cut through the mess swiftly, leaving no room for a turnaround. She seemed to love her partners deeply, yet also seemed not to love them at all. She was the type of person who, after doing everything within her power, would become utterly heartless and cold.

It was too contradictory—so contradictory that Song Lijuan found no opening to offer enlightenment in this area. She sighed, picked up her clipboard, and stood up. “Fine, then I won’t disturb you further. If you want to talk, we’ll talk next time.”

Shen Zeyu nodded, sitting upright on the bed as she watched her leave the ward. “Mm, next time.”

As Song Lijuan’s footsteps faded away, Shen Zeyu glanced at the medication on the bedside cabinet, reached out for it, and swallowed it all with a gulp of warm water. Once the medicine was down, she “snapped” off the light and resolutely slid under the covers—to sleep!

The hospital medication was higher in dosage. Shen Zeyu slept very deeply and didn’t wake until noon the next day. As she blearily opened her eyes, she vaguely heard a familiar voice coming from the window. Was it… Xu Luosu?

Frowning, Shen Zeyu rolled over to look toward the window. In the bright winter morning light, a tall woman wearing a high-necked apricot knit sweater paired with a black A-line skirt and black high-heeled ankle boots stood by the window on the phone. her long black hair was pinned back in a bun.

Shen Zeyu’s mind was a muddle; she assumed she was still dreaming. She sat up in bed, looking at the figure’s back in disbelief. “Why are you here?”

The person by the window heard her voice and quickly cut the call, turning around to look at her with a beaming smile. “You’re awake?” She walked toward Shen Zeyu against the light, her eyes tender. “What do you want to eat? Congee, or rice?”

Shen Zeyu was utterly confused by this natural attitude. She raised a hand to rub her messy hair. “No, answer me first. Why are you here?”

The woman being questioned curled her lips into a light smile and sat by the bed, acting as if it were the most logical thing in the world. “Didn’t I tell you? I would come see you. I’m here, naturally, to stay with you while you’re hospitalized.” As she spoke, Xu Luosu pointed to her suitcase sitting by the sofa. “See? I’ve already asked your attending physician. Your case isn’t that severe this time; family members are allowed to stay as caregivers.”

“No!” What “family member”? How can you say that so naturally!

Shen Zeyu was nearly frantic. “You…”

Seeing she was about to blow up, Xu Luosu reached out and took her hand, saying with a smile, “Do you remember? On your birthday, you said I just need to be myself. Now you want to drive me away, but I simply refuse.

She clasped Shen Zeyu’s hand, interlocking their fingers until their palms were pressed together. Her tone was incredibly bossy: “By what right do you get to decide how a relationship goes all by yourself? I have my own thoughts too, okay? So, you do what you want, and I’ll do what I want.”

And we’ll see who can outlast the other.