Betrayal and Forgiveness in Love
1
That morning, Zhu Peishan was drawing her eyebrows in front of the mirror when her eyebrow pencil broke three times in a row. Immediately, she felt an ominous premonition. She was very cautious while driving to work.
Zhu Peishan worked as an accountant at a foreign company. Because she had seniority, she only reported to work once a week. Normally, she would have canceled her plans, but today the big boss was returning from abroad, and she had to show up.
Helplessly, she watched a few electric bikes weave through the car lane, her rearview mirror reflecting her smooth, full forehead, her shoulder-length hair tied back in a bun, and her small, upright nose under lightly glossed lips.
After parking her car and going upstairs, she ran into Rui Ke at the elevator, who exaggeratedly exclaimed, “Dear, where did you get that dress? It’s gorgeous!” Zhu Peishan smiled, “Taobao.” She was accustomed to shopping on Taobao and always found those obscure shops with high-quality, unique, and expensive items. Her purple floral cheongsam was made by a shop called “Daily.” She had measured herself and left notes, and the result was unexpectedly satisfying. Sometimes, buying and selling is a matter of fate; when it begins, everything is blooming, but when it ends, nothing seems right.
“If you like it, I’ll give you the address later,” Peishan said.
Rui Ke, with her bright red nails, touched the fabric enviously and sighed, “Only you can wear it so elegantly.”
She received many compliments as usual, including from the big boss, Chen Zhao, who hadn’t seen her for six months and joked about having missed his chance to pursue her. She glanced at him sideways and said, “Believe it or not, I’ll report you to Jianan.” Chen Zhao was Peishan’s senior, and Jianan was her close friend. This couple was a model of love among their friends. Another pair was Peishan and Yang Che.
When Peishan returned home after work, it was already dusk. She changed her clothes, washed her face, and walked briskly on the treadmill for forty minutes before curling up on the sofa. Just as she was about to turn on the TV, her iPad chimed with a new email from Yang Che.
2
Perhaps knowing it was impossible to hide, Yang Che confessed everything to Peishan two months before he was due to return from Germany. His email detailed that during his three years working there, he had been living with a Taiwanese woman for two years.
Jianan, who was abroad, exclaimed, “Is this a joke? Yang Che, too?”
Peishan said, “Want to see a photo?” She sent over a picture. Yang Che had included it in his email. He wrote that the short-haired girl standing next to him was the one. That night, Peishan received the email and lay on the sofa for a long time, her mind numb. Although she had clearly understood the unpredictability of feelings when Yang Che repeatedly sought her opinion on accepting the overseas job, she still found it hard to believe when it actually happened.
Peishan had always been proud and strong. She had once said that if Yang Che ever cheated, there would be no turning back. Now that he had no intention of returning, her composure had nowhere to go. She typed “OK, divorce” several times, only to delete it each time. A sense of suffocation lingered in her chest. Yang Che’s email was a verdict.
After reviewing the photo, Jianan sighed, “She’s nowhere near as good as you. Yang Che must be confused.”
Given Peishan’s understanding of Yang Che, he wouldn’t have proposed separating unless he was 100% certain. A moment of confusion might be possible, but two years? Thinking of this term made Peishan’s heart ache sharply. It meant many times he claimed to have colleagues around when he actually had another woman by his side. There were also many times she messaged him saying she wanted to cuddle and sleep, and he replied affirmatively, yet he was with someone else.
Last year, when Yang Che returned home on vacation, Peishan saw his clean collar and jokingly asked if someone was helping him with laundry. He said yes. She didn’t take it seriously at all.
Finally, she burst into tears and dialed his international number, not caring if it was day or night there. Peishan held the phone, just crying, completely losing her composure, unable to breathe like a child. Yang Che said many times he was sorry, but never once said he loved her.
3
Shopping is a common way for most women to relieve anxiety, and Peishan was no exception. The reason is simple: material things are the most enduring companionship. They make her feel lonely yet comforted, always present, never leaving.
When Peishan received another notification, indicating everything had been finalized, she felt cold and said “okay” in a low voice before focusing on her food. Yang Che asked if she was alright. She replied, “fine.” How she was doing had nothing to do with him. Without love, there’s no tenderness. As for pity, she scorned it.
That night, Peishan returned home, feeling low. She didn’t want to wash her face or exercise and absentmindedly opened her computer. “Daily” had new items listed. She moved the mouse and added items to her cart. From books, Peishan had read about changes over time, but now she truly understood. The person who left, though once connected by blood and shared sentiments, was now a distant memory.
That season, she bought a lot of clothes, mostly from “Daily.” From late spring to the end of summer, purple, blush, royal blue, and apricot yellow followed the changes of the seasons. The owner of “Daily” never chatted online like other shopkeepers. Peishan had left messages several times without any reply. When feeling particularly low, she even scolded the owner a few times but still received no response.
“Are you dead?” Outside of public settings, she was occasionally not so graceful.
“Sorry, I’m feeling down,” she felt guilty afterward.
In the autumn, when Yang Che returned, Peishan still went to pick him up. When they met, their expressions were stiff. From books, Peishan had read about changes over time, but now she truly understood. The person who left, though once connected by blood and shared sentiments, was now a distant memory.
Sitting in a restaurant across a small table, Peishan smiled and said, “Why does it feel like you’re further away than when you were in Germany?” She tried to appear relaxed, but her words couldn’t hide the bitterness.
“I have to go back before the end of the year.”
The word “back” struck Peishan hard. They had planned to have a child once Yang Che returned from his assignment. Peishan was already 38. Initially, they were both busy with work, then Yang Che had to go abroad. He worried it would be too hard for her to raise a child alone. Now that he was back, it was to return to another place. There would never be a child now.
“Decided to stay in Berlin?”
“After the new year, I’ll be transferred to Hamburg.”
They paid the bill. Her phone rang immediately with a gentle male voice, “Hello, I’m the owner of ‘Daily,’ Qu Ping. I wanted to confirm if all the items you ordered were meant to be large?” “I was in a bad mood, clicked the wrong size,” Peishan confessed.
After ten years of marriage, Peishan and Yang Che became strangers. Yang Che left her the house and car and transferred half of their savings to her. She accepted everything. There were too many self-sacrificing women on TV, which Peishan found false. She had grown up under the influence of Yi Shu’s novels, believing that without love, one should have a lot of money; if not money, then excellent health.
Although divorced and heartbroken, she was materially sufficient and in good health. She felt she wasn’t doing too badly. As for loneliness, who isn’t lonely?
During the Spring Festival, Jianan flew over from Toronto specifically to visit Peishan. Without saying much, she took Peishan to Chiang Mai for a few days. Being with Jianan and her two kids, photographing them playing by the sea, Peishan felt her heart softening and calm. At night, they drank light wine and reminisced about their teenage dreams, recalling every name they could. Inevitably, they talked about Yang Che. Jianan sighed, and Peishan smiled, saying, “C’est la vie (This is life).”
Days passed, and Peishan, remembering that moment, cried again. From loud sobs to quiet tears, she saw that books said crying was part of the healing process, and she genuinely felt the pain easing.
4
The last time Peishan was emotionally affected by Yang Che was when she learned from someone else that he had a child with the Taiwanese woman before their divorce, now already a year old. She felt a chill in her teeth. The hardest part was not falling out of love but realizing that she had once loved someone who she now found unworthy.
It was a rainy day, and Peishan sat by the window, dazed, reflecting on her life until a call from Qu Ping interrupted her. Since their last conversation, they had been in occasional contact. Every month when “Daily” released new items, Qu Ping would follow up with their diamond VIP customers for feedback. Strangely, these calls always came when Peishan was feeling low, leading to casual chats. She wasn’t one to complain
easily, and when unhappy, she just kept it to herself. Qu Ping never pried, and they talked about their preferences for fabric colors and other daily life details. During one of these calls, Peishan sighed. He asked, “Are you tired?”
Such a simple concern made her eyes suddenly warm. It had been a long time since someone cared.
The next day, a delivery arrived at her door with a box of chocolates and a bouquet of tulips. Qu Ping had included a note saying, “Eating sweets can make you happy.”
Peishan hugged the flowers by the door, thinking, he treats me like a little girl. A little sad, but she still unwrapped and ate the chocolates one by one.
Unconsciously, Peishan found herself talking to Qu Ping more. She instinctively concealed her true feelings, only discussing trivial matters. The background music in Qu Ping’s shop always matched Peishan’s taste. Once she mentioned it, he recorded a CD and sent it to her. Such considerate gestures made Peishan think it was just a business strategy, but being remembered still felt nice. When she saw that one of his new designs incorporated her suggestions, she felt a fleeting sweetness.
What kind of man was he? What did he look like? How old was he? Of course, she didn’t ask, feeling that asking would mean losing.
Peishan’s mother resented her divorce, saying she was foolish to let go of such an excellent man as Yang Che. Rui Ke, on the other hand, said, “You’re so outstanding; I don’t know what kind of man could make you happy.” Peishan had no answer. She had seen some men at social events who were either superficial or kept their distance despite their compliments. They wanted women to be smart but not too smart, independent but not too independent.
Essentially, they needed women to be weak to feel validated. The few men Peishan admired and who were around her age, like Chen Zhao, were already married, and she naturally wouldn’t interfere.
Autumn came again. Qu Ping said he had business in Peishan’s city and asked if she had time to meet. She agreed.
They met at a dessert shop owned by a yoga classmate. The traffic was heavy, and Peishan was late. As she looked around, ready to call, a man by the window stood up. Out of breath, she was surprised by how young he was, with a short haircut, a white cotton shirt under a deep blue jacket.
The sunlight made his profile particularly clean. She quickly glanced at herself. She was wearing a short cheongsam, which she thought was elegant and serene when she left home but now seemed old-fashioned. She suddenly wanted to flee.
Summoning her courage, she walked over. Qu Ping smiled and said, “You look great in a cheongsam.” She blushed immediately. At 39, she still blushed.
5
Qu Ping’s shop was gaining fame online. His private workshop couldn’t meet the demand, and someone had noticed his designs and wanted to invest. He came to Wucheng to find a reliable clothing factory. On the way to a suburban county to finalize this, Qu Ping casually mentioned, “I might be staying here long-term.”
Peishan looked out at the retreating green trees and said, “The scenery here is nice. Maybe it will inspire you.”
“Designing relies on inspiration and talent, but mostly on ability,” Qu Ping said confidently.
“Perhaps living anywhere would be the same,” Peishan replied.
“Not really,” Qu Ping smiled at her.
In early winter that year, Qu Ping moved over with two master craftsmen and all his belongings. It seemed they only truly got to know each other then. Qu Ping learned about Peishan’s general situation, and she found out he was 33, had been in two relationships, both ending because he focused too much on design and neglected financial stability.
Peishan lamented how fleeting human hearts are and how, with a bit more patience, they might have seen the light at the end of the tunnel. Qu Ping, however, took it lightly, saying that wrong time and place made them destined passersby.
His intentions were often clear, and Peishan felt a thrill, making romantic assumptions. But sometimes, seeing him in a crowd, she felt acutely how young he was, intimidatingly young.
Knowing him made her realize how much heat could be filtered through a phone line.
During a meal, Qu Ping suddenly asked Peishan if she knew when he started liking her.
Caught off guard, she asked back, “When did you start liking me?”
He laughed, “When you scolded me on the chat.”
Peishan blushed again, realizing he had seen everything. She seriously explained that this kind of liking was different. Qu Ping said liking is liking; there’s no difference in kind, only in degree. The only measure of someone’s affection is how much time they spend on you.
“Young people’s bandit logic,” Peishan concluded.
“You look good when you’re helpless,” Qu Ping said. He always looked at her intently. Such words from others would seem frivolous, but from him, they were gentle. Peishan tried to resist but found it increasingly difficult.
Without much deliberate discussion, they ended up together. One day, Peishan made dinner at home and invited Qu Ping over. While she was busy in the kitchen, he silently came up behind her, hugged her, and whispered, “You’re wonderful.” Time seemed to freeze, followed by a long kiss, unlike any she had ever experienced. She felt dizzy, almost melting.
Afterward, as they separated, she lowered her head, and he said, “Like a little girl.”
Peishan smiled, recalling past memories like clouds drifting by. She never thought she could love again, be uneasy again, be shy again.
This isn’t so bad, Peishan thought. She had hesitated before, given their six-year age difference. But now, she realized that whether in love or not, time passes the same. She and he, regardless of age, would eventually grow old. Even if there might be changes again, her past experiences had taught her that the present moment is everything.
Thank you for reading! ” Sitestorys “
