Chapter 84: May We All Be Well

Dong Yanyan breathed a sigh of relief, then turned to see Xu Cheng sitting on the ground, gripping the stair railing for support. Anger surged within her, and she didn't know where the strength came from, but she hauled him up by his hair, shouting fiercely, "So you think you have a reason just because you're drunk? Stand up! Don't throw up! Come back to the classroom with me!"

Truly, just as a sapling needs to be pruned, a husband must be kept in check. See what happens! Just a few months of neglect, and he's become like this!—How could anyone even look at him in such a state?

Xu Cheng was somewhat intimidated by her ferocity and followed her back to the classroom, stumbling in shame. The lights were already out, and only Song Mingcheng and Li Hui remained, reviewing their lessons.

Dong Yanyan dragged Xu Cheng to his seat. He looked as if he wanted to say something, but she shot him a glare and whispered sternly, "Be quiet! The teacher will be here soon, don't let him see you!"

She had barely finished speaking when Mr. Chen's footsteps echoed down the corridor. She pushed Xu Cheng's head under the desk and sat beside him, hiding his body from view.

Mr. Chen opened the door, swept his flashlight around the classroom, saw only three students left studying, gave them a few words of advice, and left.

Song Mingcheng glanced over at Dong Yanyan, said something quietly to Li Hui, and the two of them snuffed out their candles, gathered their books, and left.

Only Dong Yanyan and Xu Cheng remained in the classroom. There was no electric light, no candlelight, only the cold, clear moonlight outside the window, casting a faint glow that allowed them to see each other's outlines.

Once upon a time, the two of them had sat in this very classroom, speaking sweet words, holding hands with lingering affection, seizing every chance to cling to each other. Later, they graduated, got married, had children; the fiery passion of the past was slowly ground down by the trivialities of daily life, becoming a kind of familial affection. The days when a single glance could set their hearts racing were gone. Now, he was drunk. Sitting beside her, she wanted nothing more than to scold him harshly, drag him to the toilet, and make him vomit on his own. When he was drunk, he was truly infuriating—so much so that she couldn't help but throw things, couldn't help but lose her temper. Then, for days on end, he would tread carefully, watching her mood.

But after all, times had changed. He was now just a classmate, an eighteen-year-old boy. So, after her initial anger subsided, she forced herself to calm down. It was time to have a proper talk. The detours of youth—she didn't want to repeat them, nor did she want him to walk the same path.

She rummaged through his desk and found a candle, lighting it. In the warm orange glow, she looked at Xu Cheng, who was slumped over the desk, eyes half-closed and unfocused. With a sigh, she asked, "Are you feeling better?"

Xu Cheng nodded, wincing. "Dong Yanyan, thank you. Today, I—"

"I know. Don't talk yet, just listen to me." Dong Yanyan knew that once he was drunk, he would ramble endlessly, and she had no patience for his pointless chatter.

Xu Cheng managed a gentle smile and nodded.

"I know you're hurting inside, and I understand. But I really don't think this is necessary. Relationships are about two people—if only one gives, it's neither secure nor fair. Today's outcome isn't entirely her fault." Dong Yanyan spoke softly. What right did she have to blame Liu Siying? Even couples who had shared eight years of life together could turn their backs on each other in a heartbeat; even the woman he'd loved and cherished for over ten years could suddenly see him as a stranger, wishing never to meet again. What right did she have to accuse someone else of being fickle and unfaithful? The one who was most heartless, most ruthless, was herself. As she thought this, pain and sorrow rose in her like a tide, overwhelming every other feeling, leaving her breathless.

A flicker of light flashed in Xu Cheng's eyes; he hurried to argue, "But I—"

"I know you've been good to her, but it's not what she wants. She wants a boyfriend who's more outstanding than herself; it gives her face. All girls want their boyfriends to outshine them. No one really cares for a nice guy with no temper, no personality, no distinguishing features. Chasing a girl by groveling, pestering, and lowering yourself is the most foolish way. Besides, it's not as if there's only one girl in the world worth your love. You think that because you've invested your feelings, you deserve something in return, but that's not how it works, even if you don't want to admit it." She looked into his eyes and said softly, "Your sadness now serves no purpose. If I were you, I'd make myself better, outstanding—then, without you even trying, girls would come to you. Look at Song Mingcheng: as dull as he is, plenty of girls like him—not just because he's handsome, but because he's capable and confident. Confidence gives a boy a natural charm, and that's exactly what you're lacking right now.

"Xu Cheng, you're not inferior to anyone; you're just not directing your efforts the right way. You're a student—do I need to tell you what you should be doing? The time you waste drinking with your buddies could be spent attending a lecture. The time you loiter outside her dorm could be used to memorize vocabulary. It's not that you can't work hard; you just don't really want to. If you put your heart into changing, you'd find everything would be different. What you lost today is nothing at all."

Xu Cheng fell silent for a long time before choking out, "I understand. Thank you for telling me all this. No one has ever talked to me like this before."

Dong Yanyan believed him. His parents were uneducated, selfish, ignorant, and even their basic values were questionable. The fact that he'd turned out this way, with his character and temperament intact, was already remarkable. But precisely because of this, he was more sensitive and fragile than other kids. He worked hard to show generosity and dignity in the group, but deep down, he was riddled with inferiority and insecurity. The more he tried to put on a strong front, the more exhausted she felt for him.

"Xu Cheng, that's not what I want to hear." Dong Yanyan pressed on. "Tell me, when you wake up tomorrow morning, can you stop thinking about this unhappy business? Can you maintain your composure in front of her instead of looking wounded? Can you resist letting others laugh at you?"

"I can," Xu Cheng replied, forcing a smile. Dong Yanyan nodded, but suddenly he grabbed her hand. She wanted to pull away, but then saw his head drop; his hand was rough and cold, and she felt something warm and wet slide across its back. Her heart gave a violent shudder: she knew he was crying again.

For a long time, she had relied on him, a girl wandering in a strange land, ignorant and naive, with only him to depend on. There was a time when her dependence on him was so great that without him, she lost all sense of direction. But after everything they’d been through, she realized he was even more fragile than she was. When she needed comfort and strength from him, she found he was more powerless, more in need of comfort himself. Even when they quarreled, if things got heated, he never talked back—just stared at her, eyes red with tears, crying as he asked, What do you want from me? I don’t know what to do to make you happy. Why is everything I do wrong?

Whenever she saw him cry, she cried too. Why didn’t he understand? She wanted nothing else, just a strong enough shoulder to lean on—someone who, in times of pain or despair, could stand firm behind her. But he couldn’t do it. No matter how many times they argued or cried, he couldn’t do it. Even when trouble came knocking, when others bullied her, she had to be the one to argue, to reason, to speak harsh words—he would only stand behind, murmuring platitudes about keeping the peace. If only everything could be settled so easily! What woman wants to become a shrew? But he didn’t understand, nor did he want to change—it was simply his nature, and that could not be changed.

She remembered her first miscarriage: just after leaving the hospital, her father-in-law started making trouble, picking faults with her mother. Her mother was timid and dared not argue, so she turned her anger on her, scolding her for lacking manners and bringing shame. Dong Yanyan was still in her month of recovery, crying every day. But all he did was take care of her, cry alongside her, and never defended her in front of the elders. She didn’t blame him; she just had to fend for herself, fighting for her right to speak in his family, returning every slight with added strength once she recovered. What else could she do? No one wants to hurt their own family, but she was even more unwilling to be hurt again and again by his family. It was a pain she never forgot, a pain that lingered for years, one that still made her shudder when she remembered it.

"Can you stop crying every time something happens? Xu Cheng, you're a man—you need to have a man's sense of responsibility. When you have a wife and children, are you going to let them fight your battles for you? Are they going to wipe away your tears?" Dong Yanyan gritted her teeth. "Xu Cheng, stop crying. What am I supposed to do when you’re like this? What do you want me to do? I’ve had enough. I really have! I can't keep looking after you. I don’t want to do this anymore!"

She looked at him in despair, tears finally spilling over, unstoppable. This was the man she had loved for so many years, the one she had shared a bed with, the one she was used to relying on and caring for. To say she felt nothing, to claim she wasn’t guilty, would be a lie. But she really couldn’t bring herself to get close to him again. His family, their confused youth—it was all a nightmare, one she never wanted to relive.

In the vast classroom, there was only the sound of their sobbing. Song Mingcheng stood at the door, arms folded, quietly watching them.

Dong Yanyan noticed a faint light coming from the door. She turned her tear-filled eyes and saw Song Mingcheng standing there, watching. Hastily, she wiped her tears, sniffed, and, forcing a wavering smile, said, "Help me take him back to the dorm, will you? He’s drunk, and now he’s crying."