Chapter 8: A Brief Interlude of Deceit

My eyes widened. One million? To me, that was an astronomical figure; such a vast sum—how could anyone earn that much?

Molly Ping didn’t understand how to make money either, but she knew how to spend it. When she had none, she would whimper and plead—I witnessed that firsthand.

She carried a certain feminine charm, enhanced by perfume that smelled truly delightful; the scent drifted into my nostrils, making me want to inhale deeply.

“Uh, little brother, I just remembered—my bracelet is missing. It’s a wedding gift from my husband. Have you seen it?”

What was a bracelet? I had never dealt with one and didn’t know what it was. But then I recalled: “When I was discharged, there were a bunch of scattered beads on my hospital bed. The lady was very particular about hospital belongings and told me to throw them in the trash.”

“You might not realize it, but that bracelet is very valuable. Was it green?”

“Yes, green, smooth, gleaming with a cold light, very beautiful! I always wondered how such a thing ended up on my bed.”

Finally, the little car could move, but Molly Ping was flustered, hurriedly opening the door to get out. Horns blared repeatedly behind us. After a moment of hesitation, irritated, she shouted, “What’s the rush? Can’t you wait a minute?”

No one replied, only the horns blaring louder and louder.

She lingered for a while, slammed the door shut, and followed the car ahead, inching forward slowly. The vehicles were bumper to bumper, and people squeezed through the narrow gaps. Molly Ping was extremely anxious, stomping her foot hard in the driver’s seat. The car inched along stop-and-go; unable to bear it, she honked continuously, “beep beep beep,” for a long time before finally releasing the horn. Even so, the pace was maddeningly slow.

Many questions swirled in my mind—how could a handful of beads make her so desperate? Would they even be found if she got out?

The car ahead crept forward bit by bit. After half an hour stuck in the jam, we finally reached an intersection. The speed picked up—she looked everywhere for a parking spot, glancing left and right, circling around until she finally entered a parking lot. A uniformed attendant, clearly a gatekeeper, was directing cars to reverse out, occasionally asking Molly Ping’s car to back up.

Watching the rearview mirror carefully, she reversed slowly. The other car finally left, and as it drove away, Molly Ping’s car pulled in. She reversed back and forth several times before parking. She opened the door and got out, greeted by the attendant who said, “Parking fee is twenty yuan.”

Hearing this, she was annoyed. “We’re just stopping for a bit—twenty yuan?”

“All cars pay twenty yuan, no matter the time.”

“Even if someone parks all day, it’s still twenty yuan?”

“If that were true, it wouldn’t be twenty yuan!”

Molly Ping was anxious, her mind fixed on the scattered beads. She pulled out her phone from her little bag, scanned a QR code the attendant had just shown her, entered some numbers, and asked, “Did you receive it?”

“Yes!” The attendant showed his phone and then went to direct other vehicles.

“Let’s hurry!” Molly Ping ran ahead. It took half an hour to find the hospital entrance. Flustered, she pushed through the crowd, squeezed into the main door, and reached the elevator where many people were waiting. When the doors opened, about a dozen rushed in, but there was no room for more, so she had to step back and wait. The elevator doors closed with a “beep.” Another elevator door opened nearby, and she quickly moved over and squeezed inside. It was packed, but without needing to press the buttons, someone else did it for her. Soon, we arrived at the ward where I’d been hospitalized. On bed number nineteen lay an unfamiliar man, with a young woman and an elderly couple nearby.

Molly Ping didn’t care about any of that and went straight to the trash bin. It was empty—fresh plastic bags had just been replaced. She turned to me and asked, “Did you throw the beads in this trash bin?”

I answered, calmly and without hesitation, “Yes.”

Unwilling to give up, she asked the people by the bed, “Who took the trash from here?”

A young woman by the bed, wearing loose hair, a thin sheer long-sleeve top, and jeans, with lipstick on, replied, “We don’t know. A woman in a pale green gown and a mask came by once, grabbed the trash, and left.”

Molly Ping understood. Having stayed in the hospital a long time, she recognized the woman. She checked each room along the corridor but found no cleaner—her frustration grew. Since we were here, unwilling to give up, she took me upstairs via the stairs to the next floor and searched every ward again. Still no sign of a cleaner. Then she spotted someone in a white coat and blue mask and called out, “Doctor! Can you tell me—where is the cleaner? I haven’t seen anyone.”

“The cleaner has gone home and might come back in the afternoon.”

“What about the cleaner on the lower floor?”

“That doesn’t matter here; there’s only one cleaner per floor. Why do you ask?”

“I’m looking for my green jadeite beads. I dropped them in the trash bin on the floor below, but the trash is gone!”

The doctor shrugged helplessly. “Sorry, I can’t help you. You’ll have to ask someone else.” Then she turned and walked away.

Molly Ping’s head felt ready to burst. Holding me tightly for a long time, she finally said, “Let’s go.” She went down the stairs again, checked the first door along the corridor multiple times, still no cleaner. Feeling helpless, she couldn’t hold back tears.

I couldn’t bear to watch any longer and asked, “It’s just a handful of beads. If lost, why not just buy another?”

“You don’t understand. This is a token of love from my husband. It’s very precious! If it’s lost and someone asks, what am I supposed to say?”

“That’s easy—just say you lost it.”

“You make it sound so simple. Do you know how much this bracelet is worth?”

“How much?”

“Sixty million yuan! What am I going to do?”

I was stunned. “Just a dozen beads? How can they be worth so much? You’re lying to me, it must be a lie!”

“You don’t believe me? When we get home, I’ll show you the receipt and the certificate.”

An uneasy flicker crossed my face for a moment, probably unnoticed by her. I’d only meant to comfort her, not to take the beads. Now I finally understood how valuable they were.

If I said the truth, she’d surely scold me harshly. But if I kept quiet, seeing her so upset was unbearable. I was caught between a rock and a hard place.

Molly Ping paced anxiously in the corridor, cold sweat on her brow. She took out her phone from her little bag, tapped it, dialed, held it to her ear, waited a moment, and said, “Hello?”

A man’s voice came through: “Where are you?”

“I’m at the hospital!”

“What’s going on?”

“My green jadeite beads, thrown in the hospital trash, were taken away by the cleaner!”

“Why are you calling me over a string of beads? Figure it out yourself!” Before Molly Ping could say a word, he hung up.

She paced anxiously, hesitated for a moment, then called again. The same man’s voice came: “Don’t call me for this kind of thing again. What do you take me for?” Then the call ended.

Molly Ping was too angry to speak, pacing and quietly crying. Approaching the elevator, she gently pressed the button. After a while, the elevator stopped and opened, letting out a dozen or so men and women. She quickly got in, and I followed closely behind, feeling deep regret. I shouldn’t have lied earlier. It was obvious now that telling her the truth then wouldn’t have been appropriate—I’d have to find another chance.

More people entered until the elevator was full. Some had to step out, and the doors closed automatically. After a brief ride, it stopped again and opened. More people got off, and only then did Molly Ping manage to leave. I trailed behind her, dumbfounded. A wave of feminine fragrance wafted past me, slipping into my nose. I inhaled deeply.

To be honest, my wife never smelled this sweet before she left. I wondered what perfume she used. The scent stirred a strange urge within me. Yet, I was no longer a man. Now I was just like her. I didn’t even know if I’d ever worn perfume before. A fifteen-year-old boy certainly wouldn’t.

Molly Ping wiped her tears repeatedly with tissues from her little bag, trying to hide her pain in front of the crowd.

I followed her for half an hour until we reached the parking lot. She wanted to blame me but seemed to have some purpose in mind, so she silently endured alone. I felt uncomfortable too—my lie had brought us to this.

We got into her BMW, backed out, but didn’t see the gatekeeper. She drove to the lift platform and stopped. Without pressing the horn, the gate opened automatically. The car passed through and sped away, stopping only at traffic lights.

I looked around foolishly. This place was unfamiliar; it was my first time here.

Molly Ping acted a little mischievous, taking advantage of the stop to wrap her arms around my head and lean in…

Her eyes glistened with tears, and many uncertainties flickered in her heart.

This was the first time in my life I had kissed someone. I was so shocked my eyes nearly popped out! I could only sit back in my seat, dumbfounded.