Resigned to Fate

The woods were wrapped in night, and even the insects had fallen quiet. Shadow stepped over dry branches deeper into the forest. Her shoe crushed one with a crisp crack, startling a sleeping bird from the treetops. It fluttered past her forehead.

The sign lights of the restaurant at the street corner were still far away. Earlier, she had taken two bills from the stack Xie Xie had stuffed into her hand last time, rubbing them apart with her fingertips. Their greasy corners curled upward. The braised pork came first, its sauce glistening under the light. She picked up a piece and bit into it, the juices scalding her tongue as her cheeks puffed while she chewed. When the pork rib noodles arrived, the noodles were thick and broad. She ordered two eggs, poked the yolks apart with her chopsticks, and let the chili oil mix into the broth. She slurped down noodles and soup together. Before leaving, she spotted the rotating sausage grill by the counter and pointed at it. The owner tore off a bamboo skewer and handed it to her. She gnawed on it as she walked, and by the time she finished the last bite, night had fully fallen—the streetlights snapped on in a row, stretching her shadow long and thin.

The hinges on the little house's door were rusted. Her arm felt slightly heavier as she pushed it open, and the long creak— dragged through the darkness. She did not turn on the lights. She pulled the refrigerator door open a crack, and cold white light sliced out, illuminating her red eyes for an instant. The curved trace of a smile still lingered in her pupils, like frost clinging to them. She took out a bottle of mineral water. Condensation beaded on its surface, making it slip slightly when she gripped it. Her knuckles turned white as she twisted off the cap, then she tipped her head back and gulped it down—her throat bobbed four or five times in a row as the stream of water crashed into her stomach. Her jawline tightened, and droplets slid down her neck into her shirt collar, soaking a small dark patch. Her knuckles brushed against dust when she set the bottle back on the counter, but she ignored it and turned toward the bedroom.

The bed was a single, its springs old enough to creak when she sat down. The blanket lay piled at the foot of the bed. She yanked it over herself, covering her head and face, and tucked the corners beneath her chin, leaving only her red eyes and the right hand holding her phone exposed. The screen lit up, its cold glow cleaving the darkness and casting a bluish pallor over her chin, every fine hair on the tip of her nose visible. Curled up with her knees pressed to her chest, she scrolled with her thumb. Whatever she saw made her red eyes curve again, a smile returning to her face—only for the wind outside the corridor to scrape it flat in an instant. Beyond the window, branches in the woods clawed at the night sky. The plane trees had long since shed their leaves, their black limbs scratching against the glass like claws.

Elsewhere.

The purple swelling on Xie Xie's left cheekbone had faded to a pale blue. Pressing it with a fingertip left only a slight ache. His right eye could open a third of the way now, red veins webbing the white of it, though it was no longer blurred into a mass of blood. The medicine Gu Yue had prepared dissolved into a blue-green paste. It felt cool at first when applied, then stung, like snow water seeping into the swollen flesh. Yun Ying supported a cotton ball with her thumb, her knuckles pressing against his temple to keep him from dodging. When the cotton rolled over the corner of his eye, Xie Xie sucked in a breath and his shoulders jerked upward. Yun Ying planted the butt of her spear against the floor with a bang. "Take another breath like that and you'll poke out your own eyeball."

Xie Xie shut his mouth. His Adam's apple bobbed, and the dampness at the corner of his left eye dried into a gleaming streak.

A small pot of congee simmered on the kitchen stove. When Yun Ying brought it out, her own bowl was thick enough that she had scraped every bit of crust from the pot into it. Xie Xie's bowl, however, was rice broth watered down until the blue pattern at the bottom of the bowl showed through. It was so thin that after fishing around with the spoon for ages, he could only find two grains of rice. One stir scattered the ripples across the surface, and the grains sank to the bottom like two sesame seeds. She set it on the coffee table, and the base of the bowl struck the glass with a ding.

Xie Xie opened his left eye a little wider. His gaze shifted from Yun Ying's face to the bowl. His swollen lips moved, and air leaked through his teeth. "Th-this can be called congee? Sister Yun Ying, you... I protest. I-I want noodles..." The last word turned into a muffled thunk, his pouting mouth looking like a dumpling caught in a door and pinched again.

Yun Ying straddled the chair backward and sat down with her arms folded over her chest. Her chin tilted slightly upward, the corners of her eyes uncurved, and her voice squeezed through clenched teeth. "Eat it or don't. Go hungry if you won't! You can't eat anything else right now!"

Xie Xie's Adam's apple bobbed. His left hand unconsciously clutched at the sofa cover, his nails digging into the fabric. When he let go, five little crescent marks remained. He opened his mouth, and half an "I" slipped out past his swollen lips before he swallowed it back down. He raised his left hand before his chest, pinching a patch of empty air between his index and middle fingers, then gave it the gentlest shake, as though crushing the words "I protest" and scattering them away. His voice stuck to his swollen lips, carrying a hint of resignation:

"Fine. I'll eat. Is that good enough..."