Chapter 8

“Shen Wangshu, have you got too much time on your hands? Getting married is just a formality. Do you have to drag me into every little thing?”

Yet whenever Lin Yingqiao offered an opinion, his patience seemed endless.

She wanted to dance at the wedding; he thought it a wonderful idea. She disliked the bridesmaids’ dress color; he told me to change it. She said she was the best person to give the speech; he agreed without even asking me.

Of course I had argued with him.

Once, unable to bear it any longer, I asked why he always put her wishes ahead of my feelings.

His face darkened at once.

“She’s my childhood friend. Can you stop making everything sound sordid?”

I explained that I wasn’t accusing them of anything. I only wanted important decisions about my wedding discussed with me first.

He wouldn’t listen.

In the end, he said:

“Fine. If marrying me is such a hardship, don’t.”

I went numb.

He knew those were the words I feared most. He knew that saying them would make me give in.

That night, I went to find him. I said I shouldn’t have raised the argument while he was so busy at work.

He told me that if I understood my mistake, I should stop being so sensitive.

I nodded.

At last, he held me.

I rested my head on his shoulder, but the old sense of safety was gone. There was only exhaustion.

Those arguments became more frequent.

Every time, he used canceling the wedding as his final bargaining chip.

Every time, I gave way.

He grew used to it. Even comforting me seemed unnecessary.

I developed habits too: daily reminders for him to eat on time, clean clothes laid out for him. When he came home, I asked whether he was tired. When he was in a bad mood, I tried to keep quiet.

Friends asked how we were. I always smiled.

“We’re doing well.”

Only I knew how long it had been since I looked forward to his coming home.

Sometimes the sound of his phone made me tense.

I never knew what I would have to give in about this time.

Still, I didn’t end it.

The date was set. The invitations had gone out. Friends and family had been told. Even the dress was home.

Again and again, I told myself to hold on a little longer.

Once September seventeenth was over, everything would be all right.

Looking back now, I felt foolish.

A wedding lasted one day. What followed would last decades.

Cheng’an had taught me that so long ago. I had spent all those years forgetting it.

—

### 8

“Wangshu.”

Zhixia’s voice brought me back.

“Yes?”

She glanced at her phone.

“Has Xue Shiye messaged you?”

I picked mine up. Several unread messages waited.

The first had come ten minutes ago.

*“How much longer are you going to keep this up?”*

The second, five minutes ago:

*“I’ve spoken to the host. If we can’t hold the ceremony today, we can choose another date. Go and settle things with Yingqiao first.”*

The latest was one sentence: