Chapter 70: Why Doesn’t Anyone Want to Stop for Me…

After a while, everyone gradually calmed their emotions.

The dormitory returned to its usual quiet, though a faint heaviness still lingered in the air.

Shen Jia Yan sat on the chair, lowering her head to tidy up the scattered books and notes on the desk. Her movements were slow and meticulous. She flipped through a page of notes, then closed it, and said softly, “I’ll treat everyone to dinner tonight.”

She lifted her head and looked at Xu Jingyao, Fu Jinxi, and Zhang Min. There was a hint of a smile in her eyes, as if she wanted to use this lightness to gently close the chapter on the heaviness of the past period.

“If nothing unexpected happens, I’ll be going abroad next week,” she said calmly, as if it were just as ordinary as saying, “I have to get up early tomorrow.”

But the words still caused a momentary silence in the dormitory.

Everyone knew she was leaving, but hearing it directly from her own mouth still left a hollow feeling in their hearts.

Xu Jingyao looked at her, her eyes filled with heartache and reluctance.

She knew Shen Jia Yan wanted to change places, to start anew.

To go somewhere without Wen Wan Ning, without Grandma, without so many memories, and slowly heal herself.

But she also wanted her to know that she wasn’t alone.

She wanted to tell her that it was okay to be sad, to be vulnerable, to break down—that she didn’t have to hide all her pain behind a gentle smile.

Fu Jinxi let out a soft “Mm,” her voice a little hoarse. “What do you want to eat? I’ll treat you.”

Zhang Min chimed in with a smile, “Then I have to fight to treat you once. It’ll be hard to even see you after this.”

Shen Jia Yan smiled, this time more genuinely. “When I come back, you can treat me. Tonight, it’s my show.” Just like the first time they met.

They didn’t go far and ended up at that familiar shop near the school, the one they often visited when they wanted something better.

The familiar decor, the familiar menu—even the waitress recognized them. “The beautiful ladies are back again?”

After ordering, Xu Jingyao suggested, “Shouldn’t we drink a little today? Who knows when the next time will be.”

Her tone was light, but as soon as the words left her mouth, the air grew heavy.

No one spoke; they just lowered their heads to look at the drinks on the table, as if the words had gently poked at the softest part of their hearts.

Shen Jia Yan noticed the shift in atmosphere and smiled lightly, breaking the silence. “Sure, let’s drink a bit.”

Her tone was cheerful, as if she hadn’t noticed the emotions in everyone’s eyes. “I’m leaving next week anyway, so it’s fine if we get drunk tonight.”

She picked up the cola on the table and shook it, as if teasing herself. “But my tolerance is really bad, so go easy on me.”

Fu Jinxi looked at her, a flicker of heartache in her eyes, then smiled too. “Then tonight, we’ll drink with you. No one goes home sober.”

She said it boldly on purpose, but her voice choked up the moment the words came out.

Zhang Min didn’t say anything and just quietly stood up. “I’ll go order some alcohol.”

The night was gentle, the wind lightly rustling the leaves outside the window.

They sat around the table, just like always—laughing, chatting, eating, and drinking.

Everyone drank quite a bit.

Buoyed by the alcohol, Xu Jingyao confessed to Shen Jia Yan, “Jia Yan, Wan Ning messaged me today.”

Shen Jia Yan’s smile froze for a moment.

She didn’t speak, just gestured with her eyes for Xu Jingyao to continue.

“She asked if something had happened to you.” She then let out a light sigh. “I told her about your grandma passing away.”

“Sorry, I didn’t ask for your permission first.”

Shen Jia Yan lowered her head to look at the glass on the table, her fingers gently tracing the rim.

A smile still hung on her lips, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

She was silent for a few seconds before slowly saying, “It’s fine. What’s said is said.” Her tone was calm, even carrying a touch of nonchalant relief.

Xu Jingyao couldn’t hold back her curiosity. “Did she… contact you?”

Shen Jia Yan picked up the full glass in front of her and downed it in one go. Her throat moved slightly, and she didn’t even furrow her brows. Then she quirked her lips. “I don’t know. I deleted all her contact info.”

Whether she contacted her or not didn’t seem to matter anymore.

Some people—you couldn’t truly let go just by deleting their contact.

It was only when you finally realized she wouldn’t come back that you really let go.

She leaned back in her chair, her gaze drifting to the night scene outside the window, as if piercing through the city’s lights to some distant place.

“Actually, I’ve always known she wouldn’t come back,” she said softly. “I used to think that as long as I liked her, as long as I waited for her, one day she’d respond to me.”

“But later I realized that liking someone isn’t something you wait for. It’s when the other person is willing to stop for you—that’s real liking.”

She paused, the smile on her lips fading a bit but growing even gentler. “She didn’t stop, so I’m not waiting anymore.”

No one spoke at the table.

Only the wind blew in from outside the window, gently brushing their hair.

They drank a few more bottles, and everyone was a bit unsteady.

Especially Shen Jia Yan—her tolerance was the worst among the four.

The grievances, sadness, and heartbreak accumulated over recent days surged up bit by bit under the catalyst of the alcohol.

Like a crack gently pried open, widening until it swallowed her entire heart.

She started talking about Grandma.

“The day Grandma passed, I sat by her bed, holding her hand until it grew cold. She went peacefully; the doctor said she didn’t suffer much.”

“But I… it hurts so much.” She didn’t cry, but her tone held a heartbreaking calm.

“I always thought I could spend many more years with her, that I could take her out for a stroll.”

“I thought she’d watch me grow up, watch me fall in love, watch me bring the person I like to meet her…”

“From childhood to now, she took care of me. I never got the chance to repay her, never got the chance…”

She didn’t cry, but every word felt like tearing a piece of flesh from her heart.

Xu Jingyao’s eyes reddened as she gently held her hand.

Fu Jinxi kept her head down, tears silently sliding into her glass.

Zhang Min patted her shoulder lightly, her voice choked. “Jia Yan, you’ve already done great. Grandma must have felt all the love you gave her.”

Shen Jia Yan leaned back in her chair, her gaze a little dazed, a smile still on her face but blurred, like ink smudged by water.

She continued, her voice soft like a dream. “Actually… I really like Wan Ning.”

“I can’t let go of her. I miss her so much.”

She sniffled, her voice trembling. “I miss the her who would smile and pick up my calls, the her who would fret and scold me when I got hurt, the her who would tell me ‘you’re amazing’…”

“But she didn’t come.” Her voice dropped, scattering into the night like the wind. “The last time I wanted her by my side, she didn’t come.”

Her tears finally slid down uncontrollably.

No wailing or hysteria—just tears falling one by one onto the table, onto the rim of her empty glass. A part of her heart finally cracked open.

Those days she gritted her teeth through, those moments she forced a smile, those times she was in agony but told others “I’m fine”—

In this moment, they all gently collapsed.

She didn’t speak, just kept her head down, letting the tears fall silently.

Xu Jingyao stepped forward and hugged her. “Jia Yan, cry if you want. You don’t have to hold back.”

Shen Jia Yan didn’t push her away or respond. She just leaned into her embrace, her shoulders trembling lightly as her tears silently soaked Xu Jingyao’s shoulder.

The trembling grew stronger. The long-accumulated grievances, endurance, and silence finally burst the dam.

She sat in the chair, her fingers rubbing nonstop, and cried out loud, her voice trembling and broken. “Am I really that bad? Why me?”

She choked so hard she could barely form complete sentences, her voice full of helplessness—like she was asking Xu Jingyao, the world, fate, and the person she’d once loved so devoutly.

“When my friends need help, I’m there right away. When I see someone begging on the roadside, whether it’s real or not, I give them some money. When I see stray kittens or puppies, I rush to buy them food…”

Her voice grew lower but more pained. “I’m not bad, right? I should be a good person.”

“Jia Yan, you are. You’re great,” Xu Jingyao stroked her back again and again, tears streaming as she comforted her.

She lifted her head, eyes full of tears, as if pouring out all her confusion and grievances. “But why?”

“Why doesn’t anyone want to stop for me?”

“The person I love, the person who loves me—they all leave me…”

Her voice broke intermittently, yet pierced everyone’s heart like a thin needle.

“Grandma left, Wan Ning left. I can’t even fulfill my last wish to see her one more time…”

“Am I really not worth loving?” She hurt beyond measure, crying in utter despair.

Outside the private room, Wen Wan Ning withdrew her hand from the door handle and slowly leaned against the door, as if struck down by something. She slid to the floor.

Back at the dormitory, she’d received a message from Xu Jingyao: [Jia Yan is going abroad next week. Tonight, we’re having a send-off dinner for her.]

[If you… want to say goodbye, you can come.]

She hadn’t asked for Wen Wan Ning’s thoughts or said “you two still have a chance.” She’d just plainly sent the address.

Like a kind invitation, or a final act of grace.

Wen Wan Ning hesitated for a long time but decided to follow the address.

She’d meant to knock and go in, but as soon as she reached the door, she heard Shen Jia Yan’s crying.

That sound was like a hammer pounding her heart, making it ache, making it hard to breathe.

She heard her choke out, “Am I really that bad? Why me?” She heard her whisper, “Am I not worth loving?”

She heard her softest grievances, her deepest pain.

She hadn’t thought Shen Jia Yan wouldn’t be sad.

But she hadn’t expected her sadness to make her doubt herself.

She’d really hurt her too deeply.

Leaning against the door, she listened to the intermittent sobs inside, to Shen Jia Yan shedding all her pretenses and crying like a child.

She no longer tried to push the door open. She let her own tears fall silently, sitting there quietly. The night wind gently brushed her hair, as if embracing the crying Shen Jia Yan on her behalf.

Then, she stood up, looked at the private room door—the final distance between them—and whispered, “I’m sorry, Yan Yan. You deserve to be firmly chosen, to be loved gently.”

I don’t deserve it.