Unbearable - Chapter 18

Chapter 18: “Do you feel like crying?”

The sun climbed over the rooftops and cast a narrow beam of light into the cramped courtyard.

Yu Wei stepped out of the room and walked along the eaves until she reached the kitchen. She lifted the mesh curtain at the door.

“Don’t come in!” the old lady swiftly turned around and pushed her out. “No need to help. The kitchen’s too small—too many people and it gets crowded. Go check the flowers instead.”

Yu Wei was pushed back outside. The magnetic snap at the center of the curtain clicked shut behind her.

“If you see any dead leaves, just pick them off,” Yu Wei said, lifting the curtain and handing her a bunch of freshly washed grapes. “Don’t just stand there—you’re blocking the light.”

She had barely finished when a light smack landed on her back. The old lady grumbled, “How are you blocking the light? If it’s too dark, turn on the light.”

The deep-purple grapes still dripped with water, heavy and plump.

Yu Wei looked down and smiled, revealing two dimples. “Okay.”

Adjusting her glasses, she carried the grapes and carefully inspected each flower pot by the wall under the flower rack. There wasn’t a single wilted petal, nor a single insect.

After circling once, she returned to the flower rack.

Two rows of hydrangeas in different colors bloomed with large, vibrant heads, tightly clustered together in a riot of color.

Yu Wei set the grapes on the small table under the tree and returned with a small bucket of water to revive a few drooping hydrangeas, sleeves rolled up as she busied herself, running back and forth.

“This child’s got no airs at all, so obedient and shy, like a soft white bun,” the old lady said as she scooped out noodles and tossed in a few leaves. “How come she’s so pale? Even her hair is white. She’s not a foreigner, is she?”

“No.” Yu Wei pressed her lips together and pulled her gaze back from the window. “Albinism.”

“There’s such an illness?” The old lady sighed twice. “Can it be cured?”

Yu Wei shook her head.

“Is it contagious?”

“No,” Yu Wei said. “It’s congenital.”

The old lady murmured a Buddhist chant. “Such a pretty little girl… Ay, even if her family helped you with skating and school, you should still remember their kindness. But now it’s a new society—everyone’s equal. You’re living at her house, and you’re classmates and friends too. I’m not saying you have to please her, but you can’t always speak so harshly.”

“I’m harsh?” Yu Wei raised her brows.

The old lady gave her a glance. “You’re not? You’ll scare her again.”

Yu Wei had nothing to say.

As if people got scared that easily.

She looked out the window again. Yu Wei was holding up her phone, adjusting angles to photograph the flowers. She leaned in, wanting to touch them, but pulled her hand back at the last moment.

Not very brave.

Though they had said they’d keep lunch simple, they still made zhajiang noodles and two dishes, set on the little table in the courtyard—abundant and hearty.

No shrimp or broccoli.

One was twice-cooked pork. The other, cola chicken wings.

“Try some. Weiwei made it. Too bad she can’t eat it herself.” The old lady pushed the plate toward Yu Wei.

Yu Wei hurried to stop her, but just as she lowered her hand, a chicken wing was dropped into her bowl.

“Thank you, Grandma.”

The old lady beamed. “So polite.”

Yu Wei blushed, hiding her face behind the bowl.

This time she had her glasses on, so no need to worry about lifting a tangled clump of noodles and missing her mouth.

Savory and slightly sweet, the noodles were springy and chewy, coated in rich sauce. The julienned cucumber was crisp and refreshing. One bite and flavor burst through her mouth.

Yu Wei praised it twice in a row, making the old lady grin from ear to ear. “If you like it, eat more. Come again tomorrow, and Grandma will make it for you.”

Yu Wei paused with noodles still hanging from her chopsticks.

Yu Wei glanced sideways at her.

Sensing her gaze, Yu Wei turned her head—and immediately, Yu Wei looked away again, as if their eyes had just accidentally met.

“Tomorrow’s the weekend. Might not have time,” Yu Wei said.

Yu Wei lowered her chopsticks, then picked them up again. She softly murmured, “Okay.”

“Then next time you’re free. Anyway, this place is close to your school. Come whenever you want to eat,” the old lady said cheerfully.

Yu Wei nodded, sneaking a glance at Yu Wei.

In Yu Wei’s bowl were only a few shrimp, some boiled greens, and a pinch of oats.

Sitting at a table full of rich colors and flavors, she chewed with a straight face.

Impressive.

After eating only greens for a week, Yu Wei felt like even her soul had turned bitter green. She quickly averted her gaze.

After lunch, Yu Wei eagerly offered to help clean up. Grandma repeatedly declined, but Yu Wei didn’t argue—she just grabbed onto the sink and refused to leave.

Whether from the heat or embarrassment, her face was flushed bright red.

“I’ll help her,” Yu Wei stepped in, lightly pulling her away and guiding the old lady out of the kitchen. “You rest.”

The old lady was about to step back in.

Yu Wei silently mouthed to her, “She’ll feel embarrassed.”

Proud but thin-skinned.

If she hadn’t been allowed to help cook and now couldn’t help clean either, she probably wouldn’t come again.

“Alright, you two kids handle it.” The old lady chuckled. “I’ve got a stack of joss paper to prep. Your Aunt Wu’s in a hurry.”

Water splashed in the sink. Yu Wei looked back and sighed in relief when she saw it was Yu Wei. She smiled. “Grandma’s so strong.”

She had nearly been shoved out.

Yu Wei looked at the sink full of suds and raised an eyebrow.

“I can wash dishes,” Yu Wei lifted her chin slightly. Her pink eyes sparkled behind the lenses.

Yu Wei let out a soft hum, stepped forward, and took hold of Yu Wei’s soapy hands by the elbows, guiding them under the running water to rinse them clean. She handed over a sheet of kitchen paper.

Yu Wei looked down and took it.

The rough surface soaked up the water from her fingertips. A wet mark slowly spread.

Yu Wei fished a plate out from the bubbles and rinsed it, passing it over. “I’ll wash. You dry.”

“Okay.”

Yu Wei smiled and carefully wiped the dishes clean, stacking them neatly.

Yu Wei finished rinsing the suds in the sink. When she turned around, Yu Wei had already tidied up the countertop and was now standing nearby watching her.

“All done,” Yu Wei shut off the water and led her out of the kitchen.

The old lady came out carrying three bags of gold ingots and bumped into them.

“Let me,” Yu Wei took them and carried them down the steps with both hands. She looked back at Yu Wei. “You can—”

This courtyard was tiny and had no entertainment. Yu Wei paused mid-sentence, frowning slightly.

“I’ll help Grandma fold the gold ingots,” Yu Wei took the old lady’s arm and waved at her.

Turns out the gold ingots didn’t need folding. They were pre-made and pressed into shape. All you had to do was press both ends, and the center would puff up into a chubby golden ingot.

With nothing else to do, Yu Wei grabbed a small stool and sat in the old lady’s room, forming ingots.

“You’ve got such nimble hands.”

Yu Wei blushed. “It’s pretty simple.”

“Back in the day, we used to buy large sheets of yellow paper. No pretty gold foil like this—just rough paper we had to cut and fold ourselves. Silver nuggets, gold ingots—they’re really just the living holding onto memories.” The old lady sold these things and kept a home altar, but her words carried a kind of clarity polished by time.

“Did you used to have more customers?” Yu Wei asked, remembering the poster on the back door.

“Not really. Most of them are old regulars who know the way. Nowadays people order everything online. It’s just folks like us—old and clueless—still using this stuff,” she said. “Doesn’t matter whether it sells or not. Weiwei sends me money every month.”

Yu Wei had overheard a bit about that the last time she visited.

The old lady quickly explained, “I told her not to, but she insisted, said it’s rent. Hasn’t changed since her mom moved in…”

“Why did they move here?” Yu Wei asked.

Seeing she wasn’t pressing about money, the old lady relaxed and replied, “They said Weiwei’s father died from a terminal illness. They sold off everything—company, house—and came here so she could train with a skating coach.”

Yu Wei recalled what Ding Qing had said in anger and hesitated. “So… was it because her mom loved skating and forced her to do it?”

“No, no,” the old lady shook a fresh stack of gold paper. “It was Weiwei who insisted on learning. Her mom supported her. She was a good woman—gentle and hardworking. She followed Weiwei to every competition, tutored her at home, even worked part-time jobs.”

Her brows furrowed slightly, voice roughened. “I never had kids. She treated me better than some people treat their own mothers. Everything was fine until… last year, after a competition, they got into a car accident. She didn’t make it back.”

Yu Wei’s throat tightened, words stuck.

She fumbled with the gold ingot in her hand, unable to press it into shape.

“She was in the hospital for days,” the old lady sighed. “It was the fifteenth. I’d gone to the temple to burn offerings. By the time I got to the hospital, she was gone. Weiwei was sitting outside alone. They kept checking and finally said the patient had woken and pulled out the tubes herself.”

The old lady wiped her tears. The back of her hand was damp.

Yu Wei felt a loud crack inside her chest, a taut string suddenly snapping.

Yu Wei stood in the courtyard, watching through the beaded curtain, her gaze fixed on the silhouette inside.

By the time Yu Wei came out, she was already back, leaning against a tree, staring blankly at the ground.

She looked up when she heard the curtain swish.

Yu Wei opened her mouth, then closed it.

From a few meters away, Yu Wei turned her face slightly, avoiding her eyes.

She turned away, snipped a few hydrangeas, and handed them over. “Next time, cut them yourself.”

“Huh?” Yu Wei was stunned.

“You don’t like them?” Yu Wei turned to toss them away.

Yu Wei hurried to grab them. “I do! I do!”

She said it twice and looked up at Yu Wei, cautious. These were planted by her father, carefully tended for years by her mother…

Yu Wei’s tone was calm. “They’re just flowers. As long as someone enjoys them.”

The petals were cool to the touch, the blossoms large. Just a few filled her arms.

Yu Wei lowered her head and sniffed them.

“Is it okay if I bring these to school?”

She looked up at Yu Wei. Her eyes shone with pure joy, the pink in them like crystal gems.

Yu Wei looked down and her voice turned a little cold. “Whatever you want.”

“Wait.”

Yu Wei ran back to the room, pulled out an old water bottle, filled it, and carefully arranged the flowers. She adjusted the angle for a while, then placed it on Yu Wei’s desk.

Then took a photo with her phone.

Yu Wei stood in the yard, watching her dash around.

So lively, like a different person.

“They’ll wilt without water at school,” Yu Wei said as she shut the door and came back empty-handed. “Better to keep them here for now.”

Yu Wei looked at her, lips pressing together. “Whatever you want.”

Her voice was much gentler.

Yu Wei smiled at her, dimples showing.

Yu Wei turned away, called toward the house, and led Yu Wei out the front door.

At noon, the alley was quiet, shaded by tall walls. A cool, windless sliver of space.

Suddenly, Yu Wei said, “You found out.”

A sentence with no context.

Yu Wei froze, then stammered, “I’m sorry, I…”

“You were curious. It’s normal.”

Yu Wei kept walking, without looking back.

Yu Wei bit her lip, nervous.

“If you want to know, I’ll tell you.” Yu Wei’s voice was tense. “My dad died of cancer. My mom died in a car accident. The truck driver was driving drowsy. I was in the passenger seat—it should’ve been me who got hurt worse.”

Her voice was low but clear, echoing off the empty alley and landing in Yu Wei’s ears.

Yu Wei looked at her back, slim and straight under her school uniform, breath unsteady.

Yu Wei stopped.

“When she woke up, I was in rehab, trying to recover fast so I wouldn’t miss the next competition.” The alley was full of potholes. She stood in one, not turning around. “I’m sorry.”

The better Yu Wei treated her, the closer she got, the more she couldn’t meet her eyes.

Especially after learning what Yu Wei faced in her own family.

If she was the source of all misfortune, then it was better to stay away from Yu Wei. Distant. Silent. Keep her bad luck from spreading.

At the alley’s end, someone whizzed by on an electric scooter. A group of elementary school kids passed by, laughing.

So close, yet so far away.

“I’m glad she loved you,” Yu Wei said as she walked up and stood before Yu Wei. “You don’t owe me anything. We don’t need to say sorry to each other.”

She was quoting Yu Wei’s own words from before: You don’t owe me anything.

Yu Wei’s lips turned pale. Through strands of hair, her eyes slowly lifted to meet Yu Wei’s.

Yu Wei raised her arms and hugged her, gently patting her back, stroke by awkward stroke.

“Do you want to cry?”

Her voice trembled, soft and soothing, comforting someone’s grief—hidden and silent—for nearly a year.