Chapter Seventeen: A Meeting on the Southern Side

Liu Jingye hurriedly chased after them, but the figures from earlier were nowhere to be seen. All his life, nothing unsettled him more than seeing a woman cry, but being deceived was even worse. Women these days had become such enigmas—he’d just sent Yuan Xiaoying off, and now he’d been tricked by another inexplicable woman. Shaking his head with a wry smile, he muttered, “What a fateful disaster with women, a veritable curse of romance!”

He’d lost his appetite, so he packed up his food, grabbed a stack of beers, settled the bill for two tables, and left feeling utterly frustrated. “Have women today abandoned all sense of propriety? Or is this just the way of the world now?” Back at the inn, he gulped his beer and muttered gloomily, feeling more and more out of step with the times. “No wonder they say, ‘If life is tolerable, then dignity is bound to shatter into pieces.’”

After drinking his way through a dozen beers and feeling pleasantly tipsy, his phone suddenly rang. He answered absentmindedly, and on the other end was a noisy commotion, as if the call was on speaker with many voices chattering at once. He recognized Yuan Xiaoying’s embarrassed voice, “Why on earth are you calling him now?”

A girlfriend of Yuan Xiaoying’s jeered, “The bride and groom can’t see each other, but a phone call is fine! Let’s hear how you two express your longing.” Amidst the teasing and laughter, Yuan Xiaoying seemed to get into character. She spoke into the phone, speaker still on, “What are you doing?”

Liu Jingye, already somewhat drunk and contemplating the broken pieces of dignity and a life that was merely ‘tolerable,’ replied immediately, “Nothing.”

The other end fell silent for a moment, then she asked again, “I’m asking you, what are you doing?”

“I heard you. I’m not doing anything!”

Yuan Xiaoying was completely taken aback. His answers weren’t making any sense. Was he having second thoughts?

On Liu Jingye’s end, however, he was grinning slyly. Suddenly, he asked, “Why not come over here later?”

Yuan Xiaoying sounded puzzled, “Why should I come over?”

Liu Jingye replied, “Sure!”

What kind of nonsense was this? Yuan Xiaoying felt a headache brewing, her breathing growing heavier. At that moment, one of her girlfriends whispered something in her ear, chattering away. After listening, Yuan Xiaoying flew into a rage, cursed him as a scoundrel, then hung up.

Liu Jingye burst out laughing. This lack of dignity was actually rather delightful—at least it was entertaining. And so, with three parts drunkenness and seven parts amusement, Liu Jingye happily drifted into sleep, enjoying the most restful and sweet night he’d had in years.

For as long as he could remember, he’d never been so at ease. His mind was always on high alert, even when sleeping, for death could strike at any moment. But lately, things had changed. His vigilance was waning, perhaps because of the women who’d appeared in his life. Even though Yuan Xiaoying was driven by her own motives, she’d brought color and change to Liu Jingye’s monotonous existence. Where once his world was black and white, now it was tinged with unexpected hues, all because of women.

Sleeping so soundly for once, he overslept—something that hadn’t happened in years, as if he were making up for all the missed rest. When he finally opened his eyes, it was already past eleven the next morning.

His phone was vibrating wildly on the bedside table, nearly out of battery from all the missed calls. Still groggy, he answered, and Yuan Xiaoying’s angry voice immediately blasted through: “Where the hell have you been? Why are you only answering now?”

If I were dead, I couldn’t answer the phone… Liu Jingye grunted and replied in a ghostly tone, “Thank you for calling the Netherworld Hotline. For the King of Hell, press one. For Judge Cui, press two. For the Black and White Ghosts, press three. Press the star key to return to the previous menu. To return to the living, hang up now!”

Yuan Xiaoying was furious. “Cut the crap! Get over here—there’s only an hour left until the wedding starts.”

“The wedding?” Liu Jingye sobered up instantly, surprised. “Isn’t it tomorrow?”

Yuan Xiaoying hesitated for a moment, her earlier bravado gone. She replied meekly, “I got the date wrong…”

Liu Jingye was speechless. Then again, considering Yuan Xiaoying’s home was like a garbage dump and she hadn’t noticed her gun was missing, it wasn’t surprising she’d forget her own wedding date.

“Enough talk, just get over here. The first floor lobby of the Xinyi Hotel,” Yuan Xiaoying urged anxiously. If not for her girlfriend’s reminder last night, and relatives and friends gradually arriving, she really would have missed the date.

“This is cutting it close. I haven’t prepared anything,” Liu Jingye replied with a wry smile.

“There’s nothing you need to prepare—just show up,” Yuan Xiaoying urged.

Liu Jingye chuckled, “If only it were really that simple.”

At those words, both of them fell silent. Yes, it was all just a charade, but this was a wedding—the most significant event in a person’s life—yet it was fake. A bitter feeling crept into their hearts.

But Yuan Xiaoying gritted her teeth and said, “The wedding must go on. If you perform well, it might not just be an act.”

Not just an act? Liu Jingye was bewildered. He didn’t know how he felt about that, but Yuan Xiaoying was eager to get through this crisis. “Hurry over. I’ll wait for you on the south side of the hotel parking lot. We need to rehearse our lines so we don’t slip up.”

“Alright,” Liu Jingye replied, then added, “I’ll find you in the men’s restroom…”

Suddenly realizing, he exclaimed, “The men’s room? Can you go in there?”

“South side! South, six o’clock direction!” Yuan Xiaoying shouted.