‘Exclusive
news! An airline departed from… when it approached the destination, it
underwent a sudden strong blow of wind and lost balance...The pilot resolved to
abandon the plane, and fortunately all the passengers followed the instructions
and took correct actions in time…No one died.’
‘Su-cks!
No exciting news at all!’ shouted Mr. Smith, and switched the channel at once.
‘What’s
wrong, my dear?’ asked Mrs. Smith.
‘Nothing
more than trivial! What a waste of time!’
‘Never
mind darling, breakfast is ready. It’s five to eight, you’ve to get faster
now.’
‘Thanks.
I promise I would never watch this banal news!’ His ranting not only shook the
wooden table, which was trying to stick to the ground but failed again, but
also caused an invisible vibration in a heart which have longed for
disentangling itself from the perennial clamour.
But
once again the vibration pacifies. ‘I’ve got to prepare breakfast for Jane.
Enjoy.’ She said to him.
‘This
is the last breakfast for you.’ She said to herself.
The
bustling city is full of vim and vigour—at least apparently, it is. Here and
there, it is crowded with ambitious people who aspire for making a change
today. Continuously, traffic lights change their colour, flaunting its beauty,
though all of them share only three colours and only display one kind for a
period. Alongside the street are transplanted trees—still three types, what
makes difference is that now they cooperate each other and exhort their effort
to make up for each other, in order to beautify themselves. Now Mr. Smith
alights from the subway, away from a swarm, and prepares to enter another
swarm.
‘Su-cks!’
He
kicks away the fallen leaves. Several insects sucking the juice are also kicked
away.
In
front of him is a grand building. It can dazzle all those who glance at it with
the sunshine it reflects. Today, the cloudy weather saves peoples’ eyes
including Mr. Smith’s. The receptionist in the hall expected that she would not
hear something as usual.
‘Damn
it!’ Instead of sunshine, today cloud infuriates Mr. Smith.
‘Goodbye,
mom!’
‘See
you!’ She responds the angelic look with an angelic smile. Burdened with miscellaneous
chores, she still can sometimes conciliate herself with this ordinary but
priceless happiness. Every morning, she has to go through an undesirable
greeting, followed by a short, potent tranquilizer. The wild fluctuation in
life nearly tore her heart: however hard she tried, she could not lull herself
into getting accustomed to being insulted. She would rather paralyze all her
senses--but she’s a human, and no medicine can work without hurting her. She is
determined. When she squirted the poison into the wine bottle, she thought she
was determined.
‘Mr.
Smith?’ Outside Mr. Smith’s office, a young lady knocked the door softly. It was
so soft that even she does not believe she has heard the knock. She raises her
hand and wants to knock again. Surprisingly, nothing is knocked by her because
the amiable Mr. Smith expeditiously opens the door before she knocks on it.
‘This
is the summary for yesterday’s meeting. Please check it, Mr. Smith.’
‘Thank
you very much…By the way, how about having dinner together tonight?’
Three
seconds last for an hour as if time stagnated.
‘I
mean…’ This expression is fabulous to prolong the time for thinking.
‘I
mean there’s a new restaurant opening near my daughter’s school. She said many
of her classmates think the food is really delicious. My wife and my daughter
will go there before us. Then we can have dinner together. I think my naughty
daughter really needs to learn something from you. Would you please do me the favour
to educate her during the dinner?’
‘I’d
like to go, but I’m afraid…’
‘It
may not be far from your place. And I can drive you back. So come and join us,
will you?’
She
replies with a grin.
‘Could
you please give me a hand? I don’t feel like being bothered by her so much! It
affects my work! Help me is also helping you!’
The
slumbering lady suddenly realizes something and nods her head reluctantly.
‘So
good! After work, say six o’clock this afternoon, you come to my office and we
can go together.’
‘Thank
you, I know.’ Lathery overcame her. She replied torpidly, hunching that
something terrifying would happen.
The
evening arrives rather quickly. In the daytime, the sky is covered by the
cloud; night arrives, cloud does not scatter. Darkness dominates the night so
cloud’s contribution in darkening the sky seems insignificant. Under the sky,
numerous cars congest the street and grumble each other. A variety of lights
emanate from thousands of skyscrapers. They light up the city, adding romance and
illusion to the modern world. The icy wind blasts thought out the city. When
people’s faces are warmed by alcohol, the wind, however strong and cold,
embraces people and brings great comfort to their face. It is more like a
morning of spring rather than a night of autumn. Autumn and spring share so
many similarities with each other, especially the neither too hot nor too cold
climate. It is time for revelry.
However,
hot, vigorous summer comes after spring; bleak, brutal winter comes after
autumn.
They
stroll on the avenue where deciduous trees sprawl on the road and no one
observes this scenery. Like tears will not stop dropping on the land from one’s
eyes unless no tear remains in the eye, when the first leave is carelessly
blown down by the wind, one after one, leaves sheath the landscape though they
will soon be swept. Once in a while, some people pass by them. She dares not to
keep close to him. He keeps making the acquaintance with her. Seen from far,
they look like a couple; approaching and having a look, one can find she never
smiles and their distance is just acceptable. Still, no one would take a glance
at them, because it’s none of a stranger’s business.
‘Well,
go across the street and we will arrive at the restaurant.’
They
stand still, waiting for the traffic light turning green on a crossroad.
Finally,
he catches an opportunity to reach into his wallet and take his hand phone.
He
makes it. The light turns green.
She
intends to go across, but he is contacting someone. She has to wait until he
stops.
15of
30 seconds pass, she could clearly hear what he is talking.
‘Hello…Yes…You
say you two cannot come? Why?...’
‘Sorry,
Mr. Smith, we have to go.’
‘Okay,
I see…’ He turns his head to her and blurts out. ‘I’ll go right now.’ It is not
easy for him to spare a sentence when he is talking.
On
hearing what he said, she starts crossing the road. On hearing what he said,
she becomes increasingly frightened. It seems she has to dinner with him alone. She has thought of it but immediately
repressed this horrible idea. What she hasn’t anticipated, what she is afraid
for all her life—at length, comes. She wanders on the road with an absent mind.
Actually, it would be better to say she lost her mind.
Several
steps after her, he indulges in his perfect performance. He giggles voicelessly
and prepares to walk, without noticing that only 5 seconds is not enough for
him to leisurely walk across the street.
In
their house, Mrs. Smith is awaiting her husband. The poison would not kill him—she
is not such a witch. She just wants to play a trick on him. It would let him sleep
for a short time, but cease her trouble for ever. ‘It would suit you well, my
husband. You will wake up two days later, during which I would prepare well for
my departure and breaking up with you. You will live a good life since then. So
do I.’ She is taking the last responsibility for him. Today, she comes back
from work much earlier than usual. She prepares a feast for him. She still loves
her, at the cost of her own happiness. Cutlery, napkin, dishes, and wine.
Everything in need has been placed on the table.
The
telephone rings. It’s his husband’s number. ‘Kidding me?!’ For the first time
in her life, she shouted like her husband. If it is, all her plans would be
aborted, and she would be humiliated again, extremely.
‘Is
that Mrs. Smith?’ A woman begins the conversation, rather breathlessly.
‘Yes,
I am. What’s up?’ Luckily it’s not him. But why it is a woman?
‘I
am sorry, but your husband was crashed by a car just now. He has been sent into
X hospital, 10th ward at level 3. You’d better go and see him! He is
dying!’
Exactly
it was, the last time she prepared breakfast for him. He even would have no
chance to have her well-prepared last dinner. They would separate sooner than
she had considered. But it is he who leaves her, rather than vice versa. Life
ridicules her all the time, in the past, at present. She used to care
everything. Now only his condition concerns her.
Different
wards serve for different purposes. Some wards abound with the joy of new
births, while others are filled with sadness and silence. The number ‘10’
symbolizes that a person has gone through all and is able to leave the world without
pity. In order to contain a mountain of medical equipments, this ward is simply
decorated. It looks austere. Nearly everywhere in the room is in white, the
holy colour. The colourful thing is fixed on the wall. There is a picture of
summer views. It’s an idyllic village. On the right, Iris is in blossom. The
white flowers bow in an elegant arc, perhaps caused by a light blow of wind. A
pond is on the left, where water can only be seen among pretty pink lotus. It
is a sunny day. If the patient in this room survives, the expectation of the
hospital as well as the patient would come true, and the patient would view the
scenery with his own eyes.
Seldom
does the patient have the opportunity. After all, this room is disparate from
others: ICU. It often says to the patient, ‘see you.’ It has witnessed lots of
people’s entering the pearly gates.
The
feeble Mr. Smith can choose to gloss over the truth, but Mrs. Smith already
knows what he has done. Mr. Smith doesn't know she knows, and he neither knows
what she has done for him.
‘Darling,
I’m going to die… But before I die, I have one thing to say…’
Overwhelmed
by grievance, Mrs. Smith gives up her turn to talk. She has shouldered all her
responsibility. She is a kind and upright female for all her life. She does
nothing wrong except in today. She cannot tolerate her unfortunate, but still,
she has to. She is determined not to tell him her scheme, even though he is
going to die. She would rather bear the indelible guilty for the rest of her
life than pass a little anger to her dying husband.
‘Say
it, I’m glad to hear.’ Her voice trembles and tears wells up in her eyes.
‘Though
I must say that what you do usually su-cks, I can still stand you. Today I want
to date with my secretary. I apologize for you, because you are my wife, we
have the relationship…I just mean…’
This
time, he is so artless. But he closes his eyes before finishes his last words.
She
doesn’t want to see his cremation. She hates him. She doesn’t feel she is
guilty any more. She is right. She rushes back home, determined to sell the
house, leave the city, and launch a pristine new life.
She
opens the door, only to find her daughter and her boyfriend lying on the floor.