This stand-in really wasn’t very good at playing her part.
I couldn’t stop the tears from falling. People bustled past outside, and every now and then someone glanced over.
Ngạn Cận tossed aside his umbrella, fumbled a damp tissue out of his pocket, and hurriedly wiped the tears from the corners of my eyes.
“I’m sorry. I was too worried. I thought you were sick and hadn’t told me.”
“Thời Ngọc, I’m sorry.”
He didn’t care how many people were watching. He kept apologizing, the ring on his ring finger pressed against my left cheek, sending a chill through me with every touch.
Only then did I understand.
I wasn’t angry because he’d treated me as a replacement. I was angry with myself for truly falling for him.
Someday in the future, on an ordinary day, I’d think of him and suddenly feel an emptiness and regret that even millions or tens of millions couldn’t fill.
It poured all day.
I wrapped my arms around his neck, leaned against his shoulder, and sobbed.
For the first time, I felt sad in this game of make-believe.
10
After the Start of Winter.
I started paying attention to the dates on the calendar. The day he’d mentioned, December 30, was getting closer and closer.
Sometimes, when Ngạn Cận got off work early, he’d bring home two skewers of tanghulu. He knew exactly which flavor I liked. We got along like a real married couple.
As for me, whenever I had a spare moment, I’d think about my sausage stand.
Elementary school students got out early on Fridays.
I’d finished cleaning up my three-wheeled cart and was about to set off when I noticed Ngạn Cận sitting in the passenger seat.
“What are you doing?” I couldn’t help laughing.
“The missus is going out to sell her wares, so of course the mister is coming along to help.”
Ngạn Cận laughed along with me.
“Why do you like selling sausages so much?”
Somehow, deep down, he still remembered that I used to sell sausages, too. Wasn’t this little stand where we first met?
11
I fried the sausages, and he collected the money.
Elementary school students didn’t have phones, so most paid in cash. Before long, the metal box beside us was full of coins.
We’d nearly sold out of the sausages we’d prepared.
Ngạn Cận stayed with me, selling sausages from morning until night.
I’d just packed up and was about to leave when he got a phone call.
After that, his expression turned serious.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“Someone’s causing trouble at the bar and wants to see the owner. I’ll go take a look.”
Ngạn Cận lowered his head, took off my crookedly wrapped scarf, and tied it properly for me.
“Go home by yourself, and watch out for traffic.”
I nodded and drove the three-wheeled cart home alone.
When I swiped my card at the entrance to the residential complex, the security guard was clearly taken aback.
I drove straight into Ngạn Cận’s garage. There was a Maybach on the left, a Bentley on the right, and a three-wheeled cart wedged between them. It really was a little ridiculous.
As soon as I reached the villa door, my phone suddenly buzzed a few times.
An unknown number sent me several photos.
They were profile shots of Ngạn Cận inside the bar.
That high nose bridge was impossible to mistake.
I replied with a question mark.
The other person replied right away:
[I know you’re an impostor, pretending to be his replacement. Is it fun?]
In an instant, I instinctively clenched both hands.
12
Ngạn Cận came home very late.
The living room heat wasn’t on, and I sat on the sofa until I was numb with cold.
He felt my ice-cold palm and gently asked why I was still awake.
I’d recopied the contract from before and placed it on the table.
“Director Ngạn, I think I need to make this clear to you. I really am not your wife.”
As soon as I finished speaking, the man suddenly let go of my hand. He seemed a little angry as he strode upstairs. When he came back down, he was carrying something.
“Thud!”
He slammed it down on top of the contract.
Three bright red characters:
“Marriage Certificate.”
“Fake? Are you saying this certificate is fake?”
Ngạn Cận pointed at it, his chest heaving and his voice growing hoarse.
“We really did get married at the civil affairs office. It’s been two years, and you still say you’re not my wife. So what would it take for it to count?”
I said it all in one breath:
“The contract spells it out clearly. I only took on the identity of your wife to help you hide it from your parents. Apart from having a marriage certificate, we have no feelings for each other. You lost your memory, so you mistook me for your first love!”
“You transferred another 1.9 million to me. I’ll pay you back tomorrow. I’ve hit my limit for today.”
Since it hadn’t been convenient to leave with a suitcase last time, this time I planned to take nothing with me.
But as soon as I lifted my left foot, Ngạn Cận lifted his right.
I moved to the right, and he moved to the left.
He stood in front of me like a wall, refusing to budge.
“Is this fun? I told you, I’m not your first love.”
“Then who is? Damn it, where the hell did this first love come from?”
The angrier Ngạn Cận got, the louder he spoke.
I glared at him. “Are you yelling at me again?”
The man argued stubbornly, “I’m not. I’m worried, so what’s wrong with raising my voice a little?”
“My wife is about to run away. Am I not allowed to worry?”
Just then, the doorbell rang, followed by a coquettish woman’s voice:
“Ngạn Cận, are you there? I heard you lost your memory. Are you okay?”
“Hmph, your first love is here.” I pulled out my phone and held the message up in front of him.
“I won’t get in your way.”
13
I opened the door and came face-to-face with his first love.
The woman had an obviously surgically enhanced face, a curvy figure, and long, loose waves in her hair.
I curled my lip in disdain. I couldn’t believe that was his type.
“Lưu Mỹ Lệ?”
Ngạn Cận appeared behind me.
“How did you know I was here? Did you send that damn message to my wife?”
Ngạn Cận stared at the phone number and searched through his contacts, but couldn’t find a single mutual contact.
The woman in high heels suddenly twisted her ankle. She staggered a couple of steps, then forced herself to keep talking:
“You lost your memory, honey. I’m your wife. Your wife’s nickname is Tiểu Thất, and my nickname is Tiểu Thất, too.”
I suddenly looked up at her. Her name was Tiểu Thất?
Ngạn Cận’s expression darkened. At last, he turned back into the living room, grabbed the ashtray from the coffee table, and raised it as if to throw it at her.
“Get out! I was only pretending to have amnesia. You’re so stupid, you actually believed me.”
“I’ve already called security. Haven’t you spent enough time in jail?”
As soon as Ngạn Cận finished speaking, the woman named Lưu Mỹ Lệ abruptly changed her tone. She stopped acting coy and spoke in a gruff male voice:
“Hey, big brother, I was just kidding. I’m leaving, I’m leaving right now.”
I stared at her in astonishment.
“Get back here and apologize to my wife first.”
“Yes, yes. Sorry, sister-in-law. I just wanted to joke around a little.”
14
The whole scene had begun and ended so abruptly that I was still standing there in a daze.
“So the person just now—is he a man or a woman?”
Ngạn Cận locked the door twice, then came over to explain:
“He used to be a man. Now he’s a woman.”
“He was drunk today, so he insisted on seeing me. I knew him from my boxing days. He was still a man back then, before his surgery.”
“But he’s transitioned now. Surely he can’t actually be in love with you, right?”
I covered my mouth and ventured a guess. If that were really true, it would be so dramatic.
And he even knew the nickname of Ngạn Cận’s first love.
So his first love was still around.
Ngạn Cận’s expression darkened. “Are you enjoying this? He’s just a lunatic.”
“Then who is Tiểu Thất?” I asked him with a polite smile.
“I should be asking you that. Who is Tiểu Thất?”
The man pinched the bridge of his nose, as if he’d run out of strength and tricks.
15
“Me?”
I pointed at myself and asked, puzzled.
Tiểu Thất… that seemed to be my nickname.
But I’d never told Ngạn Cận.
“On December 30, six years ago, I was outside your university. It was minus three degrees that night. I was wearing a black hoodie, and my face was swollen. Do you remember?”
Six years had passed. I really couldn’t remember clearly.
What had I been doing that night?
When I couldn’t answer, Ngạn Cận continued on his own:
“I hadn’t eaten, so you bought me a grilled sausage.”
“That night, I lost a boxing match. My face was so swollen I didn’t dare see anyone, so I just kept walking with my head down. When I reached the roadside, the pain was unbearable, and I wanted to stop and rest for a bit. You were buying grilled sausages nearby. I looked up at you, and you actually gave me one.”
To me, that had been an ordinary day, so I hadn’t really formed any lasting impression of it.
I vaguely remembered talking to a strange man once, but I’d forgotten what he looked like.
“So it was you.”
I only remembered that he’d asked my name. For safety’s sake, I’d given him the nickname hardly anyone knew.
Ngạn Cận tore up the contract on the table and threw it in the trash.
At last, with his eyes red, he confessed to me:
“I never had amnesia. I don’t need a fake wife to hide from my parents, because I don’t have any parents.”
I stared blankly at Ngạn Cận, his eyes brimming with tears.
I was suddenly a little confused, but instinctively wiped the tears from the corner of his eye.
“Come on, don’t cry. Tell me the whole story from the beginning. What exactly happened?”
That night, the lights stayed on, and the two of us tossed and turned all night.
The six-foot-two man buried his head in my shoulder and cried like a child.
Over and over, he told me about the deepest love in his heart.
16
Six years ago, Ngạn Cận was twenty-two. It was his fifth year as a boxer.
His peers had just graduated from college, but he’d already spent years struggling to get by in the world.
After leaving the orphanage, he’d worked as a waiter and a dishwasher. Eventually, he realized that fighting in the ring was the fastest way to make money—and the most painful.
Ngạn Cận endured year after year. Even when his whole body was covered in injuries, he didn’t dare stop. He only wanted to save enough money to someday have a place of his own, so he wouldn’t have to live in a damp basement anymore.
That day, he lost a match.
A powerful punch from his opponent had left his left cheek swollen and bruised, nearly obscuring his naturally masculine features. He passed a university and wanted to stop for a cigarette to ease the pain.
He sat in a secluded corner and had just taken out a cigarette when a girl suddenly appeared beside him, holding two grilled sausages.
Thời Ngọc bought grilled sausages from the old man at this time every day. Today, he’d come out a little late.
She’d waited so long, only to find the university gates closed. She had no choice but to sit outside for a while before heading to a friend’s place to stay the night.
Ngạn Cận put the cigarette back in his pocket. Afraid the wound on his face would scare someone, he decided to keep walking and find somewhere else.
But then the girl suddenly offered him a grilled sausage.
“I bought one too many. It’s so cold—eat it to warm yourself up.”
The streetlight was dim, unable to illuminate Ngạn Cận’s face.
But at that moment, the man was suddenly glad she couldn’t see how wretched he looked. It was too embarrassing.
He reached out to take it and carefully said thank you.
After that, the two of them sat in silence on the steps.
Thời Ngọc stared at the old sausage seller for a long time, and only let out a sigh of relief when she saw him push his cart into the alley.
“That old man has memory problems, but all he remembers is that he has to sell grilled sausages every day and go home only after he’s sold them all. I was afraid he’d stay out here forever today, so I came to check on him.”
She spoke so casually, as if it came naturally to her to treat Ngạn Cận as a friend.
The man tightened his grip on the wooden skewer, feeling his heartbeat quicken. All he could do was lower his head further, wanting to run away but unable to bring himself to leave.
He sat there chatting with Thời Ngọc for a whole hour.
At last, she had to leave, still without having seen Ngạn Cận’s face clearly.
“This is…”
“…his memory.” From beginning to end, there had been no amnesia or confusion of memories.
Their anniversary, December 30, was the day he first met Thời Ngọc. Back then, he was broken and she was radiant.
After that, he built his career step by step, meticulously planning everything. The first thing he did once he had money was find Thời Ngọc and keep her close.
Even if she didn’t love him, surely two years of living together would be enough for her feelings to grow.
But after they got married, he discovered that she really did treat him like a client—and was even a little afraid of him.
The contract period passed in a daze, and even though he wanted to renew it, he couldn't find a suitable reason.
All he could do was pretend to have been in a car accident, using memory loss as an excuse to close the distance between them.
As it turned out, Thời Ngọc really thought the man was acting out some domineering CEO drama and insisted that she was the substitute female lead.
Fortunately, in the end, they both cleared things up.
On the day they held their wedding again, Thời Ngọc wore the wedding dress from their wedding photos.
She smiled radiantly. Perhaps she didn't know that her husband had personally sewn every single diamond onto the wedding dress, one stitch at a time.
For Thời Ngọc, this game of love was a case of marrying first and falling in love later. For Ngạn Cận, it was the culmination of eight years of quietly nurturing his unrequited love.
—The End—