Chapter 38: New Life
Wen Bairan saw Li Yuan for the last time two weeks later.
It was the same hospital room.
The same window.
The sycamore trees outside had yellowed.
The person in the hospital bed had grown even thinner.
Li Yuan’s sunken cheeks lifted into a gentle smile for her; the gold-rimmed glasses couldn’t hide his ashen complexion.
He called her the same way he always had, "Xiao Bai, you’re here."
Wen Bairan’s heart ached, her voice choked with emotion. "Brother Li Yuan..."
The words caught in her throat, like shards of glass, stuck.
Zhou Lin stood leaning against the wall nearby, his face stormy.
He had just been reprimanded.
Li Yuan still refused to allow him to inform anyone. He had already put his affairs in order; when the time came, a lawyer would show up to read his will. He said it was better to endure a quick hurt than a slow agony—rather than have everyone be swallowed by grief ahead of time, it was better to rip the band-aid off.
Zhou Lin accused him of being selfish, saying he wasn’t thinking about his aunt’s feelings. He was their family’s only son; if his aunt knew he was doing this, she would absolutely go out of her mind!
When Wen Bairan arrived, they were still in a standoff. Zhou Lin couldn’t persuade him and was prepared to force the issue—after all, Li Yuan couldn’t fight him off physically now.
But Li Yuan took off his glasses and said calmly that if Zhou Lin dared reveal even a word, he would die in a place where none of them could ever find him.
By this point, he was already so far gone that he didn’t even have the strength to get out of bed. Zhou Lin didn’t believe he could go anywhere, yet his words still hit like a heavy stone, shattering his heart.
He didn’t want to be unable to find him.
Even less did he want him to die.
He pressed his lips into a thin line, his hands clenched at his sides as if ready to shatter the picture frame behind him at any moment.
Neither of them was willing to back down.
Wen Bairan was silent for a moment, then stepped forward to break the tension.
"A Lin, go buy me something to drink. It’s gotten cold outside—it’s chilly."
Zhou Lin paused, his eyes shifting to glance at her light knit jacket, his frown deepening. "Why didn’t you dress warmer?"
Even as he said this, he still stormed out.
The door closed.
The person in the hospital bed smiled.
"He only listens to you," Li Yuan said.
There’s always someone who can handle him.
There weren’t many people who could keep his cousin in check, but Wen Bairan was the one he’d always listen to.
He smiled tiredly, covering his mouth as he coughed. His glasses were set aside, and beneath them, his puffy eyes did nothing to dim the clarity of his gaze. He motioned for Wen Bairan to sit wherever she liked.
Wen Bairan walked over and saw the book in the original language on the bedside table. He had already read three-quarters of it; the folded-down corners were slightly worn along the bottom, as if fingers had brushed over them many times but lacked the strength to turn them.
Had he even lost the strength to turn pages?
Following her gaze, Li Yuan said calmly, "Since I got sick, my reading speed has slowed down. These past few days, my energy comes and goes. I don’t know if I’ll be able to finish this book."
Wen Bairan hadn’t wanted to cry, but two breaths after he finished speaking, she felt her nose sting.
She leaned over, crying by his hand.
"Brother Li Yuan, Brother Li Yuan..."
He had no color left at all; the marks from IV needles on the back of his hand were bruised and blotchy. The blue-and-white striped hospital gown revealed wrists so thin they were nothing but skin and bone.
In her memory, he had always loved using this hand to stroke her hair and call her Xiao Bai.
Wen Bairan cried silently, her shoulders trembling, heartbreaking to see.
"Don’t cry, Xiao Bai." Li Yuan reached out helplessly, his comforting gesture pausing above her head. His hand was already emaciated, his fingertips bony. Afraid he might scratch her, he trembled slightly and withdrew it.
He sighed. "Everyone dies someday."
Wen Bairan knew that, but she couldn’t accept it happening now.
Li Yuan was still so young. Everyone said he was a genius; he clearly still had a whole life ahead of him. He had brought Lianjie Daily Chemicals back to life, so why couldn’t he save himself?
The first half of his life had been too dazzling, making it impossible for her to accept his light fading now.
No, dimness would be fine.
She just couldn’t bear his impending disappearance.
Hearing Wen Bairan’s mournful sobs, Li Yuan smirked bitterly. "Maybe this is the burden of being a genius."
That’s what he said.
Even now, he remained so at peace.
Li Yuan said he had chosen to keep it hidden precisely because he was afraid everyone would be unable to accept it. He had originally planned to let everyone believe he was still living well abroad. Over time, as everyone built their own lives, they would naturally slowly forget about him.
Wen Bairan knew his peaceful nature didn’t want anyone to grieve for him. She also wanted to behave with grace in his final moments, to let him remember her smiling face, to at least let him see that she was someone who could be strong.
But she couldn’t do it.
In the past, she had admired him, idolized him, and even thought about becoming like him.
She truly saw Li Yuan as a brother.
If even she couldn’t accept his departure, it was easy to imagine how painful it would be for his family.
Crying, she asked him, since he had made this decision, why had he come back? Was it because he couldn’t bear to leave his family either?
She tried to persuade him, but Li Yuan said, "Xiao Bai, I came back because of you and A Lin."
She was speechless.
Before returning, Li Yuan had known exactly how things stood with his condition so thoroughly that he had already lost the will to live.
When he learned about their breakup, he had just undergone his last Gamma Knife treatment. The doctor was telling him that his tumor had spread too far, and any further treatments probably wouldn't work. Meanwhile, on the other end of the phone, someone was telling him that Zhou Lin had locked himself in his room, refusing to eat or drink, and asking what should be done.
He wasn’t a saint; he certainly felt discouraged in his final moments. But before dying, he still wanted to help his beloved cousin and dear friend one last time.
Even if only for one more day, at least he could leave them with something.
He said, "I'm sorry, Xiao Bai, for saying those things to you before."
Because his family had always hoped to see him married and settled, that day in the café, Wen Bairan’s bright, youthful manner gave him a foolish idea—perhaps he could ask her to help put on an act of family harmony for his family.
Her surprised expression when he spoke made Li Yuan realize just how sick he really was, that he could even entertain such an absurd thought.
He said he must have been not himself because of the tumor at that time, so irrational and selfish. "Thankfully, you didn’t agree, or I really wouldn’t know how to face A Lin."
Wen Bairan cried until her eyes were swollen. She straightened up, wiping her tears while sobbing, "I knew you were talking nonsense. I didn’t take it to heart."
Li Yuan was slightly taken aback, as if her words had hit a nerve. "But I really do like you."
"I like you too, like a brother..." she said, but then she saw Li Yuan smile, a smile so gentle it stunned her.
"Brother Li Yuan…"
"Shh." Li Yuan chuckled softly, giving her a knowing look. "Let’s not tell A Lin. He might get jealous."
"......"
Wen Bairan was so stunned she stopped crying.
She stayed in Li Yuan’s hospital room for a long time.
He told her many funny stories from his time abroad, as if comforting her in this way. He shared stories from his whole life with her.
He remained confident, gentle, his smooth voice and the same intense look in his eyes as vivid as ever.
Even now, his existence felt more real and certain than most people’s.
He said, "Xiao Bai, don’t be sad for me. I’ve lived a very fulfilling life, with no regrets. The only thing missing is that I occasionally felt lonely. But everyone gets lonely sometimes. Besides, I even wrote letters to myself."
He admitted with such candor and regret that the highest form of loneliness was being alone with yourself, yet he also felt at peace, believing it wasn’t such a big deal.
He smiled and said, "Probably no one understands me better than I do."
Wen Bairan listened quietly until he finished everything he wanted to say. When he grew tired, she helped him lie down and waited until he fell asleep.
As she left the room, she noticed Zhou Lin had been standing outside the whole time.
He had been waiting so long that the coffee in his hand had gone cold.
When she emerged, his ashen, stormy expression met her eyes, which were still red from crying.
Silence.
Silence.
He had overheard everything inside.
Neither dared to speak first, as if the one who broke the silence would surely collapse.
After a long while, the two wordlessly turned together, walking to the end of the corridor.
After not seeing him for a few days, Zhou Lin looked terrible.
The usually well-groomed young master hadn't shaved, the scent of his usual cologne long replaced by the hospital’s disinfectant smell. His clothes looked like he'd been wearing them for days.
During this time, aside from a daytime caregiver, he had been taking care of Li Yuan at night.
It was tough for someone who usually couldn't take care of himself to now learn how to care for others.
He said he often woke abruptly at night to find Li Yuan staring wide-eyed at the ceiling, the light from the monitor casting skeletal shadows across his face. When he went closer, he found him clenching his teeth, drenched in cold sweat, as if enduring immense pain.
It scared him to death, and he called for the doctor. They said a lot in the room, but he only understood one phrase: "It’s like countless bombs exploding in his brain."
The doctor said Li Yuan was unconscious at those times, his eyes open purely due to physiological reflexes. "But he’s truly remarkable—to endure such intense suffering without making a sound, his willpower far exceeding that of ordinary people."
Forget willpower! Zhou Lin just wanted to know if there was any way to ease his pain, to at least let him sleep peacefully.
The head of oncology regretfully told him that all they could do now was use medication to alleviate his pain.
He patted Zhou Lin’s shoulder and sighed. "You have to understand, at this point, such relief is minimal."
He didn’t understand.
Not at all.
What did "minimal" mean? And where was "here"?
Why could someone who could speak coherently during the day be sentenced to death by everyone at night?
Zhou Lin crouched by the corridor window, holding his head, so defeated he seemed barely there.
In an extremely subdued tone, he asked Wen Bairan if there were any advanced technologies that could help, anywhere in the world—he would take him there.
Wen Bairan was overcome by his pain, the emotions she had barely calmed in the room surging once more.
Her throat was too tight with emotion to speak.
After a long pause, she said, "No."
"The treatment and prognosis of brain tumors depend entirely on the malignancy and location of the tumor. Although medical science has advanced, we’re still not at the point where we can cure late-stage brain tumor patients. Li Yuan has been treated abroad for over two years—he knows this best... I believe he’s told you plenty of times."
Yes, plenty of times.
Not a single word he wanted to hear.
Zhou Lin slowly put his head in his hands.
After a long time, he said, "How could he be so cruel?"
He said, "Why did he have to make me face all this?"
He really couldn’t take it.
There were nights when he wished he could rip out all the tubes from Li Yuan’s body, just letting him slip away in his sleep.
He wanted to notify others, hoping someone could share this overwhelming weight. But Li Yuan didn’t even give him that chance.
Zhou Lin said through clenched teeth, and Wen Bairan could only try not to cry, her vision blurring.
She asked him how much time he had left.
Zhou Lin said he didn't know.
From the initial two months until now, Li Yuan's deterioration has exceeded everyone's imagination.
The marvel of the human body lies in how it takes ten months to develop but only a few nights to deteriorate.
Given Li Yuan's current state, it might be next month, or next week.
Maybe even tomorrow.
Wen Bairan felt a sharp pain in her chest, but she didn’t dare show it.
Outside the window, the autumn scenery was bleak, and the wind blew rain against the glass, face-to-face with her.
Li Yuan was like this wind—he had once touched all things.
At this moment, in the long corridor of the oncology department at Shenzhen University Hospital, ripples stirred in two people’s hearts, continuously writing his name.
Zhou Lin also turned his head and gazed at the same rain-veiled world with her, the redness at the corners of his eyes disappearing into the mist.
After a long silence, Wen Bairan changed the subject and asked Zhou Lin, "How’s your project going?"
Zhou Lin scoffed. How could he care about any project now? He had been staying here, afraid that the moment he stepped out of the hospital, he would receive a call announcing Li Yuan’s death. He didn’t dare leave even half a step.
Wen Bairan pressed her lips together and said she understood, but the work still needed to be done. He must go and do it, and do it well.
"A Lin, don’t let him down. He said earlier that he came back for the two of us."
The two of them were like Li Yuan’s children.
He had watched them grow from youthful naivety to where they were now, and in the end, they were the ones he found hardest to let go of.
Zhou Lin’s project was just the beginning. What Li Yuan wanted from him wasn’t just about completing a single task—he wanted him to understand that what is precious isn't possession, but loss. If life is only trapped in past days, everything becomes meaningless.
As for Wen Bairan, Li Yuan had also left a final wish for her.
/
Xiang Sun’s new company was established.
As the first and last suggestion from Li Yuan as a development consultant for the company, it was to participate in the bidding for the construction of the Dayun Proton Therapy Center.
A few days earlier, Dayun had publicly announced this construction project and welcomed those with ambition to join them.
What Xiang Sun’s company aimed to do was to focus on technology and break through barriers, creating a new era of proton therapy that truly serves the nation.
Song Xu had resigned from the company.
It was only when Wen Bairan received this news that she understood: his assignment from headquarters, doubling the performance metrics, and close ties with Dayun were all preparations for this step.
He had planned to start his own venture from the very beginning.
The domestic medical market is vast but intricate. Not only are doctor-patient relationships a challenge, but policy changes are also an ongoing challenge. With an aging population on the horizon, improving the quality of life for late-stage cancer patients and making healthcare more accessible are top priorities for the new company.
He asked Wen Bairan if she was willing to join him.
Of course, foreign companies offered stability and better benefits, so it would be understandable if she declined.
But he wanted her to carefully consider one thing.
"We both know you’re not someone who settles for the status quo."
If she only wanted stability, then continuing her relationship with Zhou Lin and being a stay-at-home dependent would be the steadiest path.
But she didn’t want that.
This was enough to show she had ambitions.
Wen Bairan said she needed time to think.
Then she teasingly asked, "Was it you who had Xinyi penalized? You really hold a grudge."
Qiao Yi said that after the holiday, Xinyi was reported for illegally bundling sales of medical consumables. The Health Commission canceled their contract with the Dayun laboratory and fined them 100,000 yuan.
It wasn’t a large sum, but it was clearly a warning.
Higher authorities had repeatedly emphasized that bundling medical consumables with illegal sales of medical equipment was forbidden, but many below still didn’t comply. Xinyi had evidently crossed a line and was made an example of.
Song Xu calmly said that the current medical reform climate was still unstable, and any attempt to exploit loopholes at this time could be singled out as an example. What did it have to do with him?
His righteous demeanor was convincing, as if he really hadn’t been the one behind the report.
Wen Bairan clicked her tongue and said he was terrifying, too calculating.
She was curious about Zhong Yu—she was the mastermind. Was he going to go easy on her out of chivalry?
"Compared to the value and benefits she might bring, the decision is straightforward."
As he said this, he held a string of bodhi beads he had just acquired.
The black diamonds faintly gleamed with an oil-like sheen in the night, subtle yet mysterious. It was said they were brought from Tibet. Each bead was the size of a thumb.
But the way he rubbed the beads was no different from handling a common stone.
Beneath slightly lowered eyelids, Song Xu’s indifferent gaze resembled that of a sinner scorning Buddha. For a moment, killing intent became palpable—a thin, sharp dark line in his eyelids.
Wen Bairan felt a tightness in her chest, and a thought crossed her mind: worse than having no faith is worshiping profit.
His relationship with Xinyi was about profit, with Zhong Yu it was profit, with Xiang Sun’s new company it was profit. And with her... perhaps it was too.
She found it hard to believe that someone so profit-driven had just been talking to her about working for patients’ welfare?
It was too contradictory.
After a quiet moment.
"I know about what happened to you before," he suddenly said.
Wen Bairan was stunned. "What thing?"
"The New Future Technology Company commercial fraud case," he said slowly.
Three years ago, Wen Bairan’s career was steadily rising.
If she could just assist in completing one more tech company merger, she would become the youngest mid-level manager in the company.
At the same time, Zhou Lin proposed taking her to meet his parents.
It was the first and only time during their relationship that he had suggested introducing her to his family.
The double joy of career and love left her feeling overwhelmingly fortunate.
That day at the dinner table, Zhou Lin's stern father asked Wen Bairan about her work. Upon learning that her company was planning to acquire New Future Technology, he casually remarked, "Have you seen the product?" Little did she know, this offhand comment would later become the key evidence used to condemn her.
New Future was selling PRP purification technology at the time. PRP (Platelet-Rich Plasma) refers to drawing blood from one’s own veins and processing it through a centrifuge to obtain a highly concentrated amount of platelets. Platelets are one of the body’s most crucial healing cells, aiding in coagulation, stopping bleeding, and repairing damaged blood vessels. After purification and collection, catalysts like thrombin are added to activate and release various growth factors and proteins. When reinfused into the body, it promotes tissue regeneration and repair.
This technology is primarily used in orthopedics and dentistry today, treating conditions such as arthritis and small-area bone defects in the oral and maxillofacial regions, with positive treatment outcomes.
Additionally, some beauty institutions claim that this serum reinfusion technology can preserve youth and combat aging. Due to its genuine tissue repair capabilities, it gained widespread popularity in private beauty circles for a time. However, many unaccredited facilities performed the procedure improperly, significantly increasing the risk of infection.
Both then and now, there have been only two methods for PRP preparation—density gradient centrifugation and plasma exchange separation—with the former being the most commonly used. New Future’s technology, based on centrifugation, not only ensured the concentration of platelets in the preparation but also enhanced their activity. At a time when the purification rate was generally around 70%, New Future achieved 89%, nearly 90%.
Wen Bairan patiently explained that mergers and acquisitions involving technological patents primarily rely on research data and development outcomes. The authenticity of the data had already been verified, and if applied on a large scale, it could benefit many patients. Since the preparation required drawing the patient’s own blood, a higher purification rate would not only reduce the patient’s own blood loss to some extent but also cut costs.
At the time, she was young and accomplished, brimming with confidence, and her words carried weight.
After listening, Zhou’s father, usually stern and unsmiling, actually chuckled.
"I wish you success."
"Thank you."
Back then, Wen Bairan had no idea of the true meaning behind those four words. It was only later that she realized how deeply ironic his knowing smile had been.
Two months after their meeting, the acquisition was nearing its conclusion when news suddenly broke from Y Province, thousands of miles away—New Future Technology Co., Ltd. was suspected of commercial fraud, and all its employees had been arrested.
By the time the incident came to light, they had used the same methods: showcasing fake technological patents, inviting companies with investment intentions for on-site visits, and leveraging specialized laboratory equipment and environments to produce falsified data. They had successfully defrauded four companies of investments.
The largest sum came from a medical group in Y Province, which was scammed out of CNY 30 million.
Upon learning this, her company immediately halted the acquisition process, but the losses from initial investments had already been incurred, and someone had to be held accountable.
Wen Bairan was the first to bear the brunt.
Rumors spread within the company that she had already gotten wind of the situation but concealed the truth for an improper promotion. Some even claimed she had already secured another job—if the scandal had broken just one day later, she would have jumped ship to another company with glorious achievements.
Her direct supervisor, who had valued her greatly before the incident, was the first to suggest she resign voluntarily.
"Xiao Wen, of course I believe you. But this matter is too big for me to decide alone. Firing you was a decision from upper management. Because you’ve worked under me for so long, it’s better for everyone if you resign proactively."
Wen Bairan was unable to defend herself.
She couldn’t prove she hadn’t done something she never did. Besides, headhunters had indeed approached her earlier with quite attractive offers. Those who reported her were clearly well-prepared, even producing screenshots of her contact with headhunters.
Whether fired or resigning voluntarily, she had no choice.
No one cared about the truth anyway.
She returned home in despair. Zhou Lin asked why she was back from work so early, and she told him about losing her job.
Someone who never paid much attention to her work subconsciously remarked that the name of New Future’s CEO sounded familiar when she mentioned it.
Zhou Lin recalled that some company had previously sought cooperation with his father. Their qualifications seemed alright, but his father used some unconventional methods to investigate and found out the person had a history of fraud, so the matter was dropped.
He had only overheard part of it—maybe he misheard, or maybe it was just a case of identical names.
He had no idea what this meant.
But Wen Bairan’s mind exploded with realization, and she understood everything in an instant.
Young and proud, she had never experienced such a level of false accusation and blow in her smooth-sailing life.
She had a huge argument with Zhou Lin, so intense she wanted to smash everything in the house.
She yelled, "I’ve never expected to gain anything from being with you! I climbed to this position entirely on my own! How could your father destroy all of it?! Are my pride and self-respect worth so little in your eyes?! Am I not even deserving of respect from you and your family?!"
Zhou Lin was stunned. What had his father done?
Wen Bairan’s tears fell to the ground with a splash. "He didn’t do anything! Precisely because he did nothing!"
He had just arrogantly watched her walk right into this scam.
She was filled with hatred, resentment, and outrage.
She couldn’t help but wonder: if she hadn’t met him as Zhou Lin’s girlfriend but as his classmate, friend, or even a stranger they’d just met, would she have ended up like this?
She locked herself in her room.
And cried her heart out.
A long time later, Zhou Lin said from outside that he was going home for a bit.
At that time, his father only gave him one sentence: First, I have no obligation to remind her; second, didn’t you say not to interfere in any of your affairs? Third, the fact that you’re here today shows that she, like you, attributes her failures to others. Blaming others just shows you’re not capable. I told you long ago—she can’t help you.
Zhou Lin was furious.
Furious at his father’s high-handedness, at his constant belittling, and now for dragging Wen Bairan into it.
He caused a scene at home and stormed out, swearing to cut off all ties with everyone in that house.
While he was gone, Wen Bairan had already calmed down.
She had cried, screamed, vented, and then admitted that no excuse could cover up the mistakes she had made.
She hadn’t verified the authenticity of the technology; hadn’t handled workplace relationships carefully; hadn’t been cautious with her words and actions, leaving herself vulnerable.
Strictly speaking, Zhou Lin’s father had indeed reminded her—she just hadn’t picked up on it.
Since all the charges were valid, what right did she have to feel wronged?
And she had yelled at Zhou Lin like that earlier.
He knew nothing about it.
Then again, why should he be allowed to remain ignorantly at ease?
One was his father, the other his girlfriend—whoever had any strong feelings about this, he was inevitably involved.
Wen Bairan felt guilty about her earlier outburst but also justified in her anger. She decided to wait until Zhou Lin returned and see whether to continue using him as an emotional punching bag.
But who could have guessed that he would come back even angrier than she was?
After she persuaded him for a long time, the two of them sat on the living room floor and went through the entire incident and his father’s words from beginning to end.
Seeing the unmistakable disappointment and dejection on Wen Bairan’s face, Zhou Lin held her, his heart aching, and said, "Don’t worry, I’ve got you. I can support you forever. Actually, I’ve been wanting to start my own company for a long time but never knew what to do. Now it’s perfect—you can help me. We’ll do whatever you love, whether it’s healthcare or R&D. With me here, I’ll be your support, your wallet. Ran Ran, this time we won’t rely on anyone. We’ll rely on ourselves."
At the time, they were only twenty-five.
Zhou Lin’s aimless first twenty-five years seemed to come to an end that night.
His chest swelled with the phrase "rely on ourselves."
Though Wen Bairan still harbored unspeakable bitterness and grievances, what moved her more was that Zhou Lin finally wanted to do something meaningful.
They embraced, made peace, forgave each other, and vowed that neither work nor family could break their love for each other.
Full of hope, she said, "A-Lin, we will definitely rebuild a future that belongs to us."
Then.
Then...
One month,
Two months,
Three months,
There was no sign of work, no sign of any business venture.
Zhou Lin had been completely cut off financially.
They were stuck in that large apartment at Golden Lake Residence, almost unable to even pay the property fees.
Jiang Shijin came to their rescue like a godsend.
Wen Bairan couldn't bear to see Zhou Lin stuck at home like a caged animal. His sullen silence filled the entire house with a suffocating atmosphere.
She asked Jiang Shijin to take him out to unwind.
Zhou Lin was dragged out and didn't return until the third night.
Seeing the haze of alcohol on his face, Wen Bairan knew in her heart that the night three months ago was just a dream.
The dream was over.
He was still Young Master Zhou.
Resigned, she went out to look for a job again.
But she couldn't find one.
After such a massive scam, for the sake of the company's reputation and development, she had become the sole scapegoat.
The marketing director who was fired alongside her couldn't handle the pressure and chose to return to her hometown for a stable life.
But Wen Bairan had nowhere to return to.
She had to stay, grit her teeth, and endure those difficult times.
During that period, she tried countless times to rekindle the ambition Zhou Lin had shown that night. To no avail.
She began to realize he was pretending to be asleep. If things went on like this, he would keep pretending forever.
Before Li Yuan went abroad, he told her, "Xiao Bai, your future may not lie with him."
Wen Bairan thought he was right, utterly right.
But she couldn't bring herself to leave.
She knew Zhou Lin also wanted to defy his father.
That night, he had been hurt too. She could see the anger in him when he returned home. He had been trapped in that cage longer than she had.
She wanted to believe that his words about making it on their own were genuine.
Just not now.
Later, Li Yuan used his industry connections to help her join a pharmaceutical company, where she began working as a pharmaceutical sales rep.
In truth, the hardest part of sales was her pride.
But at this point, what pride did she have left?
For over a year, she spent her days running around to hospitals, visiting every department, and even pharmacies.
Nights were filled with endless social engagements.
Her reputation in the industry plummeted.
Whenever someone mentioned the words "new future," she tried to make herself invisible, hoping to avoid the topic, because if she were noticed, the deal would surely fall through.
She was that cautious.
Yet, in the end, she lost this job because of Zhou Lin.
At first, Zhou Lin didn’t understand why she had to push herself so hard, like a bow stretched to its limit every day. He intensely disliked her tense state but couldn’t articulate why.
For those two years, he toned down a great deal for her.
But after he smashed an ashtray on her client, Wen Bairan told him, "If you want to be a loser, go ahead. I don’t want to, and I’m not going to be one."
Zhou Lin was instantly enraged. Her ambition and disdain for the word "loser" stabbed sharply at his long-neglected heart, which had grown wild with inactivity.
From then on, he never wanted to hear her talk about work again.
It only made both of them miserable.
In the days that followed, he didn’t know what Wen Bairan was thinking, but he could faintly sense that he loved her more and more.
So he grew more and more tormented.
Until Wen Bairan switched to her current company.
Perhaps heaven took pity on her efforts over those two years. When she joined, the company wasn’t a foreign enterprise yet, and the background check was sloppy. Jiang Shijin, acting as her supervisor, sang her praises extravagantly.
After joining, she hid her sharp edges, blending into mediocrity, hoping to secure a stable place there.
...
Wen Bairan had never shared these hardships with anyone.
How did Song Xu find out about them?
In the suite, they stood at their usual vantage point, looking out at the same night view as yesterday.
Yet the feeling between them was no longer the same.
Wen Bairan took out the Queen of Naples he had given her from her bag.
She wondered if Song Xu was hinting at something.
He had previously mentioned the palace at Versailles to her, and now he gave her this watch—both coincidentally tied to two famous women in European history.
One was the king's publicly acknowledged mistress. Louis XV, at the peak of his love for her, built the Petit Trianon for her, but sadly she never saw it completed.
The other was the queen, held in high regard, for whom Breguet, filled with admiration, devoted himself to crafting the legendary watch, though the prototype of this watch has been lost.
Miraculously, these two women from very different backgrounds both met a regretful end.
What did he mean?
That she would end up the same way?
"This watch is too expensive; I can't take it," Wen Bairan said.
Song Xu looked at her, not at the box she was returning.
For the first time, his eyes held warmth when he looked at her.
Like ocean water warmed by underwater volcanic lava, the tide in his gaze wasn't scalding, but it was soothing enough.
Just like his kiss that day.
Song Xu said quietly, "Don't measure your worth with numbers; it's not important."
Then what is important?
He had just told her that adults make choices based solely on benefit and value.
Now he was contradicting himself?
Song Xu moved toward her, raised his hand, and gently stroked her face with the beads.
The diamonds were cold, but his hand was warm.
His body temperature imbued the cool stones with a lingering warmth, and along with his gaze, they traced her face, lips, ears, before finally lifting her hair up, holding it in his hand, and gently playing with it.
Amid the barely audible rustling in her ears, Wen Bairan suddenly felt a conflicting feeling of separation.
It was as if she had been torn in two.
Her emotions were slowly getting lost in his gentleness, while her rationality resisted, insisting that this was all fake.
She lowered her eyes slightly.
"I don't mind your past. At least up until today, your performance as a subordinate has given me reason to believe you can do even better in the future. So, if you're willing, P&t Tech always has a place for you," Song Xu said.
"Also."
His other hand went around her waist, pulling her close. He held her tightly, making her stand on her toes, but it still wasn't enough.
He lifted her slightly higher, looking directly into her eyes, slowly examining her eyes, still puffy from her tears that day.
In the dim light, Song Xu's long eyes showed a hint of compassion. She knew he didn’t see her as pitiful or foolish, but he surely didn’t realize that even this degree of compassion was a dangerous weapon to her in moments like this.
She refused to read more into the meaning behind his gaze, reminding herself that the walls she'd worked so hard to build couldn’t be easily breached by someone else again.
But he was watching her too closely.
Even their breathing became tangled.
Wen Bairan trembled instinctively, both physically and emotionally.
Her eyelashes fluttered as she tried to look away, but the hand at her waist dug firmly into her flesh.
She gasped at the pain, her gaze snapped upward, suddenly meeting Song Xu's profound eyes.
She went still.
The distance between the high-rise and the night sky felt so close that the stars seemed within reach. In their overlapping peripheral vision, a plane heading somewhere unknown trailed red flashing lights as it passed overhead.
Suddenly, something seemed to flicker and fall into her eyes. Wen Bairan instinctively shut them.
The man's voice, deep and smooth like a cello, flowed through the darkness.
"I don’t want to take this gift back. I hope you understand."
Song Xu lowered his head, drawing closer despite the tense line of her lips.
"Vivi, I told you, I’m not a gentleman."
"I can’t help but listen, look, and feel moved."
Especially since I’ve looked,
listened,
and already,
been moved.