Weakness Trap - Chapter 40

“To Yu Qingluan:” Yu Lingxue wrote these words for the twentieth time, then crumpled the paper and tossed it into the trash bin.

Should she use “to” or “to”?

Should she use a more intimate form of address?

Yu Lingxue picked up her pen again and wrote “To Little Bird,” then paused, scrutinizing the characters from left to right, feeling they looked terribly awkward.

It had been months since she last held a pen.

It had also been months since she last spoke to Yu Qingluan.

Yu Lingxue knew that Yu Qingluan had recently been in Hong Kong, busy working at that shop.

Every time she secretly went to see her, Yu Qingluan was either introducing products to customers or calculating accounts at the cash register.

Yu Lingxue kept her distance across the street, hiding in her car, peering through binoculars like a thief.

Getting too close would only cause trouble for her.

Yu Lingxue was content just watching from afar.

That alone gave her the strength to carry on.

As long as she thought about the future a future with Yu Qingluan in it she could regain her strength and keep going.

“You should go try on your wedding dress,” a voice interrupted her reverie.

Startled, Yu Lingxue crumpled the paper in her hand.

She decided to discard this newly written note as well, shifted two meters to the side, and then looked at Yan Lanshen.

“The wedding is tomorrow at noon. You’ve been putting it off for a long time. At the very least, you should try it on tonight.” Yan Lanshen didn’t approach her, his eyes calm and unwavering as he stared at her.

“I can’t stand up,” Yu Lingxue retorted defiantly, her bloodshot eyes stinging before she finally responded.

Ever since that day two months ago in Hong Kong when Yu Qingluan rejected her and she was carried into the hospital by an ambulance, Yu Lingxue had been unable to walk.

Doctors had examined her multiple times. Even Li Ran, whom they had struggled to contact, came to see her, but no one could determine the cause.

Her muscles still had strength, but the moment she tried to stand or take a step, the pain became unbearable, forcing her to her knees. She could only move around in a wheelchair.

This wheelchair had once been used by Yu Jian Xi. Her younger sister was still hospitalized, her condition stable but not yet out of danger as long as she remained in the hospital.

Jian Xi couldn’t walk. Yan Lanshen had somehow obtained this wheelchair, and the day Yu Lingxue saw it, she broke down in tears, suffered another high fever, and babbled incoherently in her dreams.

When she woke up, her mother was by her side. Her mother told her she had chased Yan Lanshen away and urged her to focus on recovering.

She also told her that the girl she loved was currently active in Hong Kong. Even if it was just for her, she needed to get better.

It was only then that Yu Lingxue mustered the will to leave the hospital.

Until last week, when Yan Lanshen informed her that their wedding was imminent.

Who could understand the pain of marrying someone she didn’t love?

That night, Yu Lingxue truly regretted it. Enduring her illness, she wrote the first draft of her confession letter to Yu Qingluan, seeking solace in her words.

Since then, she had been writing day after day, draft after draft, pouring out her heart repeatedly.

“It’s fine. Everyone knows your condition,” Yan Lanshen said lazily, propping his chin on his hand, his gaze both indifferent and threatening.

“Heh.” Yu Lingxue laughed at his absurdity and at her own misery.

“So you want a patient who can only move in a wheelchair to wear such a heavy wedding dress and walk down your red carpet tomorrow.”

Yu Lingxue took a sharp breath, her eyes devoid of light, only a deep darkness as she stared at Yan Lanshen, seeing nothing but an abyss.

“That is the ceremony, and more importantly, the etiquette. I will support you as you walk that path.” Yan Lanshen would not cancel the arranged ritual just because of Yu Lingxue’s words.

Yu Lingxue scoffed once more, then spent a full quarter of an hour changing into that heavy, extravagant, and overly form-fitting dress. She dismissed Yan Lanshen without another glance.

What use was there in looking at her anyway?

After all, they were merely collaborators, mutually displeased with each other’s presence.

Whether Yan Lanshen disliked her or not, she didn’t care.

She only knew that once she dealt with Yu Qingyuan, the first person she would confront would be Yan Lanshen.

Yu Lingxue lowered her head, ignoring Yan Lanshen, and once again began to write on her own.

“To Qingluan.” This should strike the right balance intimate enough, yet not overly presumptuous.

What should she write?

Yu Lingxue drafted over ten versions, yet none of them satisfied her.

There was too much she wanted to say. The most prominent sentiment was longing.

She missed Yu Qingluan’s hair always washed clean and smooth with orange scented shampoo, soft to the touch. Resting her face against the ends of those strands, she could smell a warm and tranquil fragrance.

It was just like her. She could hold Yu Lingxue and effortlessly soothe her days of exhaustion.

She missed Yu Qingluan’s voice somewhat cool, like a woody perfume, clear and melodious, occasionally carrying the tenderness of roses.

She missed everything about Yu Qingluan. To this day, she still loved every part of her.

It didn’t matter if Yu Qingluan didn’t want her or didn’t trust her.

She would eventually break free from Yan Lanshen and prove her love to Yu Qingluan.

So, should she start with an apology?

Yu Lingxue lost herself in her ideals, as if she weren’t writing a future confession letter but a love letter spoken face to face.

She imagined sitting before Yu Qingluan, speaking these words aloud, laying her heart bare for her to see.

She was using blood and tears to plead with the resolute Yu Qingluan to stay.

At this thought, Yu Lingxue’s heart ached, her hand trembling as she wrote the words of the future.

She truly regretted it.

She had thought it was just a marriage of convenience, a relationship of mutual benefit where they would lead separate lives.

She wouldn’t have much interaction with Yan Lanshen, and all Yan Lanshen wanted was the Yu family’s medical resources.

But in reality, Yan Lanshen had demands of her. She had no choice but to avoid Yan Lanshen, feeling nauseated at the sight of her. The thought of marrying her was so agonizing it drove her to the brink of madness.

Why had she agreed to Yan Lanshen’s proposal back then?

Wouldn’t it have been better to refuse this marriage alliance, tell Yu Qingluan about it, and flee with Jian Xi?

Why hadn’t she discussed it with Yu Qingluan at the time?

Why had she been so arrogant and presumptuous, thinking that her way would solve everything, that it would be better for Yu Qingluan, for both of them?

Yu Lingxue wrote word by word, the deeper she wrote, the more her regret intensified.

There were clearly a hundred ways to resolve the situation. She could have avoided marrying Yan Lanshen, still protected Jian Xi, and prevented Yu Qingluan from becoming so disappointed that she ended their relationship.

Yet she had chosen the method that hurt Yu Qingluan the most.

What had she been thinking back then?

Yu Lingxue clawed at her scalp, where old wounds from every past regret had been torn open.

The scabs were scratched away, and blood trickled down her temple.

It was only a little blood. Yu Lingxue felt no pain.

No matter how much it hurt, it couldn’t compare to the pain in her heart.

She truly regretted it.

So much so that she wished she could turn back time.

If given another chance, she would surely do better.

But who would grant her that opportunity?

Yu Lingxue’s tears stained the paper. Suddenly, she tore the sheet into several pieces, buried her head in her hands, and wept bitterly.

Would a thousand apologies be enough to make Yu Qingluan glance her way again?

Ten thousand words?

She was still stuck in the past. Why could Yu Qingluan leave so effortlessly?

Her lover was so cruel.

Yet she loved her so deeply, and had once received her wholehearted love in return.

How could she ever let go?

Yu Lingxue wept alone.

Yan Lanshen, standing nearby, watched the scene, unable to speak.

Yu Lingxue had gone mad.

When she realized this, did she ever feel regret?

Perhaps she wasn’t capable of such human emotions.

So she just sat there, watching Yu Lingxue make a spectacle of herself in her frenzy.

Both their phones rang at the same time.

Startled, Yu Lingxue jolted up from her chair. As her heart settled, she hurriedly opened her phone and answered the call.

“A fire? What about the fire trucks?! Quick, go find someone to put it out!” The dried tear stains on Yu Lingxue’s face cracked, stinging unbearably.

She hung up, stood, ignoring the pain in her legs, enduring the agony that felt like her flesh was being torn, and walked toward the door.

Step one. Tears welled up in Yu Lingxue’s eyes again from the pain, and from the terror of the news, forcing her to vent through tears.

Step two. Yu Lingxue could barely breathe, her mouth open as she gasped for air.

Step three. The wide skirt of her wedding dress tangled around her feet, tripping her, forcing her to kick it aside.

Even with all her strength, she could only manage to push the cumbersome skirt away by a centimeter.

Yu Lingxue simply grabbed the layers of shackles and pressed forward.

The physical pain was too much. She couldn’t move at all.

But she still took ten steps. On her own.

Then she fell. Tripped by the wedding dress, tripped by the pain, tripped by the fear.

The wedding dress tore, layer by layer, falling away.

Yu Lingxue couldn’t see anything only a blurry sea of fire and Yu Qingluan trapped within it.

The fall shook her to her core. Numb with pain, she crawled desperately toward her wheelchair.

Yan Lanshen tried to help her up, but Yu Lingxue seemed not to see her, stubbornly climbing into her wheelchair.

“Hurry, hurry How could there suddenly be a fire?” Yu Lingxue wheeled herself swiftly out of the room and toward the car waiting at the door.

She got in, tearing the already shortened hem even more. It wasn’t her dress anyway.

It was just another shackle.

Yu Lingxue pressed a hand to her chest, her heart racing wildly.

How could Yu Qingluan’s shop suddenly catch fire?

The nearest fire truck would take at least ten minutes to arrive.

The wind was strong tonight. In ten minutes, would Little Bird still be alive?

If Qingluan died.

Yu Lingxue bit her lip until it hurt, a trace of blood trickling down.

She couldn’t live on alone.

She couldn’t face a future without tomorrow…

Yu Lingxue kept making wishes, kept praying in her heart.

The car sped toward the fire, and as they drew closer, the flames grew higher. Yu Lingxue, sitting inside, could see the towering blaze.

She pressed against the window, eyes wide, her heart stopping.

No, it couldn’t be.

Little Bird couldn’t be in danger.

What if Little Bird had already escaped?

The sound of fire alarms grew nearer. The blaring sirens terrified Yu Lingxue, making her hold her breath.

As if by doing so, time would freeze, and the fire trucks would arrive faster.

But it was still too late.

By the time Yu Lingxue reached the scene, firefighters were already battling the blaze.

Water sprayed from the fire trucks. Yu Lingxue saw only a sea of crimson no one had been rescued.

The raging orange flames had reduced a building to charred, blackened ruins.

From afar, the acrid scent of burning filled the air plastic, perfume, and even the smell of flesh and blood.

Yu Lingxue didn’t have time to get into her wheelchair. She pushed the car door open and collapsed to the ground with a thud.

Her chest ached so fiercely that she could no longer feel the pain from her injuries.

Fear, too, was agonizing, tormenting her fragile nerves and conjuring illusions a figure in the flames, firefighters rescuing Yu Qingluan successfully.

Yu Lingxue coughed, thinking it was just a cough, but blood kept gushing out, startling everyone around her.

“Don’t go in, the fire isn’t out yet,” a firefighter stopped her, likely assuming someone she knew was in danger.

“Qingluan, Qingluan is still inside!” Yu Lingxue clutched her chest, her legs giving way as she knelt on the ground.

The confession letter she carried with her flew out, fluttering in the excessively strong wind of the night, drifting into the still-unquenched flames.

Yu Lingxue reached out to grab it, but two firefighters held her back, and she couldn’t reach her letter.

It was as if the letter, like that person, had vanished into the fire.

The flames engulfed the unfinished confession, soaring into the sky, leaving only ashes in an instant.

“We’re still searching, don’t worry. We’ll definitely rescue your friend,” the firefighter tried to comfort her.

But Yu Lingxue suddenly raised her voice. “Not a friend!”

“Not a friend.” She lowered her head and caught sight of her own attire.

She was still wearing the wedding dress meant for tomorrow’s ceremony, now stained with grime the marks from her fall, cracks from stones and footsteps.

And her own dripping blood.

“Not a friend.” Then what were they?

She couldn’t give Yu Qingluan a title.

Yu Qingluan had never considered her a friend, either.

They had long become complete strangers. For two months, they hadn’t exchanged a single word.

Without her, Yu Qingluan’s life was just fine.

She would open her shop at eight every day, clean, and organize the shelves.

Busy until noon, she’d take ten minutes to eat, then work tirelessly until ten at night.

She had someone else. Zeng Lan was always by her side, looking at her with a certain meaningful gaze.

They would discuss collaborations, talk about the future.

They planned to start a company together, just the two of them.

Maybe others would join, but Yu Lingxue would never be among them.

She had her friends, her family.

She had so many people by her side.

Even without Yu Lingxue, she could still be happy.

A tear traced down Yu Lingxue’s cheek, mingling with blood as it dripped onto her tattered wedding dress.

Only she had been left behind by Yu Qingluan in the past.

Only she, with just one lover, had made so many, many mistakes until she drove that lover to utter disappointment and departure.

She was still naive, still foolish, still clinging to their past, still believing they could reconcile.

“Then, don’t rush either. If there really is someone inside, we will.” The firefighter continued trying to soothe Yu Lingxue.

But the fire had been burning for over ten minutes.

In such an inferno, the building was nearly gone.

How could anyone inside still be alive?

“There’s no one left inside,” a voice came through the walkie-talkie. The firefighter paused for a second.

Yu Lingxue heard those words and sat frozen in place.

The wind swept past her ears, bringing a deathly silence.

Coldness completely consumed her, making her shiver uncontrollably on this summer night, denying her any peace.

There was no one left.

Yu Qingluan might have already met with misfortune.

Yu Lingxue trembled, images flashing through her mind one after another.

Suddenly, she mustered a burst of strength, broke free from the firefighter’s grasp, and dashed toward the shop.

“Hey, wait you!”

Ignoring the shouts from behind, Yu Lingxue ran forward with all her might.

It couldn’t be. Yu Qingluan couldn’t be dead. She wouldn’t leave this world, and she wouldn’t leave her.

If only she could move faster, just a little faster like before, when she could seal her acupoints with needles and charge into the raging flames to rescue her little bird.

But how could she run now?

She was only imagining that she could still run, that she could still catch up to Yu Qingluan.

Even if it were just her soul, she wished her traces could linger in this world a little longer.

In the end, Yu Lingxue collapsed before the flames. The nearly extinguished embers and stifling waves of heat engulfed her. Her hair was disheveled, and her skirt, stained with mud and blood, pooled around her like discarded refuse.

Once, she could charge into a sea of fire alone, saving so many people who meant nothing to her, and she upheld this as her guiding principle, the pursuit of her life.

Now, amidst the wreckage, she could find no trace of her beloved only tears scorched by the heat.

She could save everyone, yet she couldn’t save Yu Qingluan.

She could love everyone, yet she hadn’t given Yu Qingluan enough love.

In this lifetime, she had accomplished nothing; everything she did was a mistake.

The only person she had ever truly loved had left her completely on the eve of her betrayal and marriage.

Overwhelmed with regret and heartbreak, she wept bitterly on the ground, only to be left with a charred coat and a handful of cold ashes.