Chapter 97: Past
"Dude, I'm going to get laid!" Furuya's voice exploded through the phone, nearly knocking Yasushi off balance as he yanked it away from his ear.
"What?" Yasushi's irritation flared, confusion creasing his brow at the abrupt intrusion.
Winter break had settled over them like a thick blanket of snow. The days had drifted by lazily since their stint volunteering at the museum, each marked by the heavy news of Max's group. They weren't behind bars, but youth detention centers would hold them for the next two years, a different kind of cage that shadowed their thoughts.
Yasushi leaned back in his office chair, the room they had set up together divided right down the middle. Jingliu's half stood empty for now; she and Yinhaie were in the kitchen, the sound of clattering pots and pans mingling with their laughter as they put together lunch. Yasushi had offered to help, but Jingliu had shooed him away, insisting they had it under control.
"We're going on a date Christmas Eve," Furuya continued, his excitement palpable through the phone. "I've got a feeling it's finally going to happen."
Yasushi sighed, rubbing his temple with his free hand. "That's great, Furuya. But you didn't have to shout."
"I know, I know. I'm just so hyped! Can you believe it? Christmas Eve!"
Yasushi glanced at the clock, the ticking second hand seeming louder in the quiet room. "Yeah, well, good luck. I've got to get back to work."
"Thanks, man! I'll tell you all about it later!"
Yasushi hung up, the office returning to its usual silence. He let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, the winter light filtering through the window casting long shadows on his desk.
"Christmas Eve, huh?" Yasushi muttered under his breath, eyes flicking to his phone. The screen lit up, displaying the wallpaper of him and Jingliu, their faces close together, smiles wide as they captured a fleeting moment.
He smiled, a small, private smile, and placed the phone down. His hand moved to the drawer, fingers brushing against the cool wood before he pulled it open and retrieved a small box. He opened it carefully, the hinges whispering as they moved. Inside, nestled in dark velvet, lay a ring — a promise ring. Its simple design spoke volumes, more than any ornate piece ever could.
A necklace had crossed his mind initially. But Jingliu already wore one, a keepsake she used to store tiny, precious things. A ring seemed more fitting, more intimate, a silent vow wrapped around her finger.
He had connections. Or rather, someone in his family did, someone who knew a craftsman capable of creating custom pieces. Yasushi had reached out weeks ago, a series of messages exchanged, ideas discussed, until the ring was made. It had arrived only recently, tucked inside an unassuming package. The anticipation of giving it to her had been building ever since.
"Maybe during a Christmas Eve date," he murmured, the words barely more than a breath. His mind wandered to the possibilities, the right moment, the perfect setting. It had to be just right.
The door creaked open, and Yasushi hurriedly slid the ring and its box back into his drawer, the smooth motion blending seamlessly with the room's stillness. He looked up just in time to see Yinhaie and Jingliu step in, each balancing plates of food. They approached his desk, setting down a plate before him, followed by several smaller dishes.
In front of him lay a bowl of Lanzhou lamian. The hand-pulled noodles, springy and perfect, swam in a beef broth rich with depth. The broth was a deep brown, punctuated by bright slices of radish and finely chopped scallions. The aroma wafted up, a promise of warmth and comfort.
Next to the noodles, there were baozi, their steamed buns pillowy soft, almost ethereal. Each bun held a savory surprise — some filled with succulent pork and crisp cabbage, others with tender chicken and aromatic scallions. Their smooth, slightly glossy surfaces hinted at the deliciousness within.
To the other side sat Shengjian Mantou Soup, a Shanghainese delicacy that always made Yasushi's mouth water. These soup dumplings, unlike any other, had a unique crispy bottom that contrasted beautifully with the delicate dough encasing them. Inside, a burst of pork broth and meat awaited, a tiny explosion of flavor with each bite.
Yinhaie and Jingliu settled into their seats, their presence bringing a gentle liveliness to the room. Jingliu's eyes sparkled with a hint of mischief as she nudged a plate closer to Yasushi, urging him to dig in. Yinhaie, more reserved, simply smiled, the kind that conveyed warmth without words.
Yasushi picked up his chopsticks, a faint smile playing on his lips. "Looks amazing," he said, his voice soft but sincere. He glanced at Jingliu, their earlier conversation about Christmas Eve hovering in his mind like a secret, waiting to be shared at just the right moment.
"Yinhaie usually prepares various dishes to match our tastes, but I thought it would be nice to make some food from my homeland. These were some of my favorites growing up," Jingliu said, her chopsticks already in hand, her smile bright and genuine as she began to eat.
"I supervised Lady Jingliu and helped out here and there, but she was the mastermind behind all of this," Yinhaie added, picking up her own chopsticks and joining in.
Yasushi nodded, a warm smile spreading across his face. He had tasted Jingliu's cooking before, during those moments when she and Yinhaie worked together in the kitchen. Their lunches were always delicious, but this meal was different. This time, Jingliu had taken the lead completely, a rare occurrence.
They had cooked together in the past, their efforts a blend of skills and ideas. Jingliu often downplayed her abilities, calling those meals a joint effort, never claiming full credit. Today, however, her culinary prowess was on full display, the dishes in front of them a testament to her talent.
He picked up his chopsticks, savoring the first bite of Lanzhou lamian. The rich broth and perfectly pulled noodles were a comforting embrace, a window into Jingliu's past. The baozi, each one a soft bundle of flavor, revealed her attention to detail, the balance of ingredients. The Shengjian Mantou Soup, with its unique texture and explosive taste, showcased her creativity and mastery.
Yasushi looked at Jingliu, her eyes sparkling with satisfaction as she watched them enjoy the food. "This is incredible, Jingliu," he said, his voice filled with appreciation. "You've really outdone yourself."
Jingliu's smile widened, a hint of pride in her eyes. "I'm glad you like it. It means a lot to me."
The room filled with the sounds of eating and soft conversation, a comfortable rhythm that spoke of shared history and the joy of simple pleasures. As they enjoyed the meal, Yasushi couldn't help but feel a deep sense of contentment, the promise ring in the drawer a silent reminder of the special moment yet to come.
+-+
Later that night, the room was bathed in a soft, flickering glow from the TV, casting long shadows that danced along the walls. The young couple, Yasushi and Jingliu, sat close on the couch, the dim light creating an intimate cocoon around them. The low hum of the TV provided a comforting background noise, barely noticed as they focused on each other. Their lips met, gentle at first, then more urgent, their hands exploring familiar terrain. Their tongues intertwined, moving in a rhythm only they understood.
Yasushi felt his desire building, a growing need he struggled to contain. But he knew it wasn't the right time to let things go too far. Jingliu seemed to sense this, her intuition sharp as ever. She gently placed a hand on his chest, a soft yet firm barrier that halted their escalating intimacy.
He pulled back slightly, confusion mingling with the heat of the moment. His eyes searched hers, waiting for an explanation. Jingliu's hand remained on his chest, the warmth of her palm a grounding presence. She took a deep breath, her eyes reflecting a mix of resolve and vulnerability.
"I'm ready... to tell you something," she said, her voice steady but soft, each word carefully chosen.
Yasushi's expression shifted from confusion to seriousness, his brows knitting together as he nodded. He waited, the air between them thick with anticipation. Her words hung in the space, promising something significant, something that would change the fabric of their relationship. He held her gaze, his own heart beating a little faster, ready to listen, ready to understand, ready for whatever she was about to reveal.
"You probably heard that I once had a fiancé from Xinyi, right?" Jingliu's voice was steady, though Yasushi could sense the tension beneath her words. He nodded, a simple affirmation.
"The day the engagement ended," she continued, "was when I revealed something to him. I had been refusing his advances, and he couldn't understand why."
She paused, taking a deep breath, her eyes meeting his with a mixture of determination and vulnerability. "An uncle of mine tried to... do something to me when I was younger. Yinhaie was there. She always stayed close to me, and that day, she felt something was off. She hovered near us and managed to stop it. She never liked my uncle, which was another reason she kept close."
Jingliu's voice wavered slightly, the painful memory etched in her expression. Yasushi felt a surge of emotions — shock, anger, protectiveness. His blood ran cold at first, then heated with a burning desire to confront the man who had caused her such pain. But he knew now wasn't the time for anger.
He took a deep breath, focusing on Jingliu. Her vulnerability needed his understanding, not his rage. He reached out, gently taking her hand in his, offering silent support. His eyes never left hers, encouraging her to continue.
"Once he found out, he ended it," Jingliu said, her voice tinged with resignation. "There was never love in that engagement; it was arranged by our grandparents. But when he threw a big enough tantrum, they called it off officially."
Yasushi's throat tightened. "Did... did your grandparents...?" He couldn't finish the question, but Jingliu understood. She nodded, her eyes reflecting a complicated mixture of relief and lingering pain.
"Yes, they knew. That was the only 'good' thing they did. When they found out what my uncle tried to do, they sent him away. Though I believe they ended his life and merely pretended to send him somewhere else," she explained, her voice trembling slightly. "That's why I'm hesitant about going to the next base with you. I'm sorry," she whispered, her head hanging low, her body trembling.
Yasushi felt a wave of emotions crash over him — anger at the injustice she had faced, sorrow for her pain, and a fierce protectiveness. He moved closer, wrapping her in a gentle embrace. "Why are you apologizing? None of that was your fault..." he murmured, stroking her hair and kissing her forehead tenderly. "Don't apologize. And I don't mind waiting until you're ready. This isn't something you just brush under the rug."
He held her close, feeling the weight of her past between them, a heavy presence that demanded acknowledgment. The TV continued to flicker in the background, casting fleeting shadows that seemed to echo the ghosts of her memories. Yasushi knew this moment was pivotal, a raw and honest unveiling that brought them closer, even through the pain. He tightened his embrace, silently promising her that he would stand by her side, no matter how long it took for her to heal.
After a few minutes of silence and the warmth of their embrace, Yasushi finally spoke. "Let's go on a date on Christmas Eve," he suggested, his voice gentle but firm. "Then we can come back and celebrate with Yinhaie and the others."
Jingliu, who had managed to calm down after revealing her life-long secret, looked up at Yasushi. She saw the sincerity in his eyes and nodded silently. The weight of her past seemed a little lighter with his understanding and support.
With their plans now set, they returned to their quiet cuddling. The TV flickered, casting soft shadows around the room. They let the stillness of the night envelop them, finding solace in each other's presence. The room felt more peaceful, a haven from the complexities and pains of the world outside. In their shared silence, they found a kind of healing, an unspoken promise that whatever came next, they would face it together.
CREATORS' THOUGHTS 
Haruki_Murakami
Haruki_Murakami "Quand on veut, on peut." -French proverb
"When one wants to, one can."
Meaning: This proverb expresses the idea that determination and willpower can overcome obstacles, emphasizing the importance of motivation and perseverance in achieving one's goals.
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