Struggle
Zhou Shou’s drunken confession etched itself deep into my mind, lingering there long after, impossible to calm.
I began to observe him from a whole new perspective.
I saw how focused and efficient he was at work, but I also saw the loneliness when he stood alone on the balcony late at night, smoking in silence.
I’d always thought he had the kind of success and wealth people envied—he provided me with comfort and luxury—but lately, I often caught a trace of alienation in his eyes, as if he didn’t belong to this world at all.
Every time I got happy just because I bought a discounted bread and saved a few yuan, he’d look at me with this expression—trying to understand, almost envious.
That scratch on his face had finally scabbed over, leaving only a faint pink mark.
Once, after we’d been together, he lay beside me, working on some documents. When he lifted his hand in thought, I noticed his fingers rubbing at that spot again and again, as if lost in thought.
I asked him what was wrong.
He smiled and said, “Xiao Guai, don’t you think this feels like being reborn? This is the new life you left on me. The part of me that had already rotted away… is sprouting again.”
…
Seriously, why did he have to say such weird, sentimental things?
I started trying to understand those suffocating, forceful behaviors of his.
Maybe they didn’t come purely from malice or possessiveness. Maybe they came from someone who’d never been properly loved, who never learned how to love, and in his deep unease and despair, could only grasp at happiness in the only clumsy, violent way he knew.
Like a drowning man clutching the only sign of life he can find—holding on tight, even if it hurts the one he’s holding.
That realization slowly dissolved the anger and rejection that had been building up in me for so long.
At the same time, I couldn’t deny it anymore—after seeing Zhou Shou’s pain and fragility, I couldn’t see him simply as a cruel abuser like before.
I asked him why he thought so little of himself. “You’re obviously perfect,” I said.
He just pulled me into his arms, played with my hair, and softly replied, “Xiao Guai, you only need to know that when I’m with you, you make me feel happy. That’s enough.”
***
Zhou Shou was born into an unhappy family—or maybe it was just unhappy for him. His parents started fighting when he was very young. Every time he heard them shouting, he’d lock himself in his room, pull the blanket over his head, and stay silent. He didn’t cry—he just wondered if he was the reason they were fighting.
He became rebellious—running away from home, skipping school, getting into fights—doing everything he could to draw his parents’ attention, to stop them from arguing, to make them turn their anger toward him instead of each other.
Little Zhou Shou didn’t know how to fix the conflict between them. He didn’t understand why, even though people said his parents were loving before he was born, everything changed after his birth.
He didn’t understand when his mother said she gave more to the family than his father ever did.
When he was just a kid in elementary school, he thought, Why can’t Mom and Dad just take one step back each? Wouldn’t that fix everything?
But the hurt was already there. It never went away.
Later, his parents divorced. Zhou Shou saw a smile on his mother’s face—one he hadn’t seen since he was born.
He thought, My arrival once made her happy. But now my absence makes her happy too.
Does that mean Mom doesn’t need me anymore?
Then he watched his father fall apart—becoming extreme, violent. Even the smallest slip in grades would earn him a beating, along with accusations that everything had gone wrong because of him.
As Zhou Shou grew up, he understood less and less. He hadn’t chosen to be born—so why did everyone blame him for everything?
He tried reaching out to his mother later. She had built a new, happy family but didn’t have another child. She apologized to him, said, “I’m sorry I couldn’t give you a happy childhood.”
Zhou Shou thought about it for a long time. Having his mom there for his whole childhood was already a gift. So he said, “It’s okay, Mom. You should smile more—it looks good on you.”
But then his father started pestering him endlessly, trying to take everything he could.
Zhou Shou struggled in that swamp of pain, fighting to escape his misery. Whether he ever truly escaped, no one knows.
As long as he stayed numb, he could pretend he was happy.
***
Our relationship entered a strange, delicate stalemate.
Zhou Shou still picked me up and dropped me off, but the silence in the car no longer felt tense.
Sometimes I’d break the silence and ask some random question, like, “Was work busy today?”
He’d pause for a second, then smile and answer. And at a red light, he’d sneak a kiss and whisper, “Xiao Guai, I really like you.”
At the convenience store, he still sat in his usual spot. I’d glance at him now and then, and notice that most of the time, he wasn’t watching me anymore—he was staring out the window, lost in thought.
After work, I bought a hot drink and walked over to him, pressing it against his cheek. The scratches there had faded, leaving only faint scars.
Back at his apartment, we’d grown unconsciously closer. I’d sit next to him, watching him work.
I kissed him first this time. Zhou Shou just deepened the kiss, his tongue tangling with mine as he murmured, “Do you like me?”
I didn’t answer.
He held me close, lay down with me, and said, “Good night.”
I knew then that… I did like him, at least a little. And that realization terrified me.
Why would I have feelings for someone who once hurt me, who dragged me into his world by force?
It made no sense at all.
But once feelings start to sprout, they grow wild—unstoppable.
Zhou Shou often woke from nightmares. He never talked about them, but even if he moved quietly, I could still hear his shaky breathing and the sound of water being poured in the dark.
He no longer talked about b ao//y ang, nor did he bluntly say he wanted to sleep with me.
Zhou Shou had really started to pursue me gently.
He’d message me in advance, asking, “Do you need a ride?” or “Can you come over today?”
It felt like I had my freedom back.
But inside, I was conflicted and restless.
I thought to myself—humans really are cheap.