Reply to Keats - Chap 70
70. Take Responsibility for Your Own Life
The mountain road wound downward. The passenger-side window of the Rolls-Royce was halfway down, and the sea breeze swept in. Chen Wan felt a sense of ease and relief—not because of what had become of Liao Quan or Chen Bingxin, but because of Zhao Shengge.
Chen Wan’s hair was tousled by the wind as he reached for his cigarette case, only for Zhao Shengge to press his hand down.
“Smoke during the day.”
Chen Wan was a light sleeper, and Monica had advised against smoking or drinking before bed.
“Alright.” Chen Wan smiled.
In truth, ever since Zhao Shengge had come into his life, he rarely experienced insomnia or woke up at night. When he slept, Zhao Shengge would bury his head in the crook of his neck and wrap his arms around his waist, his breath warm and steady. But tonight, Chen Wan lay in the darkness with his eyes open, unable to sleep.
He quietly lifted the edge of the blanket, but suddenly, his wrist was caught.
Chen Wan turned his head in the dark and asked softly, “Did I wake you?”
Zhao Shengge’s hair was slightly tousled from sleep. His expression was lazy and drowsy, but his eyes were clear. His voice was husky. “Where are you going?”
Chen Wan whispered, “To take my meds.” Monica had prescribed a small dose of sleep aid.
Zhao Shengge gazed at him in the dim light.
Chen Wan blinked and grasped Zhao Shengge’s arm with both hands, saying honestly, “I can’t fall asleep.”
Zhao Shengge looked at him for a moment and said, “It’s fine. Then don’t sleep just yet.”
In the past, when Chen Wan couldn’t sleep, he would feel burdened and weighed down. But Zhao Shengge had once told him that insomnia wasn’t an illness. From then on, he stopped feeling guilty about it and stopped saying sorry.
Zhao Shengge casually threw on a robe, not bothering to tie the belt properly. He wrapped Chen Wan in a blanket with his long arms and carried him to the bay window of the room. That handmade wool blanket Chen Wan had bought for Zhao Shengge had, in the end, found its home on the bay window in Chen Wan’s room.
He opened the window with a remote. Even in winter, the stars still shone at night.
Zhao Shengge embraced Chen Wan tightly from behind. His broad and firm chest made Chen Wan feel as though he had landed on a safe, secure island.
Zhao Shengge handed him the pills and a glass of warm water.
“Let’s visit Monica again tomorrow.” The recent sessions had been going well. Monica believed the root of Chen Wan’s condition was his belief that he had to be in complete control and bear everything alone. If he could learn to trust and rely on others, that would already be a significant breakthrough.
“Alright.”
Zhao Shengge rested his chin on Chen Wan’s shoulder. His long legs folded around him, fingers interlacing with Chen Wan’s, locking him in place.
“Is it because we went to Xiaolan Mountain tonight?”
“No.” Chen Wan turned his head. His tone was honest, filled with trust. “I suddenly thought of my mother.”
Liao Quan could no longer disturb his peace in the slightest. But on the way back from Xiaolan Mountain, Song Qingmiao’s face kept surfacing in his mind.
He had last seen Song Qingmiao a week ago. After the power shift at the Rongxin shareholders’ meeting, Zhao Shengge had driven him there.
Rongxin Estate was built at the end of the last century. It had originally been the residence of a British businessman and was later seized and auctioned off after the return of Haishi.
At the time, Chen Bingxin had ridden the wave of reform, rising to fame in Haishi. He had spent lavishly to buy the estate, renovating it extravagantly with carved beams, painted rafters, crimson halls, and soaring pavilions.
Now, it stood desolate and empty. With Chen Bingxin stepping down and the different households fleeing as calamity struck, most of the servants had also been dismissed.
“Wait for me here,” Chen Wan grabbed Zhao Shengge and said. “I don’t want them to see you.”
Zhao Shengge raised an eyebrow, catching a hint of something else in his tone. He nodded and said cooperatively, “Alright.”
He leaned against the door of the Rolls-Royce, lifting his chin slightly. “I’ll watch you go in from here.”
Chen Wan said, “Sit in the car and wait.”
Zhao Shengge’s voice was low and steady. “Chen Wan.”
Chen Wan replied, “Alright then. I’ll be out soon.” The wind today wasn’t strong, but the sun wasn’t bright either—faint, not warm at all.
Zhao Shengge kept his hands in his coat pockets and said, “No rush. Take your time talking.”
He wanted Chen Wan to say everything that needed to be said. After this, he probably wouldn’t let him go see Song Qingmiao so often anymore.
Chen Wan nodded.
Perhaps because he knew someone was waiting for him, walking into this neither-Chinese-nor-Western deep courtyard home felt calm and at ease this time.
The sounds of mahjong and sensual music that once echoed in memory had vanished. The dog chain that always lay across the middle of the path was gone. The flowers by the pond hadn’t been tended in some time; weeds had taken over. A draft blew through the covered walkways, making a hollow, desolate sound.
Several nephews from the third branch were inside, dividing and tallying up the antique collections. Rongxin’s market value had plunged in a short span and had been acquired by others. With their granary gone, these parasites even tried to dig the embedded Buddha statues out of the walls to take with them.
The light at the doorway dimmed, revealing a face from the shadows. The group was startled, looking in fear at the suddenly appearing Chen Wan.
In their terrified eyes, it was unclear whether they were seeing the crazed boy holding scissors from over a decade ago or the decisive young man who had dominated the recent shareholders’ meeting.
Chen Wan walked past them directly and headed up to the attic. He knocked on the door.
“Who is it?” Song Qingmiao asked warily.
“It’s me.”
“Baby?”
“…Mm.”
The door opened. A dozen open jewelry boxes came into view. No matter how chaotic things were outside, even if the world was falling apart, Song Qingmiao was still counting her jewelry.
Willow-wood boxes, big and small, covered the table and the floor.
“….” Chen Wan wasn’t too surprised. He went over to open a window, letting out the smell of smoke, and asked, “Are you packing? Do you have… any plans afterward?”
No matter what she’d been through, Song Qingmiao always carried a kind of carefree innocence. She tucked her hair behind her ear, still strikingly beautiful. “I called a car. I’ll move to the place in Xiangjiang first, and later I’ve arranged to go on a trip with some friends.”
That place in Xiangjiang was a property Chen Wan had bought for her, but she had never lived there.
Song Qingmiao folded her luxurious clothes one by one, completely absorbed. One moment she was talking about how nice the weather was in Australia, the next she was mentioning how it was fashion season in Italy.
“…”
“Alright.” Chen Wan had thought of a lot to say before coming, but in the end, he only said, “Stay safe. If you run low on money, let me know.”
“Didn’t you have someone watching me?”
Chen Wan paused, then said, “Do you blame me?”
Song Qingmiao said angrily, “How could I dare blame you? You’ve grown up, become independent. I can’t tell you what to do anymore.”
Chen Wan sighed inwardly, went to help her fold clothes, and said, “Then don’t worry about me. You’re free now, just live your life well.”
Song Qingmiao didn’t seem to care much. She gave a vague response and went back to counting the diamonds she planned to take with her. But just as Chen Wan was about to leave, she called out to him, “Baby.”
Chen Wan’s steps halted, a subtle flutter stirring in his chest.
Song Qingmiao lowered her head and lit a slender cigarette, holding it between her lips with a touch of irresistible charm. She glanced out the window. “Didn’t you say you wouldn’t repeat my mistakes?”
Beneath the bauhinia tree, Zhao Shengge stood tall and straight, along with a few others. He hadn’t looked at his phone at all, just stood there, calm and patient.
There was a faint indifference in Song Qingmiao’s eyes. “They’re all the same. Not one of them is reliable.”
For the first time in a long while, Chen Wan felt a trace of concern from her. He looked at her and slowly shook his head, telling her, “No. He’s different. And—”
“I will take responsibility for my own life.”
After a pause, Chen Wan added, “I hope you will too.”
Song Qingmiao gave a soft snort, clearly not taking it to heart.
After that visit, she went off on her trip, and Chen Wan became busy with work. They didn’t see each other again.
But for some reason, on this sleepless night, her face kept appearing in Chen Wan’s mind.
Playful, tearful, radiant, pitiful—the way she looked sixteen years ago, the way she looked just recently…
“Back when I was still at the Tang building and hadn’t been taken back, there was a time I was badly beaten and fell seriously ill. It took a long time for me to recover.”
Zhao Shengge gave an “Mm,” listening silently.
“She must’ve just entered the Chen household around then and didn’t have much money. She stole a piece of jewelry, pawned it, took me to see a doctor, and bought me a bag of candy. I only found out later that she was beaten when she got back.”
“Chen Bingxin beat her once, and then the main wife who managed the accounts beat her again.”
“When I found out, I cried with sadness and rage. I hated myself for being useless, but I didn’t dare let her see.”
“One year on my birthday. In fact, I didn’t even know it was my birthday. I never knew, growing up.”
“She suddenly came to see me. At that time, she must have already done quite a few things for Chen Bingxin and had somewhat established herself in the household. She brought me a cake and a model airplane made of building blocks. She helped me put it together for a while, touched my head, and said she’d be able to take me away soon, that we’d live in a big house.”
“I didn’t tell her that I didn’t want a big house. I just wanted to be with her.”
“Every time she came to see me, she had a new bruise. I used to think, if only I were there, no one would dare hurt her.”
“You might not believe this, but before I met you, there were several times I really wanted to kill Chen Bingxin. Not even Zhuo Zhixuan knows that.” Zhao Shengge was now the person he trusted the most, so he could say it. “Though I think Chen Bingxin sensed it eventually, which is why he found Monica for me.”
“And that summer when I got accepted into your school, she went gambling. Chen Bingxin locked us in the basement. I still don’t know if her gambling had anything to do with wanting to send me abroad. I didn’t dare ask. I was afraid she’d say yes. And even more afraid she’d say no.”
“The Chen household looked lavish on the surface, but if you had no money, life was hard. You had to bribe the servants and couldn’t offend the housekeeper or the cook. Every wife handed out generous tips. If you didn’t give out red envelopes or bonuses, everything you ate, wore, and used would be the worst of the worst.”
“The spiteful ones would even pull strings in secret. The different wives in the household had very clear factions, and their servants followed suit, scheming and fighting openly and in the dark. There was actually a younger sister from the ‘Bao’ generation after Chen Baoying who died because she had a fever and the servant deliberately delayed calling a doctor.”
Chen Wan’s emotions suddenly became agitated. Zhao Shengge simply held him like that, neither coaxing nor interrupting, just placing Chen Wan’s hand into his own, holding it quietly. That calmed him down a little.
“Socializing cost money too. Daily expenses like food, clothing, and necessities had to be recorded by the main wife. After she redeemed me from Xiaolan Mountain, she really didn’t have any money left.”
“She used to care so much about dressing up, but that year I came back, she hardly wore any jewelry at all.”
“Maybe she was scared by it all, so later on she developed a habit of collecting gemstones. Maybe jewelry gave her a sense of security.”
“After I graduated, she always hoped I’d fight for Rongxin’s shares. I can understand that. She used all her shares to redeem me, so it was something I owed her to begin with.”
“She used to be a very, very good mother. When I was little, I really… really liked her. It’s just that—”
Reality is cruel. That sliver of love in her nature couldn’t withstand the pressure of patriarchal authority or the twists of fate. When a person can barely protect themselves, you can’t ask them to love others.
So even if Chen Wan had been hurt countless times, whenever he thought of Song Qingmiao, there was still a tenderness he could never let go of.
It was the first gentleness he had ever received in this world.
No one is born knowing how to love. If they do, it must be because they were once loved.
Even if just a little.
Author’s Note:
There’s an interpretation of “A Letter from Keanu Reeves” that I once came across: it speaks to things that were once distant and unattainable, but through diligence and perseverance, eventually receive a response.
It could be love, family, admiration, or perhaps academics, career, or dreams. But all of it, in the end, will be answered.
