Chapter 27: Ambiguity

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Entertainment at Your Side: No Pop-up Ads
Story begins: February 2005
Recommended Song: Rainie Yang – “Ambiguous”
Statement: This story is purely fictional. Any resemblance to actual persons or events is entirely coincidental!

At the end of the year, Jiang Yihan took advantage of a rare break to rest at home. That day, he and Li Ran were lying in the yard, relaxing, while his grandmother sat nearby, working on her embroidery. Jiang Ziyi and their mother, Zhou Bing, were also there, picking greens for dinner.

“Xiaohan, what are you doing in Korea now?” his grandmother asked, watching her grandson laugh brightly in the sunlight, surrounded by family, suddenly feeling a deep sense of happiness.

“Grandma, I sing in Korea now. I can earn a lot of money, you know.” Jiang Yihan replied cheerfully. “Soon, I’ll be making so much money that I can buy you anything you want, and I’ll take you traveling, okay?”

“You can make money singing? Is that really true?” his grandmother asked, puzzled.

“Of course, Grandma! If you don’t believe me, ask Li Ran—he helps me manage everything.”

“Yes, Grandma, Xiaohan isn’t making it up. He’s doing really well with his singing now. He’ll be making good money,” Li Ran replied. He had grown up with Jiang Yihan, and the grandmother had always cared for this quiet child.

“That’s wonderful. Our Xiaohan is earning money now!” the grandmother said, her face lighting up in a smile. “Xiaohan has grown up without us even noticing.”

“Grandma…” Jiang Yihan moved behind her, lying across her back. “Grandma, once I have money, would you like to travel? How about Europe? We could go see someplace different.”

She chuckled, “Just the thought makes me happy, Xiaohan. I’m getting old, not fit for traveling—just staying at home is fine for me.” She took his hand, gently caressing it. “You know, I’ve never seen so much as ten thousand yuan in my whole life—just once, I’d like to see what that looks like. When you make big money, give Grandma ten thousand yuan, would you?”

“Of course!” He pressed his face against hers, breathing in the familiar scent of her. “All the money I earn is for you and Mom, Grandma. Giving it to you is what I should do, so don’t worry.”

“Liu Yan!” At that moment, Jiang Ziyi called out. Everyone turned to see Liu Yan standing gracefully at the door. She wore jeans, a short pink jacket, and a large white scarf. Her hair was a little messy, but it only made her look more delicate.

“Liu Yan, what is it? Is something wrong?” Jiang Yihan stood up, his tone as always, like an old friend.

“Nothing really, I was just bored at home and came to ask if you wanted to go sing. Am I not welcome?” Liu Yan said as she walked in, greeting everyone. “Auntie, Grandma, are you preparing dinner? Need any help?”

“No, no, you young people go have fun. Xiaohan’s been home for days without going out, it’ll do him good. Ziyi’s here to help me, that’s fine.” Zhou Bing replied, clearly fond of Liu Yan, whom she had watched grow up and always thought would make a good daughter-in-law. She had always given them free rein.

Jiang Yihan smiled and said, “Let me change. You should come too—go get changed.” Without giving Li Ran a chance to refuse, he pulled him up and went inside.

A while later, the two reappeared. From upstairs, they could hear laughter from below—Liu Yan was one of those girls who easily won over elders, clever and sweet. Hearing his grandmother’s hearty laughter, Jiang Yihan’s thoughts drifted far away until Li Ran gave him a nudge back to reality.

As they stepped out, Jiang Yihan spoke as he always did, as if nothing pressed on his heart, “So, what have you been up to? Did you help clean the house? You used to sneak over here to avoid chores, and Auntie always had to come fetch you, remember? I bet your family’s busy again today, ha ha.”

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“Nonsense, when did I ever do that? You’re the lazy one,” Liu Yan replied, giving Jiang Yihan a familiar, light pat on the shoulder.

They continued their playful banter all the way to the KTV. Once there, both Liu Yan and Jiang Yihan grabbed the mics, while Li Ran, as usual, remained aloof, only joining in when coaxed by Jiang Yihan—something he’d never do if there were others around.

Suddenly, a song began to play. Jiang Yihan and Liu Yan exchanged a glance, both feeling awkward. It was Rainie Yang’s “Ambiguous.” Neither knew who should sing, but in the end Liu Yan picked up the microphone. Her slightly lazy voice, drifting with the music, only heightened the ambiguous atmosphere. From time to time, she glanced at Jiang Yihan, making him increasingly uncomfortable and unsure of what to do.

Ambiguity brings endless grievances,
No evidence of love to be found,
When to advance, when to give up,
Not even the courage for an embrace,
All I can do is accompany you this far,
Some things cannot cross the line of friendship,
Yet haven’t reached the realm of love.
Should one weep at the scenery before the distant rain?
Am I the one overthinking, or are you?
I’m not convinced, and begin to doubt,
Is the person before me still the real you?
Ambiguity makes people greedy,
Until waiting loses all meaning,
Helplessly, you and I write no ending,
Letting the beauty of regret linger here.

The lyrics might well have been written about the two of them—past friendship, not quite love—leaving them both at a loss, pretending nothing had happened.

As the song ended, the atmosphere chilled, only the music playing on. After a long silence, Liu Yan finally spoke.

“My boyfriend treats me well.”

“Oh? Is he thoughtful?” Jiang Yihan’s voice was a bit raspy.

“He’s okay. When I’m sick, he brings me medicine; when it’s cold, he reminds me to dress warmly; at meals, he remembers what I like and dislike; on holidays, he surprises me; when I’m tired, he acts spoiled.” She fell silent again.

All three knew Jiang Yihan had done—and still did—all those things. None of them knew how to respond.

“Remember that time in middle school, when the four of us went on that field trip?” Jiang Yihan broke the silence with a laugh.

“Of course I remember—how could I forget?” Liu Yan smiled at the memory. “We almost died that day. If it weren’t for Li Ran, maybe three out of four of us wouldn’t be here.”

It had been during a summer vacation in middle school. The three of them, along with a girl named Xiao Ruolin, went for a picnic by a river fifteen kilometers from town. It was too hot, and with nowhere shady on their side, they decided to cross the river to the woods on the other bank. Li Ran, the only one who could swim, tested the river first. It was thigh-deep but swift, so they decided to cross in pairs. Li Ran and Xiao Ruolin went first, but forgot to take the supplies, leaving everything with the second pair—Jiang Yihan and Liu Yan.

Hand in hand, they started across, but the current was strong. They decided Liu Yan would cross first, holding Jiang Yihan’s hand, with him as an anchor. But as soon as she moved ahead, she slipped, dragging him down with her, and both disappeared into the water.

On the bank, Li Ran and Xiao Ruolin were terrified. Li Ran dove in and searched for a long time but couldn’t find them. Xiao Ruolin stood helpless on the shore, only able to shout their names. Suddenly, Li Ran said he was giving up, stopped struggling, and let himself float downstream. Xiao Ruolin was frantic, and just as Li Ran was about to disappear, Jiang Yihan and Liu Yan surfaced far downriver. She yelled, “Li Ran, they’re over there! They didn’t get washed away—they’re over there!”

At the sound of her almost breaking voice, Li Ran snapped out of his trance and swam toward them. It turned out that Jiang Yihan and Liu Yan had been swept away, only stopping when their clothes snagged on a tree root. Still stunned, they stayed submerged until Li Ran reached them and brought them back to shore, then ferried Xiao Ruolin across as well. Because the water was shallow and everything happened so fast, Jiang Yihan and Liu Yan were fine, just shaken. The four of them looked at each other and burst out laughing.

Maybe, without Li Ran, they’d all have died; maybe, without Xiao Ruolin, three of them would have given up; maybe…

“Li Ran, why did you give up that time?” Liu Yan asked with a smile.

Li Ran didn’t answer, just glanced at Jiang Yihan, then looked away in silence.

“By the way, where is Ruolin now? Haven’t heard from her in a long time,” Jiang Yihan asked.

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“I haven’t seen her in ages. She transferred during her last year of high school, and after that, we gradually lost touch,” Liu Yan replied.

“Lost touch… yes,” Jiang Yihan sighed. “That happens with so many friends—time and distance change things, and sometimes you never see each other again.”

“Maybe,” Liu Yan said, her mood dropping. “Yihan, if someday we lose touch too, will you remember me?”

The ambiguous tension returned with her question. Jiang Yihan looked up at Liu Yan, her face half lost in the dim light, only the outline visible. He closed his eyes. “No,” he said.

Liu Yan flinched at his answer.

“Because we’ll never lose touch—will we?” Jiang Yihan finished. Silence filled the room once more.

The KTV screen flickered in the background. Though the sound of karaoke filled the air, the room felt unusually quiet. When the song ended, the silence was even more oppressive. Jiang Yihan hesitated, picked up the mic, and prepared to sing. But as the melody of Penny Tai’s “Blessings at the Street Corner” began, he wondered if he should continue. After a moment, he began to sing, his magnetic voice carrying a hint of sadness.

When the song ended, awkwardness once again filled the room.

“Let’s go home,” Li Ran said, his words immediately seconded by the others. The three left the private room.

On the way home, no one spoke; the atmosphere was strange. When they parted ways, Jiang Yihan and Liu Yan barely managed a hurried “Goodbye.”

“I really don’t know what I was thinking today—don’t know what I’m doing, or what I should do,” Jiang Yihan muttered, rubbing his brow.

“Confess,” Li Ran said softly, leaving the rest unsaid.

On New Year’s Eve, the whole family was busy preparing dumplings and dinner, a scene of warmth and joy. Jiang Yihan shared with Jiang Ziyi what he and their mother had discussed. “Why?” Jiang Ziyi asked directly.

“Mom worries about you being alone, and so do I. I didn’t even realize you were with Xiaolong until just recently. I haven’t looked after you enough these past six months. Maybe it’s better if you stay by my side,” he said. “But you wouldn’t be able to continue your studies, so we wanted to ask for your opinion.”

Jiang Ziyi looked at her brother and nodded. “I’ll think about it.”

At the family reunion dinner, both families sat at the table together—neighbors for years, their bonds deeper than words could express. Such a moment brought an inexpressible sense of contentment. Afterwards, everyone gathered on the couch to watch the “boring” Spring Festival Gala, chatting and laughing. The show itself didn’t matter; what mattered was being together. Before midnight, Grandma grew tired, and Jiang Yihan took her to bed. Her back was more stooped, her hair whiter, her face more lined—over eighty, and finally able to enjoy her grandchildren. Seeing her smile warmed Jiang Yihan’s heart; perhaps elders possess a kind of strength that brings people together and comforts them.

On New Year’s Day, they went visiting and paying respects. At home, a debate broke out over whether Jiang Yihan should visit his paternal grandmother. He alone refused, but the family eventually prevailed, and he went along. All of this seemed to pass in a flash, the holiday ending almost before he realized it. The conversations with his mother, the chats with his grandmother, Liu Yan’s smile—it all felt as if it had happened in a single night. As he set off for Korea, Jiang Yihan felt as though he was leaving one world for another.

Here, Broken Cat thanks everyone for your continued support—especially Tarot, whose feedback in the comments has been invaluable!