The private room suddenly fell quiet for a moment. Everyone turned to look at Shen Jia Yan.
Her hand, holding the wine glass, trembled slightly.
Lin Che understood Wen Wan Ning’s meaning and followed up immediately. “Attorney Wen is right. This toast is to Yu Chu, Attorney Wen, and Jia Yan.”
His voice was loud and carried a rare seriousness. “To your professionalism, and to Jia Yan, for every heartfelt creation.”
Shen Jia Yan hadn’t planned to drink, and everyone knew her low tolerance, so no one pressured her.
But to express her gratitude, and for those words, she swapped her water for wine, raised the glass, and downed it in one go.
She then poured another glass and held it up.
She walked over to Wen Wan Ning with the wine glass. “Attorney Wen, this toast is to you. Thank you for everything you’ve done for our band, thank you for your persistence, and thank you for respecting original musicians.”
“Jia Yan—” Wen Wan Ning reached out to stop her, but she was too late.
She knew Shen Jia Yan’s tolerance and didn’t want her to drink too much.
Shen Jia Yan tilted her head back and downed another glass.
The liquor slid down her throat, spicy and burning, spreading instantly through her body. Her cheeks flushed red quickly, her breathing grew slightly rapid, but her eyes shone with startling brightness.
She held the empty glass and looked at Wen Wan Ning, complex emotions swirling in her gaze.
Wen Wan Ning looked at her, at her alcohol-flushed face, at the fire in her eyes. Her heart felt tightly gripped, then slowly released.
She raised her own glass in response.
Two small glasses of baijiu were clearly too much for Shen Jia Yan.
A wave of dizziness hit her hard. Her steps wavered, her cheeks burned from pale red to scorching, her vision blurred, and the voices around her sounded muffled, like they were underwater.
“Jia Yan?” Zhong Ruyi noticed something was wrong and stood up immediately to support her.
“I’m fine…” She waved her hand, her voice softening, the end of her words trembling slightly. Yet she stubbornly stayed standing, as if unwilling to collapse in front of Wen Wan Ning.
But her body no longer obeyed her.
Just as she staggered and was about to fall, Wen Wan Ning steadily caught her arm.
One hand supported Shen Jia Yan’s elbow, the other gently held her back. The movements were restrained yet firm, as if afraid to shatter a long-lost treasure. “I’ll take you outside for some fresh air.” Her voice was soft and gentle.
Shen Jia Yan leaned against her, catching the faint lavender scent mixed with hints of paper and coffee—a familiar yet distant aroma.
She wanted to struggle, to say “I can walk myself,” but Wen Wan Ning’s arm was too steady, her voice too close, her embrace too warm.
She gave up resisting, allowing her nerves, tense for five years, to relax just a little. She let herself go, enveloped by that familiar scent, like sinking into a long-overdue dream.
Wen Wan Ning supported her out of the private room, avoiding the crowd’s concerned gazes, and brought her to the restaurant’s open courtyard.
“Sit down and rest for a bit.” She said softly, guiding her to lean on the long bench.
Shen Jia Yan tilted her head to gaze at the night sky, where the stars blurred into a hazy glow. The alcohol churned her thoughts, and five years of suppressed grievances, questions, and longing broke through the dam of reason.
She turned her head to look at Wen Wan Ning sitting beside her.
She still sat straight-backed, like a quietly standing tree, but under the moonlight, her profile seemed much softer than in her memories.
“You…” Shen Jia Yan’s voice was soft, husky with intoxication. “These years, have you been well?”
Wen Wan Ning turned to look at her.
Moonlight fell on Shen Jia Yan’s face, highlighting her reddened eye corners and trembling lashes. She was drunk.
“Not bad.” She said softly, her voice like wind brushing over a lake surface.
But those two words were so light, even she didn’t believe them.
Had she been well?
Not really. Her life had been busy. Work, cases, court sessions, mediations—days passed one after another, and it seemed like nothing was wrong.
But despite having everything, every time she returned home, turned on the light, and saw the empty room, she would instinctively think of Shen Jia Yan. She thought of her smile, her cuteness, her lonely back when rejected, and that night, her broken sobs…
She missed her so much she couldn’t sleep, and on sleepless nights, she pulled out the voice recorder pen Shen Jia Yan had given her, listening to her voice over and over until the battery died, until the recordings distorted.
She wanted to get close, but didn’t dare.
Was she well? Shen Jia Yan looked up at the sky and let out a light laugh.
She should be. She had a successful career, and… someone she liked. They might even be together now, running a law firm.
Indeed, without her involvement, it was an enviable life.
Wen Wan Ning suddenly turned to face her, her voice low and solemn. “Jia Yan, I want to apologize to you.”
Shen Jia Yan froze, slowly lowering her head to look at her.
The night breeze stirred Wen Wan Ning’s hair, her expression strikingly clear under the moonlight, even a bit vulnerable.
“I owe you a ‘I’m sorry.'” She stared straight into Shen Jia Yan’s eyes, word by word. “When your grandma passed, when you needed someone with you, I rejected you. I wasn’t by your side, I couldn’t… even hug you.”
Her voice trembled slightly. “I regret it so much. I’m truly sorry.”
Shen Jia Yan’s heart clenched fiercely.
She wasn’t without resentment.
During that time, she felt like she was living in endless rain. Her grandma was her most cherished family, and all she wanted was for Wen Wan Ning to accompany her, even just a “I’m here.”
But what she got was silence, avoidance, and that cold “I’m very busy right now.”
Shen Jia Yan sighed. “It’s all in the past. It doesn’t matter anymore.”
Not that it didn’t matter, but whether it did no longer held meaning.
A gust of wind blew, and the alcohol surged again. Shen Jia Yan felt the ground beneath her undulate like ocean waves. Her body tilted uncontrollably to the side. She reached out instinctively for a wall but grasped only air.
Just as she was about to topple, she fell into a warm embrace.
Wen Wan Ning held her tightly, her arms firmly around her waist, pulling her securely into her hold. Her voice sounded right by Shen Jia Yan’s ear, low and gentle. “Jia Yan, you’ve had too much. Let me take you home.”
Shen Jia Yan closed her eyes, cheeks burning, her consciousness floating amid the dual assault of alcohol and emotions. She heard her own heartbeat and Wen Wan Ning’s breath so close.
So near, like that unfinished embrace from five years ago, finally finding its place in this moment.
With her remaining awareness, she nodded.
Wen Wan Ning slowly helped her up and walked step by step to the restaurant entrance.
The cool night breeze brushed Shen Jia Yan’s burning face but did little to sober her. She leaned entirely on Wen Wan Ning, her steps unsteady, like a leaf caught in the wind, supported only by that familiar arm to keep from falling.
“Wan Ning…” she murmured her name, voice slurred and soft with drunkenness. “Don’t go…”
“I’m not going.” Wen Wan Ning whispered back, tightening her hold until she nearly enveloped her completely. “I’m here.”
She hailed a car and carefully helped her inside. Once seated, Shen Jia Yan leaned on her shoulder, her warm breath grazing her neck.
“Please wait a moment.” Wen Wan Ning said to the driver, then called Han Yuchu.
Han Yuchu set down his glass. “Wan Ning? Why are you calling me? Aren’t you just outside?”
Wen Wan Ning quietly shifted to make Shen Jia Yan more comfortable. “Jia Yan’s drunk. I need to take her home. Ask Lin Che for her address.”
“Oh, okay. Hold on.” Han Yuchu held up his phone and turned to Lin Che beside him. “Jia Yan’s drunk. Wan Ning’s taking her home. What’s her address?”
“Ah, she lives at Long Lake International,” he frowned, thinking. “Building 8, Unit 2, Room 601.”
“Got it.” Han Yuchu was about to relay it when Lin Che added, “But her place has a code lock. None of us know it. If she can say it herself now, she can go home. Otherwise, a hotel’s more reliable.”
“That’s what we’ve done before.”
Zhong Ruyi, who had been listening, chimed in quickly. “If you really can’t get it, she can stay at my place.”
“Um…” Han Yuchu ignored her and spoke into the phone. “Wan Ning—”
“I heard. I’ll try. If not, I’ll take her to my place.”
She hung up.
She had heard their conversation, including Zhong Ruyi’s words, but she didn’t want Shen Jia Yan staying at anyone else’s home.
She told the driver, “Excuse me, to Shiguang Yipin.”
“Alright.”
Outside the car window, the city’s lights streamed into rivers of glow. Inside was quiet, save for the low hum of the AC.
Shen Jia Yan stirred suddenly, her fingers unconsciously clutching Wen Wan Ning’s clothes. Her voice was faint, like sleep-talk. “That day… why didn’t you come? When Grandma left… I missed you so much…”
Wen Wan Ning’s heart tightened sharply.
She closed her eyes, throat choking. She knew Shen Jia Yan’s earlier breezy dismissal wasn’t from the heart.
That moment she had avoided for five years, that wound wrapped in layers of “rationality” and “restraint,” was finally, in this moment, gently torn open by Shen Jia Yan in the softest way.
“I’m sorry.” Her voice was hoarse, barely coherent. “I was afraid… afraid that if I went, I wouldn’t be able to control myself.”
Shen Jia Yan didn’t open her eyes, just buried her face deeper into Wen Wan Ning’s shoulder hollow, like a weary bird finally finding home.
Soon, the car pulled up steadily at Shiguang Yipin.
Wen Wan Ning helped her out and walked step by step toward home.
The elevator reached the third-floor penthouse.
Fingerprint unlock, door open, lights on.
She helped Shen Jia Yan sit on the sofa and turned to pour water.
But when she looked back, Shen Jia Yan had stood up and was staggering toward her step by step.
“Jia Yan?” She called softly, still holding the glass of water.
Shen Jia Yan didn’t answer. Her steps were unsteady, but her eyes burned bright, like stars ignited by alcohol.
She stopped in front of Wen Wan Ning, close enough to hear each other’s breaths.
