Chapter 9 — 700,000 Yuan And An Annulment

During that time, Vuong Tu Cam also called me twice. The first time she said she was old and didn't want to compare herself with young people, she told me not to be too stubborn, the money was fine but the kiss didn't have to be canceled. The second time, my voice was no longer pleasant to listen to. Saying that I was dragging my feet and refusing to settle accounts was intentionally making Luong Khai lose face. I directly blocked her number. Luong Khai transferred money on time. Divide into three times. I later learned that he didn't suddenly have a conscience. It's because both families already know about it, and the refunds and spreadsheets are all in my hands. If he continues, it will only be more unsightly. The first payment is half of the wedding photo fee. The second amount is the loss of hotel and wedding services he must bear. The third payment came the latest, lasting until 11pm on the last day. The amount was not large, but it made me look at the screen for a long time. Not for money. It's because the notes only have four words.

“Let's talk.”

I looked at it for two seconds, took a screenshot and saved it, then put the money transfer into the table. What else is there to say? Say if I hadn't seen that confirmation yesterday, could I still pretend like nothing happened and obediently swipe 700,000 yuan? Say that if I really get married in the future, every time Vuong Tu Cam crosses the line, I still have to continue to understand. Saying that I was eliminated from the beginning, yet I still have to advise myself not to calculate too clearly. There's nothing more to say. I entered three remittances into the table, the last column changed from “uncleared” to “completed.” At that moment, I suddenly felt a very strange peace. Over the years, I've always done addition. Save a little more, give one more step, think a little further, prepare more for the future. Only today did I realize that life is not always about plus. There are things you have to learn how to subtract. Minus a lopsided relationship. Minus the illusion of “trying just a little longer and it will be okay.” Minus the things that are clearly wearing me down, but I forcefully call them love and tolerance. My mother came to find me at that time. She carried a pot of rib soup and stood at the door hesitantly, as if she was afraid that I would look bad.

“I just came to see you.”

I invited her in and poured her a glass of water. As soon as she sat down, she saw the list on the table, crowded with amounts, dates and notes, the last column had been marked off by me. She looked for a long time, then asked softly.

“It's done.”

“Almost done.”

She nodded, didn't ask any more questions, just pushed the pot of soup towards me.

"When I was young, every time I was upset outside, I didn't say anything when I came home." She bowed her head, as if talking to me, as if talking to herself, "Before, I thought you had a good temper and didn't like to cause trouble. Now thinking back, perhaps you knew from a young age that there weren't many people in the family who could stand up for you."

I stopped. My mother normally rarely says things like that. She often advises me to look forward, advises me not to be impulsive, advises me to be a little softer, and not to turn over so easily. But now she was sitting in front of me, looking at that list, as if she could finally see how much I had devoted myself to this relationship over the years. She raised her head, her eyes were slightly red.

“This time, I won't advise you anymore.” she said “a person even by name I also don't want to let you stand with me. After getting married, I won't consider you anything."

I didn't expect her to say that, my nose suddenly felt stingy. But that feeling was quickly suppressed. Because I suddenly realized that what I really needed was just such an acknowledgment. It's not that I'm too calculating. It's not that I'm too impulsive. It's not like I make things big. But this is inherently wrong. When my mother left, she conveniently gathered all the stacks of wedding sample books and invitations in the living room and put them in a box. Her movements were very slow, as if afraid of breaking something. Actually, there was nothing valuable inside, just the hotel table card template, the wedding script book from the organizer, and the invitation templates I had chosen for a long time to decide. But watching her collect each item one by one, my heart still sank. Those things are not weddings. But it's proof that I once seriously put myself into a certain future. I sat down to help her, flipped to the bottom and a handwritten note fell out. Written on it. Entrance touch light. Size of kitchen cabinets. Master bedroom mattress firmness. The children's room is empty first. The last line is very light, as I write more someday.