The Moon on a Frozen Lake

15: Something Sweet

Walking the straight path,
I reach my destination unscathed.
Yet looking back, I wonder the aftermath,
Had I thrown caution to the wind and strayed.

— J.

Yingyue was furious.

From the moment she woke up to the intensely bright sunlight filtering through her room, anger simmered at the pit of stomach. Knowing it was impossible to focus on anything work-related, she headed straight to the kitchen, grabbed a knife, and started hacking at the meat and vegetables she needed to make her late lunch. Never mind that the recipe called for diced onions and chilis. Mashed ones would have to do. The pork belly, which was supposed to be cut into perfect cubes, would have been more suitable as dumpling filling, but she threw it into the pan anyway.

Once all the ingredients were in, she watched her concoction bubble away. Its thick oily broth had turned scarlet with the amount of chili powder she dumped inside. It satisfied her to see everything churn and disappear in that scalding heat.

If only she could give Kang Jihoon the same treatment. She would love to tear him to pieces and put him in hot oil. Because how dare? How dare he come to her place in the middle of the night and expect everything to be perfectly okay? How dare he take on the role of her prince on a white horse as if that was the most natural thing in the world?

The memory of his face wrinkled with concern and the warmth of his body as he carried her home dampened her anger a little. Yingyue quickly grasped at straws to keep the flames going.

Damn his face!

He wasn't even that handsome. Not with his crooked smile and midnight mop of hair. No, she didn't need him in her life. Not when he couldn't make up his mind about something so simple. For Yingyue, nurturing a relationship was like baking bread. The process required one's full commitment. Indecisiveness often resulted in a dry or soggy mess. Neither of these qualities made a desirable bread or relationship.

Yet even as she cursed his indecision, she was guilty of the same crime. As much as she wanted to push him away, there was a part of her that was desperate to see him. Like sugar to bread batter, Yingyue would be perfectly fine without Jihoon but she just knew her life would be much, much less sweeter.

Slumping against the counter, Yingyue turned off her stove before the house burned down. Everything around her was a mess. In addition to bits of pieces of food scattered on the floor, there were oil splatters all over the tiled counter. Picking up the saucepan, she threw the gloopy remains of her lunch in the bin and placed it on the sink. The metal hissed, proof of the torture it suffered at her hands. Grimacing, Yingyue walked to the living room and lied down on the couch. She'd deal with the rest of the mess later. At the moment, all she wanted to do was stare at the ceiling.

If she was being honest, then Jihoon wasn't the sole reason for her anger. She despised herself, too, and absolutely hated what she had become. Last night's failure had emphasized how far she had deviated from what she envisioned for her future. If her parents saw her now, what would they say? Pressing her eyes shut, Yingyue recalled their faces, already fading with the passage of time.

When Yingyue was six, her family moved from the small city of Leshan to the metropolis of Chengdu. In a country where good education was in high demand, laws were set to manage the amount of students going to one institution. In order to send her to a good school, her parents, with the help of her grandparents, pooled together enough money to partially pay for an old apartment in a central district. As result, her parents worked 18 hours a day to pay for the mortgage and any extra classes Yingyue needed to give her a head start in life. Despite the callouses in her mother's hands and the increasing lines on her father's face, they both said it was worth it.