Chapter 36

Wen Zhixu had withdrawn her message, but Jian Shichu didn’t ask about it. Even until she boarded the plane, the topic lingered on life matters.

This feeling was nice, yet somehow off. Over these years, she had been like a battle-hardened warrior, conquering every challenge in life.

Actually, after they broke up that year, Wen Zhixu gradually realized that she wasn’t obsessed with the character in the book modeled after Jian Shichu. She had first fallen for Jian Shichu herself, and that’s why she was so attached to that character.

But later, she lost her. She lost her so completely that even when the person showed up at her book signing, she didn’t dare to face her.

Wen Zhixu had found Tang Yuan’s number on the delivery box and tried calling him. His number had never changed.

She arrived at the hospital the next evening. After going home to change clothes and sleeping for a day, she brought the bracelet from the Tang Family.

This thing was precious; it shouldn’t have been passed down to her. Tang Yuan hadn’t remarried and had no other children—skipping a generation like that didn’t make sense by the rules.

She stood at the door of the ward, peering through the crack. She saw Tang Yuan in a thin wool coat, wearing glasses, with stubble on his chin and traces of age at the corners of his eyes.

The reason Wen Zhixu found this face so unfamiliar was because it had been many years since they’d last seen each other. She really hadn’t seen Tang Yuan in a very long time.

She didn’t knock. The elderly man had just fallen asleep, so she stood there like that, waiting for Tang Yuan to come out of the ward and run into her.

In that first second, even Tang Yuan was stunned. They looked at each other, both strangers, and Wen Zhixu herself found the scene amusing.

Tang Yuan carefully closed the ward door. His gaze first landed on the bag in Wen Zhixu’s hand, then he cleared his throat and asked, “Keep the bracelet.”

Wen Zhixu looked a lot like her father. Tang Yuan had soft features; only after middle age, with the beard, did he gain some character.

This man was so handsome. Back then, Wen Ru often said she fell for that face first, then the person—and just like that, she was hooked for life.

After sitting down on the corridor chair, Wen Zhixu said, “It’s a family heirloom. Take it back.”

“Did your mom send it back?” Tang Yuan didn’t look at her.

As he sat, he tugged at his pants, leaning forward with hands on his knees. He looked genuinely exhausted.

Wen Zhixu sat one stool away from him. She turned sideways, placed the item in between, and replied, “No, not her. I can’t accept it.”

Only then did Tang Yuan turn to look at her. His glasses made him look utterly fatigued, like he’d sobbed his heart out—as if the lenses couldn’t hide it.

“She’s gone now. She had her reasons for wanting to leave it to whoever.”

Tang Yuan gave an answer Wen Zhixu couldn’t refuse. Even from a distance, she could smell the tobacco on him.

Wen Zhixu agreed. “Alright then. How’s Grandpa?”

“He’s old; can’t do surgery.” Tang Yuan replied. This time, he kept looking at her, then changed the subject. “I saw the news.”

She might avoid seeing Tang Yuan, but he could see her. In the past couple of years, her news was everywhere online, and recently, it had been all over the internet every few days.

Wen Zhixu asked calmly, “Which one?”

“Every single one.” Tang Yuan shifted his gaze, straightened up, and leaned back in the chair. The corridor was quiet with few people.

Tang Yuan asked, “Seeing anyone?”

“Why ask that?” Wen Zhixu replied indifferently.

She answered without hesitation. She wasn’t seeing anyone yet—no prospects, nothing set, nothing declared. How could she say yes?

“Love’s unpredictable. Just don’t end up like me and Wen Ru.” Tang Yuan stopped there. The front half made sense as advice, but the example in the back was inappropriate.

Wen Zhixu asked, “Was there right or wrong between you two?”

She had grown up; she could ask this now. As a kid, she hadn’t understood, and even grown up, she still didn’t.

Tang Yuan still looked at her, expressionless. “If I said it was my fault, would you hate me?”

Would she hate him? Wen Zhixu asked herself. What makes a marriage fail? She had her answer.

“The things you did wrong are done. No need to say sorry now.” Wen Zhixu didn’t directly answer if she hated him. Hating someone takes a lot of energy and time.

Tang Yuan was silent for a long while. The conversation wasn’t unpleasant, but there was an undercurrent of tension in the calm.

Footsteps gradually broke the atmosphere between them. With unspoken agreement, they both looked toward the sound. Leather shoes under a white coat tapped lightly on the floor.

Once Wen Zhixu made out the man’s face, she stood up. The middle-aged man was looking right at her too, and as he approached, he seemed to recognize who she was.

“Off work?” Tang Yuan spoke first, then introduced, “Xiao Xu, call him Uncle Feng. He picked you up from kindergarten when you were little.”

Wen Zhixu had no memory of kindergarten, but she politely called out and said nothing more.

Feng Xi nodded. “You’ve grown so much. Time flies.”

“I’m off work. You should rest early too. The old master has nurses; no major issues.” Feng Xi glanced inside, but the door was closed, so his gaze fell short.

Wen Zhixu picked up the bag; she was ready to leave too.

Seeing this, Feng Xi offered, “Xiao Xu, let me give you a ride.”

“No need, thank you, Uncle Feng.” Wen Zhixu politely declined and glanced at Tang Yuan.

Tang Yuan said, “Be safe.”

The concern lacked warmth—far less than from Wen Ru. But Wen Zhixu didn’t care.

“It’s not safe at night.” Feng Xi insisted. “I’ve known Tang Yuan for decades. It’s on my way; no trouble.”

Wen Zhixu glanced at Tang Yuan again and agreed. In the car, she could ask more about Old Master Tang’s condition.

Neither spoke before getting in. Wen Zhixu waited in the back seat while Feng Xi put away his things. He took off his white coat, revealing a suit underneath.

After closing the car door, Feng Xi asked, “Where do you live, Xiao Xu?”

Wen Zhixu gave a rough address. Feng Xi was mild-mannered; he inputted it into the phone navigation before starting the car.

As the car pulled out, Wen Zhixu’s gaze stayed on Feng Xi. She hadn’t spoken yet when he started the conversation.

“The old master’s old ailment flared up. Nothing serious; it’s common at his age.” Feng Xi drove slowly out of the garage.

Wen Zhixu asked, “I know. Dad said no surgery. With the current situation, is recovery possible?”

“Conservative treatment. Like I said, at his age, we need to prepare mentally.” Feng Xi didn’t hide anything.

These words, Tang Yuan hadn’t said to her—probably couldn’t bring himself to, right after Old Mrs. Tang passed, now another one. Anyone would struggle.

“Mm. How long have you been working at this hospital, Uncle Feng?”

Feng Xi glanced at her via the rearview mirror. “Just back in the country, about three months.”

“Tang Yuan said you’re a writer, very successful.”

Wen Ru had mentioned an expert in Chongqing—it was actually Feng Xi. Wen Zhixu knew how to chat; Wen Ru had taught her well.

“Just writing little stories. When did you go abroad, Uncle Feng?” Wen Zhixu’s tone carried a smile, making her seem less distant.

Feng Xi continued, “Let’s see, fifteen years abroad.”

He himself seemed surprised, smiling as he added, “Fifteen years in a blink. And you’ve grown so much.”

Wen Zhixu just smiled without replying. She turned to the window. Every bridge seemed to exude a sense of isolation.

She unlocked her phone. WeChat was still quiet, no messages. Jian Shichu’s chat had been silent all day.

Tonight’s Chongqing felt asleep, a gentle breeze brushing her ears yet stirring restlessness. The car stopped outside the complex; the item she’d taken from home came back untouched.

Lights like thin gauze. Chongqing was heading into deep autumn, already carrying a chill.

She pressed the elevator floor. Her gaze fixed on the changing red numbers. When the doors opened, the motion-sensor lights in the hallway flicked on.

She stepped out, bag on her wrist, digging in her purse for keys. The jingle echoed in the empty hallway.

She’d just grasped them when she looked up and saw Jian Shichu standing at her door. Her heart skipped a beat.

She recoiled, and the keys slipped from her hand, clattering to the floor—like a thorn stabbing unprepared into her heart.

She had said she would return tomorrow.

Jian Shichu’s gaze was indifferent, silently watching her. She stepped forward slowly, crouching by her side to pick up the keys.

“Is this how you apologize?” The keys jingled in Jian Shichu’s palm, especially loud in the empty hallway.

Wen Zhixu took the keys without looking up, sidestepped her, and said, “Let’s talk inside.”

Jian Shichu watched her unhurriedly, saying nothing.

As the lights in the room flicked on and the door closed, the silence gradually began to shatter. Wen Zhixu was so nervous she didn’t dare speak, afraid they would each stay quiet in their own way.

“How long have you been waiting for me?” Wen Zhixu set the bag on the shoe cabinet and turned to look at her. Jian Shichu was leaning against the door, her lips and brows indifferent.

“No explanation?”

Wen Zhixu figured Jian Shichu must have seen that message last night but had been waiting all along, waiting for her to bring it up on her own. Yet she hadn’t even told Jian Shichu she was coming back, even into the evening.

“What is there to explain? I came back because I had something to do.” Wen Zhixu averted her gaze. She was just one step away from Jian Shichu.

Jian Shichu kept looking at her, calm and composed yet carrying a chill, saying nothing—just staring at her like that.

Wen Zhixu’s brows furrowed slightly. The other woman’s silence made her emotions gradually build. She looked at Jian Shichu. “I came back because…”

“You think withdrawing it meant I didn’t see?” Jian Shichu’s tone remained mild, neither warm nor cold.

Hearing this, Wen Zhixu let out a sharp breath, turned her head as she pondered how to respond. After a pause, she turned back to gaze at her. “If you don’t believe me, then forget it.”

Jian Shichu’s brows twitched slightly. She stared at Wen Zhixu for a few seconds, like a dry chuckle escaped her, fire igniting in her eyes. She seized Wen Zhixu’s wrist, twisted, and pinned her against the door.

Wen Zhixu hadn’t even reacted when the other woman’s lips pressed against hers. The heavy kiss made her heart sink, the hot, wet press carrying a hint of anger. Wen Zhixu’s breathing grew labored, her hands pinned tightly, unable to budge.

Even mumbling a single word felt impossible. The scorching breath held no gentleness, devouring all the oxygen around them.

Wen Zhixu struggled with her hands, her eyelashes growing wet. Salty tears slid down her cheeks and into the kiss. Only then did Jian Shichu notice something off. She slowly released her. Wen Zhixu looked utterly startled, the corners of her eyes flushed red and glistening with moisture.

Like a delicate flower drenched by a downpour, evoking heartache.

Jian Shichu reached out to wipe her tears, her voice breathless and helpless. “You don’t even know how to coax people. Is this how I taught you to date?”