Chapter 69

Ye Qingshui lifted her head almost instantly to look at him.

Her hazy thoughts spread and drifted… finally settling on his cold, austere face.

Yes. In her previous life, at this point in time, Xie Tingjue had not yet returned to the Xie family.

“I want to say a few words to you. Would that be alright?”

Ye Qingshui glanced at him, then at Xie Tingyu, who followed close behind, frowning.

“You go back first. Big brother something to tell her,” Xie Tingjue said.

Xie Tingyu hesitated for a moment, then finally nodded. He took off his coat, wrapped it around Ye Qingshui’s shoulders, and urged:

“It’s too cold. Don’t stay out in the wind for too long.”

Xie Tingjue looked at her reddened eyes. His heart stirred, and a wave of guilt washed over him.

He said: “The man you saw in the capital—that was me.”

He paused, staring at her. The night wind gently lifted the fine strands of hair across her forehead, and in her clear eyes arose a faint, bewildered confusion.

“The divorce notice in the newspaper—I was the one who sent it.”

Her gaze froze, motionless.

“And the ‘Tingyu’ who came later—that was me as well.”

Ye Qingshui had been exhausted after the long day, and her emotions had fluctuated sharply. After walking through the cold wind all this way, her mind felt sluggish. But when she heard his words, her ears rang with a sudden “buzz,” as if the world had gone silent.

She thought numbly: What does he mean, ‘the later Tingyu was also me’…?

As if sinking into memories, Xie Tingjue spoke slowly:

“In 1978, the Xie family suffered many blows. First, Father was transferred. Then, both Grandfather and Grandmother passed away. Tingyu died in a car accident. At that time, I was just an ordinary man from the countryside. He asked me to take his place—attend university in his stead, continue his studies, and later, when the chance came…”

The northern wind howled in their ears, shaking the branches until they shivered, chilling the ears to the bone, freezing straight into the heart.

“It wasn’t that I meant to hide it from you. He was the one who didn’t want you to know. He was afraid it would be too hard for you to bear…”

Ye Qingshui’s ears roared from the cold wind, her head heavy, as though frozen solid.

Her whole body seemed locked in place, staring blankly at Xie Tingjue.

“If there’s still a chance, I want you to know the truth,” he said with deep feeling.

“When you were struggling, the money you received from a ‘boss’—that was from him. The shop and house you bought—he helped make up the difference. Even the master who later taught you—he had arranged for you…”

He hadn’t expected her to miscarry, nor that she would never remarry afterward, while Tingyu’s grave lay quietly among mountains and rivers, watching her from afar.

Hot tears welled in her eyes until she could no longer hold them back. She sobbed:

“I don’t believe you.”

Xie Tingjue said calmly:

“His grave is right next to your grandmother’s. Every year when you visited her tomb, you saw his too. In front of his grave stands a loquat tree, because for a time you loved eating loquats.”

At once, Ye Qingshui’s tears streamed down.

When she was eighteen and newly pregnant, suffering from morning sickness and unable to eat much, she craved the sour tang of loquats.

Xie Tingyu had brought her a whole bag. “Shuiya has become such a delicate girl now!”

After eating them, she had carefully buried the seeds in the yard.

“This tree is unlucky, Shuiya. Pull it up! Loquats aren’t planted like this.” Tingyu’s tone had dripped with distaste.

But hidden in his words was an allusion she understood: ‘In the courtyard there is a loquat tree, planted by my wife on the year she died. Now it has grown tall and flourishing…’

“But I like them,” she had muttered back stubbornly.

The man who once called the tree unlucky had planted one at his own grave.

Every Qingming Festival, after she swept her grandmother’s tomb, she would see the nameless grave beside it, where the loquats bore fruit year after year.

“He said… Ye Qingshui clings to things with all her heart. If she knew he had died, she would surely—”

“Stop…” Ye Qingshui covered her ears, begging.

“Stop it—”

“I don’t believe you!”

She ran. The frozen road was slippery, and she stumbled, falling hard.

Xie Tingjue hurried to help her up, offering her a handkerchief.

But she sat on the ground, hugging her knees, unable to stop crying.

“You made this up, didn’t you? To trick me, right?

How could he… how could he lie to me?

He’s just a faithless man—fickle, arrogant. When he returned to the capital, he must have had someone else, had children, lived a fine life…”

Her head throbbed as though being torn apart.

She remembered collapsing in a pool of blood, watching helplessly as it flowed from her body—by then, he had already left.

She remembered lying sick in bed, breaking out in sores through the summer heat—by then, he had already published the divorce notice.

She remembered traveling, spending all her savings just to reach him, finally finding him at his school—by then, he had only told her to go home.

Spring was bitter, summer stifling, winter freezing. Year after year she endured, while he climbed ever higher. How could such a man be lying forgotten in weeds, nothing but nameless bones?

Ye Qingshui wept until no sound came out, her chest heaving, ragged gasps scraping from her throat.

Xie Tingjue’s Adam’s apple moved; he spoke with difficulty:

“I didn’t tell you this to make you suffer.”

Ye Qingshui wiped her tears, her voice hoarse:

“What does rлю6люte6r mean?”

“You can ask Tingyu.”

Staggering, she returned to the house.

Xie Tingyu opened the door and saw her pale face streaked with tears. Startled, his heart flared with sudden anger.

“What did he say to you?”

Ye Qingshui clutched at his sleeve.

“What does rлю6люte6r mean?”

Xie Tingyu froze. After several seconds, he fell silent.

Ye Qingshui pressed again, her voice breaking with desperation:

“What does it mean?”

“…I love you.”

“What?”

“I love you.” Xie Tingyu’s ears turned red, his refined face flushing with embarrassment, as he awkwardly reached out to wipe away her tears.

“Why did you suddenly think of asking that? So all this time, you never knew what it meant… I’m sorry. If he really said something that hurt you, I’ll make it up to you.”

“What exactly did he say to you? Will you tell me?” Xie Tingyu’s tone carried a hint of nervousness.

He was even a little incoherent. Until tonight, Xie Tingyu had never realized that, in her heart, his image was so terrible.

That Ye Qingshui still cared so much about the words he had spoken back then.

In a daze, the scene of the first time Xie Tingyu had ever spoken those words surfaced in Ye Qingshui’s mind.

That day, Xie Tingyu had gone to the educated youth camp to give a lecture again. After class, several female educated youths surrounded him, chatting animatedly, showing off their knowledge and eloquence.

Ye Qingshui waited outside the door for a long time, until the birds flew back to the mountains, and the sun had set.

She waited until she cried.

“Why are you crying?”

“Do you think I’m stupid? I’m not as smart as He Fang, not as pretty as Sun Lingyu, not as cultured as Zhou Tingting.”

“Yes, you are stupid. rлю6люte6r.”

Back in the present, Ye Qingshui looked at Xie Tingyu before her. He frowned and asked, “What did Xie Tingjue say to you?”

Her tears burst forth like a breached dam.

After a long moment, Xie Tingyu finally said softly:

“Shui’er, don’t cry. When you cry, my whole heart falls into chaos.”

He cupped her face with his large hands, lowering his gaze to meet hers. For the first time, his expression softened with a gentleness she had never seen. In a low voice, he whispered:

“rлю6люte6r.”

“If your face gets swollen from crying, the relatives tomorrow will laugh at you. Shui’er, don’t cry, hmm? Let me fetch some water, wash your face?”

He quickly left the room, then returned upstairs carrying a basin of hot water.

He wrung out a warm towel and carefully wiped her face. His deep eyes held the vast gentleness of the sea, steady and calm.

With a sigh, Xie Tingyu said:

“It seems there really are a lot of problems between us.”

He continued evenly:

“Our marriage did begin as an accident. In the beginning, my attitude toward you was far from good. If I’ve been wrong, you can tell me, and I’ll do my best to change.”

His expression grew serious, but his gaze remained tender as he looked at her. Word by word, he said firmly:

“I truly like you. I sincerely see you as my wife, my partner for a lifetime.”

Ye Qingshui clutched the warm towel in her hands. His voice carried a soothing power, one that calmed her heart and drew her out from her painful memories—forcing her to face him, to truly look at him.

Her lips parted, and a hoarse whisper escaped:

“…Mm.”

A faint smile appeared on Xie Tingyu’s face. His eyes curved slightly at the corners.

“I knew it—Shui’er likes me too.”

Ye Qingshui let out a thick nasal sound, bit down, and forced out a muffled reply:

“You’re also the one I hate the most. I want a divorce.”

But after saying that, a smile bloomed on her face.

This marriage, born of disgrace and ending in bitter twists of fate, had always been her nightmare.

She had longed for a new beginning—leaving the mountains, finding herself. When she looked back on the decades-old marriage, thinking she had already understood and accepted it, someone suddenly appeared to say: “No—you’ve misunderstood all along.”

If everything could start over, then this marriage should also start over.

Legally, she was still just an unmarried girl.

Ye Qingshui blinked playfully at him.

Xie Tingyu’s eyelids twitched. Her bright expression did not lighten his heart. Holding her hand, he pleaded earnestly:

“Don’t divorce me. Why would you divorce me? Tell me what I’ve done wrong—Shui’er, just say it.”

That night, it felt as if Ye Qingshui cried out a lifetime’s worth of tears, until every drop of moisture had left her body.

At last, with her guard down, fatigue swept over her face, impossible to conceal.

Her voice was hoarse, heavy with a nasal tone:

“It’s already two o’clock. Let’s sleep.”

Xie Tingyu glanced at the time. Indeed, it was late. Forcing down the ache in his chest, he washed up and returned to bed.

He lay beside her, breathing in the faint fragrance of her hair. Without thinking, he pulled her into his arms.

“It’s cold. I’m warmer.”

But this time, the girl who had always resisted his touch only gave a hoarse “Mm,” resting her soft face against his chest and quietly falling asleep.

She did not push him away.

As the moments passed, joy rose steadily in Xie Tingyu’s heart, soothing his unease.

In the darkness, he gazed at her delicate figure, her slender waistline, the faint fragrance at her temples. His heart softened to an impossible degree.

Author’s Note:

• Brother Yu: I knew it—Shui’er loves me!
• Narrator: Divorce! Divorce!
• Brother Yu’s smile slowly disappears…

Sansukini: This is the 3rd time I’m reading this story and I still cry in this chapter.

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