The winter abroad was harsher than I imagined: streets slick with ice, nights drawn long with silence. My treatment consumed every breath dim therapy rooms, whispered hypnotic counts pulling me into fractured sleep, medications leaving my body heavy as stone.
And still, Yu Sen remained.
He did not always approach me. Sometimes I only spotted him from a distance, leaning against a café window across the street, scarf pulled high, pretending to scroll his phone. Other times, he stood at the hospital entrance, pretending to wait for a taxi, until I passed by and my heart clenched.
The worst part was never his presence. It was hearing his thoughts unstoppable, raw as open wounds.
"She’s thinner again today. Did she eat? Why will not she eat?"
"Do not let her see. Do not let her know I have been standing since morning."
"Just smile at me once, Xing. Once is enough."
I tried to shut it out. Doctors told me stop feeding these illusions, focus on recovery. But how could I, when every step was haunted by his voice?
One night the hospital power flickered out during a storm. I left the ward late, umbrella struggling against the downpour.
And there he was.
Yu Sen, standing across the street, rain pounding his shoulders. He was not hiding in scarves this time, not pretending with his phone just looking at me, eyes red, rain streaming down his jawline.
I stopped.
"Why?" My voice cracked. "Why are you here again? Do not you understand? I do not want this anymore?"
His lips parted. Water rushed down his face, masking tears from rain. His voice was hoarse. "Because I do not know how to live without you."
Then, as always, the inner chorus hit me, louder than thunder:
"If she walks away now, I will vanish. Just vanish."
"God, please make her believe me once more."
My throat closed. I wanted to scream, to curse, to drown out the pull of his voice. Instead, I spun on my heel and bolted, boots slicing water, leaving him motionless in the storm.
Days passed. Weeks. I tried burying myself in schedules. Dance classes in between treatment, stretching in mirrored studios, body aching but heart steadier.
But Yu Sen infected everything. Newspapers, televisions, strangers’ gossip.
"Have you seen him in the new drama?" nurses whispered. "So powerful onscreen. Redemption."
"An idol reborn into a true actor," critics praised.
And me? I slammed papers shut, turned televisions off, stuffed my ears against echoes of his name.
Still, every crossroad, I glimpsed him. In shop windows, at train stations, lingering on benches I passed always a step back, always close.
When the doctors asked why my progress lagged, I could not admit the truth. It was not the illness holding me back it was him.
The final breaking point came on a spring morning, when cherry blossoms rained across the cobblestones.
I walked out from therapy, head clear for once, and there he stood. Dressed simply, hair neatly combed, holding a coffee in each hand like a nervous schoolboy waiting for a confession.
I stopped, exhaling.
"Yu Sen. Enough."
For once, he did not lunge. He simply extended the cup toward me, trembling slightly. "One last time. Drink with me, then I will leave. If that is what you want, I will leave."
And in his head quiet, raw, not the dramatic wailings I had grown used to, but a single fragile thread:
"Even if she says goodbye forever, at least I will have this one walk beside her."
My heart stuttered.
Why is it so much harder to reject someone willing, finally, to be gentle?
The truth always betrayed him through his inner voice.
"Back then I skipped every English class at the senior academy spent my nights playing games with Wang Run. Picked up a few words just to trick her."
"Will she believe me now if I admit it? She did before."
Fifty years of marriage had taught me never to expect straightforward honesty from Yu Sen. He covered small truths with silly fibs, casual lies he pretended did not count. He would be out playing chess with neighbors and say, "a friend needed help." As if sparing me details was some kind of mercy.
"Forget it," I said. "No need to explain. Just call your manager. Have him pick you up. I am leaving."
I turned but felt a sudden tug at my coat.
"Why so quick?" Yu Sen whined, eyes wide. "Look, I admit it I was gaming instead of studying. Next time I’ll really learn English. You’ll see, my English will be perfect."
I blinked in surprise. Honesty, from him?
"And what about the Japanese lessons?" I pressed.
He grinned sheepishly. "For Zelda. My favorite game back then."
I narrowed my eyes. "And calligraphy? You said you were studying philosophy of ink."
"That day the school hosted a drag cabaret."
I nearly choked. "Every week there was a drag show?"
"No, sometimes stage plays, sometimes opera, sometimes cosplay conventions."
I laughed aloud despite myself. "Your hobbies are impressively broad."
Finally, I asked the question buried in me too long. "Why never take me with you?"
His smile faltered. "Because I was afraid you would feel hurt. Afraid of your disappointment. But now you’re dancing again. From now on, I will go to your shows. Everywhere you travel, I will be there. Just bring me, too. Please, Xing, do not leave me behind."
The ache in my chest pulsed. In the next breath, his thoughts spilled again:
"The manager’s gone, and so is my passport. How do I tell her I cannot even leave the country anymore?"
My jaw set. I whirled on him. "Yu Sen, what kind of idiot gives his passport to his manager?"
His eyes bulged comically. His mouth opened and shut like a fish. "How did you know? I never said a word."
Chapter 05
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