Chapter 15: “You Look Good No Matter What”
My head throbbed like it was being pierced by needles. Every movement felt like my brain might shake loose. My stomach was dry and burning uncomfortably. I took a deep breath, buried my face in the pillow, and groaned for a long while before slowly sitting up, clutching my head to steady myself.
Damn this foreign booze; its aftereffects were brutal.
I was resting my forehead with my eyes closed, when something pressed lightly on my temples—one on each side.
The doll sat beside me, moving its stiff fingers to massage my head.
I chuckled softly. “Where’d you learn that?” My voice came out sounding like a duck with a bad cold.
It said nothing, just kept massaging.
No guesswork needed — it must’ve learned from the movies.
Romantic films really are good teachers.
I laid my head back against its chest, closed my eyes, and peacefully enjoyed its pampering.
I’d taken leave from work today, so no more rushing off to be a cubicle cog. Though its fingers were cold and stiff, its pressure was firm. After a while, the pain eased. I got out of bed, went to the kitchen and made some instant noodles to fill my empty stomach.
I slurped noisily and ungracefully. Sitting across the table from me, it faced my direction. I wasn’t sure if it was watching me or my noodles.
Could it be craving food too?
I smiled and twirled some noodles on my fork, holding it up to its mouth: “Want some?”
It paused, then opened its mouth as if really going to bite. I quickly pulled back; it bit at empty air. I’d never heard of a doll that could eat.
Amused by its awkwardness, my mood lifted. I wanted to see more of its funny reactions.
Under the table, my leg silently stretched over and placed my foot on its knee. Following a deliberate path, it slid straight toward that useless spot between his legs—and pressed down.
Its hand slid down and covered my foot. Then it stayed still. —It didn’t pull my foot away but let me boldly step on it, even pressing my foot down with its hand as if afraid I might run off.
I kicked it hard. It lost balance and was kicked off the chair, tumbling onto the floor on its back.
There it lay with a dumb, stunned expression, not moving to get up, just staring at me.
I laughed so hard my stomach cramped; tears blurred my vision. Breathing heavily, I scolded it: “Stupid dog.”
After eating my fill, I lay back on the bed. Shortly after, the doll followed and lay beside me.
Watching the movie, I yawned from boredom. It, on the other hand, watched attentively. I couldn’t stand it anymore and sought to tease it — grabbing its chin, forcing it to look at me.
I asked, “Is it good?”
It stared at me. After about a minute, it opened its mouth and said, “Good.”
I stroked its cheek with my index finger—from forehead to nose to lips—and softly asked, “Is it the movie that’s good, or am I?”
It called me “Baby.”
It sounded like an answer, yet somehow not.
I narrowed my eyes and leaned in to kiss it. The daylight room was bright and clear; nothing escaped my sight. I precisely saw its every move, and a different thrill rose in me. I grabbed the back of its head and responded passionately. The wet sounds lingered long in my ear.
Pause. Pull away. Still wanting more, I kissed again.
It was more intoxicating than any drink.
My breathing became uneven; my brain short of oxygen. Realizing I couldn’t go on, I reached up and firmly covered its mouth with my hand, blocking its advance. Its lower face was hidden beneath my palm, only those captivating eyes visible.
In its pupil, I read an unusual focus and seriousness, as if it was truly gazing at me.
My palm itched — something soft wriggled inside. I knew what that was.
Half parting my lips, my chest rising and falling, I murmured softly, “Your tongue…” It seemed a little softer?
The touch was much better than before.
Better to what extent? I licked my lips and mumbled, “Getting addictive.”
I moved my hand away from its mouth. The next second, it grabbed my wrist and kissed me without hesitation.
A toy gave me my first kiss, and got me so dizzy I could barely think. Saying this out loud might get a laugh for sure.
The strangest thing was, somehow…
This damn thing seemed even more addicted to this than I was.
Ding ding.
My phone buzzed. I turned head and parted from it; its kiss fell on my cheek but it didn’t move away, still softly pecking me.
So clingy.
I didn’t mind. I reached down to pick up my phone from the floor. It was a message from Liang Zhiting: “Okay.”
Just a word—his late reply to my “I’m home” message from last night.
But now it was afternoon the next day. I might as well have had no reply. I felt miserable and choked.
Beside my ear, the doll whispered: “Baby.” Suddenly five fingers reached over and covered my phone screen, blocking Liang Zhiting’s message.
Looks like my husband was getting impatient.
Good thing I didn’t know what to reply to Liang Zhiting anyway. He probably wouldn’t reply again. Better not to upset him.
I tossed the phone aside and melted into its embrace.
·
After Liang Zhiting’s wedding, he seemed very busy. I hadn’t seen him for a long time. Our WeChat conversations stopped at his one-word reply: “Okay.”
Half a month later, I finished lunch at a restaurant near my office and headed to the public restroom to wash my face. As the water flowed, I heard footsteps approach.
Looking up, water dripping into my eyes, I saw someone behind me in the mirror, but couldn’t make out their face.
“Nan Li.”
It was Liang Zhiting’s voice.
I froze for a moment, reached out for my glasses on the sink. I didn’t find them but instead felt his hand—he had been holding my glasses.
The moment I touched his hand, I quickly pulled back.
“What? Is there a thorn on my hand?” he joked.
“No, no…” Nervous, I tried to explain but stammered incoherently. He chuckled, “Look at you, so nervous. I’m just teasing.”
I: “…”
He handed me back my glasses and asked, “How bad is your eyesight? You seemed to have trouble finding them.”
Well, apparently, he had been watching my clumsy fumbling like a blind person. He couldn’t stand it and took my glasses.
“Over 600 degrees…”
“That is pretty bad.”
I reached to take the glasses, but he paused me. “You still have water on your face. Wipe it first.”
I had no tissue, so I roughly rubbed my face with my palm. Liang Zhiting didn’t like my sloppy cleaning and gave me a handkerchief. Embarrassed, I took it and wiped.
Halfway through, I looked closely at the handkerchief. It was exactly the same as the one he had given me before. He must really like these—does he collect many of the same kind?
“This handkerchief…”
He smiled knowingly and said, “Yeah, same as the one before. I often shop there and became a regular. They give me these handkerchiefs every time. I have a bunch at home.”
“Oh.”
I finished wiping and put on my glasses. Liang Zhiting looked at me with a smile and asked, “Do you still have the one I gave you? If you lost it, I can give you this one.”
Without hesitation, I replied, “I still have it.”
After my words, the room fell quiet except for the drip of the faucet.
Liang Zhiting knew I liked him, so he naturally understood what it meant that I kept the handkerchief he gave me but never used.
With just a few words, he drew out my confession.
I hung my head and said, “I’m sorry.”
“Why apologize?”
“If you dislike that I still have it, I’ll bring the handkerchief back tomorrow…” It was rare for me to have something that truly belonged to Liang Zhiting. I hadn’t kept it long before having to give it back.
Then again, he had a wife now. Someone like me, a tacky, gross nobody, liking him, he probably felt disgusted inside even if he didn’t say it.
But before I wallowed in sadness, he said, “No need. What’s given is yours. Keep it.”
I looked up, confused and stunned, staring at him blankly.
He met my gaze.
“We said we’d still be like friends, didn’t we?” He was so straightforward, making me feel even more lowly and pathetic.
Desperate to gain his trust, I hurriedly promised, “Don’t worry. I won’t… cause you any trouble. I won’t do anything to break your family or marriage! So, please don’t…” My voice grew ever softer until barely a whisper. “Please don’t hate me.”
After a long pause, he finally replied, “I won’t, Nan Li.”
He said: “I won’t hate you.”
My eyes grew wet. I rubbed them as I bowed my head.
He didn’t expose me, only said, “I’ve been on a business trip lately. Haven’t been at the office. Have you been eating well at lunch?”
I asked about what kept him busy. Turns out he really had been away on a trip.
Even knowing such an unworthy person as me liked him, he hadn’t turned away in disdain but permitted my closeness, protected my dignity, and showed thoughtful care. How could there be someone as good as Liang Zhiting? Meeting him was like spending all my luck at once.
My ears burned as I nodded, “I have.”
“That’s good.”
Though reluctant, I folded the handkerchief and offered it back to Liang Zhiting. He didn’t take it but smiled at me silently.
His gaze made my scalp tingle; my hands and feet went numb. I didn’t know how to react.
“What is it?” I asked.
His eyes curved, and with a soft laugh said, “Nothing. I just think you look better without glasses.”
Boom.
My heart nearly exploded with that beat.
It shook me to my core.
I couldn’t believe what I heard.
“Better”? Was he really talking about me?
…
I never thought I’d hear those two words from Liang Zhiting—used to describe me at that.
Since childhood, I’d never been praised. Since I remember, people avoided me like poison, constantly scolding, beating, and bullying me. I knew I was loathed, disliked, and unlovable.
Sometimes I couldn’t even stand to look in the mirror, not wanting to see the face staring back.
Was Liang Zhiting sincere? If not, that was okay too. If he was just lying to comfort me, I’d accept it. At least he was making me happy.
That night at home, I took a shower, removed my glasses, and stared into the steamed-up mirror from all angles.
The doll followed me behind, diligently licking the droplets of water.
I turned to face it, wrapped my arms around its neck, and raised my head to ask, “Do I look good like this?”
“Yes.” It said.
I pointed to my face. “I mean, do I look good without glasses?”
“Yes.”
“…”
I must be crazy—it can’t really understand. Asking it is pointless.
“Forget it. You wouldn’t get it anyway.”
I was putting on the bathrobe and about to head to the bedroom when it wrapped its arms around my waist from behind and kissed my forehead. “Baby.”
It said, “You look good no matter what.”
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