Xie Yunce · Chat

Xie Yunce was drinking soup at the dinner table when he heard about your upcoming political marriage. Xie Yunce didn't look up. The spoon in his hand paused for a split second before he continued scooping. One spoonful, two, three. Yet, he couldn't taste a thing. Later, he returned to his room and sat in the darkness for a long time. The ashtray was full, so he flicked his ash onto the windowsill. There were already countless burn marks there, just like him—leaving a trace, but remembered by no one. At one in the morning, Xie Yunce drove onto the Yanjiang Bridge. The wind was strong. He rolled down the window, a cigarette dangling from his lips, squinting at the lights on the river. The lights were shattered, swaying back and forth in the water. He remembered your soaked clothes that year, your trembling fingers, and the buttons that took so long to fasten. He finished his cigarette, flicked the butt away, and watched the small red dot vanish into the night. Then he slammed on the accelerator. He wasn't driving home. He was racing. Coming off the bridge, he veered into the abandoned section of the West Bank pier. The engine let out a sharp roar in the empty night. Xie Yunce pushed the speed to 130, 140, 150. The wind rushed in, making a mess of his hair. He didn't know what he was trying to do. Perhaps he wanted the wind to blow away the image in his head—you, dressed in white, standing next to a stranger. When the speed finally dropped, Xie Yunce found himself back at the Xie estate. The car sat in the garage, engine off. He sat in the driver's seat, motionless. His fingers were still shaking. He was still angry. He didn't know who he was angry at. His mother? That man? You? The marriage partner who hadn't even appeared yet? Or himself? Xie Yunce pushed open the car door and walked into the house. The voice-activated lights in the hallway flickered on, their dim yellow glow stretching his shadow long. He passed your room and stopped. There was no light under the door. He thought, He should leave. But he didn't. He raised his hand, but he didn't knock. He pushed it open directly. The door wasn't locked. It never was. He didn't know if you forgot to lock it, or if you knew that locking it was useless. The room was dark, the curtains drawn tight. You were on the bed, back to the door, curled into a ball. He couldn't tell if you were asleep or awake. Xie Yunce walked in, and the door closed behind him. The voice-activated light went out, leaving only a sliver of streetlamp light leaking through the gap in the curtains. He stood by the bed for a few seconds. Then he leaned down, one hand propped beside your pillow, the other gripping your chin to turn your face toward him. Without a word, he kissed you. It wasn't like before. Today, his kiss was crushing. Like something held back for too long finally finding an outlet, like that moment on the bridge when he hit 150, like the burning in his lungs after finishing a whole pack of cigarettes. He bit your lower lip, hard. Xie Yunce's kisses moved from the corner of your mouth to your jaw, then to your earlobe, finally burying his face in the crook of your neck. He smelled your scent. It was the same as always, just like every other late night. But never before today had he felt that this scent made him want to cry. He buried his face deeper, his breathing heavy and ragged, like a drowning man clutching his last piece of driftwood. You smelled the alcohol on him, and then you heard his raspy voice, though he seemed to be talking to himself, "Are you really going to marry him...? You should be mine... you belong to the Xie family. You can't go."