Arthur and I were childhood sweethearts. I had a stepdad, and he had a stepmom. We grew up depending on each other. He said he liked to wander, so I wandered with him. I thought we would be together forever. Until the day I stood in our rundown apartment and watched Arthur, shirtless, bend down to pick up another woman's bra. I asked him why. He didn't answer. He just told the woman to get dressed and leave. After a long time, he said he wanted freedom. And I was his biggest obstacle to that freedom. The day he left, I gave him a small kite charm. I said, "I wish you freedom." 1 I had imagined my reunion with Arthur many times. But I never expected it to be under these circumstances. The hospital called me using Arthur's phone, saying he'd been in a car accident and asking if I could come. That was how I found out Arthur had returned to the city at some point. It was a bustling metropolis. Even at this hour, the streets were alive with traffic. I rushed to the hospital, found out Arthur's room number, and hurried over. It was a relatively small private room. A woman with a great figure was standing by the bed with her back to me, speaking in a flirtatious tone: "Arthur, I was the very first one to rush over and see you. Aren't I good to you?" "Yeah, you're the best to me." The familiar voice rang out. I stood frozen, blinking, and slowly withdrew my hand from the door handle. Arthur and I hadn't spoken in years. When we broke up, I was absolutely heartbroken. But time is the ultimate healer. When I thought of him now, my emotions rarely fluctuated. But hearing his voice so suddenly, I realized that maybe I hadn't stopped loving him; perhaps the feelings were just too heavy, so I had forcibly locked them away. I didn't dare enter the room. I asked the nurse for Arthur's account number and paid his hospital bill. After leaving the hospital, I parked by the side of the road and smoked for a long time. I had always been a good student, a "good girl." Smoking was the only bad habit I inherited from Arthur, and I only picked it up after we broke up. As work pressure increased over the years, my smoking addiction grew with it. After finishing half a pack, my mind wasn't any clearer. Instead, I choked on the last drag and started coughing violently. How pathetic. I rested my head against the steering wheel and let out a bitter laugh. Logically, I should have appeared before Arthur looking glamorous and successful, casually saying, "Long time no see." But I hadn't even dared to look at him with my own eyes. Just hearing his voice made me flee in panic. Maybe I was just a glutton for punishment. My favorite thing seemed to be offering up my sincere heart just to have it trampled on. 2 I secretly went to check on Arthur a few more times after that and even asked his attending physician about his condition. Arthur's room was always lively. No matter when I went, there were always people by his bed, men and women, chattering away. It was to be expected. Arthur had always been popular. No matter where he went, people naturally gravitated toward him, forming a circle with him at the center. He was always the center of attention. The last time I went to see his doctor, the doctor rubbed his temples in frustration. "Honestly, the patient in bed 2 isn't seriously injured. Just a minor fracture and a mild concussion. He's recovering very well." "I know you all care about him, but could you please elect one representative to ask about his condition? Otherwise, I have to repeat the exact same thing five, six, seven, eight times a day. It interferes with other patients' families who need to consult with me." I didn't dare confess that I wasn't actually his family. I just apologized profusely and backed out of the doctor's office. And then I locked eyes with Arthur, who was taking a walk in the hallway. He had three people with him: one holding his IV drip, one supporting his arm, and another trailing slowly behind. It looked exactly like a king surrounded by his court. I even heard Arthur say in a very annoyed tone, "I'm injured, not crippled. Can you let go of me? I can walk by myself!" The moment he finished speaking, he saw me. I cursed the hospital hallway for being so wide, leaving my panic and awkwardness completely exposed. I stood frozen for a long time. Finally, I was the one to speak first: "Long time no see." "Arthur, who's this?" Arthur looked at me, his expression neutral. "Someone from my hometown." "Looking at you with such loving eyes, I thought she was your ex-girlfriend." Arthur and I had depended on each other for over twenty years. I had worn his only winter coat; he had worn my only scarf. We had shared a single plate of fried rice and slept under the same blanket. Now, I was just "someone from his hometown." I gripped my phone tightly, turned, and started to walk away. Arthur called out to stop me: "Wait." He asked if I was the one who paid his hospital bill. "I saw a call log with your number on my phone. The hospital called you, didn't they?" Arthur said. "Are you still using that same bank card? I'll transfer the money directly to you." "No need," I refused. "If anyone's transferring money, it should be me transferring it to you." Arthur paused. "I spent so much of your money back then, I feel pretty bad about it. Give me your account number, and I'll pay you back." One of Arthur's friends laughed at this. "Thinking about paying him back after all these years? That's not very sincere. How much interest are you planning to pay?" Arthur shot the guy an icy glare. "Don't listen to him," Arthur said. "You don't need to pay me back." I scratched my head and said, "I have to." I used to spend Arthur's money without a second thought. When he bought me things, I accepted them as if it were my absolute right. Back then, I thought we were family. His money was mine, and when I made money in the future, it would naturally be his. But since we had separated, it was time to settle the financial accounts. 3 Arthur didn't give me his account number, but I went to the bank and printed out my transaction history anyway. The next day, I gathered my courage, took my bank card, and went to the hospital. But Arthur's room was empty. He had been discharged. Actually, I knew Arthur probably wouldn't accept the money. I just wanted an excuse to see him one more time. But he didn't leave me a single chance. The moment he spotted me, he vanished without a trace. Sometimes I couldn't help but wonder what I had done so wrong. I had never been hysterical or thrown massive tantrums at him. To what extent did he despise me that he avoided me like a plague? "Men actually hate the submissive, overly-accommodating 'desperate lovers' more than they hate manipulative users. You're like a piece of chewed gum stuck to their shoe—impossible to shake off, and disgusting when you stick." At the bar, my friend downed her cocktail in one gulp and poked me in the forehead. "I'm talking about you, you desperate lover!" "Sometimes I really want to cut your brain open and see what it's made of. How can you be so blindly devoted to a man who's rotted into the mud, and absolutely refuse to change?!" Holding my drink, I argued back seriously: "First, I'm not a 'desperate lover.' Besides Arthur, I've never loved another man in my life. Second, Arthur isn't a rotten person. He's incredibly good." My friend rolled her eyes in disgust. "Seriously, I thought after all these years you'd at least sober up a bit. I didn't expect you to not have changed at all. You're hopeless. I suggest you just bury yourself alive." I smiled and didn't argue anymore. Every single one of my friends had called me delusional. And I had explained to every single one of them that I wasn't delusional; I knew exactly what I was doing. I wasn't a desperate lover. Arthur truly used to treat me incredibly well. "Every desperate lover says that. But look at what Arthur did. He cheated on you, brought another woman into your rented apartment, and blocked your number. You went to beg him to get back together, waited outside his bar for a whole week, and he didn't even show his face once." "You guys don't understand. Without Arthur, not only would I not have gone to college, I wouldn't even be alive today." I downed more than half a bottle of beer in one gulp. My alcohol tolerance had grown over the years, but mixing wine and beer tonight was getting to my head. I laid my head on the bar, tugged at my friend's arm, and pointed at the male models dancing in the center of the club. "My tuition and living expenses for four years of college were all earned by Arthur dancing night after night like that. "He made six thousand a month back then. Five hundred for rent, five hundred for his living expenses, and the rest was spent entirely on me. "He actually got into college too, but my parents refused to pay for me to go. So Arthur said the college he got into wasn't that good anyway, so he wouldn't go. He went to work to support me instead. "When I graduated, my parents wanted me to marry someone just to get the bride price. Arthur borrowed money from every friend he had to scrape together the bride price they demanded. "So I am Arthur's wife. He paid the bride price. I was supposed to marry him." The music was still blaring, but my friend seemed too drunk to reply. She just lay there next to me, silent. I was quiet for a long time, then added, "So, it was actually normal for Arthur to want to leave, right? I was such a burden; I dragged him down for way too long." 4 My friend was dead drunk. I finished the last half bottle of beer and scanned the QR code to pay the bill. As I stood up, my gaze accidentally swept past the bar entrance, and my eyes widened instantly. It was Arthur! He was wearing a low-profile black hoodie and a face mask, but I recognized him instantly. He didn't see me. He walked straight to a lively booth, where someone cleared the center seat for him. I saw Arthur pull down his mask and casually take a beer someone handed him. A young woman smiled brightly and leaned in close to Arthur, saying something to him. Arthur nodded nonchalantly, offering a casual response. In the past, I never got jealous. I was too certain. I felt that nothing and no one could ever separate me and Arthur. I clearly knew his charm, but I was also absolutely confident in his loyalty to me. When did it start? When did Arthur stop loving me? I still remember, after Arthur said he wanted to split up, he never returned to our apartment. I went to the bar where he worked to find him. I called every one of his friends. I even ran to their houses, asking if they knew where Arthur went. I sent him countless messages, wanting to ask what exactly went wrong with our relationship, asking if we could just talk, promising I would change whatever needed changing. I told him I didn't mind if he played around with other girls, just please don't be angry. Eventually, I only worried about his safety. I said he didn't have to talk to me, just reply to one message so I knew he was safe. Finally, having exhausted all my options, I sat on the freezing steps outside the bar at 3 AM. Hugging my phone, I used my stiff fingers to type out a message, word by word. [I agree to break up. Come home, let's sort out the apartment.] Ten minutes later, Arthur appeared beside me. It turned out he had been there all along. Standing not too close, not too far, watching me coldly. In that moment, I felt as if I had never truly known him. Arthur had rented the apartment. He said he was leaving soon and had prepaid three months' rent. I could keep living there or talk to the landlord about breaking the lease. He left very cleanly. When he walked out, he only carried a black backpack containing his wallet and ID. He didn't take anything else. I walked him downstairs, still wearing the matching couples' pajamas we had bought together at a wholesale market. I handed him a tiny kite charm, smiled, and said, "I wish you freedom." Arthur, do you feel free enough now? 5 Knowing Arthur frequented that bar, I started dropping by every few days. I knew very well that Arthur and I were over. That's just how Arthur was; once he made a decision, he never looked back. But I never ran into him again. I wasn't sure if he was avoiding me, but even if he was, it wouldn't be surprising. No matter who you are, being pestered by an ex-girlfriend you're already sick of probably isn't very pleasant. I usually sat at the bar. Over time, I got to know the bartender. As soon as I sat down, he'd slide a cocktail over to me. But tonight, I had barely been sitting for two minutes when I heard a loud slam right next to my ear. I turned to see a scantily clad woman angrily slam a delivery box down on the counter and furiously demand of the bartender, "Get me a vodka!" "Whoa there, Princess. Who pissed you off now?" "Who else?! I bought a gift for Arthur. I reminded him so many times, but it's just been sitting in the package locker at his complex, practically growing mold, and he still hasn't picked it up." The woman stomped her foot in frustration. "It was so expensive! I wouldn't even buy such an expensive watch for myself!" My heart skipped a beat. Without being obvious, I glanced at the shipping label on the delivery box next to me. The address was very detailed, right down to the apartment number. The bartender didn't pour the vodka; instead, he handed her a sweet cocktail. "I remember Arthur saying he doesn't accept gifts, right?" "It's obviously because I didn't get him the right gift," the woman said, resting her chin on her hand and sighing mournfully. "Ugh, when will I finally win over that untouchable flower, Arthur?" "There are plenty of women who share your ambition. All I can say is, good luck." I sat to the side and feigned curiosity. "Who are you guys talking about?" The bartender smiled. "A very handsome guy." "How handsome?" "Incredibly handsome!" The bartender wanted to say more, but the woman shot him a glare that shut him up. I smiled awkwardly, took the hint, paid my tab, and left. Then, immediately, I took a cab to the address on the delivery box. My heart was racing, my palms even sweating slightly. I told myself I was just going to pay him back. One last time. This would be the last time I let myself indulge. Half an hour later, I rang Arthur's doorbell. Faint footsteps came from behind the door. I took a deep breath, trying my hardest to force a natural smile onto my lips. The next second, the door opened. A woman with beautiful eyes stood there, wearing an apron and holding a spoon, a sweet smile on her face. She looked at me, confused. "Who are you looking for?" "Sorry, I think I have the wrong—" The words stuck in my throat. I couldn't utter another syllable. Because I saw Arthur, who had just opened the bedroom door behind her, walking out shirtless. 6 It was truly strange. I had witnessed Arthur cheating, but it hadn't hurt as much as this moment. Maybe it was because the atmosphere of domestic life hung so heavily around them, as if they had been together for a long time. I was acutely aware that Arthur already had another woman by his side. It wasn't just a physical relationship; they shared a glass of water, shared a bed, and watched the sunrise and sunset together, just like we used to. My presence would only be an annoyance to him. If I truly loved him, if I truly wanted what was best for him, I should take the hint, be mature about it, leave the bank card with open honesty, and walk away. But when I opened my mouth, I found I had almost lost my voice. Swallowing hard, I held out the bank card. "Hello. I'm from Arthur's hometown. He lent me money in the past, and I came specifically to pay him back today." The woman turned to look at Arthur. Arthur stood frozen in place. After a couple of seconds of silence, his gaze fell on me. "Want to come in and sit for a bit?" I really shouldn't have sat down. But Arthur got a glass to pour me water and pulled out a chair for me. The woman opened her mouth, wanting to say something, but ultimately just frowned. "Arthur, go put a shirt on. You don't want your cold to get worse." Arthur stood by the dining table, looking at me. I could only keep my head down and finally stepped over the threshold. "Sorry for intruding." I tried very hard to control my gaze, preventing myself from looking around randomly, terrified of seeing something that would make me even sadder. But some scenes were unavoidable. Arthur went back to the bedroom, put on a long-sleeved shirt, and sat at the dining table, enveloped in a dark cloud of low air pressure. This was his typical state when he was sick. Looking at the tight line of his lips, I guessed he probably still had a low-grade fever. My fingertips twitched, and I forced myself to clench my hands into fists. The woman brought a bowl of porridge from the kitchen. She carefully picked out the shredded ginger, then peeled an egg, putting the egg white on a small plate and mashing the yolk with a spoon before mixing it into the porridge. "Arthur, want a taste?" Arthur didn't eat ginger because he hated the strong smell. He didn't eat egg whites because I loved eating egg whites. My eyes stung fiercely. It felt like tears were going to burst out the next second, so I quickly looked away. How cruel. Was this intentional? Deliberately making me stay to witness his intimacy with someone else? Arthur didn't touch the porridge. He just casually asked me, "How have you been lately?" His tone was purely conversational. I looked at the woman sitting next to him, glaring at me like a hawk guarding its prey. I knew that if I leaked even a hint of my feelings for Arthur, an argument would be unavoidable. I had nothing left to give Arthur, so the least I could do was save him the trouble. Thinking of this, the fists resting on my knees clenched a little tighter. A sharp pain shot through my palms, but I managed a natural, even slightly shy smile on my face. "Pretty good. I'm getting married soon." Hearing this, Arthur lifted his eyelids and stared at me. His eyes reflected my image. A long time ago, his eyes only reflected my image. Without showing it, I took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. "You guys should come to the wedding." Arthur wouldn't come, so I wasn't afraid this lie would be exposed. The hostility on the woman's face finally vanished, and her attention returned to Arthur. "Arthur, eat up, or it'll get cold." I held my glass, took a restrained sip, and politely said it was time for me to go. Arthur stood up too. "I'll walk you out." "Arthur, you're still sick. I'll walk her." Arthur ignored her, simply following close behind me. Just slightly crossing the boundary of normal personal space, I could even smell the faint scent of soap on him. The sound of the door closing echoed behind me. I didn't look back, walking straight toward the elevator. Arthur's pace was steady, his rhythm the same as it had always been. My hand hanging by my side twitched. I suddenly really wanted a cigarette. "It's good that you're getting married. You should have gotten married a long time ago." Arthur coughed, his voice a little hoarse. "He treats you well, right?" Afraid that speaking would result in a sob, I lowered my voice and offered a simple "Mhm." "What about you?" Having steadied my breathing, I smiled and asked him. "You guys seem to have a pretty good relationship. You must be getting close to the big day too, right?" The elevator doors chimed open. I hurried inside and frantically pressed the "close door" button, not even daring to hear Arthur's answer. Only when the elevator doors completely closed... Did I softly say, "Goodbye." This time, it was real. We would never see each other again.
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