Translator: Lynn
Sponsored chapter (2/3)
He probably went out to grab some lunch.
He might have headed out to collect rent.
Perhaps he went to the store to buy cigarettes.
Possibly, his phone’s battery is dead.
…
Before noticing the cigarette case papers on the table, Cheng Ke could still dismiss the fact that Jiang Yuduo had not turned off his phone, despite numerous plausible reasons for his absence. He consoled himself with the idea that Jiang Yuduo would likely return shortly.
However, as several sheets of cigarette case paper lay on the table, Cheng Ke’s thoughts shifted. He instantly recalled that when he had left the room after watching the video yesterday, Jiang Yuduo had been writing something on those very papers.
The realization hit him like a sledgehammer.
Regret.
Why hadn’t he inquired about it then?
Jiang Yuduo rarely wrote anything of his own accord, so why hadn’t he inquired at that moment?
He could have asked, or even just taken a glance at what was written, sparing himself from the anguish he was experiencing now.
“Damn it!” Cheng Ke gritted his teeth and cursed once more.
After bowing his head, closing his eyes, and taking a few deep breaths, he pushed the table he had previously moved back to its original spot. Slowly, he arranged the cigarette case papers on the table, one by one.
This marked the first time Cheng Ke had seen so many words handwritten by Jiang Yuduo.
They were large and somewhat crude.
Jiang Yuduo’s handwriting was likely at its best when he was signing rental agreements.
Cheng Ke, I’m sorry.
I can’t let you hold me back. I don’t think you can restrain yourself.
There’s plenty of food. You can buy more after you’ve eaten.
Meow is with Chen Qing now.
Don’t give it to him. Please help me take care of it.
Give it to him if you don’t want it.
You’re doing well. You’re really great.
I like you.
I’m scared you’ll leave before I get better.
I’m especially afraid you’ll leave before I recover.
It’s taking me too long to get better.
I’d better handle this on my own. Don’t wait for me; you can go. It’s okay.
Tell Chen Qing I’m leaving. It might be a while before I return. He knows how to manage things.
I’ve taken half of the towels and toothbrushes.
Cheng Ke, I really like you.
I don’t know how long you’ll continue to like me. If you don’t, just leave.
…
There were many messages, and it felt like Jiang Yuduo had used up the stack of cigarette case papers he usually kept under the coffee table.
The writing was large and somewhat messy. Only a few characters could fit on one sheet. Some were neatly written, while others were almost illegible.
Perhaps Jiang Yuduo had never written so much at one time in his younger years. His handwriting became chaotic as he continued, but after every sentence, he made sure to add a period.
Cheng Ke had no idea how long it took Jiang Yuduo to write down these words.
He was left in the dark about everything.
He hadn’t finished reading the words on the cigarette wrappers, and they had become so blurry that he couldn’t decipher them clearly. He vigorously wiped his eyes twice, but the tears quickly welled up again.
Cheng Ke had always been attuned to Jiang Yuduo’s emotions, but this time, he had chalked up all of Jiang Yuduo’s odd behavior to self-mutilation and… self-pleasure.
Cheng Ke, have you completely lost your mind?
“Jijia!” Chen Qing’s voice, filled with concern, reached him from the window.
Cheng Ke was abruptly awakened by the loud call. He swiftly collected all the cigarette wrappers from the table, stashed them in his pocket, and responded, “Here!” After a hurried trip to the bathroom to wipe his face, he heard the sound of Chen Qing using a key to open the door and enter the house.
“Why are you here?” Cheng Ke inquired.
“Can’t I come?” Chen Qing retorted. “You were muttering incoherently, didn’t respond when I called you repeatedly, and then your phone was switched off when I tried calling San-ge!”
“He…,” Cheng Ke bit his lip and glanced at his phone, realizing that Chen Qing had called him three times in a row, but he hadn’t heard any of them. “He said he wouldn’t be back for a while. Let’s talk about something else. I know how to handle it.”
Chen Qing fell silent for a while. “Where did he go?”
“I don’t know,” Cheng Ke admitted.
“Did you two have a fight?” Chen Qing questioned.
“No,” Cheng Ke replied.
“Then why did he leave so suddenly?” Chen Qing inquired, his voice tinged with sadness. “He’s never done this before.”
Cheng Ke suddenly noticed that Chen Qing’s eyes were teary. He glanced at his friend and said gently, “Qing’er…”
“Just tell me,” Chen Qing insisted, his voice quivering. “Does his departure have anything to do with you? Does it?”
Cheng Ke remained silent.
Does it matter?
Of course, it mattered.
But he couldn’t bring himself to say it. He could ponder it a thousand times, even ten thousand times in his mind, but articulating it would transform his thoughts into reality, something he couldn’t accept.
Chen Qing locked his gaze onto Cheng Ke, and the two of them remained frozen in the middle of the room. Eventually, Chen Qing dragged a chair over and sat down. He lowered his head, wiping away his tears with the back of his hand, and sighed, “Forget it, scolding you won’t do any good.” Cheng Ke stood there, silent.
“You look terrible,” Chen Qing muttered, wiping his eyes again. “Take a seat.” Cheng Ke glanced at him, then obeyed, slipping his hands into his pockets, tightly clutching the stack of cigarette case papers.
“Did he leave you a message?” Chen Qing inquired. “Did he say anything else?”
“…Nothing else,” Cheng Ke replied.
“Will he come back?” Chen Qing asked once more.
“He said he will,” Cheng Ke nodded.
“Then what do you think…” Chen Qing stared at him, “Will he really come back?”
Cheng Ke paused for a moment, then turned his head. He hadn’t anticipated that Chen Qing would ask such a question, and he suddenly felt a chill in his hands.
“Why do you…?” Cheng Ke struggled to control his emotions. “Why are you asking?”
Chen Qing furrowed his brow and wiped his eyes again. “I’ve always felt like San-ge would leave one day.”
Cheng Ke observed him closely.
“Sometimes, I think he’s just like us. He hangs out on the streets, he’s the boss who takes us under his wing and covers for us when things go south,” Chen Qing’s voice quivered. “But other times, I can sense that he’s not like us, not like you, not like anyone else.”
“Is that so?” Cheng Ke murmured.
“He treats me like a brother, my best friend,” Chen Qing continued. “We share everything, but I know that I tell him everything, yet he doesn’t tell me a lot of things. There are things he’ll never tell me in this lifetime.”
Cheng Ke softly rubbed his fingers over the cigarette case papers.
Chen Qing sat silently for a while, no longer shedding tears, then got up and went to the bathroom to wash his face.
“He doesn’t live here, and Sister Qian won’t take the place back,” Chen Qing returned to his chair, wiping his wet face. “Why don’t you move into that house he had, at least for now?”
Cheng Ke was taken aback; he hadn’t considered this option at all.
“It’s not about saving money,” Chen Qing clarified. “We’re still a group of brothers. You must understand that wherever San-ge has gone, it’s bound to be chaotic. Zhang Daqi just barely held things together… your connection with San-ge aside, everyone can see that if you stay here, we can maintain some stability for a while, whether we reunite or part ways. We need to carve out some time for whatever’s next.”
“Yes,” Cheng Ke concurred.
“He was handling things for Sister Qian before, so I’ll continue that part of his work,” Chen Qing stopped speaking, and after a few moments of silence, he suddenly broke into tears. He sobbed loudly and said, “San-ge didn’t say anything…”
“Qing’er, Qing’er,” Cheng Ke was bewildered by his intense crying, “Don’t cry.”
“Aren’t you crying too? Just pretend you didn’t see it!” Chen Qing, while crying, remarked, “Your eyes were still red when I walked in!”
Cheng Ke suddenly didn’t know how to console him.
Under normal circumstances, he wouldn’t have paid much attention to it. At most, he’d sit quietly and wait until Chen Qing had finished shedding tears.
But today was far from ordinary. Jiang Yuduo had abruptly vanished from his life, catching him unprepared. It was akin to a staircase that had suddenly vanished after traversing it countless times – one moment he was taking a step, and the next, he was plummeting into a void.
As he looked at Chen Qing now, it felt as if he could still catch glimpses of Jiang Yuduo.
“Don’t cry,” Cheng Ke tried to console, “If he returns and hears that you’ve been crying like this, he’ll probably call you a coward.”
“I’m used to his scolding,” Chen Qing replied amidst his tears.
Before Cheng Ke could formulate any further comforting words, Chen Qing abruptly stood up, grabbed a couple of tissues to dab his eyes, and said, “Well, I’ll cry my eyes out when I get back. If you need anything, just give me a call.”
“Alright,” Cheng Ke said, watching him.
“If he contacts you, inform me immediately,” Chen Qing urged.
“Of course,” Cheng Ke assured.
“If he contacts me…” Chen Qing began to say but stopped midway, turning away and heading for the door, his cries growing louder. “Never mind, he’ll definitely reach out to you first…”
After listening to the sound of Chen Qing’s car driving away, Cheng Ke remained frozen in the room for a long while.
The silence inside the house felt oppressive, as if he were submerged in gelatin. It was broad daylight outside, with passersby and chattering neighbors visible through the window, yet it all felt distant, as if veiled by an impenetrable barrier.
He got up and approached the window, taking the spot where Jiang Yuduo often stood and peering out through the gap in the curtain.
Life continued as usual.
Much like the countless times he had walked down this narrow street, the afternoon sun, the chilly north wind, the shabby-looking trash can…
He wanted to cry.
But he couldn’t.
Back at the table, he contemplated taking out the cigarette case papers that Jiang Yuduo had written on and placing them back on the table, but he lacked the courage.
He didn’t have the strength to confront Jiang Yuduo’s plain-spoken but helpless words again.
Finally, he retreated to the bedroom, slipped the wrappers under his pillow, and lit a cigarette.
After having a smoke in the backyard, he pulled out his mobile phone and opened his contacts.
Sister Luo.
He hadn’t even had a chance to dial the number saved under this name. The contact on WeChat had been brief, with no time for him to update Sister Luo on Jiang Yuduo’s situation.
Jiang Yuduo had just disappeared.
Abruptly and cleanly.
No, it didn’t have to be so abrupt. Jiang Yuduo had been saying his goodbyes yesterday, but Cheng Ke hadn’t truly heard them.
Before calling Sister Luo, Cheng Ke reluctantly dialed Jiang Yuduo’s number once more.
The number you have dialed…
“Damn it,” Cheng Ke muttered as he hung up.
Another cigarette later, he tapped on Sister Luo’s contact and initiated the call.
“Hello?” Sister Luo’s gentle voice came through.
“Hello, Teacher Luo,” Cheng Ke took a deep breath. “It’s Cheng Ke.”
“Hello, Xiao Cheng,” Sister Luo replied.
“Do you have a moment?” Cheng Ke inquired.
“Well,” Sister Luo’s voice remained as soothing as ever. “Go ahead.”
“Here’s the situation,” Cheng Ke bit his lip. “This morning… no, this afternoon, Jiang Yuduo suddenly… vanished.”
“Vanished?” Sister Luo sounded taken aback.
“It’s just that he left me a bunch of notes, maybe… he was afraid of hurting me. He recorded a video for me yesterday… yesterday,” Cheng Ke struggled with each word, as though every utterance was a knife to his heart. “His… his self-harm, he recorded it…”
“Could you send me the video?” Sister Luo asked. “And the notes.”
“Well, I wanted to send them to you, but before I could get up, he… he’d already left,” Cheng Ke said, his breathing becoming difficult, his heart racing uncontrollably.
It took him a moment to recognize the source of his panic: his voice was trembling uncontrollably as he spoke. “Ms. Luo, hasn’t he been in touch with you?”
“No,” Sister Luo replied. “He has both my mobile number and my landline number. Let me check the landline… no calls.”
Cheng Ke leaned against the wall, attempting to steady himself, but all he got was a sore wrist. He realized he was holding the phone in his left hand while his right hand was braced against the wall.
“What if he… what if he didn’t go to you but is just hiding?” Cheng Ke murmured, “Could he be in danger?”
“First, you need to watch the video and read the notes he left before making any conclusions,” Sister Luo said. “Based on his previous behavior, there shouldn’t be immediate danger. He’s usually conscious of the extent of his self-harm, and as I mentioned, he didn’t show any suicidal tendencies before.”
“Okay,” Cheng Ke’s voice was nearly gone. “I’ll send you all of it right away. If he contacts you…”
“I’ll inform you,” Sister Luo assured him. “Try to relax a bit. The chances of him reaching out to me are relatively high.”
“Alright, thank you,” Cheng Ke said.
After ending the call, Cheng Ke didn’t waste a second. He immediately sent the video to Sister Luo and then rushed to the bedroom, retrieved all the cigarette wrappers from under the pillow, arranged them neatly, and took photographs.
As Cheng Ke viewed Jiang Yuduo’s handwritten words through the camera lens, his vision once again became hazy.
He promptly sent the photo to Sister Luo, avoiding the daunting sight of the large, unsightly characters nearly covering the outer surface of the cigarette wrappers. He folded them up and returned them under the pillow.
Dropping the phone, he began scouring the room.
Jiang Yuduo’s wardrobe remained largely untouched. His clothing collection was modest, and Cheng Ke could almost count them all with a few tugs. Apart from the clothes he was wearing, he had only taken the coat he had exchanged with Cheng Ke.
“Idiot!” Cheng Ke clenched his teeth and cursed.
However, aside from that, he couldn’t discern what else Jiang Yuduo had taken. He wasn’t obsessed enough to surveil Jiang Yuduo daily or scrutinize every nook and cranny of his room, because he trusted Jiang Yuduo. He never imagined that such a day would come.
Evidently, Jiang Yuduo didn’t trust him.
Or rather, Jiang Yuduo didn’t trust himself.
Even if he didn’t believe he could become “better,” he also didn’t believe that Cheng Ke could remain by his side under these circumstances.
“Idiot!” Cheng Ke couldn’t find any other words to vent his uncomfortable, angry, helpless, and damn worried emotions, so he resorted to cursing again, vehemently this time.
Extremely vehemently.
He sprayed saliva onto the closet door.
Fetching a wet paper towel, he wiped the door.
Jiang Yuduo didn’t keep wet wipes at home, but Cheng Ke liked them, so he had purchased eight packs just the day before.
After cleansing the cabinet door, he discovered that his face was drenched in tears.
This agitated him slightly, prompting him to kick the door before settling on the edge of the bed.
When Sister Luo called, he checked the time and found it was already five o’clock.
Jiang Yuduo’s words were undeniably true; time couldn’t be wasted, nor was there any reason to let it slip away.
“Ms. Luo, how are you?” Cheng Ke answered the phone eagerly, but after posing the question, he became timid again and contemplated hanging up before Sister Luo could reply.
“I’ve reviewed everything. He shouldn’t be in immediate danger. It’s on par with his previous condition,” Sister Luo reassured him. “This time, his choice to disappear, or to put it differently… is linked to you.” “Disappeared?” Cheng Ke was taken aback. “How could he disappear? He worked up the courage to confront his illness. He took me to see you, and now he recorded a video for me to witness his current state. How could he vanish?”
“He hasn’t fled in the physical sense,” Sister Luo explained gently, “He’s evading you emotionally, unable to face you, so he’s chosen to disappear.” “I won’t disappear!” Cheng Ke raised his voice involuntarily. “I promised I would be here! I’ll always be here!”
“Xiaojiang is profoundly insecure, and your assurance alone can’t stabilize his emotions,” Sister Luo said. “He believes he’ll harm you, and he also believes that even if he doesn’t hurt you, you won’t withstand the treatment and will eventually leave.”
“So he’s decided that I’ll disappear, is that it?” Cheng Ke questioned.
“It can be interpreted that way, that he lacks a sense of security and self-assurance,” Sister Luo replied. “It can also be viewed as his desire to avoid the process of your departure. However, these are initial assessments on my part. If he comes to see me, I can further understand his thoughts after talking to him.”
“He hasn’t contacted you yet, has he?” Cheng Ke inquired weakly, even though he knew it was a futile question, but he couldn’t help himself.
“Not yet,” Sister Luo confirmed.
“Got it,” Cheng Ke replied. “If he contacts you, and if you think it’s appropriate, please convey this message from me: I won’t go anywhere.”
I’m not going anywhere.
I’ll just fucking wait here.
After masturbating, you want to run away, fuck you, you want to play, and then give up! It’s not that easy!
Don’t come back if you have the ability!
If you dare to come back, I will fucking kill you without counting one, two, three!
Cheng Ke squatted on the floor, his head buried in his arms, his face pressed against his knees, and the sound of his restrained, rather unpleasant sobs filled the room.
Translator’s notes:
Dam, this hurts. I’m not crying, you are crying.
Please let me know if there are typos/mistakes in the chapter.
Support me on ko-fi for faster releases ^^
