Chapter 4
Edward Quan ·
“Give me the phone. I’ll talk to her.”
A moment later, Shen Huai took over.
“Zhiyi, you can be as upset as you like, but a work transfer isn’t a small matter. Send your address to the group. We’ll come tonight.”
“I’m not here on vacation.”
“All the more reason to explain. Where are you staying, on your own out there?”
“The company arranged it. I’ve finished handing over my work too.”
After two seconds of silence, he finally realized something was wrong.
“You’ve been planning this for a while?”
“Yes. I have.”
This time, no one spoke.
I hadn’t suddenly run away from home.
I hadn’t quit my job in a fit of anger over a group chat either.
I had handled all the paperwork myself.
They simply hadn’t noticed.
Xia Chuan took the phone back, his voice noticeably softer.
“What about the flat? When are you coming back for your things?”
“I’ve shipped everything. The key card’s on the shoe cabinet.”
“What’s that supposed to mean, leaving your key?”
I opened the taxi door before answering.
“It means I don’t live there anymore.”
The other end went completely silent.
After a long time, he asked, “What about us?”
I leaned back in the seat and watched the unfamiliar streets of Hangzhou through the window.
“This is where we stop too, Xia Chuan.”
His breath caught.
“You want to break up over a group chat?”
“No.”
For the first time, I told him exactly what I thought.
“That group just made me see something. I haven’t been part of your real lives for a long time.”
“I don’t have to be in that chat.”
“I just don’t want to keep fighting anyone for a place that should already be mine.”
He said nothing more.
When I hung up, the old five-person group finally exploded.
My brother asked where I was.
Gu Ye apologized three times.
Lin Che asked only whether I had arrived safely.
I sent one reply to them all.
[I’m here. Everything’s fine. You don’t need to come.]
Then I turned on Do Not Disturb for the group.
The taxi had traveled a long way before it occurred to me that they probably still hadn’t eaten lunch.
This time, that wasn’t my concern.
At one, the five of them finally found a restaurant.
They wouldn’t starve just because I hadn’t made a reservation.
They merely had to wait forty minutes.
Wen Li looked at her phone and asked quietly, “Has Zhiyi really gone to Hangzhou?”
No one answered.
Xia Chuan sat at the end of the table, still gripping the key card I had left behind.
My brother suddenly spoke.
“She used to post her flight details in the group every time she traveled for work.”
Gu Ye lowered his head and drank some water.
“I guess she didn’t want to this time.”
Shen Huai’s mouth twisted.
“She didn’t even tell us about the transfer. Of course she didn’t want to.”
At last, Lin Che looked up.
“Did we tell Zhiyi about the cherry-blossom trip?”
The table fell silent.
My brother said nothing.
Neither did Xia Chuan.
Wen Li lowered her head, her fingers slowly tightening around her glass.
After a while, she asked softly, “Should we add Zhiyi to the smaller group?”
Xia Chuan’s first reaction was to refuse.
“What would that achieve now?”
Gu Ye gave a strained laugh.
“Yeah. It would look pretty bad.”
They had shut Zhiyi out while insisting there was nothing special about the smaller group.
Now that she had actually left, inviting her in would look like handing her a favor.
They all knew it wouldn’t solve anything.
When Xia Chuan returned home that evening, he finally saw the empty spaces I had left.
Half the wardrobe was bare.
One set of toiletries was missing from the bathroom.
The dated food containers in the fridge were gone too.
He opened the bedside drawer.
Inside was a lease-renewal notice.
The final line read:
[Shen Zhiyi has confirmed her withdrawal from the lease renewal.]
It was dated three days earlier.
He sat with the paper for a long time before calling me.
This time, I didn’t pick up.
He sent a message instead.
[Zhiyi, I admit we were wrong about the smaller chat. But you can’t just sentence this relationship to death without saying a word.]
I only saw it after work.
A new colleague was asking what I wanted for dinner.
Out of habit, I nearly said, “Anything’s fine.”
Instead, I changed it to, “Something spicy. Preferably with broth.”
My colleague nodded.
“Sure. Let’s get rice noodles.”
It was an ordinary thing to say.
Yet walking into the restaurant, I found myself a little dazed.
Whenever they used to ask what I wanted to eat, I always said anything.
I said it so often that eventually they believed I had no preferences at all.
My phone vibrated again.
Xia Chuan had sent a second message.