Chapter 74 Extra 4
The spring night breeze wasn’t sharp enough, but the scent of plants coming to life rose from the soil.
There was no moon or stars visible overhead, yet the man’s gaze was piercing enough.
Wen Bairan’s heart raced, like someone was squeezing her chest. Dizziness and confusion washed over her simultaneously, and the look in Song Xu’s eyes as he gazed down at her made her slightly breathless.
"Song Xu... what’s wrong with you..." Her throat felt parched and scratchy, and even the sound of her own voice felt raspy.
Song Xu was looking at her with an expression she had never seen before—both gentle and commanding, filled with raw aggression and deep devotion. He didn’t speak, but Wen Bairan could almost hear a sigh in his gaze.
Light.
Faint.
Not melancholy or helpless, but rather... hurt?
The thought flashed for less than a second before it was shattered by the intensity of his kiss.
She truly marvelled at her own imagination.
Hurt?
How could Song Xu feel hurt?
He had gotten everything he had envisioned.
Love, marriage, and her.
This kiss wasn’t gentle, nor was it ambiguous—it was just raw release and possession.
A declaration that she was his.
The sharp, domineering force of his teeth biting her lips was both sharp and possessive.
Wen Bairan flinched with a soft whimper, humming softly as she pushed against him. Even in his drunken state, his strength was considerable. After two failed attempts to push him away, she reached up and tugged at his collar. Her fingertips brushed against the warmth of his neck, and she jerked back from the cold.
Four hours had passed since she returned home.
The driver had dropped him off downstairs and left. Song Xu hadn’t waited in the car. For these four hours, he had stood right here, watching the lights in her apartment turn on and off.
The pack of cigarettes he carried with him was finished. If she hadn’t come down, he didn’t know how he would have gotten through the night.
Wen Bairan’s whimpers gradually faded as she felt his kiss slowly turn softer, more lingering. Her heart clenched tighter.
The crazy thought from earlier resurfaced, growing more definite.
In the heavy, mingled breaths between them, his scent carried a trace of bitterness.
She didn’t know how much time had passed when Song Xu finally released her. By then, she was nearly breathless, collapsing into his arms like a fish out of water, gasping in quick, uneven breaths.
Song Xu’s car was parked by the roadside.
A familiar spot.
A familiar position.
Wen Bairan didn’t actually want to be there, and Song Xu also seemed uncomfortable.
His furrowed brow concealed pain, and his pent-up desire, like a balloon, filled every inch between them.
When she bit him, she clearly felt him stiffen.
A brief release wasn’t enough to erase the cold and loneliness of those four hours.
By the time Wen Bairan recovered, she had already been placed in the driver’s seat. Song Xu’s dissatisfied voice was icy as he ordered her to drive.
Somehow, she always found herself instinctively doing what he said.
But as her foot pressed on the accelerator, the ache between her legs made her tremble uncontrollably.
Song Xu reached over and still her, his voice softening as he said, "No rush."
His words said there was no rush, but his caressing hand showed no patience.
"Mmm..."
Wen Bairan concentrated hard on driving.
The streets in the middle of the night were empty, with scarcely another car in sight.
When they entered the parking garage, the vast emptiness made the sparks between them ignite instantly.
Still tangled in a kiss, they entered the elevator. The interior was too bright, and the presence of the camera made it impossible for Wen Bairan to let go completely. She repeatedly turned her head away from him, reminding him, "Stop fooling around, someone’s watching."
Her voice was soft as a cat’s purr.
Song Xu’s gaze darkened as he wrapped his arms around her and turned, hiding her completely in the corner in front of him, leaving no part of her exposed.
They soon reached their floor. Wen Bairan wanted to step out, but he refused.
Bending down, he scooped her up into his arms and strode out.
Their lips barely separated.
The curving hallway felt like an endlessly stretching dream. Wen Bairan recalled that night when she had gone to find him, lingering outside his door for what felt like an eternity.
Her indecision and doubt grew more anxious with time, and she felt she might regret it and leave at any moment.
But just as she was about to turn away, he opened the door.
Perfect timing, an accepting, deep embrace.
Even though she knew he had his own motives, Wen Bairan found it impossible to hate him.
On the contrary, she had always felt that he had saved her in that moment.
Tonight, they paused again at the door. The card key was in Song Xu’s trouser pocket.
Wen Bairan’s soft, boneless hand slid down his chest, reaching into the deep pocket. The sharp edge of the card key felt scorching hot, and she trembled at the sensation but didn’t pull back. Instead, she boldly gripped it.
Song Xu sucked in a sharp breath at the pressure.
"Is this it?" she asked coyly, her eyes seductive as she teased him with a knowing smile against his lips.
His deep-set eyes instantly ignited with fire.
The hands supporting her waist shifted deftly, sliding down her back to grip her thighs, lifting her until she was pressed against his chest.
"Song Xu! I'm going to fall!"
He moved too quickly. Wen Bairan didn’t have time to grab hold of him. Just as her whole body slid down, she felt him give her a slight lift, holding her firmly as he threatened, "You tell me."
"......"
Wen Bairan’s face flushed instantly.
He swiped the card to open the door; there was a row of long cabinets in the entryway behind it, at just the right height.
He set her down on it.
He closed and locked the door.
The brief heated encounter in the car still had its lingering effects, and her defenseless state made it all too easy for him to launch a new round of attacks at any moment. Wen Bairan’s fingers went weak, almost dropping the thin key card. Afraid it might fall, she had no choice but to grip it tightly in her palm.
Song Xu was unusually unrestrained tonight.
Whether it was because he’d been drinking or something else, she couldn’t tell.
His movements were somewhat rough, his chest harder than the stone surface beneath her.
The cold countertop and his scorching body heat formed a stark contrast. Wen Bairan tilted her head back, fumbling for the switch by the door, and turned on the light.
But she almost wished she hadn’t.
Song Xu’s desire-shrouded face was intensely shadowed. Her accidentally dropped gaze was instantly swallowed by the shadowed intensity of the lower half of his face. Her heart raced so fast she could barely feel it beat.
Excitement and unease washed over her at once. Aside from clinging to him, she had no other choice.
"Song Xu..."
"Hmm."
"Song Xu..."
"Hmm, don’t stop."
"I..."
The words "I like you" were stuck firmly in her throat, unable to escape or be swallowed.
She was lost in the fantasy he’d woven.
The man gripped her neck, the slightly raised crimson mole under his thumb experiencing sheer ecstasy in the near-suffocating sensation.
His deep voice was like a dream.
He said,
Don’t keep me waiting again.
……
The night was long.
Yet it also felt short.
Wen Bairan blacked out and came to, came to and blacked out again. Her tears were nearly drained, her voice hoarse, and her entire body completely drained.
Her last conscious memory was him carrying her into the bathroom to be cleaned.
They had been naked in front of each other so many times that his cleaning was so efficient Wen Bairan felt less like a person and more like an object.
It seemed from the beginning until now, she had never felt guarded or ashamed towards him.
They were laid bare, body and soul.
Someone once said the path to a woman’s heart is through sex.
Song Xu was probably the perfect example of that saying.
From desire to emotion.
How much of it was accomplished through sex, Wen Bairan herself couldn’t say.
After cleaning, she was fully awake.
The two lay in bed, facing the window in a spooning embrace, watching the first light breaking through the morning fog, slowly seeping into their eyes.
Song Xu gently kissed the nape of her neck, her cheeks glowing softly in the faint light, their softness irresistible.
Wen Bairan felt ticklish but had no strength. She leaned her head back against him and asked hoarsely, "Are you sober now?"
After a long moment, a deep voice came from behind, "I wasn’t drunk."
Yeah, right.
He was clearly not quite himself last night.
Wen Bairan turned her face slightly. Song Xu faced the morning light, yet half of his face remained immersed in the shadow of her hair. Even now, there was still a hint of intensity in his expression.
What could make someone always so collected become so intense?
She wanted to turn over, but her waist ached like it was splitting in two.
Luckily, he helped her.
He held her and turned her towards himself. Face to face, he lowered his head to kiss her forehead.
Nestled in his arms, Wen Bairan couldn’t help but look up, using her fingertips to trace his features, then focusing on his eyes. What did they remind her of? Wen Bairan thought for a moment. She had once watched a documentary featuring many show dogs. Among them was a retired border collie who had won numerous awards, but away from the spotlight, watching from a corner as other dogs finished training and were taken home by their owners had left her melancholy for a long time.
A champion dog bred for competition and a pet dog sent to training school by its owner were entirely different worlds. He seemed to know what his glorious achievements meant to him, and equally knew that without the championship titles, all the admiration would fade away. He had no owner and no fallback. No one would come to take him home when he didn’t perform well, telling him he was still the family’s treasure.
Last night, the way Song Xu looked at her was very much like that champion dog.
Pride and loneliness mingled, superiority still there, yet unable to conceal that faint trace of longing.
Wen Bairan didn’t know if she was seeing things, but she was willing to believe he truly wanted these things.
She even had a faint thought—did Song Xu envy Zhou Lin?
She didn’t ask.
She figured he wouldn’t answer anyway.
He was so proud; the question would probably feel like an affront.
She looked at him, gradually growing drowsy.
Jet lag and the intense battle had drained all her energy. Before falling asleep, she cupped his face and gave him a gentle kiss, then nestled into his shoulder, whispering softly that she was going to sleep.
Almost instantly, her even, steady breathing seeped into Song Xu’s being.
He held her, kissed her bare shoulder, then tucked her in tightly with the quilt to keep her warm as she slept.
Wen Bairan wasn’t even aware she’d voiced that question.
The dawn light from outside had reached the edge of the bed, but Song Xu’s eyes remained shadowed.
He pondered the question deeply and concluded that envy wasn’t the right word.
He was merely perplexed.
He couldn’t understand how such a doting family could exist.
He didn’t get why someone could still be loved even if they were a good-for-nothing.
He didn’t comprehend why, even after breaking up, Wen Bairan continued to protect his dignity and refused to let anyone badmouth him.
By every measure, Zhou Lin was no match for him.
So how had he gotten all this?
It was a subtle kind of psychology.
There was competition and comparison, but the rival didn’t quite feel like a rival.
He wanted Wen Bairan to see the gap between the two of them, to shift her attention to him—but that alone didn’t seem enough.
That night, in the suite at the W Hotel, with the river roaring outside, the cold yet protective look Wen Bairan gave him after taking a phone call pierced him like a thorn.
It lodged in some unknown corner, one even he couldn’t locate.
Only when blood pulsed through could he feel its presence.
That gaze, that fervor of her partiality.
He had never received it.
But why shouldn’t he?
Family wasn’t the source of his security; his own resilience was what kept him standing.
He didn’t understand how Zhou Lin could so naturally lean on Wen Bairan’s shoulder.
Just like he didn’t get why she said he had never treated her like a person.
It was only today, when she shielded him with her body, that he began to understand.
The body’s instinctive reactions don’t lie.
But because he had never received it, even though he felt joy, he wasn’t sure if it was what he had once seen in her eyes.
Until at the hotel entrance, after she saw someone off into the car, he thought she would leave directly, but she turned back.
The night wind blurred his vision, but every movement of her hair and the sway of her scarf’s tassels as Wen Bairan ran toward him were perfectly etched into his eyes.
She stopped to touch his face—with warm hands, concerned eyes, and a doting voice.
‘You head back to the hotel alone for now, okay?’…
Alone, go back first.
Which meant she would come again.
If she came, he wouldn’t be alone.
He might innately lack the ability to describe subtle emotions; the taste of that moment was like all the alcohol he’d drunk that night fermenting in his body at once.
A surging, massive dizziness filled his chest.
He felt himself slowing down.
He wanted to ask her if his feeling was wrong, but she had already walked away.
After losing sight of her, the designated driver confirmed the address with him, and he gave a different one.
Outside her building, standing in the wind, Song Xu felt drunk.
Too impulsive, not calm enough.
Unlike his usual self.
But this feeling wasn’t entirely like being drunk.
His mind was clear, his body was too, yet his senses felt like they were soaking in warm water—unable to pinpoint what felt good or what didn’t.
All he knew was that he wanted to see her, to see if she would really come find him.
Those four hours in the cold wind passed in an instant.
Cigarettes and the wind kept him company.
Cold and heat faded away; all sounds faded except for her sudden appearance, uncertainly calling his name, ‘Song Xu?’
Only then did he snap out of it.
He woke and saw her—still with glistening eyes, still with warm palms, her worried yet comforting expression weaving into a nearly eternal picture.
From the very beginning, this was the expression he had wanted.
He wanted it.
To be loved.
Loved by her.
Forcefully.
Obsessively.
Even if it meant eternal damnation, he wanted to seize her.
To make this kind of love his.
Envy Zhou Lin?
No.
He never craved anything beyond himself.
But because she deserved better.
So did he.
The warm spring sun was like ultra-fine gold dust, falling in a flurry as his eyelashes lowered. The woman in his arms slept with a serene, almost angelic beauty. Song Xu sank down, contentedly embracing her as they drifted into sleep.
//
Wen Bairan ended up going alone to see Grandma Wen.
She had asked Song Xu, and he explicitly said he wouldn’t go, so she didn’t press him.
Grandma Wen was doing well, though recently she had trouble resting due to the commotion caused by her cousin and the cousin’s boyfriend. She’d heard that the cousin was determined to marry this man, even threatening to quit school. Her father was adamant about not allowing her to marry before graduating, and in a fit of anger, she threatened to quit school altogether. Worried she might actually go through with it, her father locked her in her room, only allowing the door to be opened for meals and no visitors allowed.
Grandma Wen secretly gave the key to Wen Bairan and asked her to go persuade her cousin. She went.
But she didn’t try to persuade her.
She spent two hours in her cousin’s room, listening to her complaints, watching her cry, and looking through countless sweet photos of the couple.
Wen Bairan looked at each one and said, “It’s good. Relationships are something only you can understand. Outsiders offering too much advice can seem intrusive. You’re at an age where you’re willing to throw yourself all in, so go ahead and go for it—just don’t let yourself regret it later. Even if you’re trapped for now, believe that if it’s real, it won’t slip away. And if it does, don’t bother chasing it. The most important thing is: you cannot drop out of school.”
“The path is yours to walk, whether it’s smooth or rugged. The only thing you can do is hold tightly to your walking stick and never discard it, no matter what you encounter. Your education is that walking stick.”
Feelings come and go without a trace—today’s passion may shatter by tomorrow. Only by studying well and building a foundation for yourself can you have the confidence and capital to either build independence from your family or pursue love. On the contrary, if your mind remains empty, never growing or improving year after year, even the best person will be dragged down, and the best days will be worn away. The only way to keep love alive is to love yourself first.
Having heard too much of the clichéd advice urging her to break up, Wen Bairan’s understanding was like a guiding light in the night sky.
Her cousin, still a little dazed, might not have fully absorbed all her words, but she finally stopped mentioning dropping out.
With that done, Wen Bairan returned to Grandma Wen’s room to report. Grandma praised her for having grown up.
Wen Bairan smiled. She was already twenty-nine this year—she had been an adult for a while.
Grandma Wen took her hand and said, “When I saw you before, I still thought of you as a child. No matter how sensible you were, you couldn’t handle much. Today, it feels different.”
What was different?
Grandma Wen thought for a moment and said, “It’s inner strength.”
Her face was still soft, her eyes exactly like when she was a child, but there was something solid behind that clarity, making her less fragile.
“Although women don’t need to be stubborn, glass is too fragile. It’s better to live like a flexible piece of wood—beauty is secondary, the ability to bend freely is what matters most.”
The old lady was sharp and clear-minded, her words wise and big-hearted.
Before she turned twenty-eight, Wen Bairan had been naïve, believing that to love someone meant giving everything, even herself.
She didn’t think that way anymore, because Song Xu had told her he would come to love her.
She returned the mutton-fat jade bracelet to the old lady, but Grandma insisted she keep it, saying outright that she should consider it as having accepted it and now passing it on to her as a dowry. She also gave her a card—some money she had quietly saved over the years. She pressed the card into Wen Bairan’s hand, urging the two of them to go out and have fun whenever they could, to buy something nice, however small—it’s the gesture that matters.
Wen Bairan was so moved she began to regret not insisting Song Xu come along.
He should have seen how reasonable her grandmother was—not only understanding and supporting their decision not to hold a banquet but also giving them money.
After cuddling with Grandma a bit, Wen Bairan happily accepted, planning to return the money along with a red envelope on Grandma’s birthday this year.
The grandmother and granddaughter chatted affectionately until evening. When her aunt returned from playing cards, she invited Wen Bairan to stay for dinner, but Wen Bairan politely declined.
Song Xu was still waiting for her at the hotel.
Her aunt was good-hearted, though lately her daughter’s rebellion had left her heartbroken. Eager for some company, she urged Wen Bairan to bring Song Xu along for dinner. She also remembered the mistake from their last meeting and apologetically said she wanted to apologize to him.
Wen Bairan smiled and said there was no need—they had to return to Shenjiang that evening, so they wouldn’t be staying for dinner, but they would get together next time they visited.
Hearing this, her aunt didn’t press further, only reminding her to be sure to come for a meal next time.
Wen Bairan promised she would.
Though her aunt could be a bit crude, she was straightforward.
If she hadn’t brought it up, Wen Bairan might have almost forgotten about the time her aunt mistook Song Xu for someone else.
After leaving the house, the more amusing it became the more she thought about it. She called Song Xu: “Come pick me up. I’ll give you fifteen minutes.”
She was growing increasingly accustomed to speaking to him in his own tone, enjoying the cheekiness of it.
Song Xu didn’t mind. Since getting married, he had become much more accommodating.
Fifteen minutes meant fifteen minutes—to the second.
Wen Bairan watched as his car approached from afar. In the dimming evening light, the headlights were too bright, and the driver was half in shadow, his expression unclear.
Hiding a smile, she pulled open the car door and got in. Her first words were: “Why are you so petty?”
Song Xu: ?
Wen Bairan fastened her seatbelt and said casually, “My aunt only misspoke that one time. Are you really going to hold a grudge for life?”
Song Xu understood what she was referring to and said coolly, “It won’t take that long.”
So he was still holding onto it.
Wen Bairan was both annoyed and amused. This guy was perfect in every way except for this petty streak—it was truly exasperating.
Last time, her aunt hadn’t known the situation and called him “Xiao Zhou.” If he didn’t want to see her, fine, but he’d avoided Grandma Wen too.
So stingy.
But since he’d at least given a wedding gift to make up for it, she decided not to make a big deal out of it.
She pulled two cards from her pocket, laying them out on her palm. “The one on the left is from my grandma. I plan to return it to her on her birthday. The one on the right is from my uncle and aunt—they felt sorry for you. My aunt even gave me a really expensive bedding set. So, are you satisfied now?”
Song Xu glanced at her right hand, his tone still haughty. “They feel sorry for me, so they give you a gift. The logic doesn’t quite track.”
Wen Bairan found his hypocrisy amusing. “You’re so childish, President Song.”
She stuffed the cards into his coat pocket. “Call it your allowance. Will that do?”
Song Xu neither agreed nor disagreed, starting the car.
Though his mood was still hard to read, the relaxed set of his profile seemed much friendlier than usual.
Wen Bairan felt he was finally acting more human.
Smiling, she leaned over to plant a kiss on his cheek as a reward and asked if they were heading straight back to Shenjiang.
Their marriage leave had lasted over two months. Never mind his company—just Yingchuang alone had spent a fortune recruiting Song Xu, and yet he had been absent for over two months after signing the contract. People were probably starting to think it was a scam.
Song Xu was quite astonished by her bold choice of words; she actually linked scamming to him. In a way, he was the least likely person to scam anyone.
Wen Bairan’s eyes went wide at his words. "You don’t scam people? What about Xinyi? And Zhong Yu. And Xiang Sun and me."
It was only later that she found out even Xiang Sun was unaware of his dealings with Yingchuang. By the time Xiang Sun learned about it, Wen Bairan had already secured her shares.
He called in a fury to confront them, thinking he was going to reprimand Song Xu for transferring the shares to Wen Bairan without discussion. Instead, he ended up complaining about how they were out having fun while he was grinding away at the company, feeling it was unfair.
Wen Bairan was surprised that he wasn’t at all angry about Song Xu acting without consulting him, nor did he show any distrust or unease toward her.
To this, Song Xu’s answer was just two words.
"I’ve got it."
Whether it was P&T or Yingchuang, whether the shares were in his hands or not, as long as he was there, P&T would only get better and better.
As a leader and superior, Wen Bairan had always admired Song Xu’s abilities and methods.
No matter what, when it came to work, she still had a great deal to learn from him.
Even though they wouldn’t be in the same company in the future, she still hoped he wouldn’t hold back on teaching her.
Hearing this, Song Xu looked at her evenly and said, "As long as you’re willing, you’ll be my best student."
When it came to his career, he was always all business and detail-oriented, even if it made him seem too stiff or boring.
"......"
Normally, after she said "be generous with your guidance," he should have responded with some humility or even thrown her a compliment.
But even so, she didn’t think he was particularly arrogant.
On the contrary, this was just him.
Always precise and in control of his abilities, within that scope, no one could surpass him.
The charm of confidence was displayed to the fullest in him.
Wen Bairan pouted, feeling like she was getting better at finding his strengths. No, she needed to appropriately cool him down to keep him from getting a big head.
"Speaking of which, why didn’t you become a teacher? Didn’t Cecilia say that your childhood ambition was to be a teacher?" She smirked, deliberately teasing him.
But Song Xu seemed missing her dig, bluntly stating that it was something from when he was five years old and he no longer remembered.
Wen Bairan suddenly thought of something and laughed, a little slyly. "But with your looks, it really wouldn’t be suitable for you to be a teacher at a school."
Song Xu cocked his head. "Why?"
Wen Bairan: "With a face like yours, would the students be looking at you or the blackboard?"
Song Xu thought for a moment. "Both?"
"......"
He rarely joked, but when his cold face broke into a smile, it was like frost and snow beginning to melt. "Alright, having you as my one student is enough."
Wen Bairan was momentarily mesmerized by him, then snapped out of it and softly snorted, "That’s more like it."
The car entered the highway, and night had completely fallen.
The songs on the car radio had changed to a new set, less somber, with a bit of lightness and playfulness.
Wen Bairan watched the scenery whipping past outside the window, then suddenly turned back and asked, "What do you think it would’ve been like if we had met in school?"
Song Xu wasn’t interested in hypotheticals, but she seemed very enthusiastic, so he pondered for a moment.
If they had met in school...
He just couldn’t see it.
When he graduated, she was still in high school; when she was a freshman in college, he had already started working.
No matter how he thought about it, they would’ve never crossed paths.
He told Wen Bairan this, and she was both amused and annoyed. "Who asked you to think so seriously? I meant hypothetically, hypothetically! What if your job was at a university? What would you be? A teaching assistant? Or the most prominent, youngest professor at the school?"
Song Xu followed her line of thinking and chose the latter, as it sounded more like him.
"What about me?"
A freshman or a teaching assistant?
"Freshman," Song Xu said.
He answered quickly and decisively, as if this idea was pretty set.
Wen Bairan asked why, but he remained silent.
His silent profile seemed deep even in this childish fantasy.
She smiled, pressing her lips together. "Fine, then I’m a freshman, and you’re a professor. I’ll attend your first class."
—
The Finance Department at Shen University ranked among the top in the country.
The newly arrived professor had recently returned from abroad and was so young that it made the entire finance faculty and student body look bad.
It was said that on his first day reporting for duty, he was stopped by someone asking for his number downstairs outside his office. He took out his newly issued work ID, coldly glanced at the nervous girl’s face, and said, "You’d better not be in my class, or I’ll fail you."
The girl hadn’t expected him to be the new professor, much less that he would say something so harsh. Her face flushed red, and she ran off about to cry.
From then on, Song Xu’s name spread throughout the campus. Everyone knew the Finance Department had a crazy young and hot professor with a terrible temper who was known to fail students. Despite this, many still wanted to see for themselves what this nearly legendary Professor Song looked like, the man who made students both adore and resent him.
For these reasons, whether his classes were electives, required courses, or open lectures, they were almost always packed.
Qiao Yi managed to grab two seats in an open lecture and dragged Wen Bairan with her.
When they arrived—the large lecture hall with nearly two hundred seats was jam-packed, and there were even people standing in the aisles at the front and back of the classroom.
Because it was so crowded, the seat Qiao Yi had originally saved was taken by someone else. That person was really rude, going off about how due to some girls’ ridiculous crushes, the recent classes had gotten worse. People would pile in just to get a look at their professor without even paying attention to the lecture, which seriously affected the actual students’ learning.
He wasn’t wrong, but his attitude was a jerk about it. Qiao Yi, knowing she didn’t have a leg to stand on, was about to give up the seat, but the person, seeing her hesitation, knocked her water cup off the desk, muttered "fangirl" under his breath, and just took the seat.
Pissed off, Qiao Yi got ready to argue with him, but class was starting, and the classroom was getting even more crowded. People around them were shushing them.
Wen Bairan also felt that now was not the time for a quarrel. She pulled Qiao Yi aside, found a corner where they could stand, and reassured her that they could talk about it after class. Meanwhile, she went to get the water bottle that had rolled down the steps.
The lecture hall was enormous. Wen Bairan hurried down the steps one by one, head lowered, focused solely on quickly retrieving the item and returning to the corner, completely unaware that a figure had just entered the classroom.
The water bottle, which had stopped only after hitting the podium, was surprisingly sturdy. Wen Bairan picked it up and checked it—fortunately, it wasn’t broken.
Just then, the class bell rang.
As she was about to head back up, she suddenly felt something was off.
The massive lecture hall was packed from top to bottom with people, yet eerily silent—so quiet that she could hear the faint hum of the fluorescent lights.
Instinctively, she looked up. The entire room was filled with a dense crowd of people, all seemingly frozen like portraits on the wall. The overwhelming presence from the highest row to the lowest made her legs feel weak where she stood at the very bottom.
And every single pair of eyes was fixed intently on the podium. Even Qiao Yi, standing in the corner, was gazing mesmerized in that direction.
It felt as though they were looking at her, yet not quite.
A shiver ran down Wen Bairan’s spine. Slowly, bewildered, she turned around. First, she saw a lean, muscular arm resting near the edge of the podium. The sleeve of a white shirt was rolled up to the elbow, devoid of any accessories, and a pair of artistically slender, well-defined hands were leisurely flipping through lecture notes.
The man was tall—the podium only reached his lower abdomen. His body was slightly turned, placing him perfectly within her line of sight. His straight legs, clad in suit pants, moved around the podium. He was so close that she could clearly see the tension and relaxation of his thigh muscles as he moved.
He stopped right in front of her.
Her gaze slowly lifted. The face of the young man above was pale and cold. Behind a pair of elegant silver-rimmed glasses, sharp eyes—so piercing they seemed capable of dissecting one’s soul—looked down with an aloofness that exerted more pressure than the entire classroom behind her.
Her heart slammed violently against her chest.
The young man’s deep eyes swept over her briefly, then moved away—the entire glance lasting less than half a second. Facing the packed classroom, he frowned slightly as if displeased and uttered in a low, authoritative voice, "Non-major students, please leave the classroom now."
The air hung silent for a second before the entire room erupted like an anthill stirred into motion—the rustling of footsteps and books intertwining.
Wen Bairan was among those who needed to leave, but a weightless, disorienting sensation stuck in her throat, and for a moment, she forgot to move.
The young professor stood right before her, his imposing figure in black and white dominating every inch of her vision.
It wasn’t until Qiao Yi, under immense pressure, came over and tugged at her clothes that she snapped out of the invisible force holding her in place.
Stumbling, she was pulled out of the classroom.
The hallway buzzed with noise for a while. Qiao Yi, patting her chest in fright, couldn’t stop exclaiming that the rumors were true—the youngest professor in the college’s history was indeed incredibly handsome and equally terrifying. That one glance he swept across the room felt like he wanted to cut everyone down.
She’d heard that even his teaching assistant nearly failed for being late once.
"...Ran Ran, Ran Ran, are you even listening? Are you okay? Oh my god, the way he looked at you was so scary. If it were me, I probably would’ve burst into tears."
Qiao Yi tugged at her, urging, "Let’s go back quickly."
Wen Bairan seemed lost in thought, and it took Qiao Yi calling her several times before she snapped out of it. Suddenly, she turned and gripped Qiao Yi’s hand, saying, "I think... I’ve seen him before."
"Who?"
"The man at the podium."
Inside the classroom, the finance majors watched as the young, stern professor fell into a prolonged silence over his lecture notes. No one dared to disturb him.
It felt like a scene from a dream—a girl’s eyes, filled with love and desire, gazing at him time and again, calling his name softly.
Song Xu.
Every word on the lecture notes seemed to twist and writhe, reminding him of the divide between illusion and reality.
Chalking up this sense of surreal overlap to subconscious tricks, he snapped back to attention and began the class with his usual calm demeanor.
A breeze drifted through, the warm summer air softening as it passed through windows and doors.
It echoed in the hallway like a lover’s gentle caress.
Wen Bairan heard the man’s voice announcing the start of class from inside.
A thought suddenly occurred to her.
Perhaps the idea of past lives and present existence—
was more than just a romantic prophecy.
//
The car was so warm that Wen Bairan grew drowsy.
She was tired again.
The jet lag had left her days and nights reversed, her routine still in disarray.
Song Xu waited for a long time but heard no further response. When he turned, he realized she had fallen asleep.
Slumped against the window, she looked like a kitten napping in a pile of clothes. Her raised collar swallowed her shoulders and neck, her overly slender chin tucked into her chest. Despite the uncomfortable position, she was sleeping deeply.
Unconsciously, his expression softened.
He turned off the music and adjusted the heat to a comfortable level.
Song Xu reached out and took her hand.
As if sensing him, her other hand immediately came up to envelop his hand. Her head tilted toward him, stray strands of hair covering her profile, her slightly pouted lips looking tender and biteable.
Outside the windshield, under the boundless deep blue sky, a faint smile flickered across the man’s lips in the rearview mirror.
The road was long, the past and future already distant.
The warmth of the present was more than enough.
//
Returning to Shenjiang felt no different from life before marriage.
Stepping back into the company with a new identity drew mixed reactions from those below.
Wen Bairan knew she was temporarily basking in Song Xu’s aura, but she believed she would soon have her own spotlight.
Once their respective careers were on track, they formally announced their marriage.
Though "announced" was hardly the word—it was more a notification to close friends.
Like Qiao Yi and Xiang Sun.
These two had already known about it before they even returned to the country, so there was no surprise or shock involved.
Since Song Xu and Wen Bairan didn’t plan to hold a banquet, the occasion was marked only by a simple gathering.
Xiang Sun ended up splurging heavily—not only gifting a six-figure red envelope but also booking an entire cruise restaurant. Grumbling in pain, he exclaimed, "Whose wedding is this, anyway?"
Wen Bairan didn’t know what kind of leverage Song Xu had over him to make him so obediently foot the bill, but it was clear Xiang Sun was powerless against him.
But it didn't matter who paid—she was just there to get paid and eat.
Qiao Yi was incredibly jealous. Though she wasn’t hopeful about marriage, she at least wanted life to send a few wealthy, handsome men her way.
It wasn’t until Wen Bairan returned to the company that she learned Ye Zhe had also left not long after she resigned.
He had jumped to a major corporation, chasing better opportunities.
He left Qiao Yi heartbroken for quite some time before she finally got over it.
During that period, unable to find anyone to vent her frustrations to, she had a few drinking sessions with Xiang Sun. Wen Bairan wasn’t sure what exactly had happened between them, but she sensed a weird vibe between them.
After a few extra drinks that evening, Qiao Yi was pretty drunk.
Wen Bairan accompanied her to the restroom to wash her face and tried to fish for information, but she didn’t get anything out of her and eventually let it go.
When they returned, Xiang Sun noticed Qiao Yi could hardly walk steadily and stepped forward to help.
He easily pulled her arm off Wen Bairan’s shoulder and said with a mix of annoyance and amusement, "She really does grab and hug anyone nearby when she’s drunk."
Wen Bairan immediately got curious. "Did she hug you?"
Xiang Sun: "..."
It was strange—the guy who never knew when to shut up was now keeping his mouth shut, as if his lips were zipped.
He took Qiao Yi back to their seats, but Wen Bairan didn’t follow. Instead, she went alone to the deck for some air.
The dinner had been delicious, but the cabin was stuffy, and she felt like she had indigestion.
Getting some air made her feel much better.
Before long, Song Xu came out to her, carrying her coat in his hand.
Shenjiang was a city that flows like water—
inclusive and strong,
full of danger yet irresistibly captivating.
The lights along both banks of the river glittered in the night, quietly but brightly lighting up the evening breeze on the deck.
As it got colder, he draped the coat over her shoulders—a gesture of care that felt just right.
"What’s on your mind?"
Wen Bairan, feeling the cold, hunched her shoulders and leaned into his arm, rubbing her head against his shoulder softly. "Don’t you think it’s not as cold here as it is at home?"
Even though the wind could leave you frozen, the air itself felt noticeably warmer when the wind died down—completely different from at home, where even after the start of spring, you still had to wrap up in a scarf.
Song Xu said it was because of where it’s located.
She had never been great at geography in school and had no interest in terms like "mid-plains region."
Sensing he was about to launch into a lecture, she quickly cut him off.
"Please, Professor Song, not now. Don’t start with the professional jargon."
Ever since she’d joked about him being a university professor, he’d had her call him "Professor Song" for several nights straight. Not only did she have to listen to his economic theories while he drove her crazy, but if she didn’t play along, he’d drag her back and spank her—
and he really meant it.
She almost resented him for it.
Now, hearing that lecture mode tone again, she couldn’t help gritting her teeth.
Noticing her resentful glare, a faint, understanding smile touched his eyes—mischievous and utterly made her want to hit him. "Then you tell me, what should I say?"
"..."
Wen Bairan thought for a moment but couldn’t come up with anything particularly romantic. Something along the lines of "we’re together," she supposed.
After a brief pause, Song Xu replied playfully, "You mean, the climate changes depending on how close we are."
"Something like that."
That was the idea, but he said it so seriously it didn’t feel intimate.
But never mind.
To each their own.
As long as he excelled in one area—in or out of bed—that was enough.
Relaxing against him, Wen Bairan watched the river flow into the distance, its surface shimmering like flowing silk under the lights. The view was so soothing she couldn’t help thinking of the two back in the restaurant and asked what was going on with them.
As expected, Xiang Sun had been unusually secretive with Song Xu as well.
But Song Xu mentioned that Xiang Sun had a fiancée. Though they hadn’t been in touch for a long time, both families still acknowledged the engagement. Qiao Yi was probably bothered by that.
"What?! Xiang Sun is actually a scumbag?" Wen Bairan was shocked.
She’d always believed birds of a feather flock together. Though Xiang Sun was a bit unreliable and never knew when to shut up, she thought he was at least a decent guy. She never expected him to two-time someone.
What about Qiao Yi then?
She and Ye Zhe had been really into each other before suddenly breaking up. Now, just as she moved on to someone new, it turned out to be another loser. No wonder she said life wasn’t fair.
Song Xu was used to her over-the-top reactions and drew her back into his arms, saying Xiang Sun wasn’t that kind of person.
Beyond emotions, reality often left people without options.
His family background was quite similar to Zhou Lin’s, but unlike Zhou Lin, he had realized early on that breaking free from family control required independence.
The engagement had been decided before he went abroad to study—he had no choice in the matter.
Now that circumstances were different, there might be room for change.
Wen Bairan wasn’t convinced about this "room for change," but Qiao Yi was the most bright and upbeat person she knew. Often, Qiao Yi saw things more clearly than she did. Thinking this, she felt her worry was probably unnecessary.
The first rule of being an adult was being able to take care of your own problems.
Song Xu bent down, buried his face in her hair, and gave her a rewarding kiss on the head. "You’ve grown up."
Grandma Wen had told her the same thing.
She asked him why he said that.
There were many markers of maturity, and for Wen Bairan, knowing how to hold love close was one of them.
She is a person with a lot of love and energy.
But that doesn’t mean she has to give everything she has away.
Giving doesn’t always bring happiness; it can also become a burden.
When she learns to fill herself with a portion of that love and keep another part ready to embrace others, she becomes more and more fulfilled and lighter-hearted.
And for all of this, she should still thank one particular person.
The last time she saw Zhou Lin was six months later.
To be precise, Wen Bairan didn’t actually see him—it was Jiang Shijin who brought a recent photo of them together.
Zhou Lin had joined his family’s company. The retail industry wasn’t as easy as imagined; even with his family’s protection, there was still so much for him to do.
The city was vast. Even though the Zhou family was deeply rooted in Shenjiang, he and Wen Bairan never ran into each other again.
Jiang Shijin said Zhou Lin had been on a business trip with his father for several months. The old man had finally seen his determination and was intent on letting him start over, taking him all around the country. But the learning process was long, and he wasn’t sure when he’d return, so he entrusted Jiang Shijin to deliver a congratulatory gift on his behalf.
It was the gold-trimmed dress Wen Bairan had returned to him.
He hadn’t thrown it away but had kept it carefully preserved.
In addition, there was now a veil in the box, along with a diamond tiara—the kind a princess would wear.
Zhou Lin knew they hadn’t held a wedding, and Wen Bairan naturally wouldn’t wear this veil.
But she would at least keep it.
That was enough.
Let the dreamlike memories of the past accompany her like this veil, watching her find happiness.
When Xu Lanjun had invited Zhou Lin abroad back then, he refused.
Perhaps because soberly watching himself lose her was a form of punishment for him.
Knowing that Wen Bairan was happy in the same city without him—no one was happier than him, and no one was sadder.
Jiang Shijin mused, gazing at the streets outside the window. After knowing each other for so many years, it felt like everyone had grown up in the blink of an eye.
Wen Bairan also squinted out the window and said, yes, time eventually heals everything.
Love or hate.
Obsessions eventually scatter in the wind and drift away with the river.
Wait for the next spring to come.
Or perhaps the one after.
Until one day.
//
Two years later, as soon as the cloud-based smart medical devices jointly developed by Yingchuang and Xilin were launched, the medical market immediately saw a wave of excitement about smart technology. Orders kept increasing, projects kept improving, but Song Xu, the key architect behind it all, chose to step back at this very moment.
Because Wen Bairan was pregnant.
It was unexpected.
But also by design.
The praise brought by the success of the Green Light project added fuel to P&T’s development. Dayun saw potential in their laboratory, and after formally signing the letter of intent for cooperation, P&T became a member of the Shenjiang Proton Therapy Center.
The rapid development of technology continuously brought new shifts and innovations. The endless tide of the era pushed every medical professional forward.
Wen Bairan’s decision to become pregnant at this time was based on careful planning and consideration.
From pregnancy to childbirth, to the completion of the proton center.
Two years later, she would return to work alongside Song Xu and move forward together.
Song Xu had said that no matter what decision she made in this matter, he would support her.
So that night, when she was the one to take off her raincoat, he didn’t stop her.
Everything unfolded naturally.
After finishing the intelligent cloud launch, the person who rushed home first opened the door to a room bathed in golden light and his wife sleeping peacefully in the sunset.
She had just returned from a pregnancy check-up; her ultrasound report was on the table.
Even though he had already accompanied her to listen to the fetus’s heartbeat, seeing that tiny shape on the report smaller than an apple, Song Xu still felt his heart melt.
He gently knelt down by the bed, watching tenderly at Wen Bairan’s serene sleeping face.
Until night fell.
The moon began to glow as the sun set.
Daylight yielded to starlight.
In the moment where day and night met, as relentless and flowing as the river beyond—
this moment became eternal in his eyes.
The End
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