Chapter 19: N. At a Standstill

The snow in Seattle grew heavier. Su Hui walked alone on the sidewalk, aimless.

Liang Wen called three times before Su Hui finally answered. He spoke about Su Hui’s glasses, but deftly probed for the full story, then told him it was hard to book a room for Christmas and suggested Su Hui stay at his place for the night.

Su Hui wanted to refuse, but fearing his poor state would affect the next day’s exhibition, he agreed. Liang Wen came down to pick him up and, seeing how terrible Su Hui looked, gave him a comforting hug.

Bathtub, hot water, soothing aromatherapy, and slow-paced marine life documentaries—Liang Wen generously provided everything that could alleviate Su Hui’s depressive episode.

“Why do you like the sea so much?” Liang Wen asked, standing by the sofa with a glass of dry martini.

Su Hui, wrapped in a blanket, stared hollowly at the ocean on the projection. “Living by the sea would be happy. If I could choose, I would want to grow up in a small fishing village,” he replied dully.

He couldn’t find peace all night. Even when he returned to the quiet guest room and lay on the soft, empty bed, Ning Yixiao’s face appeared before him. The quieter his surroundings, the noisier his heart became. He vaguely heard Ning Yixiao’s voice saying, [I thought you had already forgotten me, after all, I was almost forgetting you too.]

The snow outside didn’t stop for a moment. Su Hui didn’t sleep all night. Every time he closed his eyes, painful memories resurfaced, leaving no room for escape.

He forced himself to get up, take his medicine, and change. Liang Wen drove him to the gallery and spoke to the organizers. When they asked him to stay a while longer, he complied. Other exhibitors were enthusiastic, but Su Hui felt more and more useless, cautiously observing his surroundings while pretending to be engaged. When Liang Wen brought him coffee, Su Hui took it and offered a polite smile.

Occasionally, he looked up at the butterflies he had folded by hand, and a wave of dizziness hit him. He would suddenly remember the image of Ning Yixiao hiding in the cocoon with him, but it was only for a fleeting moment.

Worried about his grandmother being alone in the apartment, Su Hui took a flight back to New York as soon as the exhibition ended.

While waiting at the airport, he received a call from the organizers telling him that his exhibit had been purchased by a private collector. A ripple stirred in Su Hui’s deadened heart.

“Did they leave an email or any contact information?”

Su Hui opened his inbox and found a new email. He clicked on it to find the same engagement party invitation as before, persistent, as if the party’s exquisite food would be tasteless without his presence. Without opening the details, he closed the invitation and told the staff member on the phone, “I want to write an email to thank the collector.”

“Unfortunately, the collector requested anonymity; we cannot provide their personal information.” The staff comforted him. “It doesn’t matter, Eddy, they really loved your work and paid quickly. Have you checked if the funds arrived?”

Su Hui did. Indeed, a sum of ten thousand dollars had been added to his bank account—a considerable price.

The money came just in time, rescuing him from many predicaments. Su Hui paid his rent and settled his credit card bills from buying medicine—things that had been overwhelming him disappeared temporarily.

He had lived in an exquisite cage since childhood, with rights and money he didn’t want, and no freedom he craved. Now, everything was inverted, yet Su Hui still lived his life in a mess.

On the plane, he gazed at the clouds outside, thinking of how Ning Yixiao looked at the hotel. He seemed to have gotten what he wanted, which brought Su Hui a sense of comfort. Without him, Ning Yixiao would only live better.

The narrow cabin was suffocating. After surviving the flight, Su Hui landed in New York. He turned on his phone and saw three missed calls from his landlord, so he called back immediately. It was snowing even harder here, the weather treacherous; there were no taxis to be found. When the call finally connected, the landlord’s voice was frantic: “Come back quickly, your grandmother fainted, and she was just sent to the hospital!”

His mind went blank for a second. He rushed out of the airport, searching for a long time in the snow before finally finding a car.

The temperature in the car was extremely low. He couldn’t tell if his frozen hands were from the cold or a somatic symptom of his depressive episode. Su Hui tried to type, but couldn’t; he could only manage a shaky callback to the landlord, asking what had happened in a panic.

He rented an old-fashioned apartment in Queens with his grandmother, and the landlord lived on the same floor. The landlord, a fifty-year-old white woman, got along well with his grandmother. Today, when she went to get flour, the grandmother had suddenly fainted into shock.

Su Hui felt his heart wrench. He curled up in the back seat, breathing heavily. He tried to act normal, but his body wouldn’t obey. He opened the window slightly, using the cold wind to keep his mind clear. The snow-filled wind messed up Su Hui’s slightly long hair. A wave of tinnitus hit; he furrowed his brows and pressed his lips together.

The driver in the front seat noticed something was wrong and asked if he needed help. Su Hui shook his head, gripping the seat, his eyes full of defense and unease. Until he got out of the car, he tried to shake off his pessimistic premonitions, trying to believe his grandmother would be fine, but it was like a lingering dark cloud cast upon his heart.

In the hospital, he found the landlord. She was anxious but relaxed upon seeing him. She stayed with Su Hui to wait for the doctor’s results, but the wait was too long—one hour, two hours passed—the light in the operating room remained on. Su Hui couldn’t let the landlord waste her time, so he thanked her repeatedly and told her to go home and rest.

The incandescent lights in the hospital were blindingly bright, leaving only his suitcase to accompany him. During the wait, Su Hui felt for a long time that the medication he took had lost its effect. He felt weak and nauseated, imagining himself as a puddle of melted rubber, flowing on the floor, clinging to the doctors who approached and left. He knew he wasn’t normal, but he couldn’t control his abnormality.

Until 1:00 AM, the attending physician appeared and delivered the verdict calmly and cruelly: “Primary liver cancer, mid-stage, shock caused by complications.”

The result was like a death sentence, striking hard against his heart. Su Hui froze, his brow knitting slightly, his large, hollow eyes surging with emotion for a split second. He wasn’t sure if he really understood, nor did he know what to ask.

“Are you the patient’s family?”

Su Hui nodded slowly. “She is my grandmother.”

The doctor nodded; he had seen such situations too many times. “The patient’s condition is critical; she needs to be admitted to the ICU for emergency care. We need to be clear about the costs beforehand.”

Su Hui immediately said, “Whatever the cost, please, you must save my grandmother…”

“Sign this.” The doctor handed over a critical condition notice. “I have other things to explain.”

“There are many treatment options for mid-stage liver cancer. We need to check if the patient is eligible for surgery to decide on the plan. Even if she is revived, she will need to be hospitalized for a week for tests. If she is eligible, we will arrange for surgery immediately. If not, there is nothing we can do but pursue conservative treatment.”

“Surgery…” Su Hui’s throat was dry. “Can surgery cure her?”

The physician clearly avoided his eyes and replied conservatively: “The cure rate for liver cancer is very low. If surgery is possible, the probability of extending her life increases.”

Extending her life. That was not the answer he wanted.

Su Hui’s nose ached; he hung his head unnaturally and cleared his throat. “Then… what do I need to do now?”

The physician told the nurse to take Su Hui to register and pay the hospitalization fees. In the midst of a depressive episode, it was hard for him to adapt to the fast pace of the hospital. Just as he barely kept up, a barrage of questions hit him—the biggest one being medical insurance.

“Are you a US citizen? Do you have insurance?”

Su Hui blinked and shook his head. “No, I am not.”

The nurse glanced at him, looking at his beautiful face and old coat. “Then your medical expenses will be very high. Extremely high.”

“How much?” Su Hui asked.

“It varies.” The nurse stared at the computer screen and said casually, “Everyone is different. You should ask your attending physician.” She handed the receipt to Su Hui. “Pay the ICU fee first: ten thousand dollars.”

To him, this price was astronomical, but Su Hui didn’t hesitate. He swiped his credit card and asked, “After I pay, will my grandmother be admitted immediately?”

“Someone will notify you.” The nurse glanced at him. “Why do you seem like you’ve never been to a hospital before?”

Su Hui lowered his eyes. The hospital was likely the place he was most familiar with; it was just that this time, he was not the one being treated.

Su Hui wandered back like a homeless ghost to the floor his grandmother was on, watching her being sent to the ICU but unable to go in with her. He didn’t dare to leave for a single second, only sitting on the hallway stairs, sleepless all night.

Su Hui wasn’t sure if this was a nightmare or reality—after all, the starting point was Ning Yixiao, whom he could only meet in dreams. Every second he doubted whether he was having an episode or hallucinating; perhaps at this moment, his grandmother was still at home, happily wrapping small wontons and waiting for him.

The years he had spent were always trying to stand up, always shattered by accidents. It didn’t even hurt anymore; he just felt dry, too dry to chew or swallow. He didn’t know what the next blow would be.

After 16 hours, his grandmother was transferred from the ICU to a regular multi-bed ward. Su Hui could finally be by her side, the illusion shattered into reality. It was cold in the ward. He ran up and down to find a shop, bought a quilt, and tucked it tightly around his grandmother. She was still in a coma. Su Hui held her aged hand for a long time. While fetching water, he heard someone talking about how the previous patient in her bed had passed away in their sleep the previous afternoon.

The next day, the test results came out. The attending physician told him that, fortunately, there was an opportunity for surgery, but the risk was high and the cost astronomical. He observed Su Hui, asking him repeatedly if he could accept the plan.

“One hundred thousand dollars?” Su Hui asked again.

“Yes. The patient’s complications are dangerous, and the surgery is complex.” The physician told him, “Surgery is not the end of the treatment. The larger costs will be subsequent interventional therapy, hospitalization fees, and medicine. Based on previous clinical cases, you need to prepare at least five hundred thousand dollars for this year.”

Su Hui’s savings were less than eight thousand dollars, including the amount he had recently received—the amount that had made him happy for a brief moment.

“I will try.” His eyes were red, but the tears didn’t fall. He was stubborn. “I want to save her. This is very important to me. She… she is my only family left.”

He knew he could borrow money—he could find Liang Wen or Professor White—but his pride got in the way. These people had helped him too much and had already supported him enough.

Opening his email, he saw the engagement party invitation again. When he first received it, Su Hui thought there had been a mistake. He was neither a wedding planner nor a wedding designer; his work had nothing to do with engagements. But the other party emphasized repeatedly that the client loved his work, inviting him time and again to chat in person. During his painful depressive episode, Su Hui had no interest in anything and hadn’t even opened the materials they had sent; he didn’t care at all who was about to walk down the aisle.

Perhaps out of self-importance, or perhaps out of arrogance, he thought he was different. But this time, Su Hui realized he was no different.

He dialed the number in the email, getting straight to the point and responding to their invitation. The other party was overjoyed, as if they had completed a monumental task, and voluntarily asked him to set a price.

Su Hui loathed money, but he forced himself to speak the words he didn’t want to. “One hundred thousand dollars—is that acceptable?”

The person on the other end agreed immediately, almost without thinking, as if this amount was trivial to them. “Of course. No problem at all.”

Su Hui was silent for a moment, then spoke again: “I am sorry, but the fee… might need to be paid as soon as possible. I know this request is rude, but tomorrow… I will give you the draft tomorrow.”

The client didn’t care. “No problem. That is not a big request. Please give me your account, and we will pay the remuneration immediately. If my client is satisfied, you will surely receive more than this.”

Su Hui stood under a tree outside the hospital, crushed a cigarette, and hung up. The snow never melted; it piled up, trampled and dirty. He stayed up all night in the hospital hallway for the draft, but had no inspiration. Curled up alone on the chair, half-asleep, he thought of Ning Yixiao, the rainy night they met, and the windy bus stop.

Su Hui got up and, lost and anxious, drew everything in his mind with a pencil. Then he fell into despair, constantly looking back at six years ago.

The contact on the other end transferred the money but made a request: could he meet the client, Miss Jones, in person? She wanted to chat with him and retain the manuscript.

“Yes.”

Su Hui had no bottom line. After agreeing, he hurriedly boarded the subway. The cold air rolled in the musty peanut scent of the subway, and everywhere were enlarged photos, advertising headlines, and slogans, stimulating the numb hearts of every passerby.

Manhattan—a place many dreamed of. The tall buildings stood silently in the snow, like a repressed forest of snowy cedars. Cold air drilled into his throat until he walked to the meeting place: a famous luxury hotel. Its designer happened to be the former dean of the academy where Su Hui was studying.

The receptionist seemed to have been notified in advance; seeing him, he bowed politely and led him into the hotel. Su Hui had been staying in the hospital for days taking care of his grandmother; he had no time to change clothes, and he didn’t care. Even if everyone here was dressed in finery while he wore only a frayed coat and old shoes, he never cared.

The golden elevator cabin was like the inside of a gift box, waiting to be unwrapped by the elite.

On the eleventh floor, his first step was cushioned by a long-pile wool carpet, soft and silent. The receptionist introduced it diligently, telling him this entire floor was used for banquets and was currently empty and undecorated. There were floor-to-ceiling windows surrounding the area, offering a view of the entire snowscape of Manhattan, yet Su Hui was unmoved.

The door behind the banquet hall opened. Walking toward him was a beautiful young white woman, dressed in a snow-white cashmere coat and wearing a white beret. Her eyes lit up the moment she saw him.

“I didn’t expect the artist to have such a beautiful face. If your photo appeared on a billboard on any street here, I would have mistaken it for the latest high-fashion blockbuster.”

Although Su Hui had lived the life of the so-called upper class for the first half of his life, he knew clearly that he was just a caged bird. He couldn’t adapt to the rules of the upper class, including praise.

“I am Bella Jones; you can just call me Bella.” Bella smiled sweetly, her golden curls exquisite and beautiful. She extended her hand. “It is a great honor to meet you.”

“Likewise, Miss Jones.” Su Hui shook her fingertips with composure.

“I was almost about to give up hope.” The happiness on Bella’s face was sincere. “I didn’t expect you to really be willing to come. I’m so excited.”

Su Hui found it hard to smile; it was as if heavy shackles were dragging him down. He was always like this during depressive episodes; just standing here had taken all his strength. Under his gaze, the snow-white clothes and hat on Bella transformed into a full set of haute couture wedding dresses, incomparably beautiful.

Very inappropriately, a few memories flashed through Su Hui’s mind. He said, “I like weddings very much; watching others’ weddings feels so satisfying and happy.”

Having said that, Su Hui looked at Bella. “I haven’t fully attended a wedding yet.”

Bella clasped her hands; even the creases in her silk gloves were beautiful. “What a pity. Don’t worry, my engagement party will give you the best viewing seat.”

As she spoke, she took Su Hui around. “This is the tentatively decided venue. Initially, I thought natural scenery like a manor or beach would be better, but my fiancé doesn’t like it much. I invited you secretly this time; I didn’t tell him.” Bella scanned the surroundings and leaned in close with a cute attitude, whispering to Su Hui, “I still think your art pieces would be more spectacular by the sea, right?”

Perhaps the guiltier one feels, the more likely something happens. Just as Bella finished complaining, she suddenly saw someone walk into the doorway. She sighed, then lifted her hand with a haughty air, deliberately greeting him in an exaggerated manner. “Hi, darling.”

Su Hui also looked in the direction of her gaze.

The next second, all the blood in his body froze; he was at a standstill.

Bella smiled. She felt that the decadent artist next to her was not good at talking, so she generously took on the role of introducing. “Eddy, this is my fiancé; you can call him Shaw.” She looked at her fiancé. “Shaw, this is the installation artist Eddy, whom I invited specially—the shining new star of the New York art world…”

Before she finished, she felt something was wrong. She stared intently at her fiancé’s face. “Hey, what’s wrong with you? Your complexion is so bad.”

Su Hui felt suffocated, his fingers tightening.

Countless illusions and dreams intertwined, converging into the handsome yet cruel face before him—the client’s fiancé, his ex-boyfriend.

Ning Yixiao curled the corners of his mouth, but the gloom on his face did not diminish by half. He reached out to Su Hui, his tone friendly, his eyes sharp.

“Hello, Eddy.”