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End of Affection
墨書 Inktalez
I struggled with my conflicting feelings for a long time.
During my first year of college and four years after graduation, our families, relatives, friends, and colleagues all knew that we would be getting married on the upcoming National Day. Throughout these five years, I believed that Jiang Xiaoli was my lifelong partner.
She was Huang Rong, and I was willing to be Guo Jing; she was Xiao Longnu, and I was willing to be Yang Guo; she was Ren Yingying, and I was willing to be Linghu Chong.
But when she became Pan Jinlian, I could not bring myself to be Wu Dalang.
I wanted to find a reasonable and appropriate explanation for that photo: Brother Biao sent it with ulterior motives? No way; Brother Biao was my dorm mate for four years, and he wouldn’t deceive me!
Was the photo edited? Created by AI? Were they just playing around? Or were they filming something?
But I couldn’t deceive myself!
That photo was like a thorn deeply embedded in my heart, causing excruciating pain with the slightest touch.
It wasn’t until I unlocked the tablet logged into Jiang Xiaoli’s WeChat that her chat history with that man made my anxious heart drop—only to plunge into an icy abyss.
All my fantasies were completely shattered.
The man was named Jiang Ruming, a classmate from the same year but a different class. He was the son of Jiang Huairen, the owner of Jiangcheng Jincheng Group—handsome, wealthy, and very articulate. He easily won the hearts of many girls.
After graduating from college, the academically mediocre Young Master Jiang went abroad to study in a beautiful country.
Four years later, I discovered that I had been nothing more than a big “melon” in Jiang Xiaoli’s eyes; I was merely a substitute for his white moonlight. With his return, I had devolved from cohabiting boyfriend to just another passerby.
I sadly realized that Jiang Xiaoli had never truly loved me.
Jiang Xiaoli was one of the top ten beauties of our year, with boys lining up to pursue her from at least two classes. A person like me would never have caught her attention under normal circumstances. But life has its twists of fate.
In my senior year, thanks to my exceptional coding skills, I secured an early position in the R&D department of Cloudtop Group while juggling work and study. Not only did I become a key technical member, but I also became the most favored “assistant” of the Director.
When Jiang Xiaoli came to Cloudtop for an internship interview, I appeared before her as an interviewer.
She was surprised.
Although she had many shortcomings—such as being overly ambitious, vain, and self-centered—the Director saw something special in me when he looked at Jiang Xiaoli, which led HR to make an exception and hire her.
At the company, I guided her as a “senior” and looked out for her.
She began to see me in a new light.
I sought advice from Brother Biao, who had been charming girls since our freshman year, on how to win her over. With his generous guidance and my relentless efforts, Jiang Xiaoli agreed to go out for meals, watch movies, and hang out at bars with me...
After officially graduating from university, she said she wanted to stay at Cloudtop and asked me to help her figure out a way. I approached the Director, and she agreed to stay. She was well aware of my "status" at Cloudtop, and after some gentle persuasion, she agreed to be my girlfriend, someone I could proudly announce to the world.
At that moment, I felt like I had been struck by the happiness that the matchmaker had thrown down from the heavens. I prepared a lavish feast and invited Brother Biao, this clueless "matchmaker," for a drink. To my surprise, he confirmed my relationship with Jiang Xiaoli and hurriedly left after just a few drinks. How inconsiderate of him!
I scoffed; was Buddy getting off track?
We had lived together in this rented apartment for four years, and I had accumulated quite a lot of belongings. I also discovered that many of Jiang Xiaoli's things were bought by me—like the rows of clothes in her wardrobe, all purchased with my money; all her high-end bags were also bought by me. The necklace around her neck, the bracelet on her wrist, her phone, tablet, and laptop… all gifts from me!
And it didn't stop there. When her brother got married, I contributed money; when her family built a house, I contributed money; when her mother needed medical treatment, I contributed money; even when her younger brother went to college, I contributed money. Each time, she accepted it without hesitation.
Looking back on those days, I realized how much of a pushover I had been in front of her. Every morning at 5:00 AM, I would wake up to cook millet porridge, eight-treasure lotus seed soup, and rock candy white fungus tea for her. I'd make her favorite pumpkin cakes, mixed grain pancakes, and beef dumplings. To satisfy her cravings, I even learned how to make homemade tofu using marinated water.
In the chilly spring weather, when she said she wanted to eat sweet melons, I would foolishly venture out in the middle of the night to search for early-ripening greenhouses in the suburbs. Her clothes? I washed them by hand as per her requests. When she complained about discomfort in her neck or shoulders, I learned how to give massages.
She often lamented about the low wages at Cloudtop, so I pulled some strings to get her a job as an office clerk at another company where the workload was light but the pay was good. Whatever she wanted would lead to her being "unhappy," and I'd eagerly buy it for her while begging her to accept it and cheer her up.
Throughout our years living together, whenever there was even a slight disagreement, she'd pack up and move to the spare bedroom. I'd always shamelessly go over to coax her back; this cycle continued endlessly, and I never grew tired of it.
I can't recall who once said: true love is the resonance of two souls; in true love, a man need not be a slave or a thief, nor should a woman be lowly or a concubine!
I ran against the wind for thousands of miles only to realize how wrong I was. It wasn't until Brother Biao sent me that photo that I belatedly understood that whether Jiang Xiaoli was emotionally or physically unfaithful had already shown signs:
That night she came home drunk; I made her hangover soup and helped her sit up. Concerned, I asked why she had drunk so much and why she hadn't let me pick her up. She mumbled incoherently in response: "You should go back; I'm home now. Don't touch me; it wouldn't be good if he saw..."
I chose to believe she was just rambling due to intoxication.
The next morning, I asked her where her stockings had gone. She looked so innocent and said, "I didn't wear any stockings yesterday when I went out."
I remembered clearly that I had helped her with them, the black lace ones. But if she said she didn't wear them, then I must have been mistaken.
It wasn't until I unlocked the tablet that had her WeChat on it that my worldview completely fell apart.
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