Chapter 6
Edward Quan ·
He didn’t show up at my office and corner me. He asked by message first.
[Could we meet once? Half an hour is enough.]
I thought it over and agreed.
We met at the café below my office building.
He arrived early.
Two coffees were on the table.
As I sat down, he pushed one toward me.
“An Americano, no sugar. I remembered right, didn’t I?”
I glanced at it without picking it up.
“I drink oat lattes now.”
His fingers stopped.
“When did you change?”
“After I came to Hangzhou.”
He lowered his head with a faint, rueful smile.
“It’s only been a week.”
“People change.”
He didn’t press the subject of coffee.
After a silence, he spoke.
“I went back and read the whole chat history.”
I nodded.
“And?”
“And I realized you’d told us so many times.”
At last, I looked up at him.
His voice was very quiet.
“You asked why we changed plans without telling you. You asked why you were always the last to hear about dinners. You said you didn’t like being the one booking all the tickets and tables.”
“But every time, we thought you were just complaining in passing.”
He stopped.
“It isn’t that you never said anything. I never took it seriously.”
For the first time, he didn’t explain it away with *you’re too independent* or *you don’t mind*.
I felt no satisfaction.
Only a little tired.
He went on.
“When Wen Li first joined us, she asked us about everything. If she didn’t know, she asked. If she was scared, she said so. If she wanted to go somewhere, she suggested it.”
“You could handle everything yourself. Gradually, I started thinking you didn’t need that kind of care.”
“So people who need looking after should come first?”
He shook his head.
“No.”
“Then why did you do it?”
A long silence passed before he answered.
“Because it was easier.”
I hadn’t expected that.
“When she needed me, I felt important. You knew me too well. If I didn’t do something properly, you could see it straightaway.”
“Over time, I got used to dealing with easy requests. The things you really cared about started feeling like a nuisance.”
He gave a strained laugh.
“It sounds awful. But it’s true.”
I nodded.
“At least you’ve said it clearly now.”
He looked at me.
At last, a flicker of hope appeared in his eyes.
“Do we still have a chance?”
“No.”
I answered at once.
His face went rigid.
“Xia Chuan, I didn’t leave to teach all of you to reflect on yourselves and wait for you to invite me back.”
“I finally didn’t want to keep living the way I had.”
“Understanding that now is your business.”
“Not going back is mine.”
His eyes slowly reddened.
This time, he didn’t say he wouldn’t accept it.
After a long time, he only asked, “Can I still contact you?”
“If there’s something necessary.”
“And if there isn’t?”
I thought for a moment.
“Then don’t.”
He nodded and let it go.
Before leaving, he took that Americano with him.
For the first time, he didn’t ask me to finish something he had chosen for me.
The day after Xia Chuan returned, *Four Unlucky Souls* broke up.
Lin Che left first.
Before leaving, he posted:
[We created this group for Zhiyi’s birthday and ended up leaving out the birthday girl. What an irony.]
Gu Ye didn’t stop him. He left next.
Wen Li was third.
My brother exported all nine years of chat history before leaving.
Xia Chuan stayed until last.
When the system announced that he was the only member left, the chat automatically sank to the bottom of his conversation list.
There was no noisy fight.
A group that had existed for nine years simply disappeared.
Later, my brother called me once.
He didn’t urge me to come back. He only asked whether Hangzhou was cold.
I said it was fine.
After a silence, he asked, “Are you settling into your new place?”
“It’s good. Close to work too.”
“That’s good, then.”
Just before we hung up, he stopped me.
“Zhiyi. On Mid-Autumn, I said I didn’t add you because you didn’t play games.”
“That group had stopped being about games a long time ago. I knew that.”
I didn’t respond.
He went on himself.
“I just didn’t want to admit we’d neglected you for so long.”
“It’s not too late to admit it.”
His breath caught.
“Will you come back, then?”
“I might come home for New Year. But I’m not coming back to that group of people.”
He understood.
After a long time, all he said was, “Okay. I know.”
Gu Ye and Lin Che apologized to me afterward too.