My name was Ren Daguo.
I was a down-and-out middle-aged writer.
When Xiao Ye was six and Qingning was three, I got divorced.
I remembered it was drizzling the day we signed the divorce agreement. After shopping at the mall, she and I took shelter from the rain in the café on the ground floor.
I was in a bad state that day and barely spoke. All I could think about was why my manuscript had been rejected again, and what exactly was wrong with my writing. I also felt unwell. There was always a dull ache in my abdomen. I had gone to the hospital for tests, but the results weren't back yet...
I was very quiet, but there was nothing strange about that.
For a middle-aged man, work and income were the backbone that let him stand tall. When a man wasn't doing well, he tended to be quiet.
What puzzled me, though, was that she was quiet that day too. That was unusual. In the last few years of our marriage, my memories of her were all of her being busy, seemingly always texting or making calls.
We finished our hot drinks, but the drizzle outside hadn't stopped.
Suddenly, she said, "There's a good opportunity at work. I'm going abroad. Let's... get divorced."
I was stunned. I felt both surprised and unsurprised.
Before we married, we'd started from the same place and could be considered a good match. After marriage, I chose freelance work, writing at home, while she chose to work her way up at a foreign company.
One of us was always moving fast, the other always slow.
By the time I looked up again, she'd become a regional director at the company, while I had accomplished nothing, with neither fame nor money.
Huddling together