Chapter 53

The room was brightly lit, illuminating every detail with crystal clarity, leaving scarcely any place to hide.

Yet Bo Ranying still clung to that faint sliver of possibility, unwilling to accept that her earlier sensations had been nothing more than a mirage.

Nan Qi had returned through the door in the flesh, just as she always did—checking if Bo Ranying was sleeping soundly and quietly adjusting her awkward position when she found it off. Every movement felt utterly real.

But after circling the entire place, Bo Ranying found no trace of Nan Qi. She blinked in confusion, lost in thought.

Had Nan Qi heard her getting up and deliberately hidden away to tease her?

That guess didn’t fit Nan Qi’s personality at all, but Bo Ranying couldn’t find her and refused to entertain more logical explanations. In a strange twist, she convinced herself otherwise.

She dove right into a thorough search, turning the place upside down, scouring every nook and cranny in the house. She repeated it multiple times but still came up empty—no sign of Nan Qi.

It was as if she had vanished into thin air.

Bo Ranying rushed to the door in a panic. It stood there perfectly fine, unchanged, with nothing out of the ordinary.

Everything she had sensed moments ago was an illusion, a phantom her subconscious desperately wanted to hold onto.

Disheartened, Bo Ranying pressed her hand to the spot at the back of her head. The long-vanished pain there flickered back to life.

She had no choice but to accept it: everything she’d perceived earlier was just a phantom conjured by her subconscious.

Nan Qi hadn’t come home. Bo Ranying must have adjusted her own position half-asleep. Waking up without a blanket over her was proof enough of the anomaly, but she hadn’t wanted to believe it then. Now the truth was staring her in the face, and she could no longer deceive herself.

Bo Ranying repeated it to herself over and over.

Little Qi had moved out!

They weren’t living together anymore!

She drilled the idea into her mind until her foggy, late-night thoughts began to clear.

A pale streak of dawn appeared on the horizon. Sanitation workers drove by with their garbage truck, the rumbling sounds of collection filtering faintly through the window, heralding the start of a new day.

Bo Ranying knew she wouldn’t sleep again. She feared slipping back into that nightmare—and even more, tumbling into a blissful illusion.

Of those two opposing dreams, she couldn’t tell which was crueler.

She leaned against the sofa’s edge, her back fully supported as she curled up obediently on the carpet. The small space beside her became her personal safe haven, brimming with security.

Within that haven, Bo Ranying endlessly scrolled through her chat history with Nan Qi, reminiscing about every moment since they’d met.

Some messages jogged her memory of the events behind them; others left her blank, filled with frustration.

When had she even lost these memories?

For those she couldn’t recall, she took screenshots and saved them, vowing to try harder to remember.

In the early morning, she packed away the ashtray she’d spent the night piecing back together and headed out. After some detours, she found a repair shop in Linxi renowned for its craftsmanship.

Online reviews were glowing, so Bo Ranying pinned all her hopes on it.

She presented the item with eager anticipation, tensing up when the shopkeeper’s face clouded over.

“Can this be fixed?”

“It’s a tough repair, and it’ll cost a pretty penny. How did it get shattered like this?”

“…I accidentally dropped it.”

“I tried gluing it back together myself, but it looked just as broken as before.”

The bright-eyed young woman stared intently at the fractured ashtray, her eyes reddening like a pair of rabbit’s, brimming with sorrow and reluctance. It was clear how much she treasured it, making it hard for anyone to refuse her outright.

Out of professional courtesy, the shopkeeper offered earnest advice. “This doesn’t look like a one-of-a-kind piece. Restoring it perfectly will run you a high price. Maybe just buy a new one exactly like it.”

Bo Ranying fell silent for a moment, her lashes fluttering as she shook her head firmly. Her voice was soft as willow fluff. “No, it wouldn’t be the same. The meaning is different.” The time and her feelings had changed; she could never buy an exact match again.

“Please fix it. Money’s no object.”

Seeing her resolve, the shopkeeper didn’t press further and took the job, setting a completion date two weeks out.

As they wrapped up, a new idea sparked in Bo Ranying’s chest. “Do you let customers participate in the repairs? I’d pay extra to sign up and come every day, with your artisan guiding me.”

“It’s possible…” The shopkeeper swallowed the rest—”but it would extend the timeline”—as Bo Ranying interrupted with delight.

“Thank you, boss! I’ll do it myself!”

With that settled, it was nearly time for work. Bo Ranying hurried off in a cab.

The knot of gloom and tension in her heart eased a little, but then a slew of pressing matters flooded back, reigniting her anxiety.

First, she had to announce her breakup with Qiao Xiuyu and call off the engagement publicly—shedding the title of his fiancée. It involved both families and wouldn’t wrap up quickly. She also needed to figure out her relationship with Nan Qi, buy a car…

Until those essentials were handled, she had no reason to see Nan Qi.

At the Dance Troupe, everyone fussed over Bo Ranying’s health, offering concern and well-wishes.

Some had seen her Moments post about trying on wedding dresses and chimed in casually, asking for a glimpse of luck. “I saw Little Ran’s wedding photos—every one was stunning. The workmanship, the fabric… even in pictures, you could tell they were top-notch. I couldn’t pick a favorite!”

“Are the invites and banquet menus printing yet? Second Young Master Qiao must be itching to marry you home. Congrats in advance, Little Ran!”

The atmosphere was warm and harmonious, everyone smiling with a touch of envy as they gazed at Bo Ranying, offering sincere blessings.

Her eyes darkened, but her face showed no joy. This outlier reaction made the others’ hearts skip—had they said something wrong? They puzzled over it but came up empty.

She hadn’t told either family about the breakup yet, so Bo Ranying didn’t want to spill too much before it was finalized or let the misunderstandings drag on. She chose her words carefully. “The engagement banquet won’t happen anytime soon.”

She said it calmly, her expression unchanged.

The room went quiet as they exchanged glances, curiosity gnawing at them like ants under their skin. They burned to know what had gone wrong between her and Qiao Xiuyu. Just days ago, she’d been all lovey-dovey on social media with engagement updates. Now the banquet was indefinitely postponed, right after he’d returned from his business trip?

It left them dying of curiosity as they returned to their tasks.

At lunch in the troupe’s cafeteria, Bo Ranying ate slowly with her colleagues, her mind elsewhere. In the end, only she and Ye Xingyu remained.

Ye Xingyu set down her chopsticks, propping her chin on one hand, eyeing Bo Ranying across the table with eager curiosity.

After Bo Ranying’s third absent poke at the air with her chopsticks, Ye Xingyu couldn’t hold back. “Ranran Jie, what are you thinking about?”

Bo Ranying snapped out of her daze and met the concerned gaze of the girl opposite her. She recalled that Ye Xingyu had dated a few times, loved otome games, and—like Bo Ranying in her youth—was obsessed with tarot readings, zodiac signs, and little divination tricks. She had plenty of insight into relationships and human nature.

Maybe Bo Ranying could confide in her indirectly?

The tangled emotions piling up inside her for days had nearly fried her brain.

Talking it out, getting another perspective—it might help.

She weighed her words, her face growing solemn without realizing it.

Ye Xingyu leaned in closer, ready to hear the intel.

It looked serious. What thorny issue had the Principal Dancer run into? Even her engagement took a backseat.

Time to help her out.

Bo Ranying parted her lips softly. “Do you believe more in love at first sight or love that grows over time?”

She kept it vague, avoiding specifics that might pinpoint Nan Qi.

That was it?

Ye Xingyu’s tension melted away. She shrugged and leaned back relaxed.

After all that buildup, this was the question?

Though puzzled, she answered thoughtfully. “Neither is absolutely better. From a personal standpoint, it depends on how you see it. The fact that you’re asking means your heart’s already leaning one way.”

Bo Ranying fell silent.

Ye Xingyu continued, “Love at first sight is that intense urge you feel toward someone the moment you see them—captivated by her looks or vibe, moved to want to get close, to build something that turns into love. It’s a desire that outshines anyone else, a special feeling reserved just for her, a standout affection right from the start. She doesn’t even have to try; you convince yourself, and your crush skyrockets endlessly. But as time marches on and the initial spark fades—once the hormonal rush wears off—the fondness might dwindle day by day until she’s just like anyone else in your life. Or it could be the kind that lasts forever, from that first heartbeat to eternity.

“Another, more concise take: back then, it just felt ordinary.”

“What you think is love at first sight might actually be love that grows over time,” she added. “And what you swear is love over time could be a total misjudgment.”

Ye Xingyu shook her head with a playful bob, wrapping things up in her usual laid-back way.

Her words unfurled like a vast, open scroll. The characters swam like fish, darting into Bo Ranying’s mind and setting up camp there. A foggy understanding settled over Bo Ranying, though confusion still lingered in her heart.

She felt like both types brushed against Nan Qi somehow, yet neither truly fit.

The line “back then, it just felt ordinary” echoed in her thoughts. She repeated it silently several times, deep in contemplation.

Hesitantly, she started to press for more. “Then you…”

Ye Xingyu anticipated the question and cut right in. “I’ve had both, and they were both great experiences. My take? Just go with the flow. Whatever happens, trust that it’s the best way forward.”

“Go with the flow?”

Bo Ranying echoed the words under her breath, her voice as faint as a mosquito’s hum.

But old habits died hard—she always second-guessed herself on instinct.

Before anything even happened, she spun out every possible ending in her head, every what-if. Without some powerful push, she could never commit.

She wasn’t sure she could ever truly go with the flow.

Ye Xingyu hadn’t quite caught her murmur. With a mischievous twinkle, she rolled her eyes, digging for the real reason behind the question.

“What, with the engagement banquet right around the corner, are you diving into the metaphysics of romance now? Wondering about Second Young Master Qiao’s love life?”

Bo Ranying’s face paled in an instant, her voice sharpening with urgency. “No, it’s not that.”

Ye Xingyu blinked. “Huh?”

Bo Ranying realized she had to shut this down. Composing herself, she softened her tone to ease Ye Xingyu’s suspicions. “I just watched a video yesterday and got curious, that’s all.”

“Thanks, Xingyu.”

She brushed it off casually, cutting off any further probing from Ye Xingyu, and excused herself back to the break room, claiming she’d finished lunch.

Her phone buzzed suddenly.

She checked it. A WeChat notification: new email pending.

Sender: MURUO

As if possessed by some impulse, Bo Ranying tapped it open. It wasn’t one of the usual gambling invites but a zipped compressed file, paired with blunt, straightforward text:

[Please face reality and see who is truly the best match for Qiao Xiuyu!!!]