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My Darling Chapter 1 part2

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My Darling (我的曼达林) — Chapter 1.2

by

Oh man, what a terribly awkward situation. I feel bad for Jian Bianlin.

Chapter 1.2 — That Little First Love Unbeknownst to Anyone (2)

"… Huh?"

Playing dumb, Chu Jian reached in and dug around randomly in the mini fridge, but she had completely forgotten what she was even searching for.

She decisively pressed the "end" b.u.t.ton and hung up the call, not giving Tong Fei the slightest chance to utter another sound.

At the same time, Jian Bianlin turned sideways behind her, extended his arm over, and pulled out a bottle of grapefruit juice from the little compartment on the second shelf of the refrigerator, stuffing it into her arms. This was her favourite drink.

As Chu Jian murmured a thanks, her gaze crossed with his.

She swore, he must have heard… Actually, they definitely had not done "it." But, she still ended up recalling some memories that should not be recalled. That year, the two of them were taking a ferry across the river. There were many people. Motorcycles, scooters, and bicycles were all piled on as well. She and he had been jostled into a corner, separated from her parents as well as his dad by layer upon layer of people. While she was anxiously worrying over whether her brand new, cotton outfit was going to rub against the tires to the right of her and be dirtied, he had caught her completely off guard by suddenly obstructing her line of sight. The feeling at that moment had been… her lips were wet and… had been bitten…

Chu Jian resolutely put the grapefruit juice back, pulled out a bottle of her most hated kind of juice—carrot—and walked away.

The whole night, she never left her room again.

At the crack of dawn the next morning, her dad and mom said they were returning to Hangzhou to sweep her [paternal] grandfather's gravesite. She rolled over, wanting to continue sleeping, and so was utterly unprepared when her mom dragged her out of bed to tell her that there was chicken soup in the kitchen. In pa.s.sing, her mom also informed her that Jian Bianlin was leaving on an afternoon flight today, and sadly for him, there was no one to cook for him at lunchtime. She instructed Chu Jian to heat up the chicken soup and invite him over, and then the two of them could drink it together.

"No, I don't want to. Why don't you bring it over to him now? Give it all to him. I'm not going to have any…" She expressed her objection.

Thus, her dad and mom began taking turns to reprimand her for not being mature and good-mannered. They lectured her to the point that she was begging for mercy before they finally left. But in the end, she slept in past ten o'clock. When she crawled out of bed and shuffled out of her bedroom, hugging a pile of dirty clothes, there was a very obvious tall figure already in the kitchen, was.h.i.+ng his face with cold water… Piping hot chicken soup had been placed on the eating bar.

The television was turned on, its volume low. Playing on it was a rerun of The Voice of China[1], and it so happened that it was showing the opening sequence where Na Ying was singing Jay Chou's Qing Hua Ci [Blue and White Porcelain].

Na Ying’s rendition of Qing Hua Ci [Blue and White Porcelain] for the opening of The Voice of China, Season 4 begins at 3:45

[4:36]"The sky's azure colour waits for the misty rain,
And I am waiting for you
The chimney smoke spirals up gently,
Separated by the river for millions of miles…"

"My mom gave you the key?" Amid this elegant, mellow singing, she was on the verge of breakdown.

Cupping some cool water in his hands, he splashed it onto his face. His action was a little too forceful, though, and water splattered onto his body as well as his long, black workout pants.

"Drink it while it's hot. I changed my flight and need to leave now." Jian Bianlin straightened back up. The water on his face followed the contour of his chin and dripped down. Offhandedly, he wiped it away with his hand. It seemed he did not really want to look directly at her.

From the sofa, he picked up his track jacket, and before he left, he even set the key to her home on top of the shoe cabinet.

Chu Jian stared at that door that had been thudded shut, feeling very baffled.

She shoved her dirty clothing into the was.h.i.+ng machine that was on the balcony. It was only then that she spotted, in the corner of the balcony, the semitransparent garbage bag that was stuffed with, um, stuffed with an entire set of her favourite doll, the Blythe doll. There was one from every year, various limited editions, as well as a cardboard box.

Chu Jian had never opened that box and did not know what it contained. Gazing blankly at the contents of that garbage bag, that feeling of guilt that she had kept in her heart all these years deepened again.

Jian Bianlin had had it delivered to her home for her birthday, before her Macau trip.

When she signed for it, her mom had asked who sent it. Other than herself and Jian Bianlin, none of her family were clear on what had happened years ago. Therefore, she had not told the truth, saying instead that someone whom she really had no feelings for had sent it. Then, she had arbitrarily found a garbage bag and put it away inside. If she had thrown it out, things would have been just fine, but she had been too busy packing to leave and had forgotten.

She remembered that when she was heading out, her mom had harped on about it, saying, "Regardless of who sent it, it's still a very kind gesture. It would be a shame to throw it out, really such a shame."

The result was, her clueless mom truly did not throw it out. And the result of that was, the initiator of all this also saw it.

Sigh, sigh, sigh. Oh sigh.

Chu Jian continued to wallow in guilt for a while. Drinking a couple sips of soup, she hurriedly tidied up everything. Before heading out, she crouched beside the door, staring at that bag of items. After hesitating for a few seconds, she picked it up and strode out the door.

What was completely unexpected was that, there in the stairwell, he had not left yet… Oh man, things were even worse now.

She had walked out carrying the bag of stuff with her own hands and could not even hide it if she tried. Even if it was just an ordinary person who happened to like her, one who did not have years of friends.h.i.+p and interaction as the basis of their relations.h.i.+p, she still felt that throwing away, right in front of him, the birthday present that he had given was very insulting and offending—let alone the two of them had known each other for more than twenty years.

Jian Bianlin's slender, tall, 1.83-metre build was sitting and leaning back in a spot that was less than five steps away from her. He turned his head and, pressing his elbow into the wall, pushed himself up to stand straight. From the moment she stepped out of her home, he had gazed wordlessly at her, a slight crease in his brows.

Chu Jian felt a bit of panic. Pointing at the door of the apartment that he rented, she justified, "I wasn't throwing it out. I was… going to give it back to you."

This building was comprised of one staircase, two units per floor. At the time, Chu Jian's mother had rented the other unit for Jian Bianlin specifically because she wanted quiet surroundings. He normally was not around anyway, nor was he a loud, rowdy person. Plus, this was a high-end community compound, so it was very safe.

But now, the drawback had emerged. At a time such as this, aside from him and her, no outsiders would possibly appear here. Even if a random pa.s.serby could simply just pop out right now, it would break this stalemate of a situation. The longer Jian Bianlin held his silence, the more Chu Jian broke out in cold sweat.

And the community compound just had to be so quiet. The windows in the stairwell were open, but apart from the rustling outlines of trees that were swaying back and forth, there was no sound at all.

She did not know from where she borrowed the courage, but at last, she murmured out those words that had been suppressed in her heart for many years: "Can you just… not like me?"

That figure obstructing the stairwell remained motionless for a long time before walking over.

Chu Jian felt that perhaps… perhaps her words had been spoken at a bit of an inopportune time. Saying them while bringing the gift that that person had given you out to throw away was really, um, really insincere and unkind. So, she hastily explained. "Just look, how long ago was that? Back then, it was wrong of me to not make it clear to you right from the start, but later I did make it clear. We're all grown up now. I thought, even if I didn't outright state it, if I hinted here and there, you would get the picture…"

His body blocked all the natural light casting in through the window. Lowering his head, he cut her off. "No, I can't."

Chu Jian: "……"

[1] 《中国好声音》The Voice of China was a reality television singing compet.i.tion in China that aired from 2012-2015 (and then it was rebranded in 2016 to be called 《中国新歌声》 Sing! China), of which Na Ying was one of the judges. This scene here is referring to the opening sequence of season 4, which aired in 2015 (and the writing of this novel began in fall 2015).

Additional Comments:

I think Na Ying does a beautiful rendition with her own flair of the very well-known《青花瓷》Qing Hua Ci,  originally sung by Jay Chou. I usually translate lyrics of songs featured in my translation projects, but a search will bring up many different translations for this one.  is one.

(Actually, while this is true, the main reason is, my little man is not so little and has dropped his nap. That means I’ve lost an hour+ of “my time” during a day, and I’m still trying to figure out how to fit in this hobby of mine in less time. Now, if you guys could all contribute to the positive thoughts and prayers that he will go to sleep earlier and not wake me up in the middle of the night, you would have a much more well-rested translator = happy translator. LOL)

Oh, and I don’t get the Blythe doll love.

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My Darling Chapter 1 part2 summary

You're reading My Darling. This manga has been translated by Updating. Author(s): Mo Bao Fei Bao, 墨宝非宝. Already has 2247 views.

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