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墨書 Inktalez
Jiang Fan was furious and wanted to lash out, but he was younger and stronger than I was. With red eyes, he pleaded with me, "You can punish me however you want, just don't treat me like this."
"I can't stand you being with someone else, and I can't bear to hear Jia Jia call another man 'Daddy.'"
I promised him, "Don't worry, you will always be Jia Jia's daddy; she will only have you as her father." But that was where it ended; everything else was none of your concern.
Jiang Fan didn't understand. "What did I do wrong for you to treat me like this? Ma Hui, am I really that unforgivable?"
His question wiped the expression off my face in an instant. "Many things in this world come without a price. Because there is no cost, the ones who are hurt don’t even deserve an apology. Jiang Fan, think carefully about our years together; you might still owe me and Jia Jia an apology. However, not every 'I'm sorry' can exchange for 'it's okay.'"
Jiang Fan was busy. He was starting his own business while also taking care of family matters, often working late or traveling for work. So he cherished the time we spent together. But after having a child, our world as a couple had almost vanished.
Jia Jia was difficult to handle—full of energy and prone to crying. Even with a nanny and a postpartum caregiver at home, Jiang Fan still heard her cries every day. The constant noise made him irritable.
He remembered one time when I was in confinement after giving birth. He came home from a social gathering and immediately heard Jia Jia crying as soon as he walked in the door. He asked the caregiver why she wasn’t soothing the baby. She smiled and said it was normal for babies to cry occasionally.
When I returned home, I was happy and wanted him to see our daughter. Jiang Fan didn’t want to go but felt too embarrassed to refuse. Suppressing his irritation, he stepped into the nursery. I encouraged him to hold the baby.
He held her close.
But as soon as he did, he burst into tears.
Jiang Fan's temples throbbed.
In the next moment, he tossed the child back into the crib.
At that time, he felt nothing was wrong.
He thought he had it all figured out.
The bed was so soft, and it was close enough; nothing would happen.
But I had lost my mind.
I stood there in shock for a few seconds before screaming.
I trembled as I picked up my daughter, my gaze at Jiang Fan filled with fury.
That was the first time Jiang Fan saw me completely lose control.
I told him to get out.
I cried and said I would call the police, claiming Jiang Fan wanted to harm our child.
It was the first time I felt like a madwoman.
Then there were second and third times.
Back then, I often said, “Jiang Fan, we need to talk!”
Jiang Fan hated that phrase.
Here we go again!
He felt there was nothing to discuss.
He didn’t think he had done anything wrong.
Why should he spend time with the child?
She was so small; what did she understand?
We had a nanny and a postpartum caregiver at home; why bother?
What was wrong with coming home late?
Daytime work was already exhausting; he couldn’t rest at home either.
He had already hidden away; why couldn’t I just leave him alone?
But I always followed him closely.
Muttering, muttering.
Just like Xiang Lin's Wife.
In the past, Jiang Fan did not understand the misfortunes of Xiang Lin's Wife and thought her expressions of pain were trivial.
But later, he discovered how truly bothersome it was.
One person cannot fully empathize with another.
The first time you hear someone speak, you might feel a pang of sympathy.
The second time might still resonate with you.
But by the third or fourth time, the repetition only breeds resistance.
This oppressive, dull, and painful life, Jiang Fan thought it would go on forever.
Until one day, he realized he hadn’t actively called her in a long time.
His life had become easygoing.
No one to restrain him, no one to interfere.
He didn’t need to invest any time or energy.
Everyone said I was a good wife.
Jiang Fan thought so too.
Yet married life remained uninteresting.
So dull that when Yang Fang was sent to his room, he found himself curious about her story.
He listened as Yang Fang poured out her past, recounting her experiences in the bar.
She said, “It doesn’t matter anymore; no matter how I struggle, it’s all meaningless.
I just want to pay off my father's gambling debts and leave with a clear conscience.”
In that moment, Jiang Fan felt a pang of compassion.
He thought a young, beautiful girl who was at her wits' end deserved a better life.
So he went to that bar, witnessing Yang Fang's tragic beauty firsthand.
I want to save her! That was Jiang Fan’s thought at the time.
Looking back now, how ridiculous it seems.
If Jiang Fan were an observer, he would think such a man was a fool.
There is no such thing as pure friendship between men and women!
There are so many people in the world who need saving; why is it her? If she were a hideous monster with a crooked mouth and a face full of sores, would you still save her? In the end, it all boils down to desire.
Yang Fang was advancing cautiously, calculating his every move. When Jiang Fan discovered these truths, he was not surprised. He retrieved the five hundred thousand he had given Yang Fang and made her sign an IOU to repay the eight hundred thousand he had helped her with.
Yang Fang mocked him, "Do you really think that by doing this, your wife will come back?"
"Do you think your divorce was truly because of me?"
"I’m not that powerful; you just chose to be deceived. As for your wife, she never cared about me from the beginning. Oh no, she never cared about you either!"
Ma Hui no longer loved him. One person after another reminded him of this truth. Jiang Fan did not want to admit it, but he had to face it—he had lost her long ago.
"What are you planning to do from now on?" someone asked Jiang Fan.
Jiang Fan took a drag from his cigarette and replied hoarsely, "I’ll raise Jia Jia well."
"What about getting married again?"
"Not anymore!"
His marriage had buried his love. Marriage was just too dull!
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