Chapter 86: The Secular World Always Wins

As the sharp blade sank into her flesh, Ji Zhenshi’s hand slipped from the knife handle amid the chaos. In that instant when the edge sliced across her palm, she felt no pain at all.

It was only when someone in the turmoil sensed the warm, sticky liquid that Ji Zhenshi shouted fiercely, as if resigned to her fate. “Enough! Yunli and I are breaking up—we’re done! Satisfied now?”

Her trembling right hand flung the knife away. Red bloodshot veins marred her pupils as she glared death at Yang Ying, then squeezed her eyes shut in surrender. “End this farce! I’ve never once had your support—not even once! Mom, you just want to force me to live in misery forever, never to know peace. You’ve gotten your way. Does none of this embarrass you all? All I wanted was to be with the person I love. No matter how I explain it, you won’t listen! Enough already!”

She had only ever seen scenes like this—forcing someone with threats of death—in TV dramas. How fortunate she was to become the protagonist in one herself.

So this was the pain of every forced compromise.

The bloodied blade flew toward the doorway, splattering a few drops of blood onto the shoe of the leg that was just stepping inside. Li Yunli looked up in disbelief, her eyes meeting Ji Zhenshi’s in a blaze of fury.

The hope in her gaze faded bit by bit. A deep melancholy settled between Li Yunli’s gentle brows. Their stare held not just shock and dismay, but a profound, desolate despair.

She had heard it. Ji Zhenshi had agreed to part ways.

Endless grievance filled Li Yunli’s eyes. In this moment, she had been abandoned—abandoned by Xiao Zhen, by the good child who had once vowed to face everything bravely.

The moon hung overhead, but tonight it was shrouded in thick clouds.

Yet the first thing Li Yunli noticed was the hand still dripping blood from the gash across the palm. She fumbled hurriedly in her bag for a silk handkerchief and pressed it firmly against the wound. Tears welled in her beautiful eyes. “Does it hurt?”

Does it hurt, good child?

This relationship had put Xiao Zhen in such a difficult spot. In the end, it had made her suffer.

All the firm barriers crumbled the moment Ji Zhenshi uttered those words about breaking up. Li Yunli understood now—she couldn’t let her good child struggle like this anymore. It would only break her heart too.

“It’s a good thing it was your right hand. If it had been your left, how would you play the violin?” Her gentle voice rose as Li Yunli threw herself entirely into tending to Ji Zhenshi’s injured right hand, ignoring everything else around them. Her world narrowed to Ji Zhenshi alone.

Her heartache was plain to see. As their warm skin touched, it was as if the knife-twisting pain in their hearts resonated in perfect harmony.

It hurt so much—truly, unbearably so. It hurt until she could hardly breathe.

Tears spilled uncontrollably down Li Yunli’s face, her brows heavy with sorrow as she bowed her head.

Ji Zhenshi stood stunned for a long while, a dense wave of pain flooding her chest. Every breath brought agony that threatened to drown her. “It doesn’t hurt. Maybe it’s the adrenaline overload—I really don’t feel a thing. I don’t know.”

She raised a feeble hand to cover her eyes, mist gathering between her fingers.

She truly couldn’t face Li Yunli, couldn’t bring herself to say, “I don’t want you anymore.” She was certain Li Yunli had heard her shout it loud and clear, yet she remained so calm.

A calm that was terrifying—the kind that signaled an impending storm.

The clamor in the room fell silent in an instant. Even Zhang Fenglan, who followed close behind, hadn’t expected to walk into such a scene.

Things had been fine when she stepped out, but now everything had turned upside down.

Using portraits of her grandpa, maternal grandpa, and maternal grandma to pressure her—Yang Ying, how could you bear to bully your own flesh and blood just for some so-called face?

Zhang Fenglan’s hands shook with rage. She could scarcely imagine the pressure Ji Zhenshi had faced alone moments ago. “Is it worth driving someone to the brink just for a scrap of pride? Xiao Zhen’s had it hard enough already. Why can’t you give these two kids a little leeway?”

“Have you all gone mad? Threatening suicide—what kind of stunt is that? Pushing such a wonderful child to this point— that’s the hand she plays the violin with! How could you be so heartless?”

Zhang Fenglan’s questions cut like knives, one word at a time. Yet no one spoke a word; they were all too shocked to respond.

“You’re going too far! She’s still so young, and you keep forcing her like this.” Li Yunli’s face darkened with anger.

Everyone was bullying her and Xiao Zhen—everyone was picking on the pair who only wanted to love each other quietly in some hidden corner.

These hands she cherished and protected so carefully had been mangled so easily. Sometimes Li Yunli truly couldn’t understand why they saw it as shameful, why their simple desire to love was always shackled by the secular world.

The secular world always won, no matter how hard they tried.

No matter how much they gave, they could never earn even a sliver of space to love. It bred true despair, true agony.

“Forget it. Let’s go.” Ji Zhenshi shot Yang Ying a venomous glare, grabbed Li Yunli’s hand, and stormed out of the courtyard, heedless of Zhang Fenglan’s furious tirade behind them.

Forget it. They had won.

The tears Ji Zhenshi had been holding back burst forth the moment she clasped Li Yunli’s hand. Nearly choking on sobs, she said, “Am I just… completely useless?”

She was sinking into quicksand, her desperate struggles futile. She couldn’t change the dire situation before her.

Li Yunli forced a smile and pulled her into an embrace, planting a habitual kiss on Ji Zhenshi’s earlobe. “You’ve already done so well, Xiao Zhen. You’ve really been amazing.”

The two clung to each other, weeping. Everything was understood without words.

A silent embrace. Silent tears. A silent trip to the hospital.

A cut needed a tetanus shot and proper bandaging.

Fortunately, the wound wasn’t deep. When Li Yunli suggested going to the hospital for a doctor to handle it, Ji Zhenshi didn’t refuse. She let herself be led along like a lifeless puppet.

The nurse handled the bandaging since the injury was minor.

“The wound isn’t deep. Just keep it dry to avoid infection, and change the dressing on time.”

“Got it, thank you.” Ji Zhenshi stared blankly at the white gauze, silence reigning as the new theme. No one broke it.

Li Yunli clutched the wallet she’d pulled out earlier to register—its brown leather exterior featured a clear pocket holding a photo of them. It was a shot of them kissing in the snow.

Phone wallpapers, wallet sleeves—the traces of their love were everywhere.

But those traces now felt like ethereal fragments slipping away, impossible to hold onto. Everything was dissolving into nothingness.

The marks of their bond were about to vanish entirely.

Ji Zhenshi hung her head, silent.

Li Yunli stood behind her and, in the end, said nothing. She went to the pharmacy to pick up the medicine.

In the car, Ji Zhenshi gazed at the scenery passing by outside the window.

Her mind was a blank void. She didn’t know what to do next or even where she was. Nothing could stir a ripple in her anymore.

Her phone buzzed incessantly in her pocket—messages from Yang Cheng, Grandma, mostly checking on her injury.

Ji Zhenshi didn’t feel like dealing with it. She powered it off and continued staring blankly out the window.

It felt like she’d lost something irreplaceable.

She watched as Li Yunli approached, phone to her ear and medicine bag in hand. It was probably Grandma calling; since Ji Zhenshi hadn’t picked up, they’d called Li Yunli instead.

She only ever answered Grandma’s calls.

“Take these meds twice a day—the dosage is noted on the boxes, so follow that. Also, get it changed at the clinic every three days. I’ll dig out that scar cream from home later. Use it consistently after it heals to avoid scarring.”

Li Yunli’s voice was steady and unhurried as she fussed over every detail. Though still gentle, Ji Zhenshi could clearly hear the emotions she was straining to suppress.

Both of them were tangled in complex feelings. Those words—”Yunli and I are breaking up”—had shattered the reality they’d been dodging but couldn’t escape.

Their love wasn’t blessed.

Mute or not, the fact that Li Yunli was nominally Ji Zhenshi’s sister-in-law meant they could never be allowed together, never receive any blessing.

Li Yunli glanced sideways at the figure with downcast eyes. Even with a storm of emotions swirling in her own depths, she forced herself to appear calm.

She unscrewed the lid of her ever-present water bottle. “Drink some water. You’ve lost a lot of blood.”

Ji Zhenshi stared at the straw held to her lips, then at the slender, unadorned hand below it—beautiful beyond compare, unstained by the world’s dust, captivating in a way that stirred the soul.

She was so beautiful; there wasn’t a single imperfect part of her. Even in this dire state, she remained gentle as water, impossible to bear hurting.

Ji Zhenshi didn’t move. Li Yunli paused for a moment, then silently withdrew the bottle.

The crisp click of the lid snapping shut plunged them back into endless silence—oppressive in its weight.

After who knew how long, Li Yunli gave a bitter smile, clutching her aching chest.

Her voice was soft, as if saying it quietly might lessen the pain by half. “Xiao Zhen… let’s split up for now. I think… this is the end.”

There was no other way.