Gilded Rust - YiZhan

Chapter 10 - Empty Spaces

Having nothing else to occupy himself, he slipped under the comforter and scooted to the middle of the bed. The mattress had just the right level of firmness. The smooth sheets caressed his skin, and his head sunk into the cloud-like fluffiness of the pillow. He caught a faint whiff of perfume he couldn't quite place until he recognized the scent of body wash he'd used mixed with the crisp smell of clean laundry. He'd never slept in such a comfortable, not to mention enormous, bed. If he lay in the middle, he could stretch his legs and arms out to his heart's content and barely go over the edges. Sleeping in this bed after a warm shower was the height of luxury. The thought brought him such joy that he grinned from ear to ear, unable to stop.

For a while, Yibo enjoyed his newly acquired creature comforts with abandon, trying various positions and playing around with the ridiculously numerous pillows. However, when the novelty wore off, he found himself tossing and turning. Back at the restaurant, he might have slept on a couch, but that couch knew his body, and he could only lie on it one way. Moreover, by the time he collapsed on it, exhaustion took him under before he had time to think. Now, however, with countless positions possible and a lack of significant fatigue, he couldn't just pass out. Moreover, the complete stillness of the house added to his discomfort. Back at the restaurant, he'd been lulled to sleep by the old fridge's compressor, the rumblings of cars and the voices of people seeping in from the street, and many other sounds he'd never noticed. Here, the heavy, oppressive, and inescapable silence permeated everything. In this peaceful setting, he realized that he had now ample time to think. First, he jumped from one innocuous thought to the other. He planned breakfast in his mind, then tried to imagine what he would do the following day. Then, he wondered if the previous chef had lived in this room or if Mr. Xiao had used it before moving back to his current room. In either case, had the mattress been changed? Not that he cared; he was simply curious. But then, his thoughts returned to the past few days' events and to the various emotions they had stirred. The accident, his encounter with Teacher Xi, the job offer followed by his second meeting with Mr. Xiao, and his coffee date with his sister. So many coincidences and unusual happenings. An incredible number of events had had to align for him to land in this bed. Such synchronicity couldn't possibly exist, could it? And then there was everyone's sudden kindness. Caihong, Mrs. Kim, Manager Xi, Teacher Xi, Old Man Fong: they'd all helped his undeserving self. What did it all mean? And what would it mean for the future? What would happen once Caihong left? When this job ended?

Yibo's entire body shuddered as his mind filled with anxiety. His breaths short and shallow, he pushed the blankets off and jumped to his feet. He didn't want to think about any of this. There had to be something—anything—that could occupy his mind in this stupid house. Maybe he could go to Mr. Xiao's office and ask him to share his entire life story with him. Anything would be better than facing his own thoughts. Once more, his hand reached for his ring, and he clenched his fist around it, pulling so hard that the chain dug into the skin of his neck. His mouth filled with the excess of saliva that always accompanied nausea.

I made a mistake. I shouldn't have taken this job.

He repeated these two lines in his mind over and over as he paced back and forth at the foot of his bed. Sometimes, a strangled whimper would escape his thigh throat, followed by shame and hatred for his own weakness and lack of self-control. However, no amount of cowing or coaxing could quiet the turmoil of his heart.

This went on for a while, and when he next looked at the clock on his bedside table, it was already 1 am. Mr. Xiao hadn't specified a time he would have breakfast, so Yibo had decided to get out of bed at his usual time to be ready for all eventualities. This meant that if he wanted to function tomorrow, he needed to go to sleep now. However, the bed, so wonderful hours before, now triggered dread, and he couldn't bring himself to climb back in. How could he fall asleep if his mind wouldn't stop tormenting him?