Chapter 12: “No”
Although I promised Fu Qian I would attend their wedding, I knew she was just making polite small talk. To her, I was a stranger — an insignificant nobody. Who would even notice whether I was there or not?
I wasn’t someone she cared about; she probably didn’t even remember what I looked like.
And Liang Zhiting — that day, his attention was surely only on his bride.
Attending the wedding of someone you love, watching him marry someone else, that’s nothing but self-inflicted torture.
I’m a disgusting rat lurking in the sewers, unseen by the light — but I’m not a fool running headlong to be abused.
—
Before Liang Zhiting sought me out, I never planned to go.
The day before their wedding, I was working late at the office.
Not to drown my sorrows in work, but because a stupid coworker had mistaken the final deadline with the client. Because of that, the half-finished design I had now had to be submitted early, and the originally sufficient time was drastically shortened. I had to use every spare moment in the day, sacrificing even my off work hours.
Dizzy and exhausted, I hurriedly finished a rough draft and emailed it to my department head, freeing up time to revise it myself — only then did I breathe a sigh of relief.
It was already nine p.m., three hours later than usual.
After staring at the screen for so long, my eyes were sore and heavy. I took off my glasses and leaned back to apply eye drops.
I didn’t expect Liang Zhiting to show up at this hour.
“Nan Li.”
In the dead quiet of the office where I was the only one left, suddenly hearing your name is like a head popping out from under a bathroom stall — it’s something no sane person does.
Startled, my hand trembled; I missed the eye drop and the clear liquid slid from my eye corner down my cheek. My elbow knocked over an open water glass, spilling water all over my drawing tablet.
Panicking, I grabbed tissues and started wiping, so flustered I forgot to answer.
Probably seeing my distressed look, Liang Zhiting didn’t wait at the entrance but walked right next to my workspace. Fortunately, nobody else was around eating. I put the tablet aside to focus on cleaning.
“Nan Li?”
Only then did I recognize the voice. It was him. I glanced his way; without glasses, my vision was blurry and I couldn’t clearly see his face.
He sounded concerned. “What’s wrong?”
I put my glasses back on, and his face came clearly into view.
“I’m fine. What… are you doing here?”
“I forgot something at the office and came back for it. Saw the lights on here so I thought I’d check in. Are you working late?”
“Yeah.” I shut down the computer and stood, my work badge swinging. “It’s done. I’m heading out.”
He hesitated, eyes fixed on my face.
“Are you okay?”
He took a tissue and gently wiped my cheek, blotting away dark stains.
It was the eye drops I’d spilled.
Wait…
Why that expression on his face? Could he think I’d been crying?
I wanted to explain but swallowed it. What if it was just my overthinking? Saying more might only make things awkward. Let him think what he wants.
I stayed silent.
My silence seemed to confirm something. He asked, “What’s got you upset?”
Upset? I paused. My bottled-up feelings leaked out in front of him.
Yes, of course I was upset.
Not because I was working late alone in an empty office, or because I was lonely — I was upset because — he was about to belong to someone else.
Of course, I wouldn’t say that to him. Seeing me lower my head and say nothing, he sighed after a while, ran his hand through my hair, his voice softening:
“I’ve been too busy to come find you these days. I couldn’t get away. I’m sorry.”
He turned to apologize, explaining why he hadn’t come for lunch. How could I refuse such thoughtfulness? I just nodded.
A wedding only happens once; he had to care about it.
“I’ll take you home.” He said.
“I can ride my bike.”
“It’s late.” He pointed to his watch.
If I refused his kindness again and again, it’d seem ungrateful. After hesitating, I said, “Alright, I’ll trouble you.”
I didn’t tell him exactly where I lived, just asked him to drop me off at a nearby intersection inside the complex.
He took me there. As I unbuckled, he called me.
“Nan Li.”
“What?” My hand froze open on the door.
He took a bottle of perfume from the car’s armrest and handed it to me.
“This is the perfume I always use. You seem to like this scent, so it’s for you.”
My heart pounded wildly. I didn’t accept it — not because I didn’t want to, but because I was afraid. I couldn’t figure out why he would give me perfume.
Seeing I didn’t move, he said, “I only used it a few times. If you dislike it…”
“No, I don’t dislike it. I…” Afraid of misunderstanding, I stammered out, “Why are you giving me this? I can buy my own.” (And I already had.)
I thought he’d say something like, “Because we’re friends.” But instead, with a childish tone, he said, “I just want to give it to you.”
“…” At this point, I could only reach out and take it. “Thank you.”
His hand held the perfume bottle. When I went to take it, our fingers brushed. I tried to avoid it, but he caught my hand.
His warm palm pressed on the back of my hand, fingers spreading wide to envelop it fully.
I reflexively tried pulling back, but didn’t move.
His grip was tight.
My palm broke out in cold sweat. Uneasy, I looked at him. A gentle smile appeared. He rolled up my sleeve and sprayed the perfume twice on my wrist.
The bitter, herbal scent spread between us.
His fingertip massaged the damp perfume into my skin, blending it fully with me. Then he lowered his head, bringing his nose close to sniff my wrist.
His sudden, intimate move caught me off guard.
My fingers curled, and my body stiffened, colder than a corpse frozen for a thousand years.
His nose brushed lightly against my wrist, like a hook that stole my soul.
“Liang…”
He kept his head low, listening to me speak. His eyes lifted halfway, the corners curling up in a captivating smile. He gazed at me intently from below, as if something was about to spill from his eyes.
I struggled to breathe.
“Smells good.”
His soft words were breathed onto my wrist. I was flustered, breathing rapidly, my eyes darting nervously inside the confined car, unwilling to meet his gaze.
“Nan Li, why don’t you dare look at me?”
His voice drifted like mist into my ears. My gaze stumbled, chasing the sound until it locked with his beautiful dark eyes.
My lips were dry, my throat completely parched, unable to say a word.
In the cramped, sealed car, even the smallest sound could be heard. The faint perfume drifting through the air — whether from him or on my wrist — mingled in a strong, intoxicating way.
After a moment’s silence, his eyes curved into a crescent moon. Calmly, he asked: “Do you really like me?”
The moment those words left his mouth, the world shook and crumbled. Black cracks spread from beneath my feet, threatening to swallow me into a bottomless abyss.
Blood boiled beneath my skin, burning me nearly to madness. At the same time, a cold sweat broke out uncontrollably.
He’d seen through me.
He knew.
My clumsy disguise was no match for his sharp intellect.
I should have realized long ago.
“S-sorry…” I apologized, my long-hidden feelings laid bare before the light. My first reaction was to apologize. Sorry that someone like me liked him. He must find me disgusting.
“Why say sorry?”
His hand still held mine. My trembling was obvious; under his gaze, my fingers shook harder. He laughed in his familiar voice: “Why tremble? Am I scary?”
I bit my tongue; the metallic taste of blood filled my mouth. Words wouldn’t come.
Seeing me so pitiful, he slowly loosened his grip. The feeling lingered on my hand. The perfume bottle warmed by my body heat.
I waited quietly for his final blow.
Waiting for him to say, “Don’t come to me again, I don’t want to see you,” or “You disgust me,” or something like that.
Leaning on the steering wheel, he tapped his finger lightly—a metronome counting down what felt like my life.
What I got wasn’t disgust or rejection, but a casual question:
“Will you come tomorrow?”
I froze. He was asking if I’d attend his wedding.
The topic suddenly dropped from the sky to earth. I was completely confused. Why ask this out of nowhere?
“You will come, won’t you?”
I understood.
He wanted me there—to see him marry, to see him become someone else’s husband—so I could let go of my feelings for him.
That was it. Even now, to save my face, he didn’t speak harshly.
He didn’t reject me outright—he softened the blow.
His attitude was clear. How could I refuse such kindness?
The perfume inside the car tasted even more bitter. I lowered my head and softly said yes—I would go.
“Good.” Liang Zhiting smiled. I wanted to smile back, but couldn’t pull my lips up.
“I’m leaving now. Thanks for today.” I said my thanks and was about to get out when he suddenly leaned down and embraced me unexpectedly. My face pressed against his shoulder; his collarbone was right under my nose.
My hands froze midair, unsure what to do.
What was this…?
Dazed, I lost all thought. He held me tight for two seconds, then let go, cupping my face and lifting it to look at me. “I’ll wait for you.”
“…”
I got out of the car and waved goodbye.
After his car disappeared around the corner, I crossed the street and headed back to the complex.
All the way I kept thinking about his embrace. Turning the key, opening the door, I expected an empty entryway.
The doll wasn’t there.
I heard a movie playing from the bedroom, so I went in—but the bed was empty. It wasn’t in the bedroom.
Had it gone out? But it couldn’t open doors.
Where could it have gone?
Back in the living room, I turned on the lights and looked carefully—only then did I spot it by the balcony window.
Hidden in the dark night, it stood by a cracked-open curtain, gazing outside.
Without the lights on, it was easy to overlook its presence.
“What are you looking at?”
The doll that greets me home every day was acting strangely. Was something outside catching its attention?
I walked over and followed its gaze.
I paused.
From the balcony, it had a clear view of the intersection where Liang Zhiting and I parted.
Though far away to see our faces clearly, everything we did was visible.
Had it seen something? Liang Zhiting hadn’t gotten out of the car earlier—it was unlikely he saw clearly. Hell, even if it did see, what difference would it make? It was just an object; what emotions could it possibly have?
I brushed away the inexplicable unease in my heart and closed the curtains to block its view.
Just as I turned from the window, I felt arms wrap around my waist. It hugged me tightly from behind, resting its chin on my shoulder, its cold nose brushing the pulsing vein at my neck.
“Baby.”
I turned to look at it. Its pale lips moved, and the next second, in a tone as clear and normal as anyone’s, it said:
“No.”
“…What?” I asked, dumbfounded.
Before I could react, its arms suddenly tightened fiercely, a powerful force squeezing my chest as if it had struck me. My breath stopped for a moment, and I gasped in pain. The perfume I’d been holding slipped from my hand, shattering on the floor.
The rich herbal fragrance escaped, but I had no time to pick it up. The suffocating feeling forced me to tilt my head back. I grabbed its hair, trying to pull it away—unsuccessfully. My knuckles turned white.
Blood rushed to my head, my eyes bloodshot. I rasped sharply, “What the hell…”
Before I could finish, it lowered its head, opened its mouth, and that beautiful, delicate face grew larger before me. A cold, soft object forcibly silenced my painful cry between my teeth.
It was the mouth that had just learned to speak.
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