Lu Yi took off his jacket and sat down.
They were at a hotpot restaurant which used to be their favorite haunt, a place where they can put aside their stature, work, and unhappiness, and eat and drink to their heart’s desire. They didn’t order alcohol today, however.
No alcohol before driving. They were both well-versed with the law, so naturally they wouldn’t do something this stupid.
Lei Qingyi beckoned a waiter over and ordered their usual broth, along with some staples. They almost always ordered the same stuff, as though there was some sort of old, unspoken rule between them.
These details were the things that spoke volumes about their uniformity. He and Lu Yi had always stuck to their roles and responsibilities, whether it was an education, work, or marriage. That’s why he didn’t want to believe that Lu Yi would abandon his chosen wife for another woman. They knew how much he loved Yan Huan; she was the very reason behind his two years of disappearance.
Yet there was no mistaking that he had come back with a young woman whom he claimed to be his fiancé.
He poured Lu Yi a cup of tea, a blend with a unique taste that was famous in this region. “You used to like this, didn’t you?”
Lu Yi lifted the cup to his lips and took a sip. Indeed, it was a taste he remembered. A taste that drew nostalgia.
Before long, the food arrived, and the broth was boiling. Lei Qingyi poured the ingredients into the pot. He didn’t mention anything about Sun Yuhan, for fear of losing his appetite. He would get to that eventually, but he decided it would be better to get his stomach filled first.
He had gone through a lot of effort to pacify his rash lady wife, but now he wasn’t quite sure if he could keep himself in check later on.
He picked up his chopsticks and began eating. He sneaked a peek at Lu Yi, who was putting some food into his own bowl. He noticed that Lu Yi didn’t take a lot of chili.
His habits were the same as they were.
If that was the case, why did his devotion change?
Hot steam rose from the pot, warming them up in the cold weather. Before long, they were sweating, but satisfied.
Lei Qingyi loved this place. Here, he could eat and drink without restraint. Here, he did not have to face the judgmental look from others. Most importantly, the food here was really good.
“Are you going to marry that woman?” asked Lei Qingyi with affected casualness. A mere question, without blame or incredulity.
“Yes,” admitted Lu Yi. He had made a promise to her; that was an unchangeable fact.
“What about Yan Huan?” Lei Qingyi laid down his chopsticks. He had lost his appetite after all. “Are you planning on divorcing her? Members from the Lu Family can’t divorce, Lu Yi. That’s the only house rule of your family.”
Once you have made the decision, you have to see things through, no matter how bad things get. That’s why men from the Lu Family always put a lot of thought into their marriage. Anyone would do the same if divorce wasn’t an option.
Lu Yi raised the cup to his lips and guzzled. A slight bitterness fermented within his heart, turning into an intolerable sourness.
“Yan Huan wasn’t a part of my memory when I made the promise,” he said sotto voce, his fingers closing in around his cup.
Lei Qingyi’s chopsticks fell to the ground. Thankfully he wasn’t eating, or he would have spat the food out.
“Are you saying that you lost your memories, Lu Yi?” he asked in disbelief. “Does that mean the cause of your two-year disappearance wasn’t a coma?” The situation was even more like a soap-opera cliché now.
Lu Yi wasn’t unconscious for two years; he had lost his memories.
“Who told you I was in a coma? I thought you were a cop, not a writer,” said Lu Yi, raising an eyebrow.
“Yiyi said so,” said Lei Qingyi, touching his nose awkwardly. That was the only explanation Yi Ling had come up with. What other reason could have possibly caused him to not come home for two years? Abduction? A bad sense of direction?
To make it even more soap-opera-like, he had fallen in love with a woman who saved and took meticulous care of him. That had nearly set Yi Ling on an assassination attempt.
Lu Yi held the cup to his eyes. Now that he was remembering things, the whole thing did sound like a horrible soap-opera.
Two years ago, he woke up to find himself surrounded by a flood, with one hand holding onto a banister and the other, a woman’s hand. That he remembered. What he did not remember who he was.
All he remembered was that he had saved the woman, and had possibly hit his head in the process.
That woman was Sun Yuhan who then brought him back to her tiny rented apartment.
At first, he didn’t know how to do anything. Everything seemed…foreign. Sun Yuhan had been the sole breadwinner of the house. At that time, his head was fuzzy most of the time, which left him incapable of working.
That was why he was grateful to Sun Yuhan. In a way, she did save his life. It was not until a few months later when his head began to clear up. Still, he had no memories and no idea how to regain them. He never went to the hospital either, since he was too shy to ask Sun Yuhan for money.
The only valuables on him was a watch, which had been disposed of after being mistaken as trash, and a ring. He strung the ring up and wore it as a necklace, knowing that it was the one thing he couldn’t afford to lose. No matter how dire things seemed, the thought of selling it never occurred to him.
Thinking back, it could have been fake, for all he knew.
Afterward, he took on a variety of part-time jobs: moving buckets of cement around at a construction site, painting walls, cleaning toilets. His measly wages were only enough to cover the cost of their daily necessities.
But he couldn’t remember anything from the past, not even his name.
Sun Yuhan had always introduced him as Jiu Yue, her online friend who lost his memory in a flood when he was on his way to meet her. He never doubted the validity of the story.
