36. Heartbroken

Twenty elderly residents, seven or eight staff members—each meal required nearly three tables, though it was fortunate that the dishes were simple home-style fare. The elders’ diet was mostly stews and boiled foods, so each day, three people in the kitchen, working two hours ahead, could prepare three decent tables of food.

Tang Yiyi kept reminding herself to eat less, to restrain her appetite. She sipped a few spoonfuls of soup, ate two chunks of beef, but when she reached the vegetables—sweet and tender—she couldn’t help but take a few extra bites.

The young gatekeeper happened to sit beside her, watching her feed herself as if she were feeding a cat—gingerly, bit by bit—he couldn’t resist saying, “You’re already so thin, are you still dieting?”

“No, Boss Fan is treating us to barbecue tonight. If I eat too much now, I won’t be able to eat later.”

Boss Fan said, “Eat as much as you like, there’s plenty of time before the barbecue. These vegetables are pesticide-free, so you can eat as much as you want. They’re easy to digest—you won’t miss out on supper.”

“No, I’m saving room for barbecue.”

Everyone at the table laughed. Boss Fan, always good-natured, replied, “Alright then, I’ll start early. How about after eight?” He turned to Tang Yiyi, then waved his hand at the others. “Hold back a little, everyone, leave some space for the barbecue.”

After the meal, Qin Baike approached Tang Yiyi. “I’m going to the supermarket in town for a few things. Want to come?”

“Yes, I want to go.”

They set out together. She asked, “Are you buying things for the barbecue?”

“Mm-hmm, we’re out of cumin. Need to get some bamboo skewers, we don’t have a brush, and I’ll grab some pears—good for vitamin C before barbecue. If you see anything you like in the supermarket, just take it.”

“Just take it? Hahaha, those three words make me so happy. You’ll regret inviting me!” He ignored her little boast.

Driving downhill, they passed the edge of the bamboo sea scenic area. The sunset blazed at the horizon; Tang Yiyi leaned against the car window, feeling the wind, gazing at the sky awash in color. “Beautiful! The last brilliance of the day.” Qin Baike slowed down, letting her enjoy the view.

In the silence, Tang Yiyi’s phone rang. She fumbled for it—Li Huan.

“Huanhuan, darling, what made you think of me?”

“I messaged you on WeChat. Didn’t you see it?” Li Huan sounded troubled.

“I haven’t been online. What’s wrong?”

“You’re at the clinic?”

“No, in the bamboo sea, came to do acupuncture, and to relax.”

“Tang Yiyi, I don’t want to ruin your mood, but I can’t take it anymore. See for yourself, I won’t say it.”

Tang Yiyi, puzzled, turned on her data and opened WeChat. Li Huan’s profile showed two unread messages—both images. The signal in the mountains was poor; the loading circle spun endlessly as she waited.

When the images finally downloaded and appeared, her heart was struck hard by something unknown; the pain spread slowly from within, dull yet suffocating. In the picture, Wang Yufeng sat with a girl in a café booth. They faced each other, but their hands were tightly clasped across the table, both smiling happily.

The second photo, same place and time, a glass of water between them, each sipping from a straw.

Tang Yiyi recognized the girl—a junior classmate of Wang Yufeng’s, someone they’d dined with before.

She took a deep breath, biting her lip, deleted both photos, and as she exited, saw a message from Wang Yufeng as well. She opened it. Just one sentence: Sorry, let’s break up.

Tears welled up instantly. At least he gave an explanation, rather than disappearing without a word, leaving her to guess, to despair until she wasted away in tears. She had sensed this ending, and his clear admission was the best way.

With difficulty, she typed a single word in the chat window, stared at the send button until her vision blurred again, then determinedly pressed it: Okay.

Through these painful, tangled days, she’d considered breaking up countless times. She knew their relationship was strained, but each time she’d held on. Now, as the word “Okay” was sent, the string inside her heart snapped with a sudden twang. She thought it would be agony, that she’d be torn apart, but instead, there was a sense of relief, finally knowing the outcome, no longer needing to guess his feelings. So be it.

Li Huan’s message arrived: Darling, don’t force someone who won’t stay. Someone better is already on their way.

Tang Yiyi replied with a simple “Mm.”

She closed her data connection, leaned gently against the car frame, letting silent tears fall.

Qin Baike glanced at her, pulled the car to the roadside, and took two tissues from the box, handing them to her. “What happened?”

Tang Yiyi took the tissues and wiped her tears, sniffing. “My boyfriend just became my ex-boyfriend.”

Qin Baike stared for a moment before understanding, then gave a wry smile. “You’re handling it well—not too sad, still joking.”

“I am sad.”

“Mm, I know you’re hurting,” Qin Baike said, starting the car again.

“Don’t people usually offer comfort when something like this happens? Why are you always so different?”

“Cry for a while. Let me remind you: don’t ever beg him to come back. Love may be lost, but dignity must be kept.”

Tang Yiyi turned to look at Qin Baike, feeling wronged, and murmured an “Mm.” He seemed even angrier than she was, like a protective older brother.