Chapter 12: The Third Day
Song Xu needed the tie by 3 PM.
Wen Bairan had the dry-cleaned tie placed in a bag by 2:10 PM and handed it to a courier. Roughly forty minutes later, she received a delivery confirmation on her phone.
The app showed a photo from the courier: the item had been left at the front desk.
Shortly after, a message from Lily came through on WeChat.
[Front Desk Lily]: Sister Ran, the tie has been delivered to Master Song (ok.jpg)
Right after, Qiao Yi’s messages came through.
[Qiao Yi]: Where'd you go?! You disappeared just to clean a tie?!
[Qiao Yi]: Come on, if you don’t come back, I’ll have to go to the meeting with Master Song!
[Qiao Yi]: No way! I don't wanna!
[Qiao Yi]: (/crying)(/crying)(/crying) Get back here! I can’t deal with this by myself!
[Qiao Yi]: (tough guy crying.jpg)
Top-floor café at Zhongzhan Plaza.
Zhou Lin’s sour expression was even darker than the sky outside.
Across from him, Wen Bairan’s phone kept vibrating—message after message. Since she’d sat down, she hadn’t looked up once.
He had never tolerated being ignored like this.
Since childhood, wherever he went, he was the center of attention. He was the one who ignored others; people noticed even the slightest movement of a hair falling from his head.
Especially Wen Bairan.
She seemed cold and always calm, as if unshakable, but he alone knew how warm her heart truly was.
All these years, anything related to the name “Zhou Lin” had always made her more attentive—more than his own. Whenever he turned around, she was there, her eyes always on him, never failing.
But now, sitting face to face, Zhou Lin felt like he was just cold air in front of her—formless, invisible, not even worth a glance.
It dawned on him—
She really meant to break up.
The sensation was overwhelming, the turmoil in his heart so unfamiliar. He wasn’t prepared and didn’t know how to react. All his emotions surged up, finally igniting into rage, consuming everything.
Wen Bairan was replying to Qiao Yi, explaining that something came up and she’d be back to the company later. Halfway through typing, a large hand suddenly appeared in front of her—veins standing out on its back—snatching her phone away without a word.
Wen Bairan looked up, her face went pale for a moment.
When she saw that he only locked the phone and tossed it aside without glancing at the content, she relaxed again.
Her focus on the phone only fueled Zhou Lin’s anger. His loud voice drew stares from everyone around them. “Wen Bairan, I’m talking to you! Are you deaf or something?”
The café was filled with a peaceful aroma, soft music easing tensions. Though the curious and disapproving looks from others were restrained, the situation was plainly awkward.
On a workday, those who could enjoy coffee on the top floor of Zhongzhan Plaza were either those with leisure and wealth or business professionals with excellent manners here for meetings. No one spoke up, but the sudden silence seemed to say: you shouldn’t be arguing here.
The piano music in the background was played live by a girl in a white dress, her composure unshaken. She never faltered, and after a few notes, the atmosphere in the café returned to normal. Only then did she lift her eyelids slightly, shooting a look at the two who had ruined the mood of her performance.
Wen Bairan thought she had grown accustomed to being the focus of attention in such settings, but in reality, she still wasn't comfortable with it.
She looked at the man in front of her. The look both familiar and strange in her eyes made Zhou Lin feel as though he had done something wrong. He was like a child who had never grown up—his teenage impulsivity and recklessness always present. His supposed maturity only appeared as a frown when faced with Wen Bairan’s disappointed expression.
She let out a weak sigh.
“You’re always like this.”
“No regard for the setting, no regard for timing, no consideration for others.”
Her voice was as light as water, blending with the piano music. Zhou Lin almost couldn’t hear her.
“Fine, let’s go back and talk. Don’t you like hashing things out in private? I’ll let you settle it—any way you want.”
Impatient by nature, he meant to act immediately, but Wen Bairan’s slender figure remained unmoved, making no move to leave with him.
He had no choice but to stay put.
Bewildered, he asked, “What’s wrong with you?”
In these eight years, they had argued, fought, broken up countless times, and always made up.
Never once had he felt so certain that they were really about to end.
She had always been soft-hearted. As long as he took the initiative to apologize, they would naturally reconcile. But not this time. She hadn’t come to his birthday, hadn’t even sent a blessing message. When he went to find her, she wanted to return all the gifts he had given her.
At first, he thought she was throwing a fit over his ambiguous rumors with Xiao Zimei, but now, seeing her distant attitude, he felt it might not be about that after all.
Outside the window, the rain hung like mist, and Wen Bairan’s calm face also seemed shrouded in fog. He couldn’t see through her, and this unsettling vagueness made him especially impatient.
“Say something.”
Wen Bairan could tell he was panicked, even somewhat rattled.
Zhou Lin was a young master pampered since childhood. No matter how impatient his temper usually was, his every move, every breath, carried an easy, composed rhythm. His natural air of superiority was never broken for anyone.
But now, his expression was grave, his dark eyes fixed unblinkingly on her. His tense shoulders and the rise and fall of his chest seemed frozen.
He waited anxiously for her to speak.
That inexpressible ache spread through her heart again.
It seemed she had become the one to break him.
Forcing herself to suppress the pain in her chest, Wen Bairan’s eyelashes fluttered. When she spoke, her tone softened considerably. “Yesterday, was it you who asked Xiao Zimei to call me?”
Bringing up Xiao Zimei again, Zhou Lin instantly relaxed.
He slumped back in his chair, interlocking his fingers over his abdomen, as if reluctantly admitting it. “So what if it was?”
“You wouldn’t believe me, so you had to believe her. Under the circumstances, I could only let her explain it to you.”
“Well? Was it just as I said? We didn’t do anything.”
As he spoke, the tension in his brows and eyes gradually eased. The corners of his eyes lifted slightly, revealing Young Master Zhou’s signature look of casual arrogance, mixed with a hint of triumphant disdain now that the truth was out.
“I told you before—I used to be a bit of a scoundrel, but I’ve changed my ways. Besides you, I haven’t touched anyone else.”
Wen Bairan could hear the pride in his voice—pride that despite being surrounded by countless temptations, he had chosen to be faithful to her. He thought he was remarkable.
She understood—she really did.
If this had happened two years ago—no, even a year ago—she would have been thrilled. Even if she didn’t say it out loud, she might have stolen a kiss when he wasn’t paying attention, and he would have known just how happy she was.
But it was too late now.
Everything had come too late.
Now, all she could do was give a wry smile. "That’s good."
Three words, and a cryptic smile.
Wen Bairan’s reaction was so indifferent that Zhou Lin began to think she was being unappreciative.
"What do you want? You’ve had your outburst, my birthday is over, Xiao Zimei has told you everything—is that still not enough for you?"
"You haven’t replied to my messages or answered my calls these past few days. Fine, it’s okay. If you’re angry, let it out—I can handle it. But after all this time, haven’t you cleared your head? Tell me, what is it that’s making you insist on breaking up? Even if there is something, I’ve already made the effort to come here. The least you could do is show some sincerity in resolving this. What do you want me to do with you giving me the cold shoulder? Just say it, okay? I don’t want to guess."
He spoke quickly, his impatience reaching its peak.
When they first started dating, Wen Bairan was independent, clear-headed, and not materialistic—her demeanor was almost transcendent. But now, Zhou Lin felt like he was punching a pillow; he even began to think she was worse than those gold-diggers. At least with them, it was easy—no matter what happened, buying a bag or sending some money would solve everything.
These past few days, Zhou Lin had put on a brave face—eating, drinking, having fun, acting like nothing was wrong. But only at night, when he returned to the apartment they once shared, the emptiness swallowed him up. It felt like there was a hole inside him, sapping all his energy and emotions.
No calls, no messages. Her scent had almost completely faded.
In the past, when she worked overtime or was away on business, he would occasionally feel lonely. Calling her in the middle of the night, he’d hear her sleepy, slow voice on the other end, a soft, pillow-muffled nasality that made his heart feel full.
Zhou Lin admitted it—he missed her.
Missed her like crazy.
If these past few days were some kind of test she’d given him, she had clearly gotten the answer she wanted—
He couldn’t live without her. Even if it cost him his pride, he’d still come begging.
He felt he had done enough.
But Wen Bairan remained in this half-dead state.
He really didn’t want to coax her anymore.
"Last time I’ll say this—I haven’t, and I won’t in the future, cause any more misunderstandings that upset you. Didn’t you say before the New Year that you wanted to go to Hong Kong? Fine, take some time off now. We’ll leave tonight. My dad has a place there; we’ll stay for a month and come back. We’ll treat it like a vacation. Is that okay?"
Zhou Lin offered his final show of sincerity. He truly didn’t believe that someone like Xiao Zimei could mess up their lives like this.
Wen Bairan stared intently at him, her expression unchanged from before. But the once sparkling love and tenderness in her eyes had gradually faded like the darkening sky outside.
That unease and dread washed over him.
Zhou Lin’s brows furrowed tightly.
"Do you love me?" Wen Bairan suddenly asked.
Zhou Lin didn’t skip a beat. "Yes."
"Are you sure?" Wen Bairan paused, then rephrased, "How can you be sure?"
Zhou Lin didn’t know how to be sure, but he knew they had been together for eight years.
He was someone who had never been great with time or money.
But eight years—for a woman, it was the prime and the tail end of her youth. For a man, was it just some blurry, wasted time?
Regardless.
He loved her.
He was certain.
Otherwise, he wouldn’t be sitting here wasting his time.
But Wen Bairan didn’t see it that way.
She smiled, no longer hard to read, the heartbreak and sadness in her eyes plain to see.
"Do you know why I wanted to go to Hong Kong?"
"Why?"
Before the New Year, they were at home when Wen Bairan suddenly received a call. Zhou Lin was playing games in the living room; she got up and went to the balcony. She returned after a while, seemingly a bit down. She stayed silent beside him for a long time before suddenly asking if he had time to go to Hong Kong with her.
Zhou Lin was in the middle of an intense game and distracted, so he dismissed it offhandedly. Sure, but he had plans with Jiang Shijin to go skiing in Switzerland—he’d take her after he got back. He always kept his promises. When he returned from Switzerland, he found out she had started a new job and couldn’t get time off yet. By the time her work stabilized, it was his birthday, and the Hong Kong trip kept getting postponed.
He had always remembered it, but he realized he never actually asked her why she wanted to go. For fun? Shopping? A boat party? Even though Wen Bairan wasn’t the type to enjoy that sort of thing, who knew? People change.
He suddenly recalled Wen Bairan’s expression that day.
In the living room, she had fallen into silent shadows, her profile gray and flickering, almost about to fall apart.
Zhou Lin seemed to realize something.
Wen Bairan showed no surprise or disappointment at his reaction—she had already been disappointed.
She changed the question.
"When are you planning to marry me?"
Zhou Lin froze.
The man who had been so confident and emotional just moments before suddenly seemed doused in cold water—a sizzle, the fire extinguished, leaving only faint, insubstantial wisps of smoke.
Wen Bairan was calmer than him, like a windless lake, clear as a mirror.
They both knew this topic was a sore spot, a taboo subject.
Over the years, they had tacitly avoided bringing it up casually. Once mentioned, it was bound to cause real hurt.
Zhou Lin didn’t take his eyes off her, his dark eyes still sharp and intense.
After a long, tense, drawn-out silence of about three minutes, Wen Bairan’s phone on the table suddenly rang. The continuous vibrations created barely noticeable ripples on the white tablecloth.
His throat dry, Zhou Lin swallowed hard, and tasted bitterness.
Wen Bairan was done wasting time. She’d made her point.
She stood up, leaned over to take her phone from under his eyelids, pushed the chair back, and glanced at his dazed face before turning away.
Her heart still ached—just not as sharply as before.
On the caller ID, another person’s face appeared next to Qiao Yi’s name.
Wen Bairan said softly, "Zhou Lin, let’s end it here."