Chapter 7: Li Man

Before Cheng Yanyu could finish his phone call, Wen Yang couldn’t bear to listen any longer. She turned around, returned to the bed, pulled the blanket over herself, and curled up, tears streaming down her face.

What to do.

What to do.

These three words were the only thing in her mind.

She didn’t know how long she cried. Her tears still flowed when she finally heard footsteps in the room. Cheng Yanyu had returned. He placed his phone on the nightstand and instinctively glanced at the woman on the bed. She had turned over, her back facing him. He got into bed, turned off the bedside lamp, and lay down. Wen Yang used the back of her hand to wipe away her tears.

A corner of the blanket was soaked.

The room seemed to return to its quiet state.

As Cheng Yanyu was about to drift off to sleep, he seemed to remember something. Moving closer to her, he reached out to hold her. Wen Yang instinctively edged toward the edge of the bed, but his arm still landed around her waist, his palm pressing against her skin.

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After washing up, Cheng Yanyu got dressed. Wen Yang was lying face down, and the blanket had slipped back to her waist. Cheng Yanyu, now fully dressed, knelt on the bed to tuck her in.

“Wife, I’m heading to the office,” he said softly.

Wen Yang heard him but didn’t respond, only clutching the pillowcase tightly.

Cheng Yanyu leaned in to kiss her cheek before getting up and leaving.

The sound of the door closing echoed.

Wen Yang’s fingers loosened. She sat up, leaning against the headboard in a daze, her eyes staring at the closed curtains before lowering her gaze again. She felt numb, like a wooden doll. It was as if someone had punctured her sky, allowing dark clouds to pour in all at once. Her tears had dried out after the night, and she had already thrown away the bag of tissues soaked with her tears.

Now, her eyes were dry and sore.

Her phone buzzed with a message from her mother-in-law, Zheng Guili.

*Zheng Guili: Wen Yang, are you up yet? Mom just wanted to ask—what kind of sauce would you like next week? I’ll prepare it for you now.*

Wen Yang held her phone and read the gentle tone. Her dry eyes welled up with a few tears again, her skin stinging from the pain. She wiped her tears and typed a reply.

Wen Yang: Mom, no need. We still have a lot left from last time.

Zheng Guili: Last time was last time. This time, I’ll make your favorite. How about fermented tofu sauce?

Wen Yang: It’s really okay. We still have plenty in the fridge.

Zheng Guili: Alright, then I’ll send something else…

Wen Yang began to type “No need…” but eventually deleted it and replied, “Thank you, Mom.” Ending the conversation, she put down her phone.

Her face burned from crying too much, so she took a pill for the pain. The kitchen was warm with the aroma of buns steaming, but she didn’t eat. Her gaze wandered to the coat rack. Holding a cup of warm water, she walked over and stood there without knowing why.

Something seemed to stir inside her, prompting her to return to the bedroom. Opening the wardrobe, she saw Cheng Yanyu’s black suit jacket hanging in the back. She took it out and sniffed it.

The dry-cleaned jacket had a fresh scent, but faintly, there was still a trace of gardenia perfume in the air.

That scent had once clung to this suit. So faint that it was easy to overlook.

Wen Yang hadn’t noticed it back then.

But the gardenia scent wasn’t one she or Cheng Yanyu used.

She hung the jacket back in place and wandered through the house, checking every corner where Cheng Yanyu might have left something.

She didn’t know what she was looking for, maybe just searching for traces.

But aside from that faint, possibly imagined scent of gardenias, everything in the house reflected the familiar scents and traces of her and Cheng Yanyu.

For a long time, Wen Yang finally slumped onto the sofa, watching the television in a daze. Outside, the drizzle landed softly on her potted plants.

By the afternoon, she felt slightly better and tidied up the mess she had made. Nestled on the sofa, she aimlessly flipped through the TV channels. Her phone screen still displayed traces of her earlier searches: Signs of a husband’s infidelity…

The post-rain air was muggy, and the evening sky burned with fiery hues.

Around five o’clock, the front door opened. Cheng Yanyu entered, dressed casually and carrying takeout from a private kitchen. He noticed the unlit kitchen and knew she hadn’t cooked. After rounding the sofa, he saw her curled up in the corner, watching TV.

Smiling gently, he set the food on the coffee table and sat beside her, unboxing the meal.

“You mentioned wanting to try this place last time. I happened to be near it today, so I queued up to get it for you,” he said, handing her a portion.

Wen Yang raised her eyes to look at him.

Their gazes met, but she didn’t move or show any expression. Cheng Yanyu froze momentarily and leaned closer to her, asking softly, “What’s wrong? Not feeling well?”

He reached out to touch her forehead, but Wen Yang instinctively pulled back. Cheng Yanyu hesitated, looking at her.

“Wife?”

At that word, a deep sadness surged from Wen Yang’s heart, spreading through her entire being.

She looked at the man she had loved for five years, his familiar face still carrying the expressions she adored. The tenderness in his eyes was something she knew so well. Suppressing her trembling, she took the food he handed her and began to eat.

It was from her favorite restaurant.

The kind that required long lines, and unless she really craved it, she wouldn’t have asked him to buy it. Yet whenever he passed by that area, he would always bring it back for her.

Watching her eat with her head down, Cheng Yanyu noticed her nose seemed a little red. Concerned, he pressed his lips together and kept his gaze on her. Raising a hand, he gently touched her face. Wen Yang paused briefly before instinctively nuzzling against his palm.

That warmth was so familiar, it was almost reflexive for her.

After finishing the meal, Cheng Yanyu picked up a thermometer to check her temperature, but Wen Yang pushed his arm away. “I’m fine. Go take a shower.”

He checked the temperature anyway—it was normal. Still, he touched her forehead and said, “You go first; I’ll wait for you outside.”

“No, I said you go,” she replied irritably.

Cheng Yanyu paused, a little startled, but then reached out to ruffle her hair. “Alright, I’ll go.”

Most of the time, Wen Yang was gentle and composed, but she occasionally showed her temper, which he found endearing. He opened a bottle of yogurt for her, grabbed his pajamas, and went into the bathroom. That morning, he had felt vaguely uneasy about her, so he skipped overtime and came straight home to keep her company.

Once the bathroom door closed, Wen Yang slumped back on the sofa. Her gaze fell on the black phone he’d left on the coffee table. After just a moment of hesitation, she reached for it, entered the passcode— their wedding anniversary—and unlocked it instantly.

She opened the call log.

There was one number.

No name, just a single character.

Wen Yang immediately fixated on it and opened the contact.

It was a number from Nancheng.

She took a photo of it, then navigated to his WeChat. Scrolling through, she noticed something strange—her name was no longer pinned at the top. Though no one else was pinned, Wen Yang found a name in his contact list.

Li Man.

A beautiful name.

The profile picture was a back view of a woman in a beige long dress, her hair clipped with a claw clip. She stood on a lawn holding a white shepherd dog, a bright blue sky stretching ahead.

The picture showed only part of her face, tilted downward toward the dog.

Wen Yang opened their chat.

Cheng Yanyu had sent her two files.

Her replies were brief: “Got it, Yanyu.”

Further up, there were more messages.

Cheng Yanyu had texted: “Did you have your coffee?”

She replied: “I did.”

The conversation was sparse, but when Wen Yang saw the word “coffee,” her body began trembling uncontrollably. She had overheard “coffee” during last night’s storm. This Li Man loved coffee.

Wen Yang couldn’t bring herself to scroll further. Instead, she clicked on Li Man’s profile, took another photo, and then carefully restored the phone to its original position on the coffee table.

Her chest felt tight as if she couldn’t breathe. She got up and went out onto the balcony.

The dark sky was dotted with stars, twinkling faintly, both near and far.

When Cheng Yanyu finished his shower and came out of the bathroom, a towel draped over his head, he walked into the living room, his damp figure faintly outlined. He picked up his phone and glanced up, noticing Wen Yang curled up on the balcony in a lounge chair.

She’d been unusually quiet tonight, and a troubling thought crept into his mind, but he quickly pushed it aside.

Wen Yang wasn’t one to stay silent like this.

Setting down his phone, he walked toward the balcony. She was curled up in the lounge chair, hugging her knees, her gaze lost in the night sky. Her long hair cascaded over her shoulders, giving her an ethereal yet detached appearance. Cheng Yanyu approached, and though she barely acknowledged him, he crouched to touch her ankle, murmuring, “You’re barefoot out here.”

“The ground’s not wet anymore,” she replied absentmindedly, glancing at him. “Did you finish your shower?”

He nodded. “Yes. Are you going to take one?”

She shook her head. “Later. It seems like there are stars tonight.”

Cheng Yanyu turned to the sky. There were indeed stars.

They had stargazed countless times before. On Misty Moon Mountain, they had spent an entire night watching the stars, with Wen Yang nestled in his arms under his jacket. Even this lounge chair had been bought for stargazing. Whenever Wen Yang spotted stars, she would always pull him into the chair with her.

Cheng Yanyu’s heart skipped a beat as he turned his attention back to her.

At that moment, his phone rang in the living room.

Letting go of her ankle, he went to answer it.

Standing in the living room in his white loungewear, he took the call, his voice carrying through the room.

Wen Yang’s eyes remained fixed on the stars, but she heard every word of his conversation.

It wasn’t with her.

She tightened her hold around her knees.

Right now, everything felt like a potential threat.

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