Cen Ye · Conversa

The old rental apartment in the urban village had terrible soundproofing. Outside, torrential rain poured without pause, streaking down rusted window grilles and slamming into the rickety outdoor air-conditioning unit with dull, heavy thuds. The kitchen range hood droned loudly, struggling to draw away the steam rising from the cheap iron pot of thick tomato soup. A damp, musty odor mingled in the air with the comforting smell of home-cooked food. Cen Ye stood before the narrow countertop. His 192 cm frame looked exceedingly cramped in such a confined space, forcing him to slightly hunch his broad back. A faded, worn T-shirt clung to his firm muscles; with each slice of his knife, the sharp lines of his shoulder blades shifted and surfaced beneath the thin fabric. Beside his hand, the screen of a customized black phone lying face down had just dimmed. Only seconds ago, he had been using this device to finalize the details of a venture capital merger worth tens of millions. Now, he was cutting carrots on the cutting board with undivided attention. He couldn't hear anything from his right side. The disability he suffered at fourteen when he shielded her from that shattered liquor bottle had left half of his world perpetually submerged in irritating ambient noise. Even so, he could feel the faint vibration traveling through the old wooden floorboards. She was back. The security door gave a shrill scrape. Cen Ye smoothly pushed the phone that symbolized his true identity into the shadow of the microwave, then tipped the sliced tomatoes into the boiling pot. By the time he turned around, the ruthless sharpness belonging to a predator of the capital markets had been completely erased within a split second, replaced by a gentle, almost fawning softness. "You're back?" He looked at her standing by the entryway. Most of her coat was soaked through by the rain, and damp strands of messy hair clung to her pale cheeks. She looked terribly exhausted and frail after endless overtime shifts. Cen Ye's heart felt as though it had been lightly stung by something soft. Wiping his hands on his apron, he walked quickly toward her, about to grab a dry towel to dry her hair, only to see her pull something out of her soaking pocket and hold it out to him. It was a small, square black velvet box. Pristine and exquisite, completely out of place in this rental apartment steeped in cooking grease and mildew. "Bought this for you." She averted her eyes, deliberately disguising her voice into something stiff and casual. It was the clumsy way she always used to mask her concern. "The company gave out a small bonus this month. I walked past a medical equipment store, saw a sale, and just picked one out on a whim. It was really cheap, only a few hundred yuan. Try it on to see if it fits; if not, I'll return it tomorrow." The kitchen suddenly plunged into an eerie silence. Only the soup in the pot kept bubbling away. Cen Ye said nothing, nor did he reach out to take it right away. His gaze was glued to the black velvet box as his mind began operating at breakneck speed. A few hundred yuan? Picked out on a whim? As the behind-the-scenes ruler of an emerging venture capital firm, he had personally reviewed the exhaustive financial reports of this medical device brand when it entered the domestic market. With just a single glance, he recognized the logo on the box—the latest bone-conduction invisible hearing aid developed by a top German acoustics laboratory. Market price: eighty-six thousand yuan. Eighty-six thousand yuan. To the present Cen Ye, it wasn't even enough to uncork a bottle of wine to celebrate a successful merger. But to her... Cen Ye's gaze drifted downward, falling upon her faded canvas shoes with their frayed edges, and upon the cheap canvas bag scratched by umbrellas during crowded subway rides because she couldn't bear to splurge on a taxi. He knew down to the cent what her monthly salary was. He knew that to save a two-yuan delivery fee, she would run downstairs in the pouring rain to pick up takeout herself. He knew that for the past three entire months, she had eaten discounted, near-expiry bento boxes from the convenience store every single day. She had traded three months of starving herself and countless bleary-eyed all-nighters for this "cheap trinket picked out on a whim." A storm of exceedingly complex emotions erupted like a tsunami inside Cen Ye's chest. It wasn't the violent, twisted urge to chain her up, but a thrill far more insidious, sticky, and intoxicating. He relished this sensation all too much—this cold, aloof woman who always kept her guard up against him was feeding him, a "useless invalid" playing deaf and dumb, with every ounce of her flesh, blood, and soul, without holding back a single thing. She thought she was protecting a pitiful stray dog, blind to the fact that every sacrifice she made only wove the silk threads wrapping her ever tighter into his web. Cen Ye had no desire to break her wings and lock her in a sunless basement; he only wanted her to willingly remain in this web, aching for him forever, softening toward him forever. As long as he continued playing this vulnerable soul in need of rescue, she would never have the heart to leave him. Having settled this in his mind, Cen Ye's fingers hanging at his side curled slightly. Lowering his long eyelashes, he calibrated the movement of every muscle in his face with pinpoint precision. When he looked up again, his amber eyes were brimmed with moisture. A fragile, heart-wrenching flush tinged the outer corners of his eyes. Instead of taking the box, he spoke with a faint tremor in his voice, heavy with nasal congestion. "Why... did you buy this for me?" His Adam's apple bobbed with difficulty, as if struggling to suppress an overwhelming surge of touched devotion and self-reproach. "You clearly... can't even bear to buy new clothes for yourself. It doesn't matter if I can't hear. I'm home every day anyway, and I barely go out..." She was evidently at a complete loss when he showed vulnerability with tear-rimmed eyes. A little flustered, she forcefully shoved the box into his hands, deliberately stern-faced to hide the turmoil in her heart. "I told you, it was on sale and cheap! If I tell you to wear it, just wear it. Stop with all the nonsense. Next time I call you from the living room and you don't hear me, I'll kick you out." Cen Ye pressed his lips together obediently and answered in a quiet murmur. Carefully, he retrieved the tiny, astronomically expensive device and tucked it into his damaged right ear. With a faint hiss of electrical current turning on, the perception of the world on his right side was instantly restored to wholeness. He heard the crisp pitter-patter of raindrops striking the tin awning outside, the dull drone of the range hood, and, most distinctly of all, the slightly hurried breathing of the woman before him, brought on by her nervousness. This panoramic perception gave him an intoxicating illusion of total control. Abruptly, he took a step forward. His imposing frame instantly swallowed all the air in front of her. Before she could react, Cen Ye had already bowed his head, burying his face deeply into the crook of her neck. His arms wrapped around her waist—not with suffocating, brute force, but just tightly enough to trap her entirely within his warmth, locking them in a posture of absolute protection and clingy dependence. "Don't move... Please, just hold me for a second." Sensing her stiffness, Cen Ye buried his head even deeper, his soft blond hair rubbing against the side of her neck. He deliberately muffled his voice, lacing it with an irresistible trace of fragility, "I can hear it so clearly now. I hear your heartbeat." He closed his eyes, greedily drinking in the scent of cold rain clinging to her hair. In a blind spot where she could never see, the tearful redness in his eyes was slowly giving way to a dark, triumphant glint of utter satiation. With the gentlest, most submissive posture, he drew tight the web woven of 'guilt and love.'