“You’re lying.”
After a long, heavy silence, Jiaqi looked straight into his eyes. Her voice was calm, almost childlike in its honesty.
“Lying makes your nose grow longer.”
Zhengdong laughed softly. “I’ve been lying all my life, Jiaqi.”
He leaned back, eyes drifting somewhere far, far away.
“I grew up with Heping. When we were little, we played war games—me as the company commander, him as the political instructor. We led a whole group of kids charging across fields. When we ran into an ambush, I’d lead the retreat, and he’d always stay behind to cover us.”
His tone deepened, tinged with nostalgia.
“When we were teenagers, we fought with kids from neighboring compounds. Someone threw a brick at me—Heping took the hit. Got stitches in his head, didn’t shed a single tear. From childhood to adulthood, we climbed trees, jumped walls, rolled in the dirt and blood. But I had never, not once, seen him cry.”
His voice softened.
“A few years ago, I called him out of nowhere. I even asked him about his wedding date with you. And my best friend—my brother—just because you left him, actually cried on the phone. A man in his twenties, sobbing in the middle of the night across the Pacific Ocean.”
Zhengdong exhaled lightly.
“He always praised you. I assumed the two of you would get married. Heping… he loves for life. He loved me like a brother for life. He loved you, too—enough to turn against his family, enough to save every spare cent just to marry you. He even told me that one day, your son would definitely call me godfather.”
His smile was bitter.
“He never imagined you’d leave him. When he cried like that, I thought—this woman must’ve shattered him in ways I couldn’t fix.”
His gaze settled on her again.
“When I first met you in person, I recognized you immediately. I thought, ‘So it’s you.’ You didn’t look too different from the old photos. Not more beautiful, not more graceful. I couldn’t understand how you could have him so obsessed, so devastated.”
He admitted quietly, “I didn’t think you wouldn’t get married. I thought it was karmic justice—Heping loved you deeply, and you left him. Then later, he left you."
He let out a faint laugh.
“I wanted to see what you were capable of. Sent you flowers. Called you. Invited you out. And you agreed. I watched you silently, trying to understand why he loved you so much. If you took the bait, I planned to dump you immediately. A childish revenge.”
His expression shifted into something complicated.
“But you never once showed improper interest in me. I couldn’t decide whether you were too stupid or simply too good at acting. Still waters, perfect balance. Every woman I’ve met loves my money, my family, or me. But you… you didn’t care about any of it. You were with me all day and barely even looked at me.”
His voice grew quieter.
“That night after dinner, I drove you home. You slept in the car. When we arrived, I called your name, trying to wake you. Half asleep, you whispered, ‘Meng Heping, stop messing around.’”
He paused.
“That’s when I realized—after all these years, he never forgot you. And you… you never forgot him.”
He swallowed.
“In that moment, I realized I was jealous—of my best brother.”
He lowered his gaze.
“You slept for more than two hours. I held you the whole time. And while I held you, I thought—‘Why her?’ You’re not brilliant, not stunning, a little silly even. But I still fell in love. Was it because you didn’t like me? I don’t know. I only knew I didn’t want to wake you. Because once you woke up, I wouldn’t be able to let go.”
He laughed, almost at himself.
“I’m thirty-three. I’ve liked others before, had breakups, reconciliations, even moments of real passion. But that day, listening to the ticking of my watch, I thought—every second that passes is one less second I get to hold you.”
He closed his eyes briefly.
“I told myself I’d wake you and never see you again. But I’d wake up in the middle of the night thinking of you. Wherever I went, whatever I did, you appeared in my mind. Finally, I called you. And as soon as you answered, my heart softened again.”
His tone turned hollow.
“But in the end, you broke up with me first. So casually. Using my love for you to leave.”
His voice trembled for the first time.
“Heping and I… both ruined by you.”
He continued after a breath.
“After I got sick, you came to the hospital. When you looked at Heping, your eyes trembled. You idiot. You can’t lie to anyone. You still love him. After all these years.”
He ran a hand through his hair.
“But I’m even more of an idiot, because I fell in love with you.”
He swallowed hard.
“I don’t have much time. This illness—maybe a year, two at most. That night, you brought me wontons. You knocked, but I didn’t open the door. You sat outside, dozing off like a child. I watched you through the crack and thought, Let it go. She’s still young. I shouldn’t drag her down.”
His voice softened.
“But then… you came back. You told me you didn’t wait for me. And because of that, I decided to keep you—just a little longer.”
His expression tightened.
“The day you were hurt, you told me not to visit, but I still went. And I saw Heping’s car downstairs at your place. He sat there all night.”
A sigh escaped him.
“I thought—what have I done? I dragged all three of us into this.”
He looked at her with raw sincerity.
“You two are the same. Loyal. Foolish. Capable of bearing everything alone. But I’m not like that. When I love someone, I want all of them. Because I give everything. I can’t tolerate her heart wandering.”
His voice steadied.
“So, Jiaqi… I don’t love you anymore. Go tell Meng Heping why you left him. Stop lying to yourself. Stop hurting everyone. Jiangxi was right to push you away—we’re too similar.”
He forced a smile.
“Everything I told you is true. But you’re still lying, so you’re the only one whose nose will grow long.”
Jiaqi felt as though she were drifting in a dream. When she finally spoke, her voice was small, almost soft enough to disappear.
“But you don’t know… Meng Heping and I are impossible.”
Her eyes didn’t waver.
“Even if I still love him, it’s impossible.”
She lifted her chin, calm and composed.
“Too many things happened. I can’t go back. I won’t go back. I didn’t lie to myself—I gave you my best. I know how good you were to me. No, I didn’t love you as deeply as I loved him. I couldn’t. You came later.”
Her honesty carried no hesitation.
“But I’m not blind. In this world, besides Heping, only you have ever loved me like this. When I finally decided to start over with you, you pushed me away.”
Her breath shuddered.
“You say I didn’t love you enough, but I didn’t have enough time, enough youth left, to love you the way I once loved him.”
Her knees weakened. She slowly sank down beside the sofa, gripping its edge like a lifeline.
“I used to think sacrifice would bring happiness. But all these years taught me it doesn’t. I left Heping because I couldn’t abandon things more important than love—family, dignity. And because of that, I hurt him more deeply than anyone ever could.”
Her voice trembled.
“I planned to spend the rest of my life repaying that debt. But then… I met you. Another person who loved me.”
She looked up at him, eyes clear yet full of ache.
“So now, I want to be selfish—just once. I want to start over, Zhengdong. Even if you don’t love me anymore. Even if your illness is terrible. Please don’t push me away.”
She pressed her face against his knees, fragile and earnest.
“Let me stay. Let me walk with you to the end. Give me time… so I can love you as deeply as you love me.”
Her arms gently wrapped around his waist.
His hand trembled as he touched her hair, then held her shoulders, drawing her into him.
Rain tapped softly against the window.
Her face buried in his chest, she whispered:
“You have to promise me you’ll get better.”
“Okay.”
“You have to promise you won’t let me leave you again.”
“Okay.”
“You have to promise not to get involved with other women.”
“Okay.”
“You have to promise to cherish yourself as much as you cherish me.”
“Okay.”
“You have to promise you’ll never leave me again.”
Silence stretched. Then a cold drop fell onto her hair—his tears.
She froze, unable to look up.
“Okay,” he whispered again.
He breathed out, voice almost amused, almost breaking.
“Any more conditions? Say them all at once. You’re so troublesome, Jiaqi. How did I end up with someone so clingy? I can’t shake you off.”
She laughed through her tears.
“You only realized that today? Too late.”
She took a deep breath.
“There are many conditions. Listen carefully:
You can only love me.
Pamper me.
Never lie to me.
Keep your promises.
Be sincere with every word.
Don’t bully me or scold me.
Believe me.
Defend me.
Be happy when I’m happy.
Cheer me up when I’m sad.
Think I’m the most beautiful.
Dream of me.
And have only me in your heart.”
“So many?”
“If you can’t memorize them, record them on an MP4. Listen three times every morning, three times before bed, and whenever you have time. That’s called the ‘three threes’ rule.”
He blinked.
“This sounds familiar. Where have I heard this?”
She huffed. “You don’t recognize such classic lines? It’s from the BBC’s Pride and Prejudice.”
“Nonsense. It’s clearly from Cecilia Cheung’s The Lion Roars.”
She caught him instantly.
“Oh? And you claim you don’t watch those cheap Hong Kong chick flicks? Then how do you know?”
He winced.
“I never watch them. But I was pursuing a girl back then, so I saw it with her.”
She pinched him sharply.
“You dare say that?!”
He yelped. “Gentle! I didn’t know you were this violent!”
“Did you also watch My Sassy Girl with her?”
“No! Absolutely not!”
“Confession gets leniency, resistance gets punishment.”
“I really didn’t! Believe me, Party and the people!”
“Your past is too shady.”
He sighed dramatically.
“People make mistakes! And they can improve!”
“Good. Then you’ll reform your thinking. Starting today, you’ll watch one Hong Kong art film with me every day until you’ve finished them all.”
“I refuse! That’ll ruin my life! One a day—I won’t finish even in my next life!”
He leaned closer, mischievous.
“Can’t you punish me with something else? Like… some healthy daily exercise? Ouch! Don’t pinch me! If you pinch again, I’ll kiss you—I mean it—”
His threat dissolved into a kiss.
Long, lingering, breath-stealing.
A warm little tongue brushed Jiaqi’s ankle. Then Ruan Zhengdong’s foot.
Completely ignored, the dog barked sharply:
“Woof! Woof woof!”
He finally pulled away slightly, murmuring, “Oracle, quiet.”
The dog barked louder.
Jiaqi blinked. “Why is it called Oracle?”
“Let’s go upstairs. I’ll explain. This dog is a menace.”
Oracle, offended, bit his trouser leg.
Jiaqi changed the subject swiftly.
“I want to watch an art film.”
He groaned. “Or we could do what I suggested earlier—”
“In your dreams. And that was mild. How about Taiwanese dramas? All of Qiong Yao’s collection.”
He paled. “Let’s stick to Hong Kong movies. We can watch DVDs in my room. My home theater is great.”
“What’s going on between you and Sheng Zhi?”
“…Huh?”
“Don’t play dumb.”
She fixed him with a stare.
He tried to dodge.
“Which director should we watch first? Wong Kar-wai? Derek Yee? John Woo?”
“Has John Woo ever made an art film?”
“Hasn’t he?”
“What’s the story with Sheng Zhi?”
“How do you still remember?!”
“I’ll remember it for life. I’m petty.”
“I love you.”
“…What?”
“Even if you’re petty, I love you.”
“Then tell me—what’s the story with Sheng Zhi?”
He groaned dramatically.
“I used every romantic line possible and you’re still asking.”
“If you don’t tell me, I’ll ask for the rest of my life.”
“You said it—lifetime means every year, month, day, hour! Miss one second and it doesn’t count!”
She narrowed her eyes.
“Fine. Then tell me: who did you watch Farewell My Concubine with?”
“How can you be so jealous?! I watched it with Chen Kaige.”
“Liar.”
“I’m not kidding! It premiered in Shanghai in ’93. I was on vacation. The publicity department gave me free tickets.”
She grabbed his arm, eyes shining.
“You really went? Did you see Leslie Cheung? Did you get a photo? A signature? The premiere card?”
He stared at her in disbelief.
“How can you be this infatuated?”
She sniffed proudly.
“Now you realize? I’m wild, violent, petty, jealous, and infatuated. Too late—you’re stuck with me.”
He kissed her cheek—soft, tender, childlike.
Then whispered,
“If I have one regret… it’s that I didn’t meet you sooner. You’ve suffered because of me, and I’ve wandered through too many wrong turns to reach you.”
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