Memory Lost (美人为馅): Chapter 154

Chapter 154: Never Grief

Su Mian has imagined it many times on her and S meeting again.  But now that it really happens, it turns out that the emotions rushing into her heart the most is not hatred or disgust.  It’s the overwhelming feeling of sadness and loneliness.

“This is the safe house,” he says softly.  The contours of his face are half in the light and half in the dark, “There are a few rooms, and there are some survival necessities in the storage.  Even if the levels above collapse, we’ll be okay. Wait until everything is over and then we’ll leave.”

Su Mian raises her head slowly to look around.  There is indeed an opened doorway leading to another dark room.  She hears faint footsteps coming from the room. There also seem to be someone standing in the dark.

Is it A, L, or R?

“What do you want to do?” she asks.  Her voice is cold, very cold.

He keeps quiet for a second before turning his head toward her.

“I want you to remember me.”

He leaves the shadow and enters the light.  It’s an unfamiliar yet handsome face. His soft black hair cannot hide his eyes.  His eyes are still, warm, and deep-set. The light casts a shadow under his nose. His thin lips are lightly pressed against each other.  His facial features are exceptional, but you can’t neglect his quiet temperament like the deepest end of the sea.

Under his black suit is a clean white shirt.  The top two buttons are casually unbuttoned. His hands are resting on the back of the chair as he stares at her gently and peacefully.

Some people’s existence will be engraved at the bottom of your heart.  Even after losing your memory, you’ll still be able to sense him. For Su Mian, it’s like Han Chen, and it’s like……S.  She looks at the man in front of her, and suddenly, a blurry image floats across her mind.  There was once a man like this sitting by the window on a certain year, a certain month, and a certain day, watching the sunrise and sunset.  And she was standing not far away from him, quietly observing him.

She suppresses the emotions in her heart.  Su Mian’s heart starts to calm down, just like the air flowing in the safe house.  Because it’s been so many years, she also really wants to know everything that happened back then.  Therefore, she waits quietly for him to tell her.

But he turns his head and stops looking at her.  He inhales from the cigarette with his eyelids half closed, looking to the empty corner in the front.

“The first time I saw you, you were 8 years old, and I was thirteen.”

Su Mian’s heart shakes.  This is completely out of her expectation.  She can’t believe it was this early and that no one knew about it.  And she was eight? The year 1997. That year……based on the records, her dad died on the job.

“It was the year your dad died,” he says slowly as if confirming her thoughts, “Your dad was responsible for investigating my dad’s serial killing cases.  And my dad killed your dad in the end and got away successfully.”

Su Mian sits still on the couch.  She digs her fingers into her long hair.  Her emotions seem to become distant as he speaks; hated and grief.

“My dad was born a genius in crimes,” he says with a calm voice, “Everything that I know was taught by him.  The organization, the design, the escape, the scapegoat……reading, learning, and persistence.”

He turns to look at her after finishing his sentence.  Su Mian looks directly into his eyes, but she can’t make out his emotions.

What kind of past is that?

The son of a serial killer; the daughter of a police officer who died on the job.  But for a girl who’s not more than ten-years-old, she’s innocent and naive and should have no memory of it.  But for her, she remembers everything clearly.

He inhales from the cigarette, and his voice becomes deeper.  It’s like a bottle of wine that has been stored for a long time; limpid and mellow, and resonates in your ears.

“I was there at the scene, so I remember your dad’s eyes looking at me before his death,” he pauses but Su Mian has no way of knowing what kind of gaze her dad would use to look at a thirteen-year-old boy.

“Later I secretly went to your dad’s funeral without my dad knowing.  That was when I saw you,” he says softly, “I said to you: ‘my condolences to you.’  But you said: ‘I’ll never end my grief. Not until I catch the criminal who killed my dad.’”

Su Mian’s heart shakes, but she sees his eyes carrying a stronger hint of gentleness and deeper emotions.

As someone with serious mental illness, how is he going to express the emotions he had at the time?

A long time later, that boy always remembered the girl’s eyes?  And the words “never end my grief” is like a curse, a belief, circling in her heart.

Afterward, he would walk aimlessly until he reached her home or school and stood there many times.  He would watch her from afar; watching her smile, laugh, cry, or be upset.

The officer who once looked at him pitifully, would his daughter be the same kind of person as her dad?

The endless emotions and memories; his and her beginning and end of a relationship, how should they be summarized?

His arm lowers to the side of the chair quietly.  Su Mian sees the ash on the tip of the cigarette fall without a sound.  And then he says slowly, “A young girl who refuses to end her grief. If I could have her, my life would never be lonely again.”

Su Mian’s eyes become watery suddenly.

It’s not because she sympathizes him or that her heart is tender.  It’s because it’s just like what he and the seven-member organization says, she can truly feel his gentle emotions that are empty like the wasteland; his sadness and powerless.

But she speaks in a cold voice that even brings shivers to herself, “Your dad killed my dad.  You’re the leader of a criminal organization. Yet you think we can be together?”

She interrogates coldly, carrying a strong sense of mockery.

He remains silent for a few seconds.

“Su Mian,” he says gently.  His gentleness and demeanor have sunken into his bones after many years, “In this world, you must know what can’t be done.  Not everyone will choose love that is full of hope.”

Su Mian is lost without words.

He presses down on the cigarette to put it out and rests his hand on his knee.  After a while, he says, “Su Mian, I’ve told you before, but you didn’t believe me.  In your theory, the mentally ill have very distinctive characteristics——

Good at expressing himself and inspirational.  But for someone who lacks central organization, he is never able to keep his mind and words in the same direction;

Impulsive and angered easily.  Once he’s impulsive, he has a tendency to commit crimes; many of us are alcoholics because alcohol can awaken our nerves that are slower than normal people; we desire excitement because we are born to be insensitive……

But there’s one thing that you’re wrong about.”

In the spacious and quiet room, besides their voices and breathing, there is no other noise.  Su Mian can feel great sorrow and stuffiness surge into her heart. It’s because she already knows what he wants to say.

He lifts his eyes to look at her.  His pupils are pitch black like the quietness here at the bottom of the underground mall.

“I’m in love with you.  My feelings are not shallow or empty.  I have always been able to sense you.”