Chapter 7: He’s Doing Just Fine
2152 Words
In the end, Cheng Yu folded the sweater and tucked it beneath his pillow.
He wasn't the type to sleep holding onto things.
Shen Zhiyuan was.
Shen Zhiyuan always hugged a pillow when he slept. Sometimes, in the middle of the night, he'd roll over, reach out, and drag Cheng Yu into his arms. Then he'd rest his chin on top of Cheng Yu's head and mumble, half-asleep, "Stop stealing the blanket."
Every time, Cheng Yu would protest.
"I didn't steal it. You're the one wrapped up in it."
And every morning, the evidence proved him right.
The blanket would be cocooned around Shen Zhiyuan, while Cheng Yu's side of the bed was cold.
Now no one fought him for the blanket anymore.
It stayed neatly draped over the edge of the bed, looking exactly the same at night as it had that morning.
He slept alone in the center.
Empty on the left.
Empty on the right.
Empty above his head.
Life continued.
He went to work.
He drafted plans, attended meetings, entertained clients, revised proposals, and drafted more plans.
One day, a colleague glanced at him and said, "Engineer Cheng, haven't you been sleeping well? You've got dark circles under your eyes."
Cheng Yu smiled.
"Big project lately. Been busy."
His coworkers told him to take care of himself.
He nodded.
He'd lost three or four pounds.
He'd tightened his belt by one notch, and it was still loose.
But he never mentioned it to anyone.
What was there to say?
The days passed in a predictable rhythm.
Work.
Home.
Dinner.
Sleep.
Gradually, Cheng Yu began to think he was getting better.
He no longer stood under the shower lost in thought for half an hour.
He could walk past the snack aisle at the supermarket without automatically reaching for Shen Zhiyuan's favorite chips.
When he woke in the middle of the night, he could roll over and fall back asleep instead of staring at the ceiling until dawn.
He was recovering.
At least, that's what he told himself.
Then Friday night arrived.
Just before ten, his phone rang.
Lu Yang.
His college classmate.
One of the very few people who knew he and Shen Zhiyuan had been married.
At their wedding, Lu Yang had gotten drunk and thrown an arm around Cheng Yu's shoulders, shouting, "Old Cheng, you better be happy!"
His voice had been so loud the entire banquet hall heard him.
Cheng Yu had wanted to bury him under the table.
Meanwhile, Shen Zhiyuan had stood nearby laughing.
Later, he'd leaned close and whispered, "You have a pretty good friend."
Seeing Lu Yang's name on the screen, Cheng Yu hesitated.
He could already guess why he was calling.
After the divorce, Cheng Yu had briefly mentioned a few things in a text message.
Lu Yang's response had been immediate.
"What the f**k?"
"Where are you?"
"I'm coming over right now."
Since then, Lu Yang had called several times.
Cheng Yu never answered.
He didn't want to talk about it.
What was there to say?
Shen Zhiyuan had cheated.
They got divorced.
And then?
Then Cheng Yu stood outside a hospital holding a brown paper bag.
Then he went home to an empty apartment.
Then he started sleeping with an old sweater hidden beneath his pillow.
Talking about it would only make things awkward.
The phone kept ringing.
Eventually, he answered.
"Hello?"
"Old Cheng, you finally picked up."
Something in Lu Yang's voice immediately made him frown.
An urgency.
A strange uneasiness.
He'd known Lu Yang for more than ten years and had never heard him sound like this.
"What's wrong?"
Silence.
Brief.
But noticeable.
Lu Yang was deciding whether or not to say it.
Finally, he did.
"I saw Shen Zhiyuan today."
Cheng Yu's grip tightened around the phone.
He switched it to his other ear and realized his palm was already damp with sweat.
"Where?" he asked.
His voice sounded steady enough.
"Near the China World Trade Center. Outside SKP."
Lu Yang spoke quickly, as though slowing down would make him lose his nerve.
"He was with someone. A man."
Cheng Yu said nothing.
"They were walking really close together. The guy was... helping him walk."
Lu Yang hesitated.
"Shen Zhiyuan looks thinner. But honestly... he seemed to be doing okay."
The words landed like stones.
"You're sure it was him?"
"Old Cheng, I've known both of you for eight years. Do you really think I'd mistake someone else for Shen Zhiyuan?"
Cheng Yu fell silent.
He was standing in the middle of his living room.
In his free hand was a bottle of mineral water he'd just taken from the refrigerator.
Condensation slid down the plastic and dripped across his wrist.
Cold.
He listened as Lu Yang continued.
Shen Zhiyuan had been wearing a dark blue coat.
He looked happy.
The man beside him was around six feet tall, wore glasses, and looked gentle and refined.
Lu Yang had planned to go over and say hello.
But the traffic light changed.
Cars blocked his way.
By the time he crossed the street, the man was gone.
"Old Cheng? You still there?"
"I'm listening."
A pause.
Then Lu Yang asked quietly,
"Are you okay?"
"I'm fine."
Cheng Yu even laughed a little.
He heard it himself.
"We're divorced. Who he's with is his business. It has nothing to do with me."
"Old Cheng—"
"I'm really fine."
He twisted open the water bottle and took a drink.
The icy water slid down his throat.
His chest tightened.
"Thanks for telling me. I still have some photo editing to do."
He paused.
"I'll talk to you later."
Then he hung up.
He placed the water bottle on the counter.
It landed unevenly.
Rolled twice.
Then fell.
Water spilled across the floor.
He didn't pick it up.
Instead, he opened Lu Yang's chat window and typed:
Thanks.
Don't tell me anything about him anymore.
He hit send.
Then locked the screen and set the phone aside.
His fingers were trembling.
Not visibly.
Just a numb, prickling sensation spreading beneath his skin.
He stared at his hands for a moment.
Then opened the cabinet beneath the sink, grabbed a dishcloth, and crouched down to wipe up the water.
Slowly.
Carefully.
He even cleaned the moisture trapped between the grout lines.
When he finished, he rinsed the cloth, wrung it out, and hung it over the faucet.
Then he picked up the fallen bottle, carried it into the living room, and sat on the sofa.
He was fine.
He'd just told Lu Yang he was fine.
He'd said it wasn't his business.
He'd even laughed.
Why would he be upset?
Who Shen Zhiyuan spent time with had nothing to do with him anymore.
They were divorced.
The house belonged to Cheng Yu.
The car belonged to Cheng Yu.
The savings belonged to Cheng Yu.
Shen Zhiyuan had taken himself out of this life completely.
There was no connection left.
So what if Shen Zhiyuan was wearing a dark blue coat?
So what if someone was helping him walk outside SKP?
What did that have to do with him?
What did it matter?
What did it matter?
He placed the water bottle on the coffee table.
Then stood up and headed toward the bedroom.
Halfway there, he stopped.
Turned around.
Walked back into the kitchen.
He opened the refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of baijiu that had been sitting there for months.
Lu Yang had brought it over during Lunar New Year.
Something expensive from Maotai Town.
Neither of them had really touched it.
Cheng Yu twisted off the cap and poured half a glass.
Not a shot glass.
A regular drinking glass.
Half full.
The clear liquor clung to the sides as he swirled it.
Standing alone in the kitchen, he raised the glass and took a long swallow.
Fire exploded down his throat.
Burning his tongue.
His chest.
His stomach.
He rarely drank baijiu.
His eyes immediately watered.
Still, he took another drink.
Then another.
Eventually, he slid down the kitchen cabinets until he was sitting on the floor.
The tile was cold beneath him.
The chill seeped through his pants.
Grounding him.
Sobering him.
A little.
Only a little.
Shen Zhiyuan seems to be doing okay.
The thought replayed endlessly.
Doing okay.
He's doing okay.
He's lost weight, but he's doing okay.
He's wearing a new coat.
Not the dark gray one.
A dark blue one.
And he's with someone.
Someone walking beside him.
Someone helping him.
Cheng Yu emptied the rest of the glass in one swallow.
The burn was so intense he couldn't speak.
He coughed twice and braced both hands against the floor.
His fingertips felt ice cold.
Shen Zhiyuan seems to be doing okay.
Then what am I doing?
What does it mean that I fall asleep every night with my face buried in the collar of an old sweater?
What does it mean that I keep every movie ticket we've ever used inside a shoebox?
What does it mean that I stood outside a hospital carrying a brown paper bag and staring at the sun?
Shen Zhiyuan seems to be doing okay.
Then what about me?
"Fuck."
The curse escaped quietly.
But in the silence of the apartment, it sounded painfully clear.
He pushed himself to his feet.
His legs were numb.
He had to steady himself against the counter.
Then he walked into the living room, picked up his phone, and opened his photo gallery.
He found a picture of Shen Zhiyuan.
Last summer.
Shen Zhiyuan was sitting on the sofa in gray loungewear, holding a case file.
He wasn't looking at the camera.
Cheng Yu had secretly taken the photo because, from that angle, Shen Zhiyuan looked ridiculously handsome.
The clean line of his profile.
The shadow of his eyelashes beneath the light.
Afterward, Cheng Yu had sent him the picture.
Shen Zhiyuan replied:
Sneaking pictures of me?
Delete it.
Followed by an angry emoji.
He never deleted it.
And Shen Zhiyuan hadn't really wanted him to.
Cheng Yu stared at the photo for a long time.
Then deleted it.
One photo.
Then another.
Their trip to Yunnan.
Gone.
Shen Zhiyuan cooking noodles in the kitchen.
Gone.
Their wedding day.
Shen Zhiyuan in a black suit, tie crooked.
Cheng Yu reaching up to straighten it.
The best man had taken that one.
Gone.
His birthday.
The glow of candlelight on his face.
Gone.
Shen Zhiyuan reading in bed beneath the warm bedside lamp.
Gone.
Gone.
Gone.
Until only one photo remained.
The very first one.
The earliest picture of them together.
Shen Zhiyuan's tiny apartment.
A beige sofa.
The two of them squeezed together.
Shen Zhiyuan held up his phone.
Cheng Yu had buried his face against Shen Zhiyuan's neck, exposing only half his face and one bright-red ear.
They had just started dating.
The first time Shen Zhiyuan brought him home.
Cheng Yu stared at it.
His thumb hovered over the delete button.
One second.
Two.
Three.
Then he threw the phone.
The device slammed into the opposite wall.
The screen shattered instantly.
Spiderweb cracks spread across the glass.
It bounced once on the floor before coming to rest.
Cheng Yu stood frozen.
Breathing hard.
His chest rising and falling violently.
A small dent marked the wall.
A chip of white plaster lay on the floor beneath it.
He stared at the damage.
The shattered phone.
The empty glass on the coffee table.
The faint water stains still lingering on the kitchen floor.
Then he crouched down.
Buried his face in his knees.
Lu Yang had said Shen Zhiyuan seemed to be doing okay.
Good.
At least one of them was.
But another thought followed immediately.
Shen Zhiyuan—
How can you be doing okay?
How can you put on a new coat and go shopping after telling me, "I have someone else now"?
How can you let another man support you after saying, "Signing the divorce papers is for your own good"?
How can you leave me alone in this house...
...and start a new life without me?
He lifted his head and looked around.
The television was off.
Only one cushion on the sofa was flattened from daily use.
A thin layer of dust coated the coffee table.
The cardboard boxes still sat in the corner.
Inside them were Shen Zhiyuan's razor.
His aftershave.
That old stiff towel.
The brown paper bag remained beside the shoe cabinet.
Then he remembered what Lin Xu had told him.
Chemotherapy.
Vomiting.
Forty minutes sitting alone in a hallway.
Taking a cab home by himself.
Alone.
Whether Shen Zhiyuan was living or dying...
he was alone.
Suddenly, the baijiu churned in Cheng Yu's stomach.
Burning his chest.
His throat.
The corners of his eyes.
He buried his face in his knees once more.
He didn't know what to believe anymore.
- Writer
