Mr. Lizard Outside the Window - Chapter 62
Chapter 62: Cage of Thorns
After the practical exams, a wave of theoretical exams, requiring extensive memorization, descended upon the students.
Banxia, usually busy with her part-time jobs and violin practice, was now buried under a mountain of textbooks and notes.
Despite the heavy workload, she felt strangely… content. These were the happiest days she had had in years.
Life was hard, she knew. Fate was often cruel, its trials and tribulations indiscriminate, descending upon the young and old, the ordinary and the gifted, grinding them down, twisting them into monstrous shapes.
But if you held on to your heart, kept your gaze fixed on the light, kept moving forward, even through the darkest storms, there was always the chance of finding beauty, of finding connection, of finding… love.
Every night, she and Ling Dong would study together, late into the night.
Sometimes, she would fall asleep, her head resting on his shoulder, her books scattered around them, and she would wake up in her bed, the books neatly stacked on her nightstand, her notes organized, highlighted, with added summaries and mind maps.
Ling Dong would still be sitting at his desk, composing music, his headphones on, as if he hadn't moved all night, the morning light softening his features, his long eyelashes casting shadows on his pale cheeks.
Seeing her awake, he would get up and make her breakfast.
Her meals were always delicious, meticulously prepared. She had offered to wash the dishes several times, but he had just smiled and refused. And the next morning, the kitchen would be spotless, only her own bowl and chopsticks left by the sink, a silent reminder of his presence, his care.
Sometimes, she felt like he was a different person when he was Ling Dong, his demeanor more reserved, his movements more controlled, his smiles less frequent, less… playful, less like the sweet, clingy Xiao Lian who loved to nuzzle her cheek and whisper sweet nothings in her ear.
She preferred Xiao Lian, the adorable gecko. But Ling Dong, the aloof, elegant senior, had a certain allure, a dangerous charm that made her want to… tease him, to push his boundaries.
She had the best of both worlds: a sweet, devoted boyfriend at home and a handsome, talented neighbor to… flirt with.
Life was good.
The final exams finally ended. Banxia, having just finished her Mao Zedong Thought exam, returned to her apartment and collapsed onto her bed, exhausted.
She drifted in and out of sleep, a voice gently shaking her awake.
"Dinner's ready. Come and eat."
"Just five more minutes," she mumbled, her eyes still closed. "I haven't slept properly in days."
"You need to eat. It's not good for your stomach to skip meals."
"Five minutes…"
"If you don't get up, I'm going to kiss you," Ling Dong said, his voice teasing, his face close to hers, his eyes smiling.
Banxia reached up and pulled him down, her arms around his neck. "Show me your tail first. Then I'll get up and eat," she said, her voice playful.
Ling Dong, his bravado instantly melting away, blushed.
They were kissing and laughing, their bodies entwined, when his phone rang. He reached for it, still smiling, and answered the call.
As he listened, his smile faded, his face hardening, his voice cold and distant as he finally replied, "Okay."
He sat on the edge of the bed, shirtless, his elbows on his knees, his hair falling over his face, a long silence.
For a moment, he seemed to revert to his old self, the aloof, untouchable Ling Dong, his emotions hidden behind a mask of indifference.
But then, the mask cracked, his shoulders slumping, a long sigh escaping his lips as he turned to look at her.
"It was my mother. She wants to see me tomorrow," he said, taking her hand, his fingers gently tracing the lines of her palm. "Will you… come with me, Banxia?"
"Of course," she said, squeezing his hand. "I'll be there."
The meeting place wasn't far, just across the longan grove, a villa halfway up the mountain.
Ling Dong led Banxia through the heavy, ornate doors, into a grand hall filled with antique furniture, a massive crystal chandelier casting shimmering reflections.
They climbed the winding staircase, its banister carved from dark wood, and entered a small sitting room on the second floor.
The large room was dim and quiet, the curtains drawn, the thick carpet muffling their footsteps, the air heavy with the scent of dust and decay.
The sitting room had carved wooden screens, offering glimpses of the forested hillside beyond.
A middle-aged woman, dressed elegantly, her hair neatly styled, a jade ring on her finger, a silk scarf around her neck, a matching pendant at her throat, sat by the window, her head bowed, a pensive expression on her face, as if lost in thought.
She looked up as Ling Dong entered. "Xiao Dong? You're back," she said, her voice soft.
Seeing Banxia, she looked surprised. "You brought a guest? This is…?"
Ling Dong pulled out a chair for Banxia, then rinsed a teacup, filled it with warm water, and placed it in front of her before turning to his mother.
"Banxia, this is my mother. Mom, this is Banxia," he said, his voice calm and steady, his hands, holding the teacup, perfectly still.
But Banxia sensed a subtle shift in his demeanor, a formality, a restraint that was unlike him.
He was more like the aloof, distant Ling Dong of the rumors, not the sweet, playful Xiao Lian she knew.
His mother, Zhou Manyao, though older, was still a beautiful woman, her fingers slender and elegant.
"Hello, Xiaoxia," she said, her voice polite, but her expression a mixture of surprise and… something else, a hint of apprehension, perhaps. "So, Xiao Dong has a girlfriend! I've never seen him with a girl before!"
Ling Dong didn't reply, didn't correct her assumption. He poured himself a glass of water and placed it beside Banxia's.
"Xiao Dong," his mother hesitated, her voice strained. "I… I have something I need to discuss with you. Alone."
"Banxia knows everything," Ling Dong said quietly.
His mother's face paled, her gaze shifting from him to Banxia, her expression a mix of shock and disbelief.
"She… she knows? You… you told her?" After a moment of stunned silence, she asked, her voice hesitant, "Is your… condition… improving? I heard you're back at school."
Ling Dong looked at her, waiting.
"Are you… able to… go out during the day now?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper, her eyes searching his face, a flicker of fear, then a hesitant hope, in their depths. "I called your teacher. He said you took your final exams, that your piano playing is even better than before. He said you've… surpassed yourself, that you have a bright future ahead of you. I was so happy to hear that…"
Banxia sat beside him, listening to her words, a strange unease settling over her.
Ling Dong's hand reached out under the table and took hers, his fingers cold, his grip tight, as if seeking warmth, reassurance.
And in that moment, Banxia felt a sudden chill, a sense of… wrongness, the elegant woman, her expensive clothes, the luxurious surroundings, the view of the distant mountains through the window… it was all a facade, a carefully constructed illusion.
She saw shadows moving in the corners of the room, dark tendrils creeping out from beneath the furniture, coiling around the woman's legs, her arms, her neck, twisting her beautiful face into a grotesque mask.
But then, she blinked, and it was gone, just a trick of the light, a fleeting hallucination.
It's broad daylight, she thought. There are no monsters here. Ling Dong's mother sat calmly across from them, her expression serene.
I'm being paranoid, she thought, dismissing the unsettling feeling.
"Xiao Dong," his mother sighed, her hand nervously fidgeting with the scarf around her neck, revealing a glimpse of her wrist beneath the long sleeve of her blouse. "Why don't you come home? Your father's temper has gotten worse since you… left. I can barely… stand it anymore."
Banxia's eyes widened. She saw the bruises on her wrist, dark purple marks that couldn't have been self-inflicted.
She looked closer and noticed other signs: the slight stiffness in her movements, the way she sat so still, the scarf carefully concealing her neck, a glimpse of finger-shaped bruises visible beneath the fabric as she touched it.
Ling Dong's gaze lowered. "Is Father… still the same?"
"Everything has… fallen apart since you… changed," his mother's voice dropped to a whisper. "Your father lost a lot of money on those contracts he signed. The business is failing. And his temper… he's always angry. He stays out all night, and when he comes home, he… takes it out on me," she wrung her hands, her voice choked with emotion. "I can't… I can't live like this anymore."
"You can leave him, Mom. Leave Father," Ling Dong said, looking at her intently. "I can help you find a divorce lawyer."
His mother looked at him, startled, as if she had never considered such a possibility. She seemed to have forgotten her own complaints, her own suffering. "Leave your father?" she repeated, her voice bewildered. "Xiao Dong, how can you say that? I'm… I'm too old to start over. What would I do without him?"
"Mom," Ling Dong said gently, "you're a strong, independent woman. You can take care of yourself. You don't need him."
"But I don't have any money! And I don't know how to… do anything!" she protested, shaking her head. "No, I don't want to leave him! Why should I leave? Let those… other women take my place? Become Mrs. Ling?"
"Xiao Dong, if you come home, everything will be alright again," she reached out and took his hand, her voice pleading. "You're… better now, aren't you? You've always been a good son. You promised you would help me, didn't you?"
Her hand, pale and delicate, rested on his.
Black scales spread across Ling Dong's hand, his eyes turning gold.
Zhou Manyao recoiled with a gasp, as if she had touched something disgusting, pulling her hand away and shrinking back into the plush sofa.
Banxia's anger, which had been simmering, now boiled over.
She had always disliked women like her, parasitic vines clinging to their hosts, their survival dependent on another's strength, their own strength, their own identity, sacrificed for the sake of… security, their lives a delicate balancing act, a constant negotiation, a cage of thorns.
And there were so many women like her, even Ling Dong's mother, the woman who had raised him.
Banxia had tried to be patient, to listen to her complaints, to understand her… predicament.
But seeing her recoil from her own son, as if he were a monster, was the final straw.
She stood up abruptly, pushing her chair back with a loud scrape.
He's so kind, so gentle, so talented, she thought, her heart aching for him, and his own mother treats him like this?
But Ling Dong caught her hand, his touch calming, reassuring, his golden eyes softening as he turned his scaled hand, palm up, offering it to her.
"It's alright. I'll handle this. Just wait for me," he whispered in her ear, his voice like a cool stream, soothing her anger, calming the storm within her.
"I came here today to introduce Banxia to you, Mom," he said, his hand still holding hers, his gaze turning to his mother, who was staring at him with a mixture of fear and confusion. "This is… the woman I want to spend my life with, the woman I want to… build a family with," he said, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. He paused, then added, "And I wanted to tell you… I won't be coming back here. Not anymore."
He stood up, pulling Banxia with him, towards the door.
A soft sob came from behind them.
"You're… you're abandoning me?" Zhou Manyao's voice was choked with tears. "Xiao Dong, you promised you would help me! You promised you would repay me for everything I've done for you!"
Ling Dong stopped at the door, and Banxia, reluctantly, turned to look at her.
She would rather face a raging dragon than deal with a woman like this, her emotions a manipulative weapon, her vulnerability a cage, trapping them both, her tears like thorns, drawing blood.
Ling Dong, his eyes reflecting the distant mountains outside the window, his expression calm, his voice gentle, yet firm, said, "Mom, we're all… trapped in our own cages, our own prisons."
"If you don't want to be free, no one can force you. You'll just… stay locked inside, forever."
"If you want to leave this house, leave Father, I'll help you, in any way I can."
"But I won't be coming back. Not to this house, not to this life."
He turned away, his hand still holding Banxia's, and they left, closing the door behind them.
A crash, the sound of shattering porcelain, echoed from inside the room.
"You ungrateful wretch! I shouldn't have taken you in! You heartless monster!" she screamed, her voice filled with rage.
"You promised you would stay with me! You promised you would take care of me!" she sobbed, her voice now weak and pleading. "Why? Why is my life so hard? What am I going to do now?"
The sound of her sobs and curses continued, a jarring contrast to the elegant, composed woman they had met earlier.
Ling Dong, ignoring the sounds of her distress, led Banxia away, his hand cold as ice, but his footsteps firm, his gaze steady, a faint smile, almost… a smile of relief, on his lips.
That night, in the quiet darkness of their small apartment, the moonlight streaming through the window, Ling Dong held Banxia close, his arms around her, his face buried in her neck, his body silent and still, as if he had fallen asleep.
"Did your father… hurt your mother?" Banxia whispered in the darkness.
After a long moment, a soft "Mm-hmm" came from behind her.
"I was very young when I first arrived. He had a terrible temper. He would be charming and sociable outside, then come home and… explode, taking his anger out on my mother," he said quietly.
"Did he… hurt you too?" she asked hesitantly.
Ling Dong hesitated, then admitted, "Yes. Sometimes."
Banxia turned to look at him, her eyes wide with shock and anger.
He wrapped his tail around her waist, pulling her closer, his hand gently stroking her hair. "His violence was… terrifying. But what I feared most… was my mother."
Talking about his childhood was clearly difficult for him.
But he continued, his voice low and steady, sharing the painful memories, the hidden wounds of his past, with the woman he loved.
His adoptive mother, gentle yet manipulative, her love a suffocating cage.
His adoptive father, violent and unpredictable, his rage a terrifying force.
A child, trapped between them, with nowhere to hide, his nights filled with fear and uncertainty.
The sudden loss of his parents, the dysfunctional family he had been thrust into, the empty house, the endless nightmares…
He had learned to appease them, to placate his father's rage, to soothe his mother's anxieties, sacrificing his own happiness, his own dreams, his music, becoming the perfect son, practicing relentlessly, winning competitions, endorsements, his life a performance, a desperate attempt to bring peace into their chaotic world.
But the darkness in their home hadn't been dispelled, and he had lost his own light, his music becoming hollow, mechanical, the joy gone, the world around him twisting and distorting, a grotesque reflection of his own fractured self.
He spoke of his past, his voice calm, his tone even, as if recounting someone else's story.
"It's okay. It's all in the past now," he said, kissing her forehead, his voice gentle, reassuring, as if he was the one comforting her.
Banxia's heart ached for him, for the little boy lost and alone in that dark, terrifying world. She longed to hold him, to protect him, her lips finding his scales, her warm breath thawing the cold, hard surface.
I thought my life was hard, growing up without a father, she thought. But compared to this… I was lucky.
Her own childhood memories, the sunlit courtyard, the grape trellis, the lotus pond, the laughter and warmth of her mother's love, seemed even more precious now.
I'll take him home, she thought. After the exams, I'll take him home. Show him my world, the wildflowers and the bees, the snowy nights and the summer pond.
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