Short, Light, Free Chapter 46: My Bride Iii

I gradually woke up from my sleep and realized that I was naked.

I was too caught up in reliving everything that happened last night that it took me a few minutes to notice that the bed was empty.

I heard the sound of water running and I looked over to the bathroom.

She was taking a shower and I could faintly see her silhouette through the frosted gla.s.s.

I listened close and heard her humming a tune.

The shower turned off so I quickly got into a comfortable position and pretended to be asleep.

She got out of the bathroom shortly after, picked up her phone and dialed a number.

"Can I request for a day off, Manager? I know it's sudden and I should've told you in advance but something came up and I can't get to work."

So she lied about not having work and forgot about applying for leave.

"Thank you so much and sorry for the inconvenience, Manager."

She hung up and continued humming her tune as she walked toward me.

I could feel her holding onto something, probably my wallet.

I heard her open it.

There were two metal b.u.t.tons that made a crisp sound when being opened.

Was she trying to take my money? All kinds of thoughts filled my head.

I thought about turning over at that moment but decided against it.

"He's really a tailor…" I heard her mumble.

I knew she'd seen the name card inside.

The next thing I knew, a tight slap had landed on my face.

I was struck dumb.

I opened my eyes and looked at her.

She yelled, "Why do you have so many credit cards, Luqiao. Aren't you rich? Why do you have so many cards? Such a liar."

"What are you talking about!" I was still in shock.

"How do you explain these then?" she demanded, flinging my cards out one by one.

There were more than five of them.

I sat up. "Am I not a tailor? I need seven days to complete a suit. In order to decrease their waiting time, some customers would stuff me with gifts when I take their measurements. Other tailors accept them so wouldn't it be unprofessional of me to decline?"

"Gift? Are you corrupted? Accepting gifts at work?" Almost subconsciously, she gave me another slap on my face.

It stung.

"Tell me. Did you come back because you got sick of robbing and killing?" she cried out.

"I did leave for eight years but how could I have changed that much?" I responded.

Memories returned.

I was six and she was nine.

After that incident, we met every day on the bench.

We talked about everything under the sun.

Time pa.s.sed, year after year.

When I attended junior high, she was already in senior high.

When I got to senior high, she was already enrolled in university.

We were always three years apart.

I got accepted into her university, Jingdezhen Inst.i.tution.

I was in my first year and she was in her last.

School's sports field.

I confessed.

We discussed the present, the past, and the future… everything.

Were we going to get a cat or dog?

Shower or bathtub?

Manual or electric toothbrush?

Girl or boy?

Good things don't last of course.

My father committed suicide right before the start of my third year.

He jumped off a building during work time.

I realized after that his job as a professor in a county's university wasn't enough to provide for us... for me.

He had no time to rest, traveling everywhere to give talks.

However, not many were interested in these profound talks so he had to borrow money from people.

He ended up owing loan sharks money in exchange for my worry-free days.

Finally, he couldn't bear it any longer and chose to end his life, but not before I became an adult.

He left me a letter and I remembered the last line: Do not blame anyone. This world is unbearably cruel but life goes on and has been going on for millions of years.

I finished reading with a laugh. What a cultured suicide note.

I did not cry or look for him, perhaps because I was rebelling. That became one of my life's biggest regret.

I heard that his corpse remained in the mortuary, unclaimed for a month. Eventually, the loan sharks tracked him down and he finally got cremated.

And she graduated after.

She chose to become an air stewardess and enrolled in an etiquette school once more.

And I visited her parents at the worst time.

It went great until we had a little too much to drink.

Of course, when they started asking about my family situation I relayed everything that happened.

I was about to start my third year, had no money or job.

No parents, no future goals.

She was told by her parents to get us more fruits and what I experienced next was the most miserable ten minutes of my life.

Without calling me out on anything, her father kept stressing that he needed to find an outstanding partner for his daughter.

And his wife wasn't too shy to emphasize that what I had going on in my life was far below their expectations.

I was already on the brink of breaking down but Uncle decided to bring my family up once again.

At that point, I was wondering if it really was difficult for an orphan to get married.

They had no interest at all in how we met and fell in love.

"Leave my daughter if you want what's best for her," Aunty persuaded.

I waited for her return in silence. She entered with a basket of fruits, all happy and innocent.

And her parents reverted to their usual selves.

I cut off all contact with her after that day.

I left a letter, roughly mentioning that I would return after becoming a pilot.

I dropped out of school and left Jingdezhen.

Because Father jumped during work, the school offered a sum of relief payment.

I used it to book a one-way flight to London since I did not have enough for a return flight.

I had planned to enroll in Pulford Aviation Inst.i.tution since my English was decent.

However, things did not turn out the way I had expected them to.

As they say, the moon was always brighter in another country.

Pulford Aviation Inst.i.tution was the most reputable school in London.

There were two hundred students but only fifteen planes.

We had to pay for tuition and fuel.

After hanging on for half a year, I completed all my theoretical exams.

I gave up right before the practical. Students had to clock five hundred hours of flying in order to graduate.

The cost of fuel for five hundred hours of flying wasn't something I can afford just by working extra when I had the time.

Continuing would just land me in heavier debts, just like Father. I had to give up.

I sat on Savile Row Street, broke and miserable, staring at a tailor shop on the opposite side.

Mister Bailey discovered me and asked if I wanted to learn.

"Yes," I nodded before adding, "No money…"

He took me in.

"Tell me where exactly you've been in these eight years, Luqiao," she demanded urgently.

I looked out of the window. The weather was great. "Let's go to the park and I'll tell you."

She put on her floral maxi dress and threw a pair of newly bought boxes at me. "Go shower and come home with me tonight. My parents want to see you. They're curious too, as to how you've been all these years. Explain yourself tonight."

I smiled bitterly.

She must have made the call when I was still asleep.

I was still feeling somewhat indignant about the incident that happened eight years ago. Her parents had no respect for me.

As I was about to speak up, I saw her staring at me.

All that came out of my mouth was a 'sorry'.

"I know what happened but you were gone by the time I went to look for you."

I kept quiet.

"My parents felt they had gone overboard. Coincidentally, they needed a supervisor at the printing house and had wanted to take over at the shop upon graduation. It was a pity you left and I found out that you dropped out of school. Other than your letter, I had no other news of you."

"So you've been waiting? Until now?" I asked, puzzled.

"Eight years. I gave up on becoming an air stewardess. Instead, I became a florist and worked in a shop opposite the park's entrance, hoping to chance upon you someday. And I finally saw you yesterday, dressed like a fool."

Was eight years long? It felt like seconds.

That night felt almost like a replay of events from eight years ago.

Except that her parents had aged significantly. Again, she was told to get us some fruits.

Of course, their tone was much warmer this time and they did not bring up my past.

Instead, I told them what I had achieved from the past eight years.

Uncle smiled. "Custom-made suits?"

"Yes," I answered.

"Bright future?" Aunty blurted out before covering her mouth almost immediately.

I could only smile.

Half a year later.

We got married.

I designed our outfits, of course.

Seven years ago, on Savile Row Street, I had a vision for a bride's dress.

It was going to be made from pieces of fine cloth and there were going to be silver metal scales.

There would be a long red thread. Sixty-three meters.

This dress could only be worn once and it must be on the day of the bride's wedding. No fitting because that would take half a day.

Nothing must be worn underneath the dress.

The cloths and silver scales would be put and held together by the red thread.

When she finally put on the dress, half a day had already gone by.

Breathtakingly beautiful.

The silverish white wedding gown carried a subtle red tinge that could be faintly seen through the scales.

The red thread ended with a bowknot in front of her chest.

Putting on ten-centimeter heels, her height came up to a hundred and eighty centimeters.

Almost as tall as I am.

With each step, her scale-filled dress produced a soothing chime.

She was like an armored queen.

Her parents were smiling brightly.

I pulled her into the bridal room after the wedding ceremony.

Her bridal dress train made the floor sparkle.

I untied the bowknot gently and the red thread fluttered in the air.

A thousand pieces of silver scales and white cloth fell and scattered like feathers.

They landed on the floor like raindrops. It was a heavenly moment.

Her bare body appeared before my eyes.

Just this and nothing more.