Chapter Eighty-Nine: Are You My Happiness?

The page opened with a magazine-style header: a spring story from April of 2006, a recommended song from Big Bang, and a brief disclaimer that everything here was fictional and any resemblance to reality was purely coincidental.

Li Yimei saw the three of them as well. At once, she let go of the hand resting on Kwon Chan-woo’s shoulder.

The two groups drew closer in an awkward silence. Li Ran and Jiang Zi-yi both stepped forward. They could all feel the anger between the two sides, yet Jiang Yi-han was unnervingly calm, or perhaps calm in a way that was almost frightening.

“Yimei, are these your friends?” Jiang Yi-han asked with a smile that made Li Yimei feel a chill. “Are you out for fun?”

“Uh... this is my friend, Kwon Chan-woo,” Li Yimei said after a long hesitation.

Kwon Chan-woo, clearly unaware of the situation, extended his hand and greeted them with a smile. “Hello, I’m Kwon Chan-woo, Yimei’s boyfriend. You’re all Yimei’s friends, right? Nice to meet you.”

Jiang Yi-han reached out and shook his hand with a smile. “Yimei, is this the conclusion you came to after all this time?”

Seeing that smile on Jiang Yi-han’s face, Li Yimei could no longer hold back. “Yi-han, don’t be like this. You’re making me feel even more guilty.”

“Why should you feel guilty? I only need you to give me an explanation.” Jiang Yi-han’s heart was pounding violently. He clenched his teeth and forced himself to remain calm.

“What explanation? There is no explanation. Everything you’re seeing is the truth.” Li Yimei was beginning to sound hysterical, startling Kwon Chan-woo beside her.

“Yimei, what’s wrong?” Kwon Chan-woo asked worriedly.

“He is my boyfriend. I betrayed him and dated you. I was seeing two people at once—what more do you want? Is that enough? Is it enough?” Li Yimei shouted. When she finished, she seemed drained, gasping for breath.

Kwon Chan-woo was stunned into silence by the sudden revelation. “I... I always thought you didn’t have a boyfriend.”

“That’s the truth. I’ve seen it for myself. What I need is the reason you did this.” Jiang Yi-han’s voice had begun to tremble. The calm he had held onto was slipping away. “I only thought we needed some time to calm down, and this is what you gave me. Tell me what I did wrong. Tell me what I did badly. Tell me where we went wrong. Tell me.”

“You did nothing wrong. You did nothing wrong. It’s all my fault. It’s all my fault,” Li Yimei murmured. “You were too good. That’s exactly why. You were too gentle, too considerate. You gave me too much, and it made me uneasy. It made me feel I didn’t deserve you. And such a wonderful you could never stay by my side to give me a sense of security, so I was afraid. I was afraid—does that satisfy you?” At the end, she shouted, pouring out all the unease in her heart. “After you said we needed to calm down last time, I kept running into Chan-woo by accident. Only then did I realize I needed someone beside me. I had always hoped that person would be you, but you were never there.”

Jiang Yi-han seemed at a loss for words. Suddenly, he became still. “You mean... you mean because I was too good to you, and because I couldn’t stay with you all the time to make you feel secure, so... so...”

“Yes! Yes!” Li Yimei raised her head, tears streaming down her face. “You are too perfect, so perfect that I can’t believe you belong to me. And you’re never by my side. I have no sense of security at all. I’m scared. I’m really scared.”

Jiang Yi-han staggered back a few steps, nearly unable to stand. “Yes... it’s my fault. Being good to you means nothing if I can’t stay by your side every day. It’s my fault. My fault. I let us cool off again, and once more I gave up my chance to fight for us. Yes, it’s my fault. My fault.”

“Don’t blame yourself anymore, okay? It’s my fault. It’s all my fault. If you keep doing this, I’ll only feel more guilty.” Li Yimei pleaded through tears. “Yell at me. Get angry. Say what you think. Tell me how furious you are. Maybe then I can be free. Please, don’t be so good to me anymore.”

After a long silence, Jiang Yi-han’s mind seemed swept through by a great windstorm, carrying everything away until nothing remained. His eyes suddenly went vacant. Only now had he realized he loved Li Yimei. Only now had he chosen to confess for real. Only now had he wanted to find a place that made him feel at ease. And only then did he realize that everything had already changed, long ago, without his knowledge.

Looking at Li Yimei before him—the woman he loved, who now seemed utterly unfamiliar—Jiang Yi-han felt as though he were seeing her for the first time. In his heart, he asked himself: did he love her? Yes. Did he know her? Yes. And yet even with those answers, everything still felt uncertain.

His vision blurred. He shook his head, trying to clear it. In his mind he turned through several impossible paths, and in that instant that seemed like a century, Jiang Yi-han chose to release himself, and the stranger he had once known. “Maybe it was my fault, maybe it was yours, maybe no one was at fault. But this is the result you gave me after we calmed down, so I truly hope you can be happy.”

He had waited so long, imagined every possible answer, and yet he had never expected such an ending. Jiang Yi-han’s words froze the other four people on the spot. He nodded at Kwon Chan-woo, then looked carefully at the woman he had once loved. He himself no longer knew how long he had loved her—perhaps since that month after Valentine’s Day; perhaps since the time they officially began dating; perhaps far earlier, when she had been the one to pursue him. But all of that was over now. Even if he still loved her, he had to let go.

Jiang Yi-han closed his eyes, drew in a deep breath, and felt his heart twist painfully as though it had been wrung hard enough to leave him speechless. Then he exhaled, took a step forward, and walked away.

Li Ran looked from Li Yimei to Jiang Yi-han’s departing figure. His fists clenched, then loosened, then clenched again. In the end, he gave up. “Li Yimei, let me tell you this: from now on, it’s best if you never show your face again.” Then he went after him.

“Yimei, this is the last time I’m calling you sister,” Jiang Zi-yi said in fierce anger, her breathing sharp and uneven, her words scattered with emotion. “We spent so much effort trying to bring you and my brother together, only hoping you would let him feel happiness. We never imagined it would end like this. Ha—how ridiculous. How laughable. All my support for you was wasted, and my brother, the person I care about most, was pushed into the deepest abyss of pain.”

“Xiao-yi, please don’t be like this,” Li Yimei begged.

“Don’t be like what? Then what exactly did you do? How has my brother ever wronged you? How has he ever treated you badly? Did he deserve this outcome?” Jiang Zi-yi shouted. “Don’t worry, I won’t keep scolding you, because I want you to carry this guilt for the rest of your life.” She glared at her and strode forward, then suddenly turned back. “And one more thing: my grandmother just passed away, and my brother is already heartbroken enough. What you did only tore the wound open and made it bleed. So from now on, you’d better not appear again.”

That final sentence sent Li Yimei collapsing to the floor.

What had happened had already happened. Nothing could ever be changed.

Far away, Jiang Yi-han had endured as long as he could. After a full week of holding himself together, he finally could not bear it anymore and fainted. By the time Li Ran and Jiang Zi-yi reached him, all they saw was Jiang Yi-han lying cold on the ground.

A fever of one hundred four. Jiang Yi-han was unconscious for two days. When he finally woke, Kwon Ji-yong was asleep beside him, Jiang Zi-yi was curled up on the sofa in her clothes, and by the window stood Li Ran, holding a cup of coffee and staring out with a distant expression.

Jiang Yi-han had no strength to speak, nor even to get up. So he closed his eyes again. The events of the past few days had left his heart terribly exhausted. As soon as he shut his eyes, all the images rose up at once, and tears slipped down without his noticing.

Heartache—such an abstract phrase. Before, he had never truly understood what it meant. But now he knew. It was pain so deep it made the whole body curl in on itself, pain beyond any clenching of the teeth.

Jiang Yi-han gripped the bedsheet tightly, so hard his fingers seemed about to snap. His teeth were clenched so fiercely that sensation itself seemed to disappear, and only when sweat soaked through his clothes did he gradually loosen his hold.

“Jun—” His throat was dry and raw, forcing out only a few broken sounds.

Li Ran came over and looked at Jiang Yi-han’s pale face. “Why do you keep making yourself suffer like this?” His voice was hoarse too, rough and strained, as though he had not slept in ages.

“Because I’m afraid of pain,” Jiang Yi-han said with a faint smile.

...

Starting work again was necessary. It had been Jiang Yi-han’s own request. Perhaps now, only work could make him feel a little better.

He had to record a program the next day, but that night he could not sleep no matter what.

Jiang Yi-han stood on the balcony, gazing into the distance. The city lights were dim and scattered, and beneath each light there was a story of its own. Looking back at the lamp behind him, the one that had gone dark, he knew there was also a story that belonged only to him.

A fierce wind blew across the balcony, tangling his hair and blurring his sight, yet it slowly eased the pain in his heart. His hands were still weak, his whole body still weak, but the feet planted beneath him gradually began to feel the firm reality of the ground.

Li Ran stood by the balcony, watching him. Jiang Yi-han wore a thin white shirt, and the wind filled it completely, sending it billowing as his hair danced wildly through the air. He had already been so slender, but now his back looked even more fragile, as though he might be carried away at any moment by that unbridled wind.

“Jun—” Jiang Yi-han spoke at last. Though he did not turn around, he knew Li Ran would be there. “Do you think it was my fault, being good to her?”

He naturally meant Li Yimei. The thorn in his heart had to be pulled out, though Jiang Yi-han no longer had the strength to do it himself, and so he needed Li Ran.

“You did nothing wrong. You’ve never done anything wrong,” Li Ran said lightly, yet with an undeniable certainty.

“Maybe I really didn’t,” Jiang Yi-han murmured. “I had only just begun to feel that I had found love, and then it ended so suddenly. It feels empty somehow. I used to hear people say their hearts felt empty, and I even laughed at them. How could a heart be empty? But now mine feels empty too.” A bitter smile appeared on his face.

Li Ran said nothing. He knew Jiang Yi-han would recover. He would.

“Jun, when I learned that Grandma was gone, half the world turned black and white. When I learned that Yimei had left me, the whole world turned black and white. So I could no longer hold on.” Jiang Yi-han continued. A tear slid down his face, yet the corners of his mouth held a smile. “But when I was asleep, I dreamed of Grandma. She told me that I am not her little Han now. Her little Han was a child who loved to laugh, a kind child, a gentle child. The pain I’m enduring now—I will endure it. Because Mom is still by my side, Yiyi is still by my side, and you are still by my side. Aren’t you?” Jiang Yi-han turned his head, and his smile was tragic yet radiant.

Li Ran looked at that smile and knew Jiang Yi-han had finally let go, had finally understood, because that smile was so bright, so gentle, so warm. And then Li Ran suddenly began to cry. Tears fell without warning.

The two of them just stood there like that, standing until the night grew deep and the world fell silent.

For Jiang Zi-yi, who had stood in the living room watching her brother all this time, tears of joy were no longer enough to express what she felt.

She knew her brother had always been gentle, but once he was hurt, no one suffered more deeply than he did. Her grandmother’s death had struck him far too hard. For a long time he had been trapped in self-blame, and even their mother had worried constantly about him. He had seemed too calm, so calm that everyone would have preferred to see him break down and cry. Yet his composure allowed him to handle everything quickly and still insist on keeping vigil for their grandmother. Only when his body and spirit were exhausted to the limit did he finally return to Korea, under everyone’s anxious eyes.

He had wanted to find a place to lean on, only to suffer a second blow in the very harbor of his heart. Perhaps Li Yimei’s betrayal had pushed him past his limit and knocked him senseless, but it also forced all the bitterness and sorrow in his heart to erupt at once. During those days in the hospital, watching her brother unconscious and crying in his sleep, Jiang Zi-yi’s heart ached for him more than anyone’s, yet there was nothing she could do. After he had cried enough, after he had let it all out, he naturally awoke.

Her brother was a child who feared pain and feared being hurt, so he had always treated everyone well, always gently, hoping that everything would unfold smoothly. When injury came, he needed a long time to heal. But this time, because the harm had come so suddenly and so fiercely, beyond the limit he could bear, it had instead allowed him to recover.

Jiang Zi-yi let out a bitter smile. Should she be thanking Li Yimei’s betrayal? How absurd. How laughable.

Looking at her brother’s thin back and the white shirt filled by the wind, Jiang Zi-yi closed her eyes and prayed sincerely that her brother would always be protected, because in him she had seen invisible wings.

The sky will brighten. The rain will stop. The storm will pass. The rainbow will appear. The earth will keep turning. Life goes on. What we need is only this: after the hardships are over, close our eyes, take a deep breath, then bury everything worthy of remembrance deep in our hearts, heal all our wounds, and continue our journey with the strength of those memories.

This was Jiang Yi-han’s diary entry for April, 2006.