"One thing." I can't help but blurt out, even as saying anything makes my stomach twist.
Qianqian stares at me, her eyelashes fluttering as her eyes blankly drill into mine. There's still tears pooling at the corners, and she doesn't raise a hand to wipe them.
"What?" She mutters, more venom-filled than I have ever heard from her. Her hands have stilled by her sides, and she's unmoving, tracking my every action.
"How did you know?" I ask at last. I thought I was careful– or at least, I tried to be. I tried to keep all my meetings with Bella under wraps, only done in the secret slips of nighttime darkness.
At this, Qianqian sighs, finally bringing a hand to dab daintily at her eyes. She looks different now, no longer the crying woman she was a few minutes ago. She's composed herself, walking slowly to sit at the table we used to have dinner at every night.
"How do I know?" Qianqian repeats, raising an eyebrow as she looks at me, as if debating something. "I guess I'll tell you. Nothing to lose anymore." She shrugs, looking almost relaxed now. It's a stark contrast against the red of her nose, or the puffiness of her eyes.
"You think I'm stupid." Is what she starts with. I pause.
"I don't." I return, because it's true. I knew Qianqian was capable, I knew of her ambitions and her dedication.
"Yes you do. I've known you for over two decades, I know you." Qianqian scoffs, talking to me as if it was easy to understand. "You think I wouldn't notice that you changed?"
I stay quiet now, because as much as I wish to protest it, she's right. I always felt as if something about this place was different, had changed from the streets I used to play on as a kid. I just didn't know it was me.
"You used to love me." Qianqian states, as if it was a matter of fact. "And then you stopped. It was long before you met Isabelle, so I can't blame her too much."
Before I can even say anything, Qianqian cuts me off.
"You started coming home late, smelling like beer and perfume. You really think it wasn't that obvious?" Qianqian shakes her head, "You are so naive."
Oh. I never even realized she knew. I thought I did a well enough job hiding it, trying to change clothes before I returned back home.
"Women and wives are told this tale as a warning. Turns out, I was just unlucky." She laughs without any humor, sounding more like a hyena's bark.
"I know people. People who saw you at the bar. I know people. People who saw you two walking together at the red-light districts."
Ah. I forgot how resourceful she could be. Back in high school, she was always fluttering around, unafraid to strike up conversations with strangers. Life had taken her brightness, her blossoming energy, and squashed it before it ever had a chance to grow.
I guess it really was my fault, although I already knew that. It was so obvious, in the end.
"You lied to my face." It's the same accusation as earlier, only this time, there's no anger, only resigned bitterness. "I hugged you in my arms knowing you were lying to me about seeing another woman."
That's…true. The fact made shame curl in my stomach, piercing and nauseous. She knew all of this, and yet she kept up the facade anyway.
"Why?" I interject, not knowing quite what I meant. Why stay quiet? Why not talk to me? Why not leave?
Qianqian understands what I mean anyway. She always did, without me ever having to say anything.
"I wanted to see what you would do. And, look at me." She gestures around, lips crooked in a self deprecating manner. "Where would I go? I had no way to support myself."
"Then…how did you…when I was gone?" I struggle to get the words out. This entire scenario still feels like a fever dream.
"I manage. I talked to Yi Shaan and told him what happened. He was surprisingly kind about the whole ordeal, and he helped me look for a new job at his father's hospital." She shrugs, as if daring me to question her.
Ah. That makes it abundantly clear. My friends knew, which meant my family most likely did as well. I wondered what they would think of this, if they were upset or if they even cared at all.
"Maybe he likes me," she smiles mockingly, and I feel my chest clench in anger. Yi Shaan liking Qianqian? That was absurd.
"Also." And this is when her voice takes on a strange note, and she almost sounds satisfied. "Isabelle had a husband, although I'm sure you knew about this."
This is news to me, and I feel the ground give way under my feet for countless times tonight. The world is spinning, my heart constricts, and suddenly, I have a pulsating headache.
Qianqian must read the surprise on my face, for all she does is chuckle.
"Shouldn't you know, Taihan? Cheaters won't tell you if they're taken or not." The comment is barbed, filled with a poison and lined with a steel meant to bleed.
I shake my head, almost desperately, as I sputter out "No, she wouldn't. She broke up with Valen a long time ago."
"You should know, rich men are more than happy to give a little in exchange for information on their cheating wives." Qianqian points out gently, taking an air of innocence.
"How do you know him?" I demand, because the idea that Qianqian, a common nobody from our village, would know the wealthy husband of Bella is absurd.
"He's hard to miss. Tall, imposing, in a suit. Richer than half of us here combined." She tsks, eyeing me as if I was an ignorant child.
I'm silent again. I don't know what to say to that. I believe her, believe that if she really wanted to find out the truth, she could accomplish what she set her mind towards. Instead, I try another approach.
"Qianqian…" I step towards her, my arms extended in a desperate plea. "We've spent the last years together. Dreaming of growing old together, of having our own children." I quirk a sad smile, hoping that she remembers the dreams and hopes we talked about nearly every night when we first got engaged.
Her face twists again, breaking the facade of calm.
"Don't say that again. In fact. Don't call me that again." She snarls, body turned defensively. "You threw that away the moment you left. Don't you dare think you can come back again."
I'm floundered. I don't know what to do. My plans never accounted for her refusing.
"Han Ziyan." I say instead, and wince at how awkward her name sounds in my mouth. Qianqian was the nickname I gave to her, so many years ago, underneath those summer skies. It caught on surprisingly well, and soon enough, almost all our friends called her that.
"No. You're going to beg to stay. Or tell me that you have no other option." She surmises succinctly, and I can't help but wonder if she finds some joy in breaking my heart.
I admit that I hurt her. But I found no joy in doing so. She must hate me now.
"I will tell you what to do. You are going to walk away from this apartment. If you need help finding a job, I'm sure you can beg your friends and see if one of them can help you. Or not. I'm sure you're so good at leaving and scouting out better opportunities. You are going to live a life, I don't care what kind of life it is, but it better be far, far away from me."
She makes each statement sound like an order. There's an unyielding set in her face, one that breaks any kind of protest I even want to make.
There's a sense of hopelessness that permeates in my chest, an icy sort of cold that suddenly makes me realize how exhausted I am. Qianqian has made it abundantly clear that she doesn't want me here, and I really do believe her when she says she would call the police.
For a moment, I stand still, my breath clouding in the cold air. The house – our house – looms behind me, its wooden walls weathered, its windows dull with dust. It is smaller than I remembered. Quieter. A place that once felt so full of life, of warmth, now empty.
Like I never belonged here in the first place.
I tighten my grip on my coat, my fingers trembling from something far worse than the cold.
I had pleaded. I had tried to tell her it was a mistake, that I had been blinded, that I could fix everything.
But Qianqian was never one to believe in empty words.
And now, I am nothing but a man standing outside of the life he threw away.
I take a step forward, my boots crunching against the dirt path. The streets of the village stretch before me, the familiar bends and turns now feeling foreign, like a place I no longer have the right to walk. A few people glance at me as they pass – some with curiosity, others with quiet disdain. They know. Or if they don't, they see. They see the man who left and returned with nothing.
I keep walking.
Past the market where Qianqian once bartered with stubborn vendors, her laughter ringing through the air. Past the narrow alleys where we used to sneak away as children, our hands grasping stolen sweets, our hearts full of foolish, innocent dreams.
I had always thought of Qianqian as constant. Like the earth beneath my feet, like the sky above me. No matter where I went, she would be there.
But I was wrong.
She was never the earth. Never the sky.
She was fire.
And I had let her burn out.
The weight of my choices settles deep into my bones, heavier than it has ever been. Heavier than when I first stepped onto the boat for America. Heavier than when I first realized Bella was nothing more than an illusion.
Because this – this is the one thing I cannot undo.
I glance back once. Just once.
The house remains still, the curtains drawn, the door shut tight.
Qianqian isn't watching.
She isn't waiting.
I turn away, my breath hitching.
And I walk.