Chapter 28
After clearly expressing his anger, Chen Zhuren lay on the old sofa in Jiang Wanju’s home, covered with an old quilt—this sofa was really too old; every time he shifted, it creaked loudly, like the groans of a patient under unbearable strain.
Jiang Wanju couldn’t sleep either. Around ten o’clock, she finally couldn’t take it anymore and got out of bed, putting on her clothes.
Standing just five meters from the sofa, she looked at Chen Zhuren and said, “You should come back to sleep.”
Chen Zhuren: “You’re so heartless.”
His teeth itched with irritation. Jiang Wanju took off her slippers and crawled into his quilt—just as Chen Zhuren had called her heartless, he immediately picked her up, holding her in his arms, resting his chin on her head, rubbing it gently, and sighed: “Little Orange… little Orange.”
Jiang Wanju said, “I shouldn’t have said those hurtful things at dinner.”
Chen Zhuren replied, “It’s okay. I forget quickly.”
Jiang Wanju continued, “But you shouldn’t have just decided on where I should move without discussing it with me…”
Chen Zhuren said, “Is this ‘first courtesy, then force’?”
“No!” Jiang Wanju corrected seriously, “These are my true feelings.”
Chen Zhuren stroked her hair and patted her back downward.
“Normal couples don’t act like this,” Jiang Wanju said. “Have you ever seen a boyfriend just tell his girlfriend, ‘I bought a house, move in’? I’m a person, I have my own thoughts.”
Chen Zhuren said, “I thought you’d be happy.”
“That’s just what you thought,” Jiang Wanju said. “If you had discussed it with me in advance, I might have been happier.”
“All right then,” Chen Zhuren sighed. “Now I want to invite my girlfriend to move into my new apartment. Will she agree?”
Jiang Wanju leaned in close, pressing into his embrace: “Depends on how you behave.”
It all depended on how he behaved.
The matter was eventually resolved. After three days of discussion and weighing the pros and cons, Jiang Wanju finally moved into Chen Zhuren’s apartment.
But although the immediate problem was resolved, the underlying points of tension between them remained—like small stones scattered across a soft beach, occasionally poking at their feet.
The European winter seemed unusually long and could easily lead to melancholy. Especially with the time difference, Jiang Wanju could only contact her family and friends at certain times.
The arrogance and inherent sense of superiority of the French made Jiang Wanju’s career difficult. She had cried in private several times, and after exhausting herself, she would wake up and continue working with perfect makeup.
Differences in race and faith were always significant. Jiang Wanju recognized this from the start and had no intention of changing herself or catering to others’ preferences or aesthetics, living and working her own way. It sounded cool, but it inevitably made things difficult.
Office politics were another challenge. Jiang Wanju was just someone here to gain experience before returning home, not seeking a permanent position or promotions. Unfortunately, others didn’t think that way. Forming cliques and underhanded schemes were not uncommon, and polite offers to “help” often concealed ulterior motives.
This pressure finally erupted under a few rapid, light criticisms from her boss.
At that time, Jiang Wanju had been assigned an almost impossible task: convincing an artist to create an early autumn promotional poster for a store. She tried every possible method, but unsurprisingly, the artist declined.
When she reported the result to her boss, he looked at her with blue eyes and said, “I’m amazed at how limited your abilities are.”
Jiang Wanju couldn’t remember how she got home. Chen Zhuren wasn’t there. She lay in bed silently crying, soaking half her pillow with tears. She had never imagined she could cry so much; according to her parents, she had been a girl who wouldn’t even cry over scraped knees.
When she woke up, Chen Zhuren was gently wiping her eyes with a wet tissue.
“Missing home?” Chen Zhuren asked. “Do you want to go back?”
Jiang Wanju shook her head. “I just wanted to see plum blossoms.”
There weren’t many plum trees in Paris; the soil here wasn’t suitable for them.
She sat up, and when Chen Zhuren leaned down to kiss her, she didn’t refuse. At first, he was gentle, but Jiang Wanju couldn’t stop crying. After wiping her tears twice, Chen Zhuren realized what was happening. He stopped restraining himself, pressed her neck, and Jiang Wanju finally screamed out loud.
She realized she needed to release this pressure. Without Chen Zhuren, her situation might have been even worse.
Or maybe not—perhaps she would have another partner. Such things were unpredictable.
Life was uncertain, and fate had it so that Chen Zhuren appeared during every low point in her life.
Jiang Wanju didn’t vent her work frustrations to Chen Zhuren. Complaining was pointless, and the next day, she returned to work as usual. Since the artist refused, she had to go with Plan B.
The turning point came on the night she was about to give up.
Chen Zhuren had told Jiang Wanju in advance that he would come home early that evening and hoped she could also return early after work. So, she declined her colleagues’ invitation to dine out and went home immediately after finishing her tasks.
For some reason, her card wouldn’t open the apartment door. After a few attempts, she rang Chen Zhuren’s doorbell.
He opened the door himself.
Jiang Wanju said, “The card you gave me seems to be malfunctioning…”
Before she could finish, she caught a familiar scent.
On the table, the floor, in front of cabinets…
Jiang Wanju saw plum blossoms filling the entire room.
Plum blossoms flown all the way from China, filling the room completely.
