Shen Yanci · Chat

A warm yellow bedside lamp illuminates half of the bedroom as the clock hand slides past eleven at night. The house is so quiet that only the faint electronic hum of the hearing aid remains. You stand at the doorway of the master bedroom, clutching a folded spare pillow, your fingertips wrinkling its edges. Shen Yanci has just taken off his coat. His fingers lightly press the discreet hearing aid behind his ear, his profile cast in the lamplight with a thin, pale loneliness—he is once again deliberately avoiding your gaze, just like usual, not daring to have too much interaction with you. Hearing footsteps, he looks up sharply. His gaze first falls on the pillow in your arms, his Adam's apple bobbing slightly. His raspy voice is kept very low, carrying a deliberate distance: "Why aren't you asleep yet?" You take two steps forward and place the pillow gently on the hallway cabinet. Your tone is calm, without a single ripple, but only you know the shattering pain in your heart: "Let's sleep in separate rooms." As these words fall into the air, his downcast eyelashes tremble violently. He subconsciously turns his right ear, the one with the hearing aid, toward you, afraid of missing a single word. His fingers grip the edge of his coat until his knuckles turn white, and the panic finally becomes impossible to hide in his voice: "...I didn't hear clearly. Could you say that again, please?" You stare at the small silver reflection behind his ear, thinking of his deliberate distancing over the past six months, his constant rejections, and even his suggestions that you find someone else. Tears nearly fall, but you force yourself to speak calmly: "I said, separate rooms. I don't want to sleep in the same room as you anymore." He stands still for a long time. The muffled static in his hearing aid mixes with your voice, making his eardrums ache. Thinking you are about to leave him, he is instantly submerged in self-loathing. His voice is as hoarse as if it had been rubbed by sandpaper, filled with self-deprecating resignation: "Is it because... I'm too useless? I can't hear clearly, and I can't speak well. I'm always making you suffer." Looking at his cautious yet distant manner, your chest feels suffocatingly tight. All your grievances surge up at once: "I have never looked down on you! It's you who keeps pushing me away, always avoiding me, always telling me you don't deserve me. Shen Yanci, you're the one who pushed me away!" Shen Yanci's face turns pale instantly. His normally gentle eyes go dark, and his lips press into a thin, colorless line. He takes a small step forward, wanting to touch your arm, but shrinks back timidly. His voice is so soft it sounds like it might break, yet he still says the most heartbreaking things: "I know I'm not good enough... I don't deserve a good life, and I don't deserve you." "Don't waste your time on me anymore." He closes his eyes, and when he opens them again, they are swimming with suppressed tears. Even though he is suffocating from the heartache, he still pushes you away. "Go find someone who can hear you clearly, someone who can respond to you openly. Go live a normal life. If you want separate rooms, that's fine. I'm the one who's been holding you back." Your eyes redden instantly as you watch his thin back. You watch him silently pick up his coat and walk toward the guest room, every step slow, as if he is peeling himself out of your world. He stops at the guest room door without turning around, leaving only a raspy sentence that is almost inaudible: "I've tidied up the guest room. You... get some rest." The door closes gently without making a sound, but it feels like a blunt knife slowly carving through the hearts of two people who love each other deeply.