Chereads / Wind stirs, leaves descend / Chapter 37 - Desire

Chapter 37 - Desire

I hung up the phone, and he sent me the flight number, reminding me not to delete it again. I held onto my phone, watching the flickering candlelight on the coffee table shining through the Burgundy glass, still bearing Wang Zhen's lip print on its rim. The belly of the glass was swollen and dark, like a deep gaze staring at me, with a few drops of red wine residue clinging to the side, emitting a strange purple light. A circle of dark wine stains formed at the base of the glass where the wine had dripped down its outer wall, leaving imprints on the white coffee table. Except for these two glasses, it was pitch black all around, so dark I couldn't see my hand in front of my face.

I ran my fingers through my hair, pushing them back deeply, feeling a cold breeze on my forehead. The heating had only been turned on yesterday, and the room still hadn't warmed up. I had forgotten to light the fire when Wang Zhen and I entered the room. We had shared a drink, and my body had gradually warmed up, but now the warmth from the alcohol was fading, and the chill of late autumn in Germany was setting in.

People don't act without reason; I should have faced my true emotions. At that time, I never understood. I just wanted to borrow someone else's passion and let everything go up in flames. I embraced Wang Zhen with this feeling. But when she left, I suddenly realized that relying on someone else's fire was futile. Unrequited love is like a fever; the higher the temperature, the colder everything around you feels. And the worst part is, borrowed warmth can never truly heat your body. It's only when the fever breaks and the cold dissipates that you realize it. This feeling is the same as my relationship with the piano. I always strive for an unattainable artistic realm. People say I'm a genius, that everything comes easily to me. But in reality, I'm ambitious, always seeking to conquer new territory, uninterested in success that is within reach. Yet, I don't engage in games where victory is unlikely. So in my love affair with Yan Feng, I hesitate, oscillating between sinking and calculating, between emotion and reason, sometimes advancing, sometimes retreating.

Tonight, I lost. Perhaps tomorrow night, I'll win back a round, immersing myself in someone else's embrace just like him. But I still miss his body. When I hold Wang Zhen, I miss Yan Feng's body. I'll set aside love for now, until before I embrace someone else again, let me embrace Yan Feng one more time tomorrow.

I turned on the floor lamp and approached the glass display cabinet framed in wrought iron, lighting a match to ignite the waste paper and tossing it into the fireplace. Adding a few pieces of firewood, the flames from the paper went out before igniting the wood. Starting a fire was harder than I imagined. With the matches gone, and only an induction stove in the kitchen, where could I find an open flame? I looked around and spotted a Saturn-shaped lighter on the oak dining table, along with a shrunken pack of Marlboros, all forgotten by Wang Zhen. I had no choice but to borrow them. I lit the waste paper again with the lighter, using tongs to hold the burning paper and placing it in the fireplace. Then, I arranged the pieces of firewood with larger gaps between them to allow oxygen to flow until a flame formed between them. Closing the fireplace window, the room gradually warmed up.

I took out the last Marlboro, lighting it up and throwing the empty cigarette pack into the fire. The Jupiter lighter was placed on the highest shelf in the cupboard, to be returned to Wang Zhen next time. Glancing at the clock on the wall, it was almost midnight. I found a bowl to use as an ashtray, puffing away, then dumped the ash along with the butt into the toilet and flushed it away. I filled the bathtub with hot water, soaking in it, gazing out of the window beside the tub at the sky, deep and unfathomable, with sparse stars under the moonlight, casting lonely shadows of bare branches. The night in Berlin was truly quiet, every movement creating a loud splash in the stillness.

I cleaned my body and sank into the soft bedding, tightly wrapped in the silk quilt my mother insisted I take with me before boarding the plane. I was glad I brought it along; it was comforting at this moment. Putting on my headphones, Brahms' concerto always had a calming effect on me. The piano I had selected would arrive in a couple of days; Yan Feng coming to find me would be helpful; he could always handle some trivial matters for me. I wasn't worried about the school; they had already emailed me about arranging the piano. Once the piano arrived, I could play Brahms' Second Concerto again.

The next morning, I smelled the crisp air, different from the previous cold, reminding me of snowy mornings in the Netherlands many years ago. I bought an iced Americano and a croissant from the coffee shop downstairs from my apartment and sat at a wrought-iron glass table by the street. The black cobblestone street was lightly dusted with snow, accumulating only at the street corners, making a soft rustling sound as cars passed by. Pigeons gathered at the edge of the street, quietly waiting for someone to speak first. I enjoyed the scene before me, mechanical yet vivid, quiet yet noisy, making the chilly weather charming. I took a sip of coffee, feeling refreshed. Glancing at my watch, it was half past ten in the morning, six hours until Yan Feng's flight landed.

Back at the apartment, I added more firewood to the fireplace, and the heating seemed to have warmed up a bit, the thermometer reading 30 degrees. It felt like summer indoors, the heat diminishing my appetite, and I didn't feel like having lunch. Suddenly, I felt the urge to smoke; memories of nicotine were starting to haunt me. So I went to a nearby supermarket to buy a pack of cigarettes, only to find out that the cashier wanted to see my ID. I had left in a hurry and hadn't brought anything with me except my keys and wallet, so I had to turn back to get my ID. When I returned to the apartment, my phone rang; it was Dai Yanzhi calling.

"How are you? Have you settled in?" Dai Yanzhi asked.

"Everything's fine. The piano will arrive in a couple of days," I replied hastily.

"Don't just brush me off. If there's anything inconvenient for you, let me know. Lin Su and I can help you out. By the way, what about the assistant position? Have you thought about it?" Dai Yanzhi inquired.

"I don't think I need one for now. I'm not incapable of taking care of myself. Besides, with money, you can handle everything," I said impatiently, wanting to end the call.

"Alright, fair enough. Remember to check the company email. Highlight the schedules for the next few months, especially those related to De Zhi and Ye Xi Music (Ye Xi's economic company registered in Beijing, Lin Su and Dai Yanzhi are helping to manage it)," Dai Yanzhi reminded.

"Okay, got it," I said, my finger already hovering over the end call button. "I have something else to do later. We'll talk when I have time."

"Sure, by the way, there's something else I wanted to tell you," Dai Yanzhi began.

"What is it?" I moved my finger away from the button.

"Yan Feng called me. I didn't mention it before because I was afraid you'd get caught up in it. It's been a few months now, so I think it should be fine. You're in Germany now, enjoy your new life. Actually, I feel..." Dai Yanzhi trailed off.

"...It's okay," I interrupted him before he could finish. "Let's not talk about it."

"Alright, bye," he hung up the phone.

I didn't want to tell Dai Yanzhi that Yan Feng was arriving in Berlin this afternoon. It wasn't because I was caught up in love; I was embarrassed to admit to Dai Yanzhi my desire for Yan Feng. This desire was like a pathogen, causing this hopeless love to continue burning with fever.

At two in the afternoon, I drove from the apartment to Berlin Brandenburg Airport to pick up Yan Feng. Germans drive fast, and I joined the flow of traffic, reaching speeds of 100 kilometers per hour, quickly arriving at the airport. I parked the car in the parking lot outside the terminal building and initially sat in the driver's seat. At times, I opened my MD player to listen to Brahms, and at others, I got out of the car to smoke, quickly stuffing the cigarette butt into the snowbank on the roadside before security noticed. When he appeared in my view, his face bore a worried smile, and I could already anticipate the imminent spark that would ignite between us. He was wearing the same black wool coat as me, and as he waved his arms, the coat's tails parted on either side. My hand touched the warmth of his chest, feeling his heart beating through the blue shirt. He praised my beauty, but wasn't he beautiful himself? If he weren't so beautiful, I wouldn't be repeatedly controlled by desire.

He pushed me onto the back seat, eager and impatient, and so was I. But whenever I was with him, I always wanted to maintain the upper hand, unwilling to show even a hint of initiative. I pretended to be too cold and drove him back to the apartment. Under the blazing fire of the fireplace, no excuse could contain the burning desire anymore. The crackling sound of the firewood expressed the pain, and he seemed intent on tearing open my heart, claiming I had hurt his. He said he loved me crazily, but I believed his affection for me was expressed through hurting me. Even when I screamed in pain, he only intensified it. I endured it until he let out a low moan. I felt something split open, and with the flow of his soul, my blood also spilled out.

He stopped, asking me a question.

"Whose lipstick is this?"

"What?" I thought of his roughness towards me, annoyed. I had completely forgotten about the black short tube that Wang Zhen had dropped.

Yan Feng leaned over me, pointing under the sofa, asking again.

"What's under the sofa?"

Suddenly, I came to my senses, remembering everything that happened the previous night. I calmly straightened my clothes, sat on the sofa, and lit a cigarette. He sat beside me.

"When did you start smoking?" he questioned me again. I disliked these kinds of inquiries.

"It's not important," I replied, exhaling smoke from my mouth.

"Indeed, it's not important. I just wanted to say, you look beautiful when you smoke. Just take care of yourself," Yan Feng fastened the open buttons of his shirt. The curve of his chest between the buttons looked like a shadowy line, beautifully classical under the soft light of the floor lamp. He bent down to pick up the lipstick, pinching it between his thumb and index finger. "This isn't yours, is it? It belongs to some other woman?"

"Yes, I remember now. I wanted to talk to you about something when I called you before," I suddenly remembered the call we had in August.

"You wanted to talk to me about this?" he put down the lipstick, sighing. "Do you have someone else?"

"Don't you have someone else? What about you and Lin Huiru?" I took another drag from my cigarette, blowing smoke in his direction.

"...," he didn't respond.

"So, it's true between you and her?" I pressed on.

"...," he remained silent.

Originally, I hadn't thought much about whether he and Lin Huiru were really involved; I just didn't want to get stuck in a love without a future. But now, it turned out he had already found solace in someone else's arms before me, and I had lost.

"So, you can have someone else, but I can't?" I admitted to the situation with Wang Zhen, even though nothing had happened yet.

"Xi Xi, please listen to me. I know loving me isn't an easy choice, but if you accept me again, it means you love me, right?" he looked at me with longing. "At least you still need me, right?"

"..."

"I've always wanted to tell you about my wish. We're still young. I need to earn money, and you're just beginning your career as a musician. Can you wait for me? Ten years from now, when I've made enough money, will you come with me? We'll buy a piece of land on Mallorca, build a house - not too big, just the style you like. You can perform in Europe, play the piano, until we grow old together. By then, I'll have enough money, fewer ambitions, and I can continue making music. I'll be with you every step of the way."

I felt a momentary flutter in my heart, but then found it laughable.

"Ten years is too long. You don't even have certainty about the present, let alone the future."

"It's my wish, and I'll work towards it," he lowered his head, after a while he spoke again, "So let's talk about now. I won't interfere with you and anyone else. I just ask that you don't ignore me, alright?"

"..." I didn't know how to respond. I wanted to tell him I didn't have anyone else, but the thought of him and Lin Huiru fueled my jealousy, making me want to utter even more bitter words.

"Like this, I'll come to see you every month. Just give me a call, send me a text, and I'll be by your side," he leaned forward, his hands on his knees, his face almost touching mine.

"Okay," I didn't like feeling pressured like this, nor did I want to reject him again. With him being so persistent, it seemed like a compromise.

After he finished speaking, he hugged me again, gently kissing me.

"I'm sorry. Do you want me to get you some medicine?" He held my face in his hands.

"Mm. If you do this again next time, I won't see you again," I turned my head away, grabbed a bowl, and shook the cigarette ash into it.

"I'm sorry. I'll go to the pharmacy. You wait for me at home. What would you like to eat later?" He stood up, asking me softly.

"Chinese food or Japanese food," I walked to the kitchen with the bowl full of cigarette butts.

"Alright. Wait for me to come back," he took his wool coat from the hook by the door and closed it with a slam.

I didn't know why he left in such a hurry. Was it because he was upset to find out I had someone else, or because of the awkwardness of our undefined "official relationship," or perhaps he felt relieved after we finally established our "open relationship"? I looked at the label on the back of the remaining wool coat; it was Hugo Boss. I didn't remember buying one; all of mine were Burberry. I realized he must have taken my clothes as his own.

Was his mention of Mallorca Island real? Was his earnest plea for me not to let him go because he loved me, or because, like me, he succumbed to desire? Perhaps these questions didn't matter anymore. He wanted money so badly, and I believed he had his reasons. It's difficult to achieve worldly success without being part of a group. He had his own constraints within his group. I thought if his wish was genuine, maybe I needed to try harder. Money wasn't a concern for me, but now it seemed that if we were to fulfill his wish, the money I had, even enough to buy a Ferrari or two Rolex watches, wouldn't be sufficient.