Miao Zhu took her medicine and slept deeply. The alarm rang several times before she finally removed her eye mask and sat up in bed.
Sunlight filtered through the gauze curtains and spilled onto the foot of the bed. She checked the weather app; the temperature had risen again. Since the first snow in early November, Cloud City showed no signs of more snowfall.
She ordered a sandwich and hot coffee from a nearby deli in the neighborhood. Then Miao Zhu logged into her social media account. As usual, her inbox was filled with private messages from people asking if she was taking students. She replied to a few that caught her eye.
After getting out of bed and washing up, the mirror reflected her porcelain-white face, still marked with faint bruises. She had no choice but to cover them with concealer again.
She tidied up the apartment simply, put on her coat, and by then the delivery had arrived. Miao Zhu slung her cello over her back, tucked the sandwich into her bag, grabbed the coffee, and headed out to the orchestra.
She had brought only a small amount of luggage, so her car was still at Moon Reflection Villa. But ride-hailing apps made it convenient. As she left the building, Miao Zhu walked while operating her phone. The app had saved her destination history, so she confirmed and booked the ride.
Just then, someone caught up to her in two strides and grabbed her arm from behind.
Miao Zhu was holding coffee in that hand. The sudden yank threw her off balance, and the rich, dark brown liquid sloshed out from the cup’s sipping hole, splashing onto her hand and coat.
She drew in a sharp breath from the scald, then turned to look at the person.
Sheng Xingran had a sour expression on her face. Seeing the light beige coat stained and Miao Zhu’s hand red from the hot coffee, a flicker of regret crossed her features. But resentment quickly took over again.
“What do you mean by this?” she demanded angrily.
The question came out of nowhere. Miao Zhu shook off her hand. A dozen steps ahead was the trash bin; she walked over and tossed the coffee.
Miao Zhu walked, and Sheng Xingran followed. “You think returning the money and gifts wipes out all these years of feelings? That the hurt you’ve caused me can just be erased like that?”
—After New Year’s Eve, Sheng Xingran had lain in bed for a full week. They said time was the best medicine, but after a week, her wounds hadn’t fully healed. Instead, she woke up furious with embarrassment. The one who had done wrong didn’t cry and beg for forgiveness, while she, the victim, hadn’t even thrown out a single harsh word. Who could accept that!?
When she finally got up, she saw the gifts Miao Zhu had returned, and her powered-on phone showed bank transfer notifications. Sheng Xingran was even more enraged by Miao Zhu’s clear attempt to cut ties.
“How did you know I live here?” This was the shady side of the building, and the wind blowing through felt cold. Miao Zhu didn’t answer directly. She pulled tissues from her bag and wiped the stains from her hand and coat. Her hand burned, but luckily the coffee had cooled somewhat from preparation to delivery, so it wasn’t a severe burn.
Sheng Xingran snorted coldly. “Surprised? You thought you were so sneaky, but you were photographed at the campsite! Li Zi sent the video to my mom. She’s been monitoring your every move, so of course she knows you come and go from this neighborhood!”
“So Aunt Ni told you?” Miao Zhu took another clean wet wipe and pressed it to the scalded skin to cool it. She didn’t believe Ni Xiaoying had told Sheng Xingran; Ni Xiaoying would probably prefer they never met again.
“I saw the paparazzo’s contact in my mom’s phone and paid extra for the info.” Sheng Xingran certainly wouldn’t admit how pathetic she felt sneaking a peek at Ni Xiaoying’s phone. She acted righteous, but soon realized Miao Zhu had derailed her. “Don’t dodge my question!”
Miao Zhu said, “Xingran, I never thought that way. It’s just over. I never spent the transfers you sent, and those crates of gifts aren’t suitable for me to keep anymore. Everything’s back to its rightful owner.”
Sheng Xingran turned red in the face and neck with anger. “Rightful owner? You know that money came from Mu Shanyi. Sending it back to me in a circle—is that mocking me? Or compensating me?”
Miao Zhu: “I admit I wronged you. You can hate me, curse me. If hitting me would make you feel better, you can hit me.”
It was a total give-up attitude. Miao Zhu had changed; she was no longer the accommodating, tolerant Miao Zhu who even refused softly and gently. Now she was heartless, utterly disregarding Sheng Xingran’s feelings.
Sheng Xingran: “I don’t accept it!”
Miao Zhu looked at her helplessly. “Then what do you want me to do?”
“You know what my nightmare was growing up. To be with you, I gave up my pride—you knew that!” In short, Sheng Xingran couldn’t let go. “Was I bad to you? Did I disrespect you? You wouldn’t even kiss, so I took it slow, never forcing you, right? You said you had no sense of security, so I got engaged to you. Even when the ceremony went wrong, I fixed it right away. Can’t you feel my sincerity?”
