On Saturday morning, before Lin Wan had fully escaped her dreams, Chen Jin yanked her out of the blankets. Half-asleep, she squinted and yawned while he issued commands.
"Hurry up and get ready. We're going to Xishan."
"I'm not going," she muttered, trying to flop back into bed.
Chen Jin bristled at once. She had developed a new problem lately: oversleeping. It was not as if he had exhausted her. If anything, he practically treated her like a fragile ornament these days, yet she could never stay awake. Morning or night, as long as there was a mattress, she stuck to it.
He grumbled inwardly that it must have been the herbal medicine. He had been so determined to cure her insomnia that he forced down several extra doses, never expecting it to be overcorrect. The most humiliating moment had been when she actually fell asleep halfway through sex. He had almost died from frustration. If this continued, he might need to go to the hospital. Not only to the urology department but also to a psychiatrist. It was ruining his pride.
"Up. Stop dawdling. We're going fishing. You're coming to get some fresh air." He hauled her upright again.
"Why drag me? I'm not a worm," she complained.
It took him a second to grasp her meaning. Irritation flickered, then amusement. Childish, but at least she was talking back again. A good sign.
"We use fish to catch fish now. Ever heard the saying about big fish eating small fish and small fish eating shrimp?"
He half-dragged, half-carried her out of bed and planted her before the sink. He shoved a toothbrush and toothpaste into her hands.
"Hold it. Brush."
Then he strode off to change clothes.
Lin Wan stood like a wooden figurine, brushing her teeth in a mechanical rhythm. She silently cursed him. When had he appointed himself the police of the Pacific? Why did he have to control everything? Fine, he did not like her drinking. But what did her sleeping have to do with him?
She used to wake up with purpose. Study, work, her relationship. There was always something waiting for her. After Wang Xiao died, she suffered deeply, yet she still had to battle with Chen Jin, and even that counted as having a goal.
But after the failed attempt to fight back, after being used as a pawn, she finally realized how helpless she truly was. She lost heart. And on Wang Xiao's death anniversary, it struck her fully that nothing she did in this world mattered. There was no mail service to heaven. No one could carry news of her "victories" to him.
She had lost every direction.
Living felt meaningless.
She existed only to keep the promise she once made to her grandmother.
After washing up, Lin Wan sat before the dressing table, slowly patting creams onto her face while watching Chen Jin rummage through the wardrobe in the mirror. He was already dressed in a light, casual outfit: a pale lavender V-neck sweater and beige trousers, rare soft tones for him. Handsome, annoyingly so.
What on earth was he digging for now? A silk scarf?
She stuck out her tongue at her reflection, then paused.
She had not made that expression in a long time.
When she finally finished her "surface maintenance," she noticed a bright peach-pink tracksuit laid neatly on the bed. Such a vivid color. She did not remember owning anything like it. She rarely paid attention to the walk-in closet anyway. Many of the clothes still had their tags. The lifestyle secretary bought everything. The style resembled hers, but she preferred wearing her own clothes. Wearing other people's purchases felt like having price tags taped to her skin.
Chen Jin stood beside the bed, looking very pleased with himself.
"Wear this. You should be honored. I've broken so many personal rules for you. When have I ever helped a woman get dressed?"
"Of course. You only ever help women undress."
She sniffed and carried the tracksuit into the bathroom, leaving him spluttering behind her.
This woman. When she was silent, she stirred pity.
The moment she opened her mouth, she gave him a headache.
And the way she guarded herself every time she changed clothes irritated him even more. After everything, after seeing every inch of her, she still insisted on hiding from him like he was some prowling pervert. Ridiculous. Something was wrong with her.
He glanced at his watch and fumed.
If he were not in a hurry, he would have kicked the door open.
What was the point of hiding? He had seen it all.
And he could do more than just look.
She was the one he had spoiled too much.
Inside the bathroom, Lin Wan finished dressing and looked in the mirror.
She froze.
The bright peach color enveloped her completely, making her look flushed and unfamiliar, yet strangely alive. The tracksuit fit snugly, outlining her slender shape and the gentle curves she always forgot she possessed.
She looked young.
Startlingly young.
She recalled a conversation from her university dormitory:
Why do people live?
Why do women live?
Someone had said,
"People live to eat. Women live to wear pretty clothes."
Everyone had mocked the speaker for being shallow and vulgar.
But what was the value?
Money had value, yet it was vulgar.
People wanted meaningful lives, but meaning was often measured with money.
Money was shallow.
And yet necessary.
Life, she thought, was a paradox.
She pinched each cheek lightly.
A blush bloomed instantly, matching her bright clothes perfectly.
Maybe living for food and clothes, simple as it was, could also be a kind of philosophy.