Jasmine Behind Iron Bars

Lixiang, much like the nearly withered jasmine on her windowsill, was an inconspicuous speck of green in this concrete jungle. She worked as a clerk in a medium-sized trading company, her days filled with typing, photocopying, and making tea that was never quite hot enough for the boss. Life felt like a rusty conveyor belt, carrying her from sunrise to sunset. Her only hope, her only thing to look forward to, was Liang Yu.

Liang Yu was her sunshine, her sweet rain. He worked at an impressive-looking investment firm, always in a sharp suit, spoke charmingly, and wore a watch that glinted discreetly on his wrist. He would drive half an hour to take her home on rainy days, bring warm late-night snacks when she worked overtime, and look into her eyes, saying, "Lixiang, meeting you is the greatest fortune of my life." Lixiang believed him, wholeheartedly, like a desert traveler embracing a mirage.

They had been dating for six months, and Lixiang felt happiness was like a ripe apple, about to fall right into her lap. She started secretly browsing wedding magazines, imagining herself in a pure white gown. Until that weekend. Liang Yu said he was going on a business trip. Wanting to give him a surprise, she went to his rented apartment to tidy up.

The key was a symbol of trust, given by Liang Yu himself. Humming a tune, Lixiang wiped down the bookshelf when a photo album slipped out. Curious, she opened it. The smile froze on her face. In the photo, Liang Yu wore a groom's tuxedo, nestled beside a sweet-smiling strange woman, against a festive red backdrop. The date? Just three months ago.

Lixiang's world instantly collapsed. Sunshine, sweet rain, fortune... all fake. As if her bones had been removed, she slumped to the floor, tears streaming silently. The ice-cold betrayal pierced her heart. She picked up her phone, her fingers trembling as she dialed the emergency number: "Hello, Officer... I... I've been deceived... My boyfriend, he's married and still lying to me..." Her voice was broken, incoherent.

The police arrived, asking routine questions. Lixiang was highly agitated, repeating "He's a liar," "He ruined me." Coupled with her pale face and jumbled words, the officers exchanged a look. Just then, Liang Yu returned from his "business trip," likely notified by a neighbor. Seeing the police and the distraught Lixiang, a flicker of imperceptible panic crossed his face, quickly replaced by a worried and anxious expression.

"Lixiang, what's wrong? Don't scare me!" He tried to hug her, but Lixiang screamed and recoiled. "Don't touch me! You liar!"

Liang Yu turned to the police, his face full of pain and helplessness: "Officers, she... she's been under a lot of mental stress lately, always imagining things. We have a great relationship, how could I possibly be married? That photo is from my brother's wedding, I was the best man..." He sighed. "She probably needs rest, or... maybe see a doctor."

The police looked at the emotional Lixiang, then at the "reasonable" Liang Yu and the "evidence" he presented (like his brother's wedding invitation). Combined with Lixiang's rambling state when she called them, they made a "professional" judgment. With Liang Yu signing his consent "for her own good," Lixiang was taken away. Not to the police station, but to the Municipal Mental Health Center.

The cold iron gate shut behind her. Lixiang's world turned white—white walls, white bedsheets, white nurses' uniforms, and the dispassionate white scrutiny in the doctors' eyes. She explained, she cried, she insisted the photo was real, that Liang Yu was lying. But here, all intense emotions were interpreted as part of the "illness." The more she struggled, the more she proved she "needed treatment." The jasmine on the windowsill had completely lost its sunlight.

Days turned into weeks, and Lixiang gradually fell silent. She began to doubt herself. Was she really crazy? Was that love, that betrayal, just a figment of her diseased imagination?

Until a month later, a local news bulletin interrupted the television program. The screen showed a press conference at the City Public Security Bureau, the backdrop reading "Major Illegal Fundraising Case Cracked." The main suspect's name was clearly announced by the anchor—Liang Yu. The news reported that Liang Yu, using his position as an investment company manager, had colluded with over a thousand individuals, including public officials, to defraud enormous sums of money, leaving numerous victims. Footage showed Liang Yu being led away in handcuffs, his face no longer wearing a gentle smile, only ashen fear.

A young intern doctor saw the news and remembered Lixiang, the quiet girl who insisted her boyfriend was a liar. He pulled up her file and checked Liang Yu's household registration information through the internal system—married. The spouse was indeed the woman in the photograph.

The truth struck like a delayed lightning bolt, shattering the oppressive air of the psychiatric hospital. It turned out Liang Yu hadn't just deceived Lixiang emotionally; he had used her as a cover. Perhaps fearing she knew too much, he had seized the opportunity when she broke down and called the police, conveniently sending her to this "safe" place, stripping her of any credibility as a witness. And the forces that had so readily believed Liang Yu and committed Lixiang might have been intricately connected to that vast illegal fundraising network, eager to extinguish any "small trouble" that could draw unwanted attention.

A few days later, Lixiang walked out of the Mental Health Center. The sunlight was so bright it hurt her eyes. In her hand, she held a hospital certificate stating "Condition stable, discharge recommended," and a police statement regarding Liang Yu's case. She was free, but her heart felt hollow.

She didn't go home. Instead, she walked to the cafe she and Liang Yu used to frequent. She ordered the bitterest black coffee and watched the traffic flow outside the window. The world was still noisy, as if nothing had happened.

The cafe TV was replaying the news story. Two women sitting nearby were discussing it: "Tsk tsk, you really can know a person's face but not their heart! Cheating so many people out of money, and even sending his girlfriend to a mental hospital, how cruel!" "Exactly, I heard the girl is quite pitiful. She's out now, who knows what she'll do..."

Lixiang silently sipped her coffee, the bitterness spreading from her tongue to the bottom of her heart. She thought of the nearly withered jasmine. Was it still there? Maybe, like her, it needed to find new soil to truly take root, and a ray of sunlight free from deceit.

She stood up and left the cafe. No tears, no anger, just the exhaustion and bewilderment following an absurd farce. This city had devoured her love and nearly consumed her sanity. She looked up at the grey, hazy sky and took a deep breath, the air a mix of exhaust fumes and street food smells. Life's conveyor belt had to keep moving forward, but she didn't know where the next stop would be. And that episode involving a married boyfriend and a psychiatric hospital, like a story penned by O. Henry, took a heartbreakingly ironic twist at the end, leaving only a sigh lingering in the cold city air.