Chi Yumo turned back with a puzzled expression and heard the woman five meters away say with anticipation in her voice, “The Leaf Flowers in the Rooftop Garden of Shifeng Building have bloomed—orange and white, very lush and beautiful. Would you like to… go with friends to see them this afternoon?”
——Sister, look at those Leaf Flowers by the roadside. They’re blooming so beautifully. I counted: red, purple, yellow, pink, white.
——Mm, beautiful. Their scientific name is bougainvillea. They have a long flowering period and even more colors than what you saw. Many southern cities have them.
——No wonder I didn’t see any in Yinzhou. What other colors are there?
——For example, orange and green. There are dozens of varieties in total. What color does Little Mo like?
——I like… white, and orange.
——Why?
——Because white is like clouds, and orange is like the morning glow or the evening glow—sunrise and sunset, day in and day out.
Two years ago in spring, Shi Youwan had taken Chi Yumo on a business trip out of province.
To a southern city.
When they returned from the trip, she had “secretly” planted all the colors of Leaf Flowers that Chi Yumo liked into the garden. But the day-in-and-day-out that Chi Yumo wanted, she couldn’t give.
So she had kept the matter of planting the flowers from Chi Yumo, because the her from a year ago had never imagined she would bring Little Mo to see them.
But now, she didn’t want to hold back anymore, nor did she want to hide it. She wanted to let Little Mo see and hear all the love she had restrained in her heart. She only hoped that Little Mo would stop being angry and return to her side.
“Yes, Miss Mo, Miss Cheng, Shifeng’s afternoon tea is excellent too. Go up to the top floor, enjoy the view, admire the flowers, have some tea—I guarantee it’ll be a fantastic experience,” Qiao Ke chimed in, picking up on her boss’s intentions.
On the car ride that day during the business trip, both she and Zhang Kai had been there.
She knew better than anyone what President Shi had planted the bougainvillea for.
The Rooftop Garden of Shifeng Building could only be accessed from the top-floor entrance with facial recognition. Few people were qualified to go to the top floor to begin with. Apart from the regular gardening staff for maintenance, only Director Shi, President Shi, and the second young miss could enter and exit the garden freely.
In the early days, Director Shi would occasionally entertain distinguished guests in the garden. After Shi Youwan took over, it had basically become a private garden. Even her closest confidante Yin Man had only gotten in once after shamelessly begging.
Time turned, stars shifted, the mountains and rivers remained verdant, but love and hate had drifted far away, leaving only the bright moon and clear breeze, refusing to awaken.
Shi Youwan’s memories seemed to return once more to that peach-blossom spring.
But the other protagonist in this memory remained unmoved. She turned back, shook her head in polite refusal again, then bowed to express her thanks and apologies.
A height of 280 meters wasn’t something she could climb. Falling from there would mean certain death on the spot.
She couldn’t die yet.
“I’m sorry, President Shi, thank you for your kind offer, but we have other plans this afternoon. Mo Yu doesn’t like disrupting her schedule,” Cheng Xiangxiang also expressed her regrets before catching up with Chi Yumo’s footsteps.
The two figures walked away until they vanished from sight.
Shi Youwan withdrew her gaze, resumed her usual aloof demeanor, and turned toward the private room where Yin Man was.
She hadn’t lied to Little Mo—the orange and white flowers on the rooftop were blooming vibrantly and gorgeously.
Whenever the flowers bloomed, the memories became the most beautiful scenery. But one tree bloomed, and another tree withered; she was always the only one admiring the flowers.
…
The fifteenth moon was round on the sixteenth.
The full moon hung high, accompanied by the myriad stars. Moonlight and starlight illuminated the tranquil night, soothing the clamor and noise. Everything in the mortal world became so pure and beautiful.
“President Shi, Kai Ge says Miss Mo is back.”
“Miss Cheng is with her.”
“But I checked—they’re not staying on the same floor.”
Wanting to spend more time in the same space as Little Mo, Shi Youwan had finished her important work early and arrived at the hotel in the evening.
After hearing Qiao Ke’s report, she closed the document she hadn’t finished reading and rose to freshen up in the bathroom.
In the past couple of years, she hadn’t noticed how fleeting youth was, but in this short year since Little Mo left, she discovered irreversible traces of age on her face and body.
Little Mo was only 23, in the prime of youth, radiant and vibrant.
But what about herself?
At 36, how could she compare to Cheng Xiangxiang, who was the same blossoming age as Little Mo?
She changed into a more youthful beige knit long skirt. These plain, gentle outfits were ones she had carefully bought at the mall a few days ago, all just to let Little Mo feel her tenderness, her serenity.
She hoped Little Mo would see her as an ordinary Omega in need of an Alpha’s love, not as a high-and-mighty group leader with thunderous methods.
In front of Little Mo, she only wanted to be the sister held in her arms, kissed and cherished.
Shi Youwan emerged from the bathroom, her silky long hair cascading over her shoulders, wearing the hotel’s disposable slippers.
Even Qiao Ke couldn’t help but stare in awe.
She thought to herself that even a fairy descending to earth couldn’t compare.
“Back to her room, alone,” Qiao Ke referred, of course, to Chi Yumo.
“Mm, don’t follow,” Shi Youwan said as she picked up the keychain from the table, opened the door, and left without even taking her phone.
Qiao Ke sighed deeply and plopped down on a chair.
One mute, one masochistic—they were both deeply wounded in this relationship. She truly didn’t know which one to feel more sorry for.
Chi Yumo’s tightly shut room door was once again knocked on by the gentle and refined lady. Who else but her would come find her right after she returned?
She had anticipated Shi Youwan’s visit, so she held her tablet when she opened the door.
“Little Mo,” perhaps having rehearsed it countless times in her mind, Shi Youwan smiled naturally and warmly. “Did you have fun with your friends during the day?”
Chi Yumo was too lazy to type and simply nodded.
Shi Youwan held back from asking if she could come in to chat or where they had gone and what they had done. Instead, she held out her left palm, revealing the key with the Christmas Tree Keychain.
“I heard you’re not leaving until tomorrow night. You have time during the day—why not go home and visit Grandma? The house is cleaned regularly, and everything inside is kept just as it was.” Just like you never left.
If Chi Yumo went, she would discover not only that the items were untouched but also that the mold on her room’s ceiling had been painted over spotlessly white.
But those peeling furniture pieces and broken cabinet doors, Shi Youwan hadn’t let anyone repair.
Those were Little Mo and Grandma’s memories; she couldn’t presume to alter them.
Shi Youwan had thought invoking Grandma’s name would touch the soft spot in Little Mo’s heart, but she had underestimated Chi Yumo’s determination to sever ties with her.
Chi Yumo typed expressionlessly: 【That’s not my home. I have no home in Yinzhou either. Please, President Shi, stop wasting your time and effort.】
That place Little Mo once regarded as her “everything.”
That “everything” Little Mo had once personally entrusted to her.
None of it counted anymore?
The Christmas Tree Keychain was well-preserved, shiny as new without a single scratch or dent.
The green tree and red bells, about two fingers wide, were tucked back into Shi Youwan’s palm.
“Little Mo,” the woman who had been shut out again lowered her head dejectedly, her voice filled with sorrow. “I’m sorry. My response came too late.”
Regret swirled in her downcast eyes, as if the past mistakes swam before her.
Her fingers unconsciously clenched around the keychain; she didn’t even notice when the raised edges pierced her palm. She was enveloped head to toe in heavy grief.
Was it too late?
Was the love she wanted to respond with, the love she wanted to give Little Mo, too late?
Bright red blood flowed from between her fingers.
The mute reacted before the masochist.
She grabbed Shi Youwan’s wrist and shook it hard, signaling her to let go. But Shi Youwan wouldn’t.
If releasing pheromones to seduce her outside the banquet hall yesterday had been a momentary impulse, then Shi Youwan was truly mad today—mad beyond reason.
With no other choice, Chi Yumo dragged Shi Youwan into the room, her actions even rougher than last night’s counter-pin.
Shi Youwan was flung onto the sofa chair by the forceful momentum, the impact with the backrest snapping her back to clarity.
She looked up, lips pursed, looking pitiful and delicate, then parted her red lips softly: “Little Mo, it hurts.”
She herself didn’t know if she meant her palm hurt, her wrist hurt, or her back from the rough collision.
But seeing the flash of anxiety and panic on Chi Yumo’s face, suddenly nothing hurt anymore.
Chi Yumo was in a standard king-bed room with no first-aid kit.
Hearing Shi Youwan say it “hurt,” she set down the tablet and pried at Shi Youwan’s fingers, glaring reproachfully to warn her to let go.
Shi Youwan did.
But her other hand quickly snatched the keychain away, clutching it tightly, afraid Chi Yumo would throw the Christmas Tree Keychain in anger.
The key was the first gift Little Mo had ever given her with real meaning—it was her only keepsake.
Seeing the state of Shi Youwan’s palm, Chi Yumo was furious enough to die of anger.
She grabbed tissues to wipe the blood from Shi Youwan’s hand, squatted down to inspect the palm wound: damage below the thumb flexor tendon and at the first knuckle of the ring finger, both bleeding.
Had Shi Youwan felt no pain from forcing those blunt edges into her flesh?
She closed her eyes briefly to calm her anger.
Her one thought was to make Shi Youwan call Qiao Ke to take her back to her room or to the hospital for treatment.
But on closer look, Shi Youwan’s long skirt was plain and elegant—no pockets, no extra embellishments. Her hands held only the keychain she had brought; nothing else.
Her heart softened, only to be taken advantage of.
Had Shi Youwan counted on her not abandoning her, so she came acting crazy to stage this self-harm ploy?
The more she thought, the angrier she got.
Chi Yumo dropped her hand, stuffed a wad of tissues into her injured palm, and turned to grab her own phone.
She deftly dialed a number and put it on speaker right in front of Shi Youwan.
“Hello? Who’s this?”
As expected, Qiao Ke’s voice came through.
Chi Yumo had six phone numbers memorized backward and forward: Grandma’s, Shi Youwan’s, Qiao Ke’s, Zhang Kai’s, and her own old and new ones.
Having finally gotten some alone time with Little Mo, finally elicited an emotion from Little Mo beyond indifference—Shi Youwan didn’t really want to call Qiao Ke.
The woman turned her head away stubbornly, refusing to speak.
Seeing this, the already fuming Chi Yumo lost all reason.
Want to go crazy?
Fine.
She grabbed a pen from the cabinet, uncapped it with one hand in front of Shi Youwan, raised it high, and pointed the tip straight at the Other Shore Flower tattoo, pretending to stab her wrist.
——She’s in a lot of pain, especially during hypnosis therapy, with stress-induced self-harm like head-banging or biting her tongue.
Shen Muxi’s words echoed in her ears. Seeing Chi Yumo with the pen, Shi Youwan paled in terror and shouted to stop her: “No! Little Mo, don’t! Qiao Ke, I’m in Little Mo’s room—come quick.”
Only after she called for Qiao Ke did Chi Yumo hang up and irritably toss the pen aside.
She hadn’t messaged Qiao Ke for fear she might not check her phone in time, delaying Shi Youwan’s treatment.
She hadn’t forced Shi Youwan back to her room for fear of surveillance cameras catching them and sparking rumors.
Chi Yumo retreated to the bed’s edge, annoyed at her own brief loss of emotional control.
After she sat, Shi Youwan stood shakily, still shaken.
“Little Mo.”
Her voice was soft, laced with apology, self-blame, grievance, heartache, and fear. “Don’t hurt yourself. I didn’t mean to injure myself or make you angry. I just… miss you too much…”
——Sister, I miss you so much.
——Then show me later how much you miss me.
——Sister… just don’t cry.
“Little Mo.”
Shi Youwan took two extremely slow steps toward Chi Yumo, afraid her footsteps would startle her Little Mo, afraid this moment of solitude would become another unpleasant memory.
She wanted to gently stroke Little Mo’s hair, her cheeks, hold her in her arms to comfort her, kiss her forehead, her lips…
But just as her injured hand was about to touch the maple-red hair, Chi Yumo lifted her head.
That fierce glare clearly said: Don’t come near me.
Shi Youwan froze in place.
She had only seen such a look once before.
It was in that private room where the signal was blocked and she had been drugged. Little Mo had stood up for her, furiously beating Lu Xinming—that was the look she had then.
Last time, it was to protect her.
This time, it was to drive her away.
The door stood half-open as Qiao Ke came rushing down in a panic and burst into the room.
“President Shi? What’s this?”
On the phone, she had heard Shi Youwan’s near-sobbing voice filled with fear. She had almost thought Chi Yumo was about to use forceful means to make President Shi leave.
