Chapter 69: She No Longer Had the Right to Approach Her…

Wen Wan Ning returned to the dormitory, absentmindedly set down her bag, and sat on the edge of the bed, still clutching her phone.

Shen Jia Yan’s voice still echoed in her ears.

That question—”Do you have time? Can you keep me company for a bit?”—gently pierced the calm she had been trying so hard to maintain, and it lightly reopened a wound in her heart that had never fully healed.

She had thought time would wash everything away, including the gentleness in Shen Jia Yan’s eyes, the caution in her voice, and that inexplicable flutter in her own heart every time she drew near.

But just moments ago, standing in front of the academic building when she received that call, she realized she hadn’t forgotten her at all.

She had merely grown accustomed to not thinking about her.

She had carefully tucked her name, her voice, her very existence into a corner of her memories—out of sight, out of sound, untouched. Only then could she continue with her life.

She lowered her head to look at the screen, where “Call Ended” lay quietly, like a stone wrapped in the darkness of night, weighing heavily on her heart.

Suddenly, she recalled Shen Jia Yan’s tone at the time—calm, but too calm.

She knew her too well; that excessive calm meant something had happened, and it probably wasn’t just about the two of them.

Her heart clenched sharply. She suddenly realized that Shen Jia Yan wouldn’t have called out of the blue or casually asked if she had time.

In the end, concern overrode reason.

As a compromise, she messaged Shen Jia Yan’s roommate, Xu Jingyao: [Hello, this is Wen Wan Ning. I wanted to ask if Jia Yan ran into something? She didn’t seem quite right.]

Xu Jingyao, who had been lying on her bed scrolling through Weibo on her phone, paused when the message from Wen Wan Ning popped up.

She immediately sat up, instantly wide awake.

Startled by her sudden movement, Fu Jinxi frowned at her. “What’s wrong? You scared me.”

As Xu Jingyao opened the message, she replied, “Wen Wan Ning messaged me.”

Fu Jinxi froze for a moment before asking, “Why is she suddenly contacting you?”

Xu Jingyao didn’t answer. She just stared at the words on the screen, her brows slowly furrowing.

Of course, she knew Shen Jia Yan hadn’t been doing well lately.

Rejected by the person she liked, her grandma’s passing, emotions suppressed for too long, and that layer of “I’m fine” pretense she herself hadn’t even noticed—it had all piled up in her heart like a volcano ready to erupt at any moment.

“She asked if Jia Yan ran into something,” Xu Jingyao said softly, her tone laced with complexity.

Fu Jinxi glanced at Shen Jia Yan’s bed, her voice tinged with helplessness and heartache. “Wasn’t getting rejected by the person she’s liked for so many years enough of a ‘something’?”

Xu Jingyao sighed. “I don’t think that’s what she’s asking about.” She knew better than anyone what had happened between them.

As Shen Jia Yan’s roommates, they harbored some resentment toward Wen Wan Ning.

They had watched Shen Jia Yan approach her time and again, only to be left out in the cold; watched her like her so cautiously, swallow all her emotions alone; watched her suffer in such pain yet still smile and say, “I’m fine.”

They felt indignant for her, but they also understood that feelings weren’t about right or wrong.

Liking was liking, and not liking was not liking. You couldn’t force someone to love you, nor could you call someone bad just because they didn’t reciprocate.

Xu Jingyao leaned against the headboard, looking at Fu Jinxi. “Should we tell her about Jia Yan’s grandma passing away?”

She knew Wen Wan Ning hadn’t said it outright, but she must have sensed something. Otherwise, why would she suddenly contact her, asking so cautiously?

Fu Jinxi frowned. “If she really cared, she would’ve known already.”

Xu Jingyao muttered softly, “But she is… the person Jia Yan liked for so long.”

Just then, her phone vibrated again.

She picked it up—another message from Wen Wan Ning: [She called me and asked if I could keep her company for a bit.]

Right after, another one came: [I had something going on at the time, so I turned her down.]

Those two short sentences hit Xu Jingyao like a heavy stone.

She didn’t reply right away, just stared at the screen, her fingers unconsciously rubbing the edge of her phone.

Then she turned to Fu Jinxi, her eyes filled with helplessness and a hint of disappointment. “She said Jia Yan called her asking if she could keep her company, and she… turned her down.”

Fu Jinxi’s brows furrowed even tighter after hearing this.

She said nothing, just bit her lower lip lightly, suppressing her emotions.

She could imagine how lonely and vulnerable Shen Jia Yan must have felt, gripping her phone and dialing that number she hadn’t dared to call in so long.

But Wen Wan Ning had missed it. She had missed the moment Shen Jia Yan needed her most.

Xu Jingyao continued, “Do you think she knows about Jia Yan’s grandma passing?”

Fu Jinxi thought for a moment and shook her head. “Probably not.”

“Jia Yan’s not the type to tell others when she’s upset. She’d rather shoulder it alone than make others think she’s a burden.”

Xu Jingyao sighed softly, her fingers hovering over the screen for a few seconds before she finally replied: [Jia Yan’s grandma passed away a couple of days ago.]

She didn’t say more, just stated the fact calmly.

Meanwhile, Wen Wan Ning sat in her chair, anxiously staring at her phone screen.

When that message appeared, it struck her like a blow, making her tremble violently.

[Jia Yan’s grandma passed away a couple of days ago.]

She stared at those words for a very, very long time— so long that even her breathing grew heavy.

She finally understood why Shen Jia Yan’s voice had been so calm.

Why she had only asked, “Can you keep me company for a bit?” without pleading further.

It wasn’t acceptance or strength; it was numbness after pain had reached its peak.

She remembered Shen Jia Yan saying that her grandma had raised her, that her grandma loved her dearly.

When she was little and missing her mom, her grandma would quietly come to her side and hand her a cup of melon seeds, one by one, carefully shelled.

She had spoken with childlike longing about taking her grandma out to play one day, buying her delicious food.

She had said she wanted to bring her to her grandma’s house to see the flowers…

All her gentleness, her strength, her maturity—her grandma had taught her bit by bit.

What must it feel like when the most important person suddenly leaves?

What must Shen Jia Yan have felt when she called her, softly asking, “Can you keep me company for a bit?”

And when she had heartlessly rejected her…

Wen Wan Ning felt she was too cruel, too cold. How could she hurt someone who had always treated her with wholehearted kindness? Even as a friend, she shouldn’t have uttered those icy words without any leeway when Shen Jia Yan needed her most.

She hurriedly stood up, left the dormitory, and as she walked, she called Shen Jia Yan back.

“I’m sorry, the number you’re calling is currently on another call…” The cold female voice came from the receiver.

She tried calling several more times in a row, but it still didn’t connect.

Without stopping, she switched to WeChat and tried a voice call.

The screen showed, “The other party hasn’t added you as a friend, so voice calls are not available.”

She froze.

It felt like a harsh blow had struck her; she stood rooted to the spot, unmoving.

“The other party hasn’t added you as a friend.” Those words were like a knife, gently but mercilessly slicing through her last shred of hope.

She finally realized that Shen Jia Yan was no longer the girl who would always pick up her calls, who would drop everything at her word to be by her side.

She had let her go.

Wen Wan Ning slowly lowered her phone, her eyes gradually reddening.

She hadn’t just been blocked.

She had been quietly removed from the world that had once belonged to her.

She was too awful.

How could she be so heartless, refusing even to say “I’m here” when Shen Jia Yan needed her most?

It wasn’t that she hadn’t felt sorry for her.

She had just been too afraid—afraid that getting close would pull her back in, afraid that agreeing to keep her company would make her want to start over, afraid of disappointing her again.

But she had forgotten: Shen Jia Yan wasn’t trying to win her back.

She was just too tired, too hurt, wanting to find the one person who once understood her best—even if it was just to sit together for a while, just to talk a little, just to know she wasn’t alone.

Yet she had rejected even that small request.

She truly didn’t deserve Shen Jia Yan’s lingering attachment. She deserved to be deleted, blocked, shut out of her world.

The night wind blew through the campus path, chilling her fingertips, her heart even colder.

Standing under the streetlamp, staring at “Call Interrupted” on her screen, she finally understood: it wasn’t Shen Jia Yan who was heartless. It was she herself who had personally pushed the person who loved her most to a point of no return.

She no longer had the right to approach her.

※

Shen Jia Yan returned to the dormitory listlessly.

She wanted to act as if nothing had happened—like always, change her shoes, set down her bag, sit on the bed’s edge, even force her expression to look relaxed.

But she was too exhausted.

One blow after another, like tides, slowly drowning her.

Unrequited love, her grandma’s passing, and that call that hadn’t connected earlier…

It felt like all her strength had been drained, even the strength to pretend to be strong nearly spent.

Xu Jingyao sat beside her, watching her slumped shoulders, her heart aching.

She wanted to comfort her but didn’t know what to say.

Why did such a good, gentle, kind girl have to endure all this?

Sensing her hesitation, Shen Jia Yan curved her lips slightly. “I know you want to comfort me.” Her voice was soft, carrying a weary smile. “It’s okay. I’ll be fine.” She was telling them, and herself.

Xu Jingyao’s eyes grew hot.

She knew Shen Jia Yan wasn’t brushing them off.

She was truly trying to convince herself that she was okay.

But she also knew how much grievance, suppression, and swallowed sorrow hid behind those words.

She said nothing more, just gently placed her arm around Shen Jia Yan’s shoulders and hugged her lightly.