Unmatched Chapter 42
byThere were two hours left until December 18th, a day that only came once a year, ended.
The hotel garden was brightly lit, and dozens of guests anxiously awaited the arrival of the evening’s protagonist, ready to accompany him past midnight and welcome the first day of the new year.
Xie Qi arrived late.
He had cried for over ten minutes before finally standing up from the wardrobe and going to the bathroom to wash his face.
He washed away the traces of tears, changed into new clothes suitable for the celebratory atmosphere, and kept his head down the entire time, not looking at Zhao Shuyi once.
“It’s time to give up,” he had said.
Zhao Shuyi heard him and asked, “What did you say?”
Xie Qi didn’t repeat himself. His face was buried in his knees, making his expression invisible. At first, his shoulders twitched, but then he became utterly still, as if he had stopped breathing.
Perhaps this was the expression of giving up.
From the moment he crouched down until he washed his face, changed clothes, and left, Zhao Shuyi watched with an impassive face, not asking a second question.
—They separated just like that.
One went to the garden, the other returned to his own room.
Soon after, the party began. Zhao Shuyi hadn’t closed his window, and singing drifted up from downstairs. Accompanied by electric guitar and drums, a high note, full of emotion, tore through the night sky—the performance had started.
Xie Qi particularly loved rock music. Zhao Shuyi had once accidentally seen his playlist, clicked on a few songs, and offered the assessment: “Too noisy.”
Xie Qi laughed heartily, saying not all rock was noisy, and kissed him: “I knew you wouldn’t like it. Do you prefer classical music?”
Zhao Shuyi said, “I don’t like that either.”
He didn’t like anything. Zhao Shuyi had no interest in music. But actually, he had learned an instrument when he was young, majoring in piano.
Qin Zhi had arranged it, believing music could cultivate character. Since other children had packed schedules of private lessons, how could Zhao Shuyi fall behind? She even hired a famous pianist to personally visit and teach him hands-on.
However, the lessons didn’t last long. Zhao Fengli was displeased when he found out, scolding Qin Zhi: “Teaching him all this useless stuff is a waste of time.”
So, the lessons stopped.
Zhao Shuyi didn’t enjoy learning either. He wasn’t sentimental and lacked artistic talent.
Xie Qi was the complete opposite—a person composed of romance and sentimentality. His joy and pain were ten times more intense than Zhao Shuyi’s, which explained why he had so many friends in the arts.
Now, these friends were celebrating Xie Qi’s birthday. Could anyone tell he had just been crying? Perhaps, but no one would point it out.
The night wind was quiet.
Zhao Shuyi’s gaze left the garden downstairs and looked toward the distant sky.
The opposite side was a stretch of dark seawater, vast and merging with the horizon. The city lights were too bright, and the stars were faint and invisible. He lit a cigarette, realizing belatedly that he was staring blankly out the window.
Even after a long time, he still didn’t quite understand what Xie Qi meant by “giving up.”
—No longer loving him? Breaking up? Divorce?
A surge of anger flared up in Zhao Shuyi’s heart. They hadn’t finished talking, and there were many things he hadn’t had time to ask, yet Xie Qi had unilaterally fast-forwarded to “giving up.”
This relationship, which he had always controlled, came to an abrupt halt, like a kite string snapping. Zhao Shuyi’s subsequent intentions also ceased abruptly.
Now, taking a drag of smoke into his lungs, he suddenly snapped back to reality, forgetting what “subsequent intentions” he had wanted to discuss.
Indeed, being loved was not pleasant; the initiative lay with the person doing the loving.
Xie Qi had “given up” without his consent. He had claimed to love him deeply for over a decade, yet Zhao Shuyi hadn’t even had a few minutes to truly savor the feeling of being loved, hadn’t had time to give it a rating of “satisfactory” or “average.” The spring breeze had only blown halfway before suddenly turning into a handful of snow thrown over his head—chilling.
He thought, he should have just gotten angry earlier.
But Xie Qi had been crying so pitifully that his anger hadn’t erupted. Now it was accumulating in his heart, stuck in his throat, making him feel nauseous.
Chasing after him to argue was unrealistic. How would he argue?
“I don’t agree, you’re not allowed to give up”?
No, no, no, whatever. Zhao Shuyi didn’t care whether Xie Qi gave up or not. If they weren’t going to talk, then so be it. He respected it, wished him well, and they would go their separate ways.
However, his mood still wouldn’t improve. Zhao Shuyi frowned, forcefully finished two cigarettes, and attributed this feeling to the inevitable brief loss of control that followed a snapped kite string, nothing more.
—He shouldn’t have tried to control Xie Qi from the start.
Forget it.
The performance downstairs grew louder and more irritating. Zhao Shuyi finally closed the window, drew the curtains, and went to sleep.
He took a double dose of sleeping pills to fall asleep and woke up when the sky was already bright.
The hotel room was silent. Zhao Shuyi checked his phone; it was 9:30 AM.
His flight back to Fengjing City was scheduled for the afternoon. Xie Qi had booked the ticket a few days ago, leaving the entire morning free, considering they might inevitably sleep in after a night of intimacy, and have time for a leisurely meal.
Unexpectedly, he had worried too much.
Due to the excessive medication, Zhao Shuyi’s mind was still groggy after waking up. His body felt heavier than usual, and he was uncomfortable.
He opened the curtains. He didn’t know when the activities in the garden had ended, but hotel staff were cleaning up the venue and dismantling the stage. Zhao Shuyi stood in the breeze for a while, feeling slightly clearer, then went to wash up.
His phone occasionally chimed, mostly with work messages and greetings from Wang Deyang.
Zhao Shuyi casually replied to a few, then his gaze shifted to the name “Xie Qi.”
Xie Qi’s chat window was still pinned at the top.
The original contact name was “Husband,” which Xie Qi had changed himself. Zhao Shuyi found it jarring and changed it back. Xie Qi saw it and changed it again. They had gone back and forth several times.
—No new messages.
Zhao Shuyi wanted to ask Xie Qi what he meant, and if they were still going home together today. He typed half a sentence but then deleted it.
The anger that hadn’t dissipated last night reignited in his heart, but it wasn’t just anger; his emotions were somewhat chaotic. Zhao Shuyi tried hard to calm down, thinking: ultimately, Xie Qi hadn’t done anything wrong.
He didn’t love Xie Qi, yet he demanded that the other person continue to love him and not give up. Where was the logic in that?
Xie Qi had been good enough to him, impeccable in every way. Even the formal wear he wore to the banquet last night was personally prepared by Xie Qi.
—Recently, Xie Qi had memorized his sizes. Whether it was custom-made or ready-to-wear, they habitually shopped together, showing great consideration.
If he had shown even a little warmth, as he had a few months ago, they would have achieved the effect of mutual respect and harmony, and things wouldn’t have escalated to this point.
Wasn’t mutual respect what he wanted most? By all accounts, he shouldn’t have treated Xie Qi so poorly.
It was Xie Qi’s lack of boundaries in his compliance that triggered Zhao Shuyi’s possessiveness, making him complacent and forget that there were still emotional boundaries between them.
He even forgot that Xie Qi was an independent person, not his property.
—Since he wasn’t his, Zhao Shuyi wouldn’t want him.
Zhao Shuyi, like a precisely defended computer, automatically cleared the “virus” from his system and calmly went to the airport on time.
Xie Qi arrived earlier than him and was already sitting in the waiting area.
Meeting again after a night apart, the atmosphere remained terrible. Xie Qi looked up at him but didn’t speak.
Zhao Shuyi also remained silent, maintaining the quiet until they boarded the plane, took off, and landed. They didn’t exchange a single word until they arrived in Fengjing.
Xie Qi seemed to have been up all night, with noticeable dark circles under his eyes.
Zhao Shuyi, however, was still groggy from the overdose of medication, unable to fully lift his eyelids, as if he hadn’t slept enough.
It was ten degrees below zero in Fengjing today. As soon as they exited the airport, the cold wind pierced through his bones and into his lungs. Zhao Shuyi finally cleared up a little and glanced at Xie Qi: “The driver didn’t come?”
Xie Qi said, “My car is here.”
He walked toward the parking lot, and Zhao Shuyi followed.
Xie Qi opened the car door for himself. Zhao Shuyi sat down on the other side, his face grim.
The drive home from the airport was long, and the prolonged silence pushed the tension to the extreme. The “virus” Zhao Shuyi had just cleared from his heart flared up again. He suddenly remembered that he hadn’t wished Xie Qi “Happy Birthday” last night.
He looked at the person driving, hesitant to speak.
Xie Qi seemed to catch his reaction in his peripheral vision and suddenly said, “When we get back, I’ll pack up some things.”
Zhao Shuyi reacted quickly: “Moving out?”
“…” Xie Qi paused, silent for a moment. “I’ll look for the birthday gift I prepared for you last time. I’ll still give it to you. I won’t keep it.”
Zhao Shuyi didn’t respond.
He didn’t ask what it was. After a few seconds, Xie Qi added, “Do you want me to move out?”
“Isn’t that what you meant?” Zhao Shuyi said. “What else? What else could ‘giving up’ mean?”
He shouldn’t have taken so much medication. He felt his mental state was very off today.
His tone was so sharp, making him seem too invested, unlike a winner who was effortlessly in control.
But winning or losing didn’t seem that important anymore. At least Xie Qi was no longer struggling, entirely adopting the posture of a defeated person. He told Zhao Shuyi, “Yes, I accept reality. I don’t want to harbor fantasies about something I can’t have anymore. But I… haven’t considered that far yet.”
Zhao Shuyi fell silent again.
Xie Qi said, “If you find me annoying in this state, not as obedient as before, I can listen to you, move out, and stay out of sight.”
Northern winters loved snow. Midway through their journey, fine white snowflakes began to drift outside the window.
Zhao Shuyi looked at the scattered white flakes before him, inexplicably recalling that clumsy line from Xie Qi’s memory yesterday.
“The snowflakes are so beautiful today.”
But the real Xie Qi said, “If you want, divorce is also an option.”