Qu Hua, however, did not rush to do anything as he usually would. Slowly, he traced the outline of Mu Jing's entire body over her clothes, his eyes never leaving hers.
The last time Mu Jing visited him, before she left, he gave her a large travel bag—one he had intended to send to her but never did.
Time was too tight; they didn’t even share an embrace. He helped carry her luggage and accompanied her onto the bus heading to the train station. At the station, he escorted her onto the train, settled her luggage, and then quickly stepped off. Standing outside, he gazed intently at Mu Jing’s face, but before he could take a clear look, the train started moving.
He kept tracing Mu Jing’s body with his fingers, as if his fingers held more memory than his eyes. He traced slowly, as if only through such slowness could he truly remember.
Mu Jing tilted her head back slightly, the scrutiny in her eyes eventually overshadowed by desire. For a moment, she even forgot the question she had been pondering.
She seemed to become aware of her own longing and turned her face away, saying to Qu Hua, "You’re too tired today. Let me draw a bath for you." He hadn’t rested since boarding the train; even if she had needs, he wouldn’t have the energy today.
As soon as Mu Jing entered the bathroom, Qu Hua followed. He locked the door and began unbuttoning her clothes. Mu Jing grasped his hand, saying, "Let’s rest early."
"I still have the energy to bathe you."
"I already bathed before you returned."
"But you’ve touched the sweat on me."
Qu Hua meant what he said—he only helped her bathe. He was far gentler with Mu Jing than with himself.
His fingers were remarkably expressive. Though naturally left-handed, both his hands were equally dexterous. The bathroom light seemed softer than outside, and in Mu Jing’s eyes, Qu Hua was gentle—gentle in tormenting her, making her suffer. He teased her with his fingers, constantly tempting her yet refusing to grant satisfaction, as if delighting in watching her struggle with desire. The more she suffered, the more pleased he seemed. Facing Qu Hua, Mu Jing braced herself against the wall with both hands, water streaming down her face. She lifted her head, her eyes misty. Qu Hua rested his head against her chin, his fingers sensing her body heat. "You’ve missed me, haven’t you?"
"Just as much as you’ve missed me."
If he missed her, she missed him; if he didn’t, she didn’t either.
Mu Jing didn’t let Qu Hua ask further, rising on her toes to kiss his lips.
Qu Hua reserved his limited small talk for his father-in-law, skillfully posing questions to give Old Fang room to shine. In Old Fang’s eyes, he was a rare and good son-in-law. In the presence of parents, they seldom spoke, leaving most conversations to others, occasionally exchanging glances before quickly looking away. Qu Hua only discussed serious matters with Mu Jing. He still consulted her on questions in bed as he used to, his body language far more expressive than his words. For the first time, Mu Jing realized that a person’s fingers alone could convey so many emotions. Qu Hua never explicitly asked her to stay, but through his body, she felt his silent plea for her to remain.
Old Fang did not take his daughter away, yet he felt little regret. He saw the sharp edge re-emerge in her—the same edge that had defined her youth. Mu Jing said she was doing well now, and he believed it must be true.After seeing her parents off, the department received quotas for publicly-funded academic visits. Without consulting Qu Hua, Mu Jing submitted her application. No matter what, she was determined to go—she wanted to see what her international counterparts were working on, identify the gaps, and catch up. She also knew she would definitely be selected.
This academic visit would last at least a year. Mu Jing had a feeling that one year wouldn’t be enough for her; she might stay longer. She wasn’t sure if Qu Hua would be willing to wait for her return. Since their marriage, they had spent very little time together, and now she was about to go to a place unreachable by train. For most of their married life, Qu Hua had only had a wife in name. There were few reasons for their marriage to continue, while reasons for divorce were plentiful.
But she didn’t want to divorce Qu Hua.
Mu Jing hadn’t told Qu Hua that she had already applied for an academic visit to the United States.
Outside of work, Mu Jing revived her skill of making soup dumplings, something she had only done twice right after marrying Qu Hua. Now, she started making them again on weekends. Besides dumplings, she also prepared elaborate soups for Qu Hua. The first time she made soup, she got lost in thought and forgot about the time. The soup looked presentable, so she packed it in a thermal container and brought it to Qu Hua. He lowered his head and drank it quickly. When Doctor Zhao, who was on duty, saw his colleague’s wife bringing food again, he recalled the soup dumplings she had brought before and couldn’t help but glance over a few more times. Mu Jing had made plenty of soup, so she invited Doctor Zhao to help himself. Doctor Zhao shamelessly brought over his lunch box and asked her to ladle him a spoonful. As soon as the soup touched his lips, his expression changed.
But Mu Jing had already filled an entire bowl for him—he couldn’t just throw it away. Watching his colleague drink the soup without any sign of discomfort, Doctor Zhao felt a renewed sense of admiration. Qu Hua not only managed to swallow it but also asked Mu Jing questions while drinking. Although their conversation was entirely proper, Doctor Zhao sensed something else in the air. He noticed Mu Jing blushing, though he couldn’t pinpoint what in their exchange would cause such a reaction. The way their eyes met made him feel he should give them some privacy.
Mu Jing didn’t notice Doctor Zhao’s struggle to swallow the soup. She was too focused on answering Qu Hua’s question—the same one that had been interrupted in bed two days ago, a memory that now surfaced whenever she thought of it.
Doctor Zhao didn’t take a second spoonful and left with his bowl.
In the past, no matter how intimate Mu Jing and Qu Hua were in the bedroom, outside, they would even feel awkward sharing a spoon. Mu Jing snatched Qu Hua’s spoon and took a sip herself. It was unexpectedly awful.
Qu Hua, as if he had lost his sense of taste, said it wasn’t bad.
Mu Jing told him to stop drinking it.
Qu Hua smiled at her, “Didn’t you make this for me? Can’t I drink it?”
Mu Jing took his bowl away, “Next time, you can have more.”
Qu Hua, unwilling to waste food, helped himself to another bowl. Mu Jing, in a way, reaped what she had sown—the soup left its bitter taste on Qu Hua’s lips, and though she didn’t drink it, she ended up tasting the bitterness all the same.
Since Qu Hua returned from his aid mission, his colleagues had noticed some changes in him, though they couldn’t quite put their finger on what exactly. He seemed to work even harder, and everyone in the department admired Doctor Qu. Even when his wife visited, they discussed topics like medical statistics.
When autumn arrived, the list for academic visits was announced, and Mu Jing was on it.This was something Mu Jing had anticipated, and her joy was tempered with calm.
By now, she felt she absolutely had to tell Qu Hua.
Mu Jing hadn’t expected to see Qu Hua at the school gate. It was rare for him to finish work earlier than her, and even when he did, it was only after pulling an all-nighter that he managed a brief break. When she spotted him, she instinctively smiled and quickened her pace, not wanting to keep him waiting.
A colleague came over to congratulate Mu Jing on making the visiting scholar list. Mu Jing reflexively said thank you. She didn’t check Qu Hua’s expression, already certain he wouldn’t be pleased.
Yet Qu Hua said nothing. He took Mu Jing out to eat, ordering dishes that perfectly suited her tastes, but she had no appetite to savor the chef’s skills. After the meal, he invited her to a symphony concert—tickets were hard to come by, available only through internal sales. Throughout the entire performance, Qu Hua never once brought up Mu Jing’s upcoming visit.
Mu Jing waited for him to ask, but he never did.
In Qu Hua’s pocket was the key to their new home, allocated by his workplace and handed over ahead of schedule. Along with the key, he had prepared to give her his savings—enough to furnish the empty apartment decently.
But in the end, Qu Hua gave Mu Jing neither the key nor the money.
Before formally informing Qu Hua about her studies abroad, Mu Jing had hoped to build up enough emotional reserves between them to withstand the separation. Now, she wasn’t sure if they had managed to accumulate enough.
They walked along the road under a deep blue night sky, sparsely dotted with stars.
Mu Jing reached for Qu Hua’s hand, but when he didn’t respond, she let hers fall back into her pocket.
Qu Hua pulled out a cigarette case, lit one, and smoke veiled half his face, making it hard for Mu Jing to see him clearly.
He hadn’t smoked in front of her for a long time. Mu Jing felt a cough rising but stifled it, covering her mouth. She looked up at the night sky.
"You’ll wait for me, won’t you?" It wasn’t "Will you wait for me?"—superficially a question, but in tone, a statement.
"I’m tired of waiting." He couldn’t help a bitter smile. What had he done to make Mu Jing think he was someone with the patience to wait, not just once, but over and over?
Then he asked her, "Fang Mu Jing, what do you take me for?" There was no resentment in his voice, only a flatness so devoid of emotion it was barely audible. He could accept being her stepping stone in times of hardship, but he refused to be her backdrop now.
"You’re my husband."
"That can change at any time. Don’t feel morally obligated—I was the one who proposed." He had proposed to her. She needed him, but she hadn’t begged him to marry her. Even if she had used him, it was his own choice, and he was fully capable of owning up to it.
"But I want it to stay that way forever." Mu Jing plucked the cigarette from Qu Hua’s lips, stood on her toes, and kissed him. In that moment, Qu Hua seemed to see again the arrogant, defiant Fang Mu Jing from years past.Under the sparse night sky, cicadas chirped. People could be seen on the distant road, and patrol teams were making their rounds. Couples engaging in improper relationships were key targets for inspection—even if they were married, someone like Mu Jing would be pulled aside for re-education. Yet Mu Jing paid no attention to anyone else. She cupped Qu Hua’s face, licked his lips, and tried to pry them open. She held him tightly, trying to feel his body warmth.
Qu Hua straightened her shoulders, trying to keep some distance between them. "Are you really that desperate?"
Mu Jing looked at him with a provocative gaze. "Don’t tell me you’re not?"
Qu Hua found the person before him both unfamiliar and familiar. The first time he had seen her expression in that monthly magazine, he had disliked it. Mu Jing slipped her hand into Qu Hua’s pocket, forcefully intertwining her fingers with his.
They arrived at the newly assigned apartment Qu Hua had received. The place was new but still unfinished, with bare concrete walls. Qu Hua didn’t tell Mu Jing it was his place. He pressed her against the door, tugging at her half-skirt. Mu Jing turned her head to kiss his mouth, and Qu Hua bit her lip until it hurt.
Pressed tightly together, Mu Jing asked, "Can we go home? I don’t want to be here." There were no contraceptives available here—she couldn’t afford to get pregnant.
She didn’t voice the latter thought, but Qu Hua understood. He remembered the lies she had told him before—that she only wanted to live with him and didn’t want children.
He wasn’t the kind of person to use the excuses she had given him in difficult times to humiliate her now. He released her. "Get dressed. I’ll take you back."
He turned away and lit another cigarette. Pulling a savings passbook from his pocket, he thought there was no need to renovate the apartment now. He handed her the passbook, telling her to exchange it for U.S. dollars and use the money. After all they had been through as a couple, this was all he could give her.
Mu Jing looked at the passbook and said, "Keep it for yourself."
"It’s not much when converted to dollars. I have a monthly salary anyway." He had meant to tell her to take care, but he felt she would surely look after herself—there was no need for such empty words.
Unmistakable hope shone in Mu Jing’s eyes. "You’ll wait for me to come back, won’t you?"
"I want a normal married life." When she was struggling, he could accommodate her. But now that her difficulties were long past, he was tired of being a dispensable presence in their marriage.
Qu Hua fastened her buttons for her, maintaining his distance the entire time.
Ever since he learned she was going abroad for an academic visit, it felt as though something had come between them.
"If you were going abroad for work, I would wait for you. I would wait for you forever."
"I know. Even if we didn’t see each other for three to five years, you’d find it acceptable. If your colleague hadn’t told me, when were you planning to let me know? The day you left?" They weren’t the same as before. At the very least, she should have hesitated now. If she had asked him to help her choose between staying and going abroad, he might even have advised her to choose the latter. But she hadn’t given him that chance. She only made decisions and then informed him.She could endure it—there was nothing she couldn't endure. Her heart had long hardened like stone, as if nothing could move her. Even if he didn't marry her, even if life grew harder, she could have persisted until today. She had never once thought of death, not even once. But with him, it was ultimately different. Mu Jing ruminated on these words—which day? She wanted to wait until the day he couldn't live without her to tell him. On that day, even if he resented or blamed her, he would still wait for her. That day—she actually had no idea when it would come.
Qu Hua opened the door for Mu Jing and asked her to leave, offering to walk her home. Mu Jing closed the door again, wrapped her arms around him from behind, and confirmed once more, "You'll wait for me."
She stubbornly refused to phrase it as a question. Even her plea carried a tone of pride, almost like a curse: "Everything others can give you, I'll be able to give you in the future. What others cannot give you, I can give you too. You'll never find anyone better than me."
Though much weaker than Qu Hua in strength, she held him tightly now, refusing to let him go, repeating over and over, "You'll wait for me."
Mu Jing asked again and again but never received an answer. She closed her eyes, letting tears stream down. As they slid onto Qu Hua's neck, her embrace loosened slightly. Just as she was on the verge of giving up, Qu Hua suddenly grasped her hand, turned his face, and kissed the tears on her cheeks.
She didn't say "You'll wait for me" again.
She knew he would definitely wait for her.
OpenNovel