Moonlight Doesn't Reach | Chapter 41 | The Supporting Role's Love | Novela.app

I wasn't stupid enough to think those roses were for me. But a small, self-deceiving part of me still harbored a sliver of hope—hope that they didn't belong to Lin Yunsheng, or at least... at least that they didn't represent a new relationship. Yet the smile on my mother’s face was so radiant that, for a moment, I couldn't tell which was more piercing: the roses or her joy. I sat down beside Lin Yunsheng and turned my head to look at her. If she hadn't been so pointedly avoiding my gaze, I might have thought I was overthinking things. *But why can’t you even look at me, Sister?* My mother sat down and remarked, "Our Yueyue received flowers too." The irony was biting. I had bought these flowers for myself. The bouquet that should have been mine had been slammed onto the floor during an argument six years ago; the buds had scattered everywhere, losing any semblance of baby’s breath and looking more like a mess of plucked feathers. The shop assistant was right. Baby’s breath represents the love of a supporting character. It served only to make those roses look incomparably exquisite. I swallowed my emotions and gave a quiet, "Mm." Chen Fang didn't seem to notice anything was wrong. She continued, "Let’s blow out the candles first. Let's celebrate Yueyue’s birthday!" The box of candles was by Lin Yunsheng’s hand. Hearing this, she picked it up to open the packaging. Her hands were beautiful—slender, graceful, with neatly trimmed nails. She pulled out a simple candle, still refusing to look at me, and planted it firmly into the cake. My mother started to lead the rhythm to sing the birthday song, but I quickly cut her off, saying we should just blow out the candle. I could see the person beside me had no heart for singing, and I had no heart for listening. My mother stood up and went to the light switch, preparing to turn off the overhead lights. She was quick; the room plunged into darkness a second before Lin Yunsheng struck the match. Those two seconds of darkness were the most relaxed I had felt since entering the house. *Scritch—* The match flared to life, and Lin Yunsheng’s face was the first thing illuminated. The warm yellow glow was just like the floor lamp from those previous nights, making it seem as if she were still sitting on the rug waiting for me, and as if I were still cradling the delusion that we could start over. The candle was lit. To my surprise, it sputtered with sparks like a handheld sparkler. I closed my eyes and folded my hands. I made a show of pausing for five seconds, though I didn't know what to wish for. Wishing for Lin Yunsheng’s happiness was something I couldn't bring myself to do. And wishing for my own happiness already felt impossible. I might as well let the wish go to waste; it had never come true anyway. I only wondered: *Lin Yunsheng, during these five seconds while my eyes are closed, will you steal even a single glance at me? Or are you still too afraid even now?* I blew out the candle. The light died, and my heart sank with it. Chen Fang quickly flipped the switch. Light flooded the room again, and I tucked my emotions away as silently as the dissipating candle smoke. My mother looked truly happy. She said, "Today is just wonderful. A double blessing." "What’s the good news?" I asked in a light, breezy tone. "It’s your birthday, and then there's your sister—your sister and Haitao are finally together!" The heart I had been holding in suspense finally slammed into the ground. It didn't even bounce; it just lay there like a slab of rotting pork. "Is that so? Then I must congratulate Sis Shengsheng." I stood up abruptly to grab the orange juice from the table, twisting it open and pouring it into three glasses. I wanted to toast with Lin Yunsheng. This bottle of juice reminded me of the day I attended her team dinner. Everyone else was drinking alcohol, while I held a glass of orange juice with pulp. That night, Lin Yunsheng had been radiant. That night, she had kissed me deeply and passionately downstairs for a long time. The glass cups clinked with a crisp sound. She was forced to look at me, and my eyes were filled with nothing but smiles. I said, "I’m so happy for Sis Shengsheng." My voice was so cheerful I nearly fooled myself. I sat back down and said nothing more. I finished the meal with a smile on my face and took two symbolic bites of cake. At that table, I suspected Chen Fang was the only one who was genuinely happy. As for Lin Yunsheng—whether she was unhappy or simply didn't dare to be happy, I suddenly wasn't sure. I stood up in silence, carrying my pathetic "supporting role" baby’s breath and the perfume no one cared about back to my room. I lay on the bed, and just like Lin Yunsheng, I didn't turn on the light. Soaked in the darkness, I felt that perhaps I was so utterly disappointed that my breathing actually slowed down. It was like when a person is so hungry they pass a certain point and suddenly stop feeling hunger altogether. My mind drifted, uncontrollably returning to that night six years ago. I’ve said before that Lin Yunsheng has beautiful apricot eyes. She looks calm and self-possessed, yet she has an alluring mole at the corner of her eye—contradictory and captivating. If those eyes happened to be rimmed with red, they were, in my heart, the most beautiful sight in the world. The first time I saw those soul-stirring eyes was on the night of my eighteenth birthday. We kissed so fervently that I felt I needed to consume every bit of oxygen in the vicinity just to keep breathing. I sat in her lap, and she touched me—I had been touched by those hands countless times growing up, but that was the first time I felt the electric sting of desire. I became slick and lost all control. I wrapped my arms around her neck, gazing at her, kissing her, then gazing at her again. By the moonlight, I looked into her eyes. I was being buffeted by waves of passion, but her eyes had turned red. *So beautiful. Peerless.* We exchanged sweat in the deep of a winter night. I began to tremble. To this day, I don't know if it was her hands that made me gasp so violently, or if it was those eyes that first hooked my soul away. I thought that was the most wonderful gift of my eighteenth birthday. She was number one; the bouquet of baby’s breath she gave me was number two. I lay on the bed in satiated bliss, acting spoiled and saying I’d wait until tomorrow to shower. My body was covered in our sweat and other fluids I couldn't quite name. It was messy, but I felt so sweet. She could do nothing with me and coaxed me to sleep. I held her, and the night was dreamless. When the morning light broke, I was the only one left in bed. I assumed she had gone to work. Since I still had a few days of winter break left, I was able to recover my energy, feeling filled to the brim with love once more. I waited for her until very late that day. She seemed exceptionally busy; none of the messages I sent received a reply. I remember it was nearly eleven at night when she finally came home. Seeing her return, I ran to the entryway to hug her and nuzzle against her, as if I couldn't bear to be apart for a second. But she didn't respond. She said she was a bit tired, and after showering, she went straight to her room to rest, leaving me to sleep alone. I didn't know what was wrong, but I assumed she truly had been busy all day and lacked the energy for intimacy. I thought it was fine; the next day was a day off, and we would have plenty of time. As it turned out, her "recovery period" was much longer than I expected. Even the next day, she remained cold. Forget about the period after our intimacy—even in the preceding decade, she had never been like this. I could no longer convince myself otherwise. I asked her what was wrong, if I had done something. She was standing by the washing machine at the time, seemingly about to hang clothes. Hearing my words, she took a breath as if making a final decision and put down what she was holding. She said, "Xiao Jin, I don't think we should be like this..." I can still never forget the expression and tone she used when she said that—exhausted yet resolute. It was like a nightmare that replayed in the deep of the night whenever I fell asleep, torturing me. But I didn't know that then. Hearing her say those words, alarm bells immediately went off. I asked her desperately if something had happened, why she was saying this. She only responded flatly that nothing had happened; she just felt it "shouldn't be." *Shouldn't be? What does "shouldn't be" mean? And why only feel that way now?* I grew frantic then, grabbing her wrist. I was terrified, but the words that came out were all accusations. She forcefully wrenched her wrist from my grip and simply gave me the conclusion: it was over. How could I possibly agree? I argued with her relentlessly, hysterical and hideous. Amidst endless screaming and responses that never came, I slammed that bouquet of baby’s breath onto the floor. My heart felt just as shattered. I slumped to the ground, crying so hard I couldn't stand up. I cried for a long time, and she didn't comfort me. It wasn't until I regained a shred of composure that she helped me up. Her eyes were red again. Just like they had been two nights before. I thought it was so cruel. How could it be like this? Those eyes that had reddened with passion were now speaking of departure. She asked me, "Must you have everything you want before you're satisfied?" Once again, I cried until I couldn't catch my breath, unable to say a single word. How could you satisfy every whim of mine for over a decade, only to tell me now, regarding this one thing, that one cannot have everything they want? She heartlessly went to her room, grabbed some things, and left the house. She left me alone with the clothes that had been spun dry by the machine—wrinkled, neglected, and ignored. After that day, Lin Yunsheng rarely came home before ten. The house was always dark and deathly silent. But she still took care of me. She would wake up early to make food or prepare dishes at night. Whether I ate or not was my business; she didn't seem to care. I tried again in the early mornings or late nights to demand an explanation, but her refusal was seamless, cutting off my last shred of hope. Driven to a dead end, I began to act like a child, using outrageous behavior to seek attention. I stopped eating properly and stopped studying, but she no longer intervened. Finally, the realization that this relationship was truly broken began to sink in. Shortly after, my mother’s construction project wrapped up. She didn't rush to follow the contractor to the next project; instead, she said that since my college entrance exams were approaching, she would stay to look after me. Lin Yunsheng became even more extreme and heartless. Using the excuse of being busy with work, she moved out entirely. Chen Fang asked her when she would be back. She said she’d return when she was finished with her work. As for when that would be, it was entirely up to her. I stopped seeing her. I was disheartened; I had never been apart from her for this long in my entire life. My heart felt as if a piece had been gouged out of it while I was still alive—bleeding profusely, with no cure in sight. Sometimes I would go to her office building and wait for her—just to catch a glimpse of her—leaning against that same utility pole. The first time I had waited there for her to get off work late at night years ago, she had been incredibly anxious, terrified that something might happen to me. But now, when she saw me there, she would pretend not to know me, linking arms with another colleague and leaving while chatting and laughing. The distance between her and me was now greater than the distance between her and a mere coworker. I could no longer live with this reality. In this house, in every corner of this city, I held memories of Lin Yunsheng—romantic and warm—to say nothing of how much I loved her. I had a long talk with my mother at the dinner table. I told her I didn't want to take the college entrance exams anymore. My grades weren't good enough for a top university anyway; I wanted to go abroad to study. I wanted to leave. I didn't care what I studied; I just didn't want to stay here anymore. Chen Fang thought about it for a long time. She told me that the family savings only amounted to less than a hundred thousand yuan, and studying abroad would be very difficult. Finally, I said we could ask for Sister’s opinion. I won't deny my selfish motives for saying that. It was my last bit of lingering hope. I thought, *Lin Yunsheng, if you step forward to make me stay, I won't go.* But she was so heartless. Not only did she not ask me to stay, she gave me a bank card with three hundred thousand yuan in it. The password was my birthday. She told my mother she could only borrow this much for now, which should be enough for a year’s tuition and living expenses, and she would figure something out for the rest later. I took that card. I felt that I hated her so much. In the months that followed, I applied to schools, prepared for exams, and handled my visa. I thought if I couldn't make the autumn intake, I’d go for winter; regardless, I had to leave. As it turned out, even the heavens were helping me. Because I wasn't applying to top-tier prestigious schools—I couldn't have gotten in anyway—the process was exceptionally smooth. I finished all the paperwork quickly. Up until the day I received my visa, I saw Lin Yunsheng a total of three times, all at home. Twice, Chen Fang called her back for dinner, and our interaction was practically non-existent. The other time was when she came home to pick up some things. We ran into each other unexpectedly; I think she had timed it specifically hoping I wouldn't be home. But I happened to be sick that day, resting at home. She looked at me, her eyes full of unspoken words, but in the end, she said nothing. We passed each other like strangers—under the very roof where we had once hugged and kissed. That was the last time I saw her before I left. Later, I said goodbye to my mother at the airport. I sat alone in the departure lounge and cried through an entire pack of tissues. The auntie sitting next to me thought I was just a child who couldn't bear to leave home and kept comforting me, telling me to be strong, that I’d get used to it slowly, and that I could always come back. I gave her a cursory "thank you." But how could I come back? I didn't understand why the Lin Yunsheng who had once loved me so much was now so heartless, ignoring me entirely, not even coming to see me one last time. Everything was beyond repair. Amidst hatred and tears, I accepted this reality: in this world, there are some things you won't get just because you want them. This is such a beautiful and such a regretful world. The beauty is you, and the regret is me. *** | Chinese | English | Notes/Explanation | | :--- | :--- | :--- | | 满天星 | Baby's Breath | Gypsophila; in the story, it symbolizes "the love of a supporting role." | | 仙女棒 | Sparkler | Literally "fairy stick," a type of handheld firework/sparkler. | | 杏眼 | Apricot eyes | A common Chinese descriptor for large, almond-shaped eyes. | | 声声姐 | Sis Shengsheng | An affectionate way Jinyue refers to Lin Yunsheng. | | 海涛 | Haitao | A male character's name; Lin Yunsheng's new boyfriend. |