My Story
Chapter 34: My Story
If Jin Siqiao had merely misunderstood her father out of youthful ignorance and run away from home, would she have gone to such lengths now?
Even if selfish motives were involved, her love for Jin Shuihua could almost be described as unconditional indulgence.
The more she compensated him, the greater her tolerance, the deeper her inner guilt must have been.
On the other hand, would Jin Shuihua truly have gone mad simply from watching his unfaithful, betraying wife commit suicide?
Humans are indeed fragile, yet sometimes unimaginably resilient.
Some seemingly unbreakable bonds may crumble at the slightest touch.
If he hadn’t gone mad from that, how did he eventually lose his mind?
As Wen Yiqian’s story suggested, had Jin Siqiao perhaps done something before she ran away from home?
After all, she was still very young at the time.
In her memory, her father was nothing but a degenerate gambler, a drunkard who resorted to domestic violence and drove her mother to her death.
With all of that combined, even the most filial daughter in the world would likely harbor suppressed anger and resentment.
Having bottled up those feelings for so long, young and reckless, it wouldn’t be surprising if Jin Siqiao had done something utterly insane out of revenge.
The suicide of an unfaithful wife might not have driven Jin Shuihua mad. But what if his beloved daughter delivered another devastating blow to his heart at that very moment?
Of course, all of this was merely Wen Yiqian’s speculation.
To be precise, it was the habit of a dark-themed novel writer: assuming the worst in everyone.
If he were to write Jin Siqiao’s story, this is essentially how it would unfold.
He watched her figure gradually disappear into the darkness, then shook his head and erased the story from his mind.
He was just a failed writer, after all. Not a detective.
His speculations were nothing more than stories, and should be taken as nothing more than that.
No one but Jin Siqiao would ever know the truth.
And of course, no one would care about the so-called truth.
Those things had long since vanished into the river of time.
Wen Yiqian looked up at the night sky, a faint trace of disappointment on his face.
The sky was pitch black, without a single star in sight.
…
Early the next morning, Wen Yiqian went downstairs to the hospital and bought a bowl of soy milk, two fried dough sticks, a basket of steamed dumplings, and a tea egg, spending a total of 16 yuan.
For someone with only a few dozen yuan to his name, this was an extravagance.
But with his worries resolved and his mood lifted, a little indulgence was harmless.
After yesterday’s outburst, Wen Yiqian had actually been feeling listless, afraid he might develop dissociative identity disorder.
But ever since he was forced to perform again in front of Jin Siqiao last night, he felt much more at ease.
He couldn’t quite describe the feeling, but it seemed that because of that loss of control, he had grown more adept and effortless in his performances.
Like certain actors who, after going through something significant in their lives, suddenly grasp the essence of their craft and see their skills soar.
In short, Wen Yiqian found the process of performing increasingly comfortable and enjoyable. He was even starting to take a subtle pleasure in it.
He had already worked it out last night: he only experienced those outbursts when he was truly enraged.
Just like with Tian Buyi and An Zhi before, he had lost control from getting too carried away.
But even then, he still retained some “rationality.” He wouldn’t go too far.
Like when he chased Tian Buyi up several floors with a knife: he wouldn’t actually try to kill him.
When intimidating An Zhi, he also wouldn’t do anything too extreme.
It could basically be broken down like this:
During performances, getting too excited leads to loss of control. Anger triggers a rampage.
When losing control, he maintains a bottom line. He might act recklessly, but he won’t go too far.
When a rampage takes over, there’s no limit. Anything could happen.
That made things much clearer.
As long as he maintained a good mindset and kept his temper in check during performances, there shouldn’t be any major issues.
Ultimately, it still came down to him.
Even a demonic sword, used properly, can save the world.
And given his current situation, if he couldn’t forcibly boost his brain’s processing speed through performances, surviving even a single day would be a problem.
After working all of that out, he felt much more settled.
As for whether he might develop dissociative identity disorder down the road, that wasn’t something he could afford to worry about right now.
All Wen Yiqian could do was strive to live each day well.
…
Entering the hospital room, Li Weiguo found Wen Yiqian lying on the bed with his mouth open, sprawled out like a starfish. He couldn’t help but ask, “What are you doing?”
“Too full.” Wen Yiqian rubbed his stomach. “Finally got a proper meal. Couldn’t let it go to waste.”
“What did you eat?”
“Soy milk and fried dough sticks.”
Li Weiguo: ”…”
“Why are you here?” Wen Yiqian turned his head and asked.
“We’re presenting you with the Outstanding Citizen Award today,” Li Weiguo said. “Are you physically okay?”
“Don’t worry, nothing serious.” Wen Yiqian’s eyes lit up, and he quickly added, “The wound isn’t deep. I just need to rest for a bit.”
“Then I’ll handle the discharge paperwork,” Li Weiguo said.
“Mm.” Wen Yiqian nodded.
After completing the discharge procedures, the two left the hospital and got into Li Weiguo’s car.
It headed straight for Happiness Residential Complex.
“Why are we here?” Wen Yiqian asked, puzzled.
“To change into something more presentable,” Li Weiguo said calmly.
“Why?” Wen Yiqian didn’t follow.
“For the award ceremony. It’ll be on TV and in the newspapers. You’re not planning to go up there dressed like that, are you?” Li Weiguo gave him a strange look.
“On TV?” Wen Yiqian was slightly taken aback. “I thought an award with a name that ordinary would just mean going to the police station to receive a banner and the prize money.”
“Ordinary? Do you think the Outstanding Citizen Award is that easy to get?” Li Weiguo said irritably. “If it weren’t for the sheer number of criminals you’ve caught these past few days, we might not have even been able to put in a successful application.”
“Will there be many people?” Wen Yiqian asked tentatively.
“Police and reporters,” Li Weiguo said, thinking it over. “On stage, our station’s squad leader will personally present the award to you. It’s a real honor.”
“Can I just take the prize money and skip going on stage?” Wen Yiqian asked timidly.
“Why?”
“My legs go weak on stage. I can’t speak.”
“Are you serious?” Li Weiguo frowned. “Don’t worry, you won’t need to say anything. Just accept the award from the squad leader.”
“That’s a relief.” Wen Yiqian let out a breath.
After going home to change into a suit, he rode with Li Weiguo to an auditorium.
The two arrived backstage. Wen Yiqian cautiously peered around a corner at the audience below: dozens of police officers and journalists, all gathered in a solemn, formal setting.
A scene like this was too much for a reclusive shut-in to handle. Anxiety churned in his chest, and his legs felt a little weak.
If he went on stage looking this timid and shaky, he’d probably become the laughingstock of all of Ditan City.
Maybe I should just start performing the moment I step on stage?
(End of Chapter)