A Terrible Mistake
1207 Words
A farewell dinner should have carried a trace of melancholy, but we filled the evening with laughter and shameless banter.
Maybe it was because we were born optimists.
Maybe it was because none of us dared to touch the ache of separation and simply hid it deep inside.
At least—I knew I did.
Of everyone there, I had spent the most time with Shen Man.
My life had been a solitary one, with few close friends. She had long become the sister I never had—stern, sharp-tongued, but quietly dependable.
Halfway through the gathering, I slipped out early under a flimsy excuse.
I didn’t want to hear any parting words.
Such words would hurt too much.
I wasn’t the strong person others thought I was—truthfully, I was fragile.
“Xixi, wait for me!”
I turned. A small figure hurried after me, clutching a paper bag—Wang Mengmeng.
I frowned, but she simply thrust the bag toward me, smiling as brightly as ever.
“Xixi, this is for you.”
Inside were candies, chocolates, dried plums—the kind of snacks girls adored.
I said nothing. I handed the bag back and turned to leave.
“Xixi… these are my favorites. Why won’t you take them?”
She sounded so wounded that my steps faltered for half a second.
“That’s because they’re your favorites.”
I didn’t look back.
“But… aren’t you supposed to share your favorite things with the person you love…?”
Her voice grew small, the last half swallowed by distance as I walked away.
A taxi pulled over. I got in without hesitation, leaving behind the glitter of the street—and Wang Mengmeng’s hopeful silhouette—dissolving into the night.
Streetlights slid across the window one by one, blurring into ribbons of gold. Outside, the crowds moved like miniature figurines. My eyes were hazy, though my mind was painfully clear.
Wang Mengmeng was a good person—just good.
But goodness wasn’t enough.
We didn’t share the same understanding of love, or values, or worldview.
If one of these differed, perhaps we could bend toward each other.
But when all three diverged—forcing it would be a disaster.
She didn’t grasp this. But I did.
That was why I stayed away.
Strictly speaking, I was someone who took love seriously.
I never fell for anyone lightly.
Besides… her mother didn’t like me.
Even if I loved her—then what?
Should I stage a real-life version of Butterfly Lovers?
I wasn’t that stupid.
“Love”—that so-called sacred word—was something bored people brewed up in study rooms.
Only fools risked life and death for something so illusory.
When I got home, I feared the sadness lingering under my ribs, so I put on my headphones and played Lin Fan’s Living Alone.
Which, unfortunately, only made matters worse.
Because the moment the melody began, I thought of Mo Han.
There’s always that one song—the one that digs up a buried ache you didn’t know was still alive.
Suddenly I was back in that stormy night, trapped in the tiny garden with her.
The moment I had touched her hair.
The moment I had almost leaned in to kiss her…
God.
One song—and my longing flooded uncontrollably.
Panicking, I turned the music off.
But I forgot longing has inertia.
Once awakened, it refuses to go back to sleep.
And so—ridiculously—I lay awake the entire night.
After the S-Curve Challenge wrapped up, I had two days off.
I wasted both drifting aimlessly.
Somewhere between those hours, Shen Man slipped away to Wuxi—quietly, without ceremony.
She hadn’t even waited for the company to find her replacement.
Most people didn’t understand her decision.
But I did.
If it weren’t for helping me finish the event, she would’ve left a month ago.
During the week after her departure, I still played games during office hours out of habit—yet without anyone scolding me, the fun evaporated.
Gradually, I stopped playing altogether.
It made me realize something absurd:
Maybe I had only been playing to get yelled at by her.
With nothing to distract me, I threw myself fully into work.
Thanks to the success of the previous S-Curve event, I earned management’s trust.
New responsibilities came pouring in—bigger ones, important ones.
At this rate, I was poised to take over Shen Man’s position and become the new head of the marketing department.
The manager told me personally.
I thought—if she knew, she’d be happy for me.
For the first time in my life, success felt close enough to touch.
Everything seemed to be moving in the right direction.
But life is fickle.
And people—far worse.
The restroom door was half-open.
Water ran from inside—someone was washing their hands.
Then I heard voices. Familiar ones.
Two colleagues from marketing.
“Shen Man sure climbed fast,” Wang Debiao said. “Heard she’s already sitting in the CEO chair at Nissan’s Wuxi branch!”
Wu Bo snorted.
“As if it’s surprising. Everyone knows she’s a social butterfly. No mystery there. She defects to Nissan and Director Lin doesn’t even complain. Who knows if she didn’t ‘charm’ him too. And that Zhang Yixi? Please. He just got lucky tagging along with her. What ability does he have?”
“Exactly. I’ve had enough of both of them. Especially Shen Man—born with that seductive face of hers. Her private life is a mess…”
A ringing roar filled my ears.
I couldn’t hear anything else.
They could say whatever they wanted about me—
but Shen Man?
Absolutely not.
And worse—they were lying.
Her move to Nissan had been orchestrated by a headhunter.
Her professional ability was undeniable.
I couldn’t accept this slander.
I still had a scrap of rationality left.
With it, I snapped the wooden mop beside me clean in half.
Then, gripping the broken handle, I kicked open the restroom door.
It slammed into the wall with a violent bang—bang—bang.
“I haven’t even figured out my shijie’s s****l orientation yet and you two idiots dare talk s**t—!”
My roar echoed off the tiles as I swung the stick across Wang Debiao’s head.
Blood streamed down from his temple.
The stick itself cracked again—splitting a second time.
Wu Bo froze.
I dropped the remaining piece of wood and drove my foot into his abdomen.
He collapsed.
I stomped on his face.
More blood.
But the fury in my chest didn’t subside.
I kept hitting—kept kicking—blind with rage.
Only later did I realize:
Neither of them fought back.
Not once.
The commotion drew a crowd.
Two security guards dragged me away.
Moments later, Director Lin arrived.
It caused a massive scandal.
As it turned out, Wang Debiao and Wu Bo didn’t fight back on purpose—
they had planned to use this.
Later, they denied everything.
Claimed they never spoke ill of anyone.
Insisted I had attacked them unprovoked.
I had no way to defend myself.
- Writer
