Chapter 46

Wei Qinglu left.

The room fell into complete silence, without even the slightest sound, as if everything in the world had vanished, leaving only Wei Shuyu alone. She had built a fortress out of pillows and blankets, trying to shield her curled-up body.

She breathed deeply, inhaling slowly, then exhaling slowly.

Wei Shuyu recited this silently in her mind, wanting to adjust her breathing as she usually did. But no matter how hard she tried, the air kept squeezing out of her lungs in short bursts and rushing back in, making her breathing faster and faster with each cycle.

If this continued, she would hyperventilate…

Wei Shuyu covered her face, pressing her fingers to her temples, trying to calm herself down. But it was simply too difficult.

In her dazed state, Wei Shuyu recalled all sorts of messy things.

When she was little and spending the summer in the countryside, she had squatted on the ground watching ants from morning until night. A long time passed, but no one came to call her. Her parents, grandfather, and grandma—whether intentionally or not—forgot she was still by the roadside. The countryside nights were very dark.

By the time she made her way home, the warm lights startled her. They were eating dinner and looked at her as if suddenly remembering, asking why she was only coming home so late.

Back then, Wei Shuyu had really wondered if it was because she wasn’t obedient enough, couldn’t find her way home after dark, and came back too late that no one waited for her to eat.

Later, she realized it wasn’t like that.

She was very important, yet also not important at all.

She was important when exam results came out, when relatives looked at the kids during New Year, when she won various awards… but at other times, she wasn’t.

They looked at her, but it didn’t feel like they were really seeing her.

She was their investment, a jackpot from the genetic lottery—beautiful and talented—a heavenly prize that could lift them out of their dreary daily lives into villas, sports cars, and endless spending.

Later, after starting university, she met Pei Qian.

She had once thought that if there was anyone in this world willing to look past appearances and status to see her soul, it was Pei Qian.

For that, she was prepared to abandon everything, just to achieve what she believed was eternity.

But in the end, she discovered that this so-called eternity was just her one-sided wishful thinking.

After graduating from university, Wei Shuyu entered the exhibition industry as she wished. Unfortunately, beneath the glitz and glamour, the most terrifying thing about this field was its precarious nature.

After several joint exhibitions, when she should have risen to fame, Pei Qian could not wait any longer.

She said, “Being with you feels boring.”

After a brief silence, Pei Qian lit a cigarette and said, “I always feel like you’ll end up getting married.”

At that moment, Wei Shuyu looked at her and asked, “What do you mean by that?”

She actually knew exactly what Pei Qian meant. People didn’t say baseless things out of nowhere. “I feel like you’ll get married” implied, “I want to get married, so don’t stand in my way anymore.”

She played dumb for once, earning Pei Qian’s weary gaze.

Pei Qian told her, “You’re always talking about forever and forever. It annoys me. Just go get married, find someone who can give you forever.”

In that instant, Wei Shuyu understood.

She had been deceived by lies again.

She was very important, yet also not important at all.

She was important when she was a pretty and gentle girlfriend, when she bought Pei Qian flowers and gifts, when she used her own talent to pave the way for Pei Qian.

But at other times, she wasn’t.

When life reached a crossroads, Wei Shuyu discovered that there was not a single person by her side.

Only Wei Qinglu grabbed her, wide-eyed with clear, foolish innocence, and said, Sis, you’re amazing. How did you do it?

In the icy winter, after Wei Shuyu had overturned the New Year’s Eve dinner table, hearing her little sister’s praise, she thought, How did I do it? By toughing it out.

By toughing it out without showing weakness, she could forget that she had ever been vulnerable.

Would she really forget?

Wei Shuyu didn’t know. She shrank into the blankets, feeling her hands and feet go cold. Maybe the air conditioning was too low, or maybe she was overthinking. Tears might have fallen, or maybe not—she couldn’t tell. She couldn’t sense her own existence.

Only endless emotions swirled around her like a vortex, dragging her in with no way out.

Wei Shuyu felt like she was drowning. Before her consciousness blurred completely, she yanked off the blankets with a whoosh, letting fresh air flood her nostrils. She squeezed her eyes shut tight and thought, It’s okay. People don’t just die like that. It’s okay. It’ll pass soon. Once she pulled herself out of this shadow…

In the darkness, her phone lit up with a faint glow.

Wei Shuyu grabbed it in a daze. Facial recognition answered the call automatically, and Jin Yizhu’s voice immediately burst out, calm on the surface but laced with anxiety:

“Wei Shuyu?”

“Why aren’t you picking up? Do you know how many times I called?”

Her spoiled Eldest Miss was always so willful, no matter the time, bombarding her with questions:

“What on earth are you doing? Didn’t we agree you’d always pick up my calls?”

Wei Shuyu couldn’t help but chuckle. “Don’t worry, I remember. The Eldest Miss of our family has only one demand of me: pick up the phone no matter when.”

When Jin Yizhu had first tossed that American Express Black Card at her, she had asked what Jin Yizhu wanted from her in return.

Jin Yizhu had looked at her blankly, hesitating for a long time before tentatively asking if she could pick up her calls anytime.

At the time, Wei Shuyu interpreted it as being on call.

She thought, It wasn’t unacceptable.

After all, having someone who needed her was far better than no one caring.

Later, she realized Jin Yizhu really just wanted someone to answer her calls anytime—late at night after a banquet or early morning after a hated meeting—whenever she wanted to talk, she had to be there.

She just didn’t know what time it was now.

“My Eldest Miss, what is it this time?”

The heavy, sticky emotions like damp cotton seemed to dissipate a little, no longer weighing so heavily on her heart.

Wei Shuyu softened her voice, trying to sound relaxed as she said:

“I didn’t mean to miss your call. I was just tied up with something.”

Jin Yizhu persisted. “What something?”

She could tell Wei Shuyu was down, even if she tried to cover it up. She felt like Wei Shuyu had just been crying—that usually cool voice carried a faint, almost completely hidden quiver.

That barely concealed trace tugged tightly at her heart.

Wei Shuyu paused for a moment. “…Nothing.”

She didn’t want to tell Jin Yizhu about her family mess.

No matter how much she craved understanding, comfort, or someone to hold her and pat her back saying it was okay, she couldn’t bare her wounds to anyone anymore.

Not because she was strong, but because she was weak.

To preserve her ridiculous self-respect, to maintain her nearly perfect image, to… win her love.

“Why so urgent to find me? What’s up?” Wei Shuyu changed the subject.

“Just finished a meeting,” Jin Yizhu said coolly. “Missed you. Not allowed?”

“Really?” Wei Shuyu let out a light hum, unconsciously adding a coquettish lilt. “How much?”

In all the time she’d known Wei Shuyu, Jin Yizhu had never heard her talk like that.

Let alone mewling like a little cat in a coquettish whine.

The thought of the usually aloof Wei Shuyu coquettishly whining at her made Jin Yizhu’s scalp tingle.

She wondered what expression she had now… She really wanted to see.

“Very much,” Jin Yizhu replied. She paused, then asked, “When are you coming back?”

The answer came too quickly, sounding too straightforward.

But the follow-up question was clearly different from her usual teasing—it held genuine anticipation.

Wei Shuyu had just cried, her brain still oxygen-starved, not as sharp as usual.

“No time… ” She complained softly. “The holiday’s too short. Once I finish up here, I have to head back right away. There’s so much in the lab, and Professor Zhou’s been urging me.”

Jin Yizhu wanted to persuade her—one or two days wouldn’t matter, she’d buy the ticket, just like always…

…But she didn’t want Wei Shuyu to overwork herself either.

Especially not like last time, when she got sick from exhaustion and she had no time to be with her. That wouldn’t be good.

“Jin Yizhu?”

Jin Yizhu fell silent for a long time, and Wei Shuyu started to catch on.

Even across an ocean, she could sense that thick, almost tangible atmosphere. The ambiguity sparked like embers, quietly exploding between them.

Just like last night, when Jin Yizhu leaned over her, fingers brushing her waist as she buckled her seatbelt.

A normal, considerate action, yet that warmth lingered on her skin, refusing to fade.

This was bad.

Why was she thinking about this now, of all times? She knew a pile of troubles awaited her, so why was she still thinking about Jin Yizhu? She had just been driven to tears by heavy emotions, so why was she now dwelling on her relationship with Jin Yizhu?

Why…

Wei Shuyu bit her lip until she tasted a faint metallic tang on her tongue.

Perhaps her breathing grew too heavy. After a few seconds of silence, Jin Yizhu called her name. “Wei Shuyu.”

Wei Shuyu didn’t want to respond—answering now would give her away.

But Jin Yizhu’s voice was soft, her tone brooking no argument—her usual dominance.

“When the maple leaves turn red, let’s go on vacation together.”

She pulled over her computer and randomly clicked around on Google, staring at a bunch of vacation spots, unsure what to do. She tossed the question back to Wei Shuyu.

“Where should we go? I want to see the red leaves with you, soak in hot springs, stroll in the mountains, eat soba noodles together…”

Jin Yizhu rattled off options, combining them endlessly, unable to pick the one she wanted most. Only her pounding heartbeat stood out clearly.

She wanted to be with Wei Shuyu, go somewhere with no one else—just the two of them.

“You really…” Wei Shuyu’s mood finally lifted a bit. “Why so hasty?”

She sat up in bed, leaned against the headboard, grabbed a tissue from nearby, and pressed it to the corner of her eye.

“You wouldn’t happen to be looking at travel guides right now, would you?”

“Yeah, checking guides. This time I want to do it myself. The assistant’s picks always feel a bit off.”

Or rather, lacking sincerity.

Jin Yizhu felt too embarrassed to say it outright. Past trips had all been planned by her assistant, but for her first vacation with Wei Shuyu, she didn’t want to leave it to others.

Just… looking up guides was such a hassle.

“Wait for me, okay? I’ll check tonight and send you some options.”

“Sure, how about Karuizawa?”

Wei Shuyu heard her fumbling around and simply picked a spot near Tokyo for her, to save her the trouble.

“The autumn leaves are famous there, plus hot springs and soba.”

“Sounds good. I’ll check out the fun stuff later.”

After that, Jin Yizhu went quiet for a moment, then couldn’t hold back:

“Wei Shuyu, is your mood any better now?”

“Hm?”

The sudden question stunned Wei Shuyu.

“Much better… Why do you ask?”

Her eyes started to sting again, but this time not from pain.

It was from a small, unexpected happiness that landed on her heart.

“Nothing, just worried you were in a bad mood, afraid you’d cry in secret.”

Jin Yizhu let out a breath of relief, her voice lightening.

“Then it’s settled. As soon as leaf-peeping season hits, we go.”

“I wouldn’t cry in secret,” Wei Shuyu grabbed another tissue, pressed it to her eye, and gave up resisting. “It’s because you’re too gentle that you made me cry.”

“Hey, is coaxing you wrong too?”

Jin Yizhu laughed helplessly, her heart turning to mush. She wanted to fly to her side right now and hold her close.

“And you say you wouldn’t cry. You’re clearly a little crybaby.”

Wei Shuyu lowered her voice, trying to sound fierce. “Say that again and we’re done.”

“Oh no, so scary,” Jin Yizhu really laughed out loud this time. “Breaking up with me means getting locked up, you know.”