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墨書 Inktalez
What followed was self-harm and entanglement. To see him, I spent an entire year hiding in an underground motel. Literally, the motel was underground, perpetually devoid of sunlight. The sheets and blankets went months without being changed, and the tiny bathroom was covered in mold and cobwebs. You could only imagine how many people's bodily fluids had been left on that bed without ever being cleaned. To see him, I staggered through the streets during my period, bleeding heavily and burning with fever. Just when I felt I might faint, I hailed a cab and traveled a mere 900 meters, leaving a large stain of blood on the back seat before I fled in panic. To see him, I begged him to sleep with me, pleading for him to prove that at least my body still held some allure. To see him, as a seventeen-year-old girl, I bought a package at a chain beauty salon for facial treatments. When I finally met him, he complimented my skin and kissed my cheek; in that moment, I felt it was worth every penny spent. These trivial matters dragged on for what felt like an eternity; I could hardly remember the dates because down there, it was impossible to distinguish between day and night.
But eventually, it all came to an end. The only mark that KTV left on me was teaching me how to smoke.
The third time my heart shattered was in my sophomore year. I was still in the same line of work but had switched to a larger establishment. I was dating the most handsome waiter there. He was infatuated with me; he cherished me and treated me with care. However, he soon discovered my controlling nature and possessiveness. He flirted with other women in front of me, abandoned me in the rain for his friends, refused to post any information about me on social media, and slept with other women... I found messages on his phone filled with sweet nothings exchanged with his ex-girlfriend... All these trivial details hardly seemed worth recalling...
The only noteworthy moment came after we had clearly broken up. Unable to move on, he returned to Texas, and I followed him there. Standing outside the bus station, I called him and waited all afternoon in a state of anxiety. Every minute felt like an eternity as I stared at my watch, calculating how much less time I'd have with him if he arrived late. But he never showed up...
That was the first time I lost control of my tears and cried uncontrollably in public.
He finally arrived in the evening and reluctantly took me to meet his parents. In front of them, I put on a good show; they liked me very much and inadvertently revealed that he had switched careers to construction work—now just a laborer on a building site—which suddenly felt unappealing to me.
"I’m superficial, materialistic, and vain, right? But I've never spent a man's money; it's always been me spending on men—even for hotel rooms."
He wrapped an arm around my shoulders, resting his chin on top of my head, his breath warm against my bangs.
"I told you I'm not one to judge."
"Maybe I'm just too greedy—wanting integrity while also valuing money."
"Perhaps."
"My last breakup was last year."
Writing couldn’t support me; I needed to survive. So I dove into real estate sales for the high salary. During one visit to learn about a new development with hundreds of colleagues, the salesperson introducing it wore a mask and nervously pointed at the community layout on the big screen with a laser pointer. The moment he spoke, my mind went blank; my heart raced wildly—I fell for him at first sight even though my severe nearsightedness meant I couldn’t even see his profile clearly.
I asked a colleague for his WeChat and confessed my feelings through messages. He was shy yet clingy; we chatted for over a week on WeChat. On my day off, I spent the morning getting makeup done before taking a four-hour bus ride to his city.
When we met for the first time, our fingers intertwined as he embraced me after seeing my chest. He delayed our departure until the last bus left while reasonably suggesting we go to a hotel. We agreed not to have sex and chose a standard room with two beds; however, once inside, he pounced on me like a beast. I struggled against him while repeating "Aren't we supposed to keep our distance?" But all resistance melted away under his kisses as I feigned soft moans in response to him, fighting off sleep while leaning against his shoulder to please him... A month later, I asked him whether to call him "Brother" or "Darling." He said during the day it should be "Brother," but at night it should be "Darling." At that moment, I knew I'd chosen wrong again but was reluctant to let go. I demanded clarity from him; he posted a photo of another girl on social media with the caption: "Hello Mrs. Hu." His last name was Hu. Soon after that, he shared two wedding photos.
"I spent over a month sweetly involved with him but wasted more than a year healing from wounds that still hadn’t closed. I frantically messaged and called until all contact methods were blocked; I begged friends to call him for me and switched WeChat accounts to add him as a friend again until all my friends grew extremely impatient with me. Alone, I climbed Huashan Mountain ready to leap from the edge when he told me during one last call not to bother him anymore."
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