Chapter 28 Gray Despair
Five minutes.
About a cigarette’s worth of time.
The sound of high heels grew closer in the parking garage.
The silver-gray Volvo’s headlights flashed twice in response.
He pulled open the car door, Song Xu’s voice carried a hint of laughter. “Right on time.”
His tone cut off abruptly.
A gray-and-white checkered handkerchief was tossed onto his lap.
She got in and closed the door.
Wen Bairan carried out all these actions without a sound, her expression cold as she gazed straight ahead, not saying a word.
Song Xu’s eyebrow twitched almost imperceptibly. He picked up the handkerchief, dangling it from his index finger as if it were contaminated, narrowing his thin eyelids as he asked, “Did you ask for it back?”
“What else?” she said coldly. “Did you think she’d give it back on her own?”
Su Yi was sharp—a quick glance in a coffee shop was enough for her to size up Zhou Lin’s wealth. That day at Zhongzhan, Song Xu was dressed in a suit, every inch the elite. His words might have been sharp, but it was precisely that sharpness that made Su Yi see him as a high-value individual no less impressive than Zhou Lin.
The handkerchief didn’t cost much, just about two months of her living expenses as a student.
But keeping it meant holding onto the possibility that she might never worry about money again.
Wen Bairan had watched as Su Yi took out this exact handkerchief from her bag, its clean scent probably from hand-washing.
Why hand-wash it? Of course, because dry cleaning would seem too deliberate, while hand-washing—even if it ruined the fabric—could showcase her unconventional purity and innocence.
Though Wen Bairan never believed ambition in a woman was something to be ashamed of, wasn’t Su Yi being too opportunistic? After all, she was currently Zhou Lin’s girlfriend. Hopping from one man to another so quickly was hardly right.
Su Yi probably didn’t get her meaning and asked, almost nervously, if the handkerchief’s owner was her current boyfriend.
Wen Bairan replied, “Not your concern.”
The hand-washed handkerchief was exceptionally soft, each fold carefully creased.
Song Xu shook it out, releasing a lemony soap scent.
It was fresh, but clearly not meant to stick around in the car.
“Once something’s been used, just throw it away.”
His deep eyes held a faint, teasing smile as he looked at her. “Why are you so mad?”
Wen Bairan’s features were soft, not delicate—more like refined. Her eyebrows and eyes were defined but not too deep-set. Her nose was gracefully straight, the tip cutely rounded. Her lips were full, the two plump curves always soft to the kiss, making you want to bite them.
Her beauty wasn’t overpowering; even her aloof, distant vibe wasn’t sharp.
It was like a layer of fog—you knew she was there, had always been there, but all her emotions were hidden within that mist, hazy and elusive.
Now, it seemed as though that fog had been swept away by the wind.
Her emotions amplified, displayed clearly on her face.
Frowning, lips pressed together, the tightness at the corner of her mouth revealing stubbornness.
Hearing his words, she turned to shot him a look, brows knitted.
“Am I angry?”
Song Xu seemed amused by her anger, the smile in his eyes deepening, his tone lightening. “Vivi, she’s not worth your anger.”
Wen Bairan paused slightly, the words blurted out before she could stop them. “What about you?”
“Me?”
“Depends on what it is.”
As he spoke, he took a lighter from the armrest box. Its brushed silver surface felt cool to the touch. The sound of ignition was sharp, a faint blue flame flickering to life, burning in his eyes.
The car’s air conditioning circulated the scent of lighter fluid throughout the cabin.
Wen Bairan watched his pale face flicker in and out of the flame’s light. In his deep, long eyes, her reflection was licked by the fire, faintly wavering.
“Why did you hide that call?”
Just as the tide in her eyes extinguished, the flame abruptly vanished.
Song Xu’s expression tightened, his deep gaze growing solemn.
“You’ve already broken up,” he said.
“So?”
“So why cling to it?”
“You said there’s no chance of reconciliation. If that’s the case, there’s no need to give him hope.”
Song Xu’s tone was gentle.
Even tender.
Wen Bairan could actually sense the indulgent attitude he’d been showing her lately. But she also knew it wasn’t out of affection—it was his self-assured belief that she depended on his desire.
In the face of an outstanding hunter, inanimate objects hold no appeal for conquest. What interests them most are those alert creatures that flee at the first whiff of their presence.
The more fiercely the prey struggles before death, the steadier they aim their guns.
Just like Song Xu.
He pierced her heart without hesitation, flipping through her emotions at will, all because he arrogantly believed he understood and controlled everything about her.
But he still didn’t know—that call hadn’t come from Zhou Lin.
The vivid emotions on Wen Bairan’s face slowly receded.
Her gaze grew colder, inch by inch.
“Song Xu, you seem to have forgotten that, under voluntary circumstances, our relationship is equal.”
“During this time, I haven’t taken anything from you, and you haven’t gained anything from me either.”
A car passed by in front, its yellow headlights casting from behind the pillars onto the hood, spilling over the windows, briefly flooding their faces before quickly receding.
Song Xu gazed deeply at her cold expression, watching her eyes gleam softly in the dimness of the car.
Wen Bairan stated flatly, "No one can make decisions for me, and I don’t need anyone to judge me."
"You have even less right."
//
Zhou Lin was sick.
But not physically.
Su Yi had come by many times, but he refused to see her.
He locked himself in his room, neither eating nor drinking, like a dead man.
Jiang Shijin passed along the message in the living room, telling her not to come anymore—it was useless.
Su Yi ignored him and pushed further, asking if there was any way to get Zhou Lin back on his feet.
She didn’t want to see him so broken; she hoped he would snap out of it, even if it meant going back to Wen Bairan.
Jiang Shijin laughed coldly, "You think he doesn’t want to?"
Zhou Lin had barricaded himself since returning that day. Jiang Shijin had asked a hundred times what had happened upstairs, but got nothing out of him. Finally, unable to resist, he called Wen Bairan—only for a man to answer.
At dawn, half the sky was still dark. For her to be with a man at such an hour said it all.
Zhou Lin had his pride.
A watch worth millions, taken by Xiao Zimei—he simply wrote it off just like that.
Wen Bairan had been with him for so long; how could she not know this?
It was precisely because she understood that she engineered things to end up this way.
This way, no matter how much Zhou Lin loved her or how hurt he was, just thinking of her being touched by someone else would make no going back impossible.
Su Yi didn’t understand what this meant. She was just shocked—shocked that Zhou Lin could be hurt. It wasn’t like him. Where was he hurt? In his heart?
She couldn’t imagine it.
In her memory, Zhou Lin was so proud. He could be angry, resentful, even go off the deep end—but how could he be hurt like this? Did he even have a heart?
She suddenly recalled their first meeting at the café, how down he looked, and finally understood what Wen Bairan meant to him.
In the end, she was the key.
Jiang Shijin advised her not to get involved, saying there was nothing to be done, that she had nothing to gain from it, and Zhou Lin wouldn’t appreciate her efforts.
Su Yi knew, but she couldn’t just do nothing.
She said to Jiang Shijin, "Jin-ge, if I said I really like A-Lin, would you believe me?"
Jiang Shijin didn’t answer, just looked at her with a look that said she was a lost cause.
Before going to see Wen Bairan, Su Yi had prepared herself to be kicked out.
She had heard things about her character over this time.
Beautiful, smart, outstanding.
A bookish vibe was her trademark, setting her apart from others.
Her aloofness stemmed from an inner confidence.
Even Jiang Shijin said that if not for Zhou Lin, she could have been doing even better for herself.
Su Yi couldn’t imagine how much better—she already had a respectable job, owned her own home, and could support herself in the city without relying on Zhou Lin or anyone else.
Wen Bairan was probably the kind of person parents always held up as the ideal—that "other child" she could never become.
Su Yi envied her.
Especially after learning that the man who handed her a handkerchief to wipe her tears outside the luxury store was her current boyfriend—then she was even more jealous.
Why?
Why could she have both Zhou Lin’s longing and such an exceptional man?
The temperature was sweltering, and the roadside traffic was nonstop.
Su Yi ditched the idea of taking the subway. She stood at the intersection, watching every car that emerged from the office building’s underground garage—like they held the future she yearned for.
Ten minutes later, she hailed a taxi.
If she wanted to belong, she had to see it up close to really get it.
Every second, someone is born, and someone dies in this world.
Su Yi was alive, and she wanted to live well, easier than before—there was nothing wrong with that.
It’s not wrong.
She told herself this and decided to go find Zhou Lin to tell him everything that had happened this week.
"Driver, to Jinhu Residences."
Jiang Shijin had been staying with Zhou Lin for a week now.
As a friend, he had been a real friend.
Su Yi said, "Jin-ge, you’ve had a rough week taking care of him these past few days. Go home and rest. By the way, that Bearbrick you asked A-Lin to find—he located it. It’s in the basement. I can’t move it; take it with you when you go."
After he left, Su Yi found the spare key to the bedroom door, steeled herself, and entered the master bedroom.
Night had fallen, and the faint nightlight on the bedside table was losing to the thickening dark in the room.
Everything was silent.
The nearly 2.5-meter-wide bed, with its black bedding, blended into the gloom. The shape barely breathing under the comforter was almost invisible if not looked at closely.
"Lin."
Su Yi walked over and got down on her knees beside the bed.
She tried to lift the corner of the blanket, carefully pulling it back just a crack, but was abruptly stopped by a pale, large hand.
Caught off guard, she was shoved backward onto the floor, her hand hitting the corner of a table with a thud—the pain felt like her bones had shattered.
Tears sprang to her eyes, but she bit her lip hard and didn't make a sound.
Only when the room fell silent again did she say, her voice choked, "I went to see her."
The person on the bed remained motionless.
As if asleep.
But Su Yi knew he was awake.
She continued, "I begged her to come see you, but she refused. She said you've already broken up. Lin, I know you're still hung up on her, but she's moved on."
"Her current boyfriend is her boss. You've seen him before. He was the one we ran into at Zhongzhan that day."
"Lin, I know you're holding a grudge over her betrayal, but she didn't betray you. They haven't been together long. At least, it was after you two broke up."
"Will you get up, please? I'd rather you go win her back than watch you keep hurting yourself like this."
Her sobbing voice drifted through the vast bedroom.
Beyond that, there was only utter silence.
Su Yi sniffled, straightened up, and gripped the corner of the quilt again. The livid wound on the back of her hand made her tremble; she hadn't forgotten the intense pain from earlier.
But Zhou Lin's breathing was right beneath.
After a long moment, as if mustering immense resolve, she yanked it back with all her strength.
"A-Lin—"
Zhou Lin lay facedown on the pillow, his pale face, untouched by daylight, exposed to the air.
His eyes were open, the once-fiery dark eyes now dull and lifeless.
Heart aching, Su Yi threw herself over, collapsing onto his back as she wept bitterly. "Lin, don't be like this, I'm so scared. Pull yourself together, please? I know you're hurting, get up. Go fight for her, go take her back! I'll help you. You were together for eight years after all—eight years of feelings, I can't even imagine. You'll win, I'll make sure you win!"
As she spoke, she stroked his ice-cold face with her hand.
Zhou Lin's state of despair terrified her to the core.
Tears and lips met his mouth as she kissed him desperately—his face, his lips, his eyes, his ears—wishing she could breathe her own life into him if only he would recover.
"Lin, she doesn't love you anymore, but I'm still here. Right here, watching over you every day. Lin, look at me."
...
/
Down in the basement, Jiang Shijin indeed found the half-person-high gift box.
He had the property management help him load it into his car, then went upstairs to say goodbye to Zhou Lin. He planned to check in on his parents and then come back.
On his way out, he saw Wen Bairan.
Long time no see—her uniquely distant beauty was as breathtaking as ever.
They went upstairs together.
In the elevator, Jiang Shijin said, "You shouldn't have come."
Wen Bairan hadn’t wanted to either, but if she didn’t, Su Yi would probably keep seeking her out.
"Did she come looking for you?" Jiang Shijin sighed with a headache, thinking this woman was likely after his money.
Wen Bairan glanced at him and said, "Not necessarily. Maybe she genuinely likes Zhou Lin?"
Jiang Shijin snorted. "Even though Zhou Lin's my brother, honestly, with his temperament, besides you, how many women could put up with him?"
Wen Bairan fell silent.
It seemed everyone understood Zhou Lin’s personality except himself.
After a long pause, Jiang Shijin suddenly said, "By the way, did you know Brother Li Yuan is coming back?"
Wen Bairan said she didn’t.
Li Yuan was Zhou Lin’s cousin and the only one in his extended family who hadn’t voted against her.
Unfortunately, he had gone abroad two years ago and was likely returning now to get married.
She didn’t know who the fiancé(e) was.
But Jiang Shijin said, "He’s still single."
Ding.
The elevator arrived.
Wen Bairan schooled her surprised expression and stepped out after him.
They stood before the door. Jiang Shijin said, "You open it. The passcode and fingerprint haven’t changed."
Wen Bairan didn’t move.
She only said three words.
"It’s not appropriate."
This used to be her and Zhou Lin’s home, their love nest, but now she was just an outsider. Entering without permission could even be grounds for calling the police.
Jiang Shijin felt a real chill at her cold humor and forced out a couple of awkward laughs. As the door opened, faint sounds from the master bedroom made him curse inwardly.
The apartment was spacious. To match the interior style, Wen Bairan had started preparing half a year in advance while working full-time, burning the midnight oil over it. Many furnishings had traveled across oceans to get here.
She remembered the statement sofa took the longest.
They waited eight months.
Back then, those eight months were filled with long, agonizing yet sweet anticipation.
But now, looking back, it felt like the blink of an eye.
Wen Bairan heard the noises clearly and said calmly, "I’m not going in."
Jiang Shijin grabbed her. "Don’t, he—"
A woman’s delicate cry cut him off: "A-Lin, don’t—"
Wen Bairan without expression pushed his hand away, as if staying a second longer disgusted her. "And don’t tell him I was here."
...