Together Forever - Extra 2 [END]
Volume 3, Extra 2: The Goodbye I Owe You (2)
The winter she separated from Gu Pingsheng, her grandmother’s cancer returned.
Pingfan was helping her with the legal paperwork, and Tong Yan had to carefully avoid the “traps” Gu Pingsheng had set while also hiding her exhaustion from constantly being at the hospital.
Thankfully, Gu Pingfan was soon returning to the US to begin her residency.
Not wanting to delay Pingfan’s departure, Tong Yan finally signed the alimony agreement, on the condition that the money be deposited into a joint account with Pingfan. Gu Pingsheng had set up the joint account, anticipating her father’s debts, to protect some of her assets.
He readily agreed to her condition.
By spring, the cancer had spread throughout her grandmother’s body. She held on for a month, then passed away. Tong Yan remembered the exact time: 2:43 AM.
Unable to eat, her grandmother had been emaciated, her body barely recognizable.
During the final two weeks, she and her father had taken turns staying with her overnight.
Her grandmother’s eyes were always red and swollen. Tong Yan, assuming it was because of something her father had done, would discreetly advise him to wait until her grandmother recovered before asking for money. One night, arriving at the hospital after her radio show, she witnessed a commotion outside her grandmother’s ward.
Her grandmother, while the nurses and her father weren’t looking, had wandered out of the ward, wearing only her pajamas.
Emerging from the elevator, Tong Yan saw the nurses trying to restrain her disoriented grandmother, onlookers whispering that the cancer must have spread to her brain. Her father stood by the doorway, crying and calling out to his mother. The scene was too much for Tong Yan to bear.
She rushed towards her grandmother, holding her tightly, whispering soothing words.
She even pushed away a nurse who tried to approach.
That night, she had been like a madwoman, dragging her father out of the hospital.
Back in the ward, she drew the curtains, shutting out the pitying, sympathetic, and indifferent gazes. Her grandmother’s hand was swollen from repeated IV insertions, the needle having been ripped out during the earlier struggle. Tong Yan gently massaged her hand, forcing a smile. “Why are you so disobedient? You’re becoming more and more like a child.”
Not wanting to disturb the other patient in the room, she kept her voice low.
She recounted amusing anecdotes from her radio show, mostly calls from younger listeners or the rambling confessions of lovesick callers. She couldn’t help but chuckle at some of the stories.
“Yan Yan,” her grandmother said, her voice hoarse, pointing to her head. “I’m still lucid, I’m not senile.”
Tong Yan hummed in response.
“I did it to make your father feel guilty,” her grandmother said, patting Tong Yan’s hand. “I was afraid I wouldn’t live to see him change his ways, and then… you would be the one to suffer.”
Tong Yan’s throat tightened, and she blinked back tears.
“It’s past midnight; shouldn’t you sleep?” she asked, forcing a smile.
“Is Xiao Gu’s illness serious?” her grandmother asked, her eyes closed, then, as if remembering something, opened them again. “He was gone for almost six months last time. This time, it’s been almost nine months, hasn't it?”
“It’s not serious, just… rehabilitation,” Tong Yan said, her voice softening. “He’s not very healthy. He told me not to tell you about your illness, and I haven’t told him about you being here. He would insist on coming back if he knew.”
“Yes, yes,” her grandmother patted her hand urgently. “You’re both still young. His health is important; he should focus on his recovery. It’s okay, I understand.”
Tong Yan smiled. “So you have to take care of yourself. Otherwise, he’ll blame me when he gets back. I’ll work hard and earn enough money for both of you.” She paused, then added, “My boss asked me to fill in for the morning traffic reporter; she’s on maternity leave. I’ll get a raise, or at least a bonus.”
“The morning show? But yours starts at nine, and you have to come to the hospital…”
“Young people should work hard,” Tong Yan tucked her grandmother’s hand under the covers. “Go to sleep now.”
Her grandmother held onto her hand, her voice filled with concern. “I’ve been feeling much better these past few days. They say a positive attitude can cure cancer. Don’t let Xiao Gu come back, not until he’s fully recovered.”
Tong Yan nodded. She knew her grandmother wouldn’t blame him for not visiting.
But if she knew they had separated, it would break her heart. Thankfully, she already knew about his illness, and after their five-month separation last time, this nine-month absence was… easier to explain.
She didn’t know how long she could maintain the lie.
Just… one day at a time.
And then… there was no “then.”
She took a week off, the longest leave she had ever taken, to arrange her grandmother’s funeral.
She didn’t return to the apartment after that, instead finding a roommate. The apartment, the one Gu Pingsheng had bought for her and her grandmother when he returned to Beijing, the one he had insisted she keep after they separated, she had refused everything else, but this… this had been a kindness, a way to maintain the lie for her grandmother.
Her granddaughter would be fine; she was still cherished, still loved.
But now, with the lie no longer necessary, she couldn't bear to live in that large apartment alone. With her busy schedule, hosting both the morning and evening radio shows, along with planning meetings during the day, she left the apartment in the hands of a real estate agent. Given Beijing's strict housing policies, she hadn’t expected it to sell quickly.
According to the agent, it was a highly desirable property, with good feng shui, and seeing she wasn’t in a hurry, he took his time finding the right buyer, maximizing the selling price. Within a month, someone made a cash offer.
The day she went to sign the agreement, it was a sweltering summer day, and she had a cold. She wrote down his bank account number, the numbers etched in her memory, refusing to go to the bank. The buyer, thankfully, was easygoing and went to the bank with the agent to make the transfer.
While waiting, she and the younger agent wandered around the apartment, her gaze lingering on every detail.
The agent, misunderstanding, thought she had lost something. “Miss Tong, are you looking for something?” She smiled faintly. “No, just… reminiscing.”
“Out with the old, in with the new,” the agent chuckled. “This apartment, because of its good feng shui, sold for a great price. With a little more, you could buy an even better one. I have a few listings…”
Her constant early morning and late-night shifts had made her lose weight, her already petite frame even more slender. As a radio DJ, she didn’t have to worry about appearances and dressed casually, still looking like a student.
Such a young, attractive woman, selling an apartment on her own, seemingly without family constraints, the young agent naturally assumed she was single and saw a potential client.
Tong Yan simply smiled, not bothering to correct him.
The joint account had a withdrawal limit, but no deposit limit, and looking at the balance, she felt a strange sense of… satisfaction.
Mr. Gu, you must have forgotten that gifting is a unilateral legal act, requiring no consent from the recipient.
Mrs. Gu scored a 91 on her Contract Law exam. Even if she died, this money wouldn’t go to her father; it would all be his.
As Christmas approached, her radio show, Keeping You Company, had become a de facto relationship advice hotline, even incorporating listener song requests to enhance the sentimental atmosphere, as instructed by her boss.
For the Christmas Eve special, she invited Amy as a guest.
In just three years, Amy had become a rising star, hosting a popular talk show. Even her guest appearance on Tong Yan’s traffic radio show generated excitement among the listeners.
“It feels strange calling you ‘Xiao Ke,’” Amy said, laughing, as they sat in the studio before the show. “Why not use your real name? I think it’s memorable, unique, almost like a stage name.”
“Don’t be so dramatic,” Tong Yan tossed her the script. “I don’t want my former classmates listening to my show, laughing at me.”
“You’ll get used to it,” Amy said, patting her shoulder. “When I first started hosting, my mom recorded all my shows and sent DVDs to all our relatives. It was mortifying.”
“Be grateful. She was proud of you.”
“You two,” the director’s voice crackled in their earpieces, “Sounds like two lonely single ladies, gossiping about old classmates on Christmas Eve. Haven’t you even answered a single call? No dates after the show?”
They ignored his teasing, continuing their conversation.
Then, at ten o’clock sharp, they switched into professional mode.
It was a special Christmas Eve program, hosted by the popular Amy and Xiao Ke. The two women, their voices warm and engaging, chatted casually, occasionally taking calls, mostly song requests or nostalgic reminiscences of past Christmas Eves.
“Xiao Ke and I are old classmates,” Amy said, glancing at Tong Yan. “Back in university, she had a very high-profile relationship. I’m sure girls in the dorms were cursing her with voodoo dolls every night, jealous of her perfect romance. Tell me, did you and Mr. Popular have a romantic Christmas Eve?”
“Yes. That night… was our first kiss. Very cliché, in a movie theater.”
“Aww…” Amy sighed dreamily.
Even the director chuckled, saying in their earpieces, “She’s spilling the beans!”
Soft music, classic American and European songs, played in the background.
After sharing her story, her mood seemed to lighten, and she smoothly steered the conversation towards other topics. However, the subsequent calls all revolved around first dates and Christmas Eve romances, some callers even sharing their own movie theater first kiss stories, and Tong Yan realized she had made a mistake.
The downside of inviting a friend as a guest was their tendency to reveal embarrassing stories. As the show neared its end, Tong Yan regretted her decision, but Amy, relentless, continued, revealing that Tong Yan had placed third in the university singing competition, specializing in challenging foreign songs.
The director, excited, suggested she end the show with an a cappella performance, then a transition to the original song.
Trapped, Tong Yan suddenly thought of a song she had played repeatedly after their separation.
Jessica Simpson's 2001 hit, "When You Told Me You Loved Me."
The intro was surprisingly melancholic, but it always reminded her of that night, their first date, when she, flustered and unsure of what to do, had stood there amidst the dazzling lights of Xintiandi.
She hummed the melody softly, and the sound engineer immediately recognized it.
The music began, the slow, familiar tune, her voice gradually rising in volume.
A line from the song, repeated throughout, echoed in her mind.
“When you told me you loved me,
Did you know it would take me the rest of my life.”
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