Chapter 92: To Wen Wan Ning, What Exactly Was She…

Wen Wan Ning still had her back to Shen Jia Yan, her fingers still gripping the window frame tightly.

But her shoulders trembled slightly.

She didn’t speak, didn’t dare to. She feared that the moment she opened her mouth, it would be choked sobs, revealing her true thoughts.

Shen Jia Yan waited a few seconds but received no response.

She straightened up, her fingertips lightly brushing Wen Wan Ning’s earlobe. Suddenly, she laughed—a very soft, very cold laugh. “It seems Lawyer Wen’s ‘desires’ aren’t that strong after all.”

Just as she turned to leave, she heard a very faint “Okay.”

She let out a cold snort and walked away.

The door clicked shut.

The office was left with only Wen Wan Ning.

She slowly turned around and looked at the earring placed on the coffee table—like a discarded heart.

She walked over, her fingertips trembling as she gently clasped it in her palm.

Sunlight spilled over her, but it couldn’t warm her in the slightest.

※

Shen Jia Yan drove to the studio.

The black Mercedes G500 navigated through the traffic like a silent beast threading through the city’s steel veins. She pressed her lips tightly together, gripping the steering wheel hard, as if that could suppress the churning pain inside her.

The car windows were sealed shut, yet Wen Wan Ning’s voice echoed repeatedly in her ears: “Adult desires,” “No need to elevate it to another level.”

Each word was like a knife, slicing through the fragile peace she had barely built.

To Wen Wan Ning, what exactly was she?

She didn’t like her, yet she helped her, drew close to her. When she did… those things, she didn’t push her away. And when she apologized profusely for her excessive behavior, she calmly told her not to take it to heart.

Did she really see her as some… substitute for adult desire relief?

An old acquaintance who could stir up past emotions, someone who could “understand” her, accommodate her, without truly entering her life—a safe outlet?

“Heh.” Shen Jia Yan let out a cold laugh, tears sliding from the corner of her eye.

She wasn’t inexperienced; she was Chuze Band’s drummer, the one who commanded the stage with rhythm. She could tear her soul apart for music, shoulder all the band’s pressure, yet she crumbled time and again before Wen Wan Ning.

She felt like a clown. Over these years, she was the only one who hadn’t forgotten that self-indulgent affection. She was the only one who couldn’t control her heart racing upon reuniting.

While the other could face her calmly, she still drowned in it.

Pathetic.

Shen Jia Yan, wake up.

※

For the next week, Chuze Band performed at music festivals across various cities.

Wen Wan Ning didn’t contact Shen Jia Yan for the first two days. On the third day, she suddenly sent a good morning message. Shen Jia Yan didn’t reply.

She figured that if it was work-related, she’d say so directly. If not, there was no need to respond.

That evening, after showering in the hotel and lying in bed with her phone, a WeChat notification popped up at the top of the screen.

She opened WeChat—it was from Wen Wan Ning again: [Performing outdoors must be exhausting. Rest early, good night. (Kitten good night.jpg.)]

Shen Jia Yan stared at the screen, let out a light sigh, and still didn’t reply.

She exited WeChat, scrolled through her phone, and finally drifted into a fitful sleep.

The next day.

Since the performance was at night, the band members didn’t need to wake up early. Shen Jia Yan took the chance to catch up on sleep.

She hadn’t slept well the night before.

Evening arrived, and the music festival’s atmosphere ignited fully in the night.

The massive main stage was sliced into a psychedelic ocean by neon and lasers. Below, a boiling sea of people waved glow sticks and phone lights like a starry river undulating with the rhythm.

Shen Jia Yan loved the music festival stage—it let her vanish completely in the torrent of light and sound. Here, she wasn’t the Shen Jia Yan swayed by emotions; she was Chuze’s drummer, a storm that crushed all feelings, reassembled them, and smashed them into the air.

The final guest act was about to take the stage.

She stood at the stage’s edge, her black leather jacket hugging her lean frame, drumsticks twirling between her fingers. The sound engineer’s confirmation came through her earpiece, while the crowd’s roars crashed like waves below. She took a deep breath—the mix of scents, sweetness, sweat. This was the smell she knew best: freedom.

Chuze was about to go on.

But just as the lights dimmed and they were set to ascend, her peripheral vision caught a figure in the corner of the front row audience.

A silhouette in a beige trench coat stood quietly, not waving glow sticks, not jumping with the crowd—just gazing up at the stage, eyes precisely fixed on her.

It was Wen Wan Ning.

Why was she here?

Shen Jia Yan’s heart skipped a disobedient beat.

Before she could think further, Zhong Ruyi, walking beside her, stumbled as she stepped onstage. Her Martin boots slipped at the edge, and she pitched forward off balance.

Shen Jia Yan instinctively reached out, wrapping an arm around her waist from the side-rear and yanking her back firmly into her embrace.

They staggered but steadied themselves, the crowd’s gasps turning instantly to screams.

“You okay?” Shen Jia Yan asked softly, her arm still wrapped tightly around her. Through the thin performance shirt, she felt Zhong Ruyi’s racing heartbeat against her palm.

“That scared me to death—thanks!” Zhong Ruyi patted her chest, still shaken, then grinned teasingly. “You’re reliable, as expected from a drummer. Reflexes are top-notch.”

Shen Jia Yan smiled and released her. “Let’s go, onstage.”

Lights, drums, voices boomed once more, and the performance continued.

She made her way to the drum kit, sat down, and gripped the sticks.

The lights blazed suddenly, like a galaxy pouring down, bathing the stage in scorching gold. Below, cheers and shouts wove into a boiling sea. She drew a deep breath, feeling the sticks against her palms. The first heavy beat crashed like thunder splitting the sky, followed by rhythm pouring like a downpour.

Sweat trailed from her hairline, sparkling like diamonds under the lights. She closed her eyes, letting the music envelop her completely, her body swaying with the beat, her soul resonating with the drums.

When the final note trembled in the air and faded, the world plunged into a momentary silence. Then applause surged like a tidal wave, flooding the space.

The performance ended. As always for the curtain call, the band rose, Shen Jia Yan and Zhong Ruyi in the center, others flanking them.

Arms over neighbors’ shoulders, they bowed in thanks together.

As they straightened, she couldn’t help lifting her eyes to the side of the stage.

Wen Wan Ning was still there.

She hadn’t left, hadn’t approached—just stood quietly.

Shen Jia Yan didn’t move, didn’t smile.

But in the roar of thousands, her heart trembled faintly.

Lin Che grabbed the mic, his voice booming clearly through the speakers. “Thank you all for your love and support along the way—we felt every heartbeat tonight!”

Deafening cheers erupted below, glow sticks waving like an inverted galaxy.

Suddenly, scattered voices rose from the crowd: “Hug!”

It started faint, tentative, but rippled outward quickly, from the front rows spreading across the venue.

The band members exchanged puzzled glances, unsure what the crowd was chanting.

Lin Che leaned into the mic. “What? Louder!”

“Jia Yan and Ruyi, hug! Hug…”

The whole venue chanted in unison, the roar nearly toppling the canopy.

Lin Che finally caught it, stunned for a second, then grinned wide. He turned to Shen Jia Yan and Zhong Ruyi beside him. “Hear that? The crowd wants you two to hug.”

Zhong Ruyi turned to Shen Jia Yan with a laugh, arms outstretched. “Come on, let’s fulfill the fans’ wish.”

Shen Jia Yan’s lips curved slightly as she opened her arms and hugged her back.

“Ah! Ah! Ah!” Screams exploded from below. But amid the excitement, there was thrill, heckling… and a near-frenzied push.

Shen Jia Yan vaguely sensed something off in the vibe.

Dismissing it as fan hype, she prepared to let go—but Zhong Ruyi chuckled low in her ear. “Look at the crowd.”

She glanced sideways. Countless phones were held high, lenses trained on them. But the chants had shifted from “Hug” to “Get together!”

Screams, whistles, laughter blended into chaos.

Shen Jia Yan stiffened abruptly, realizing—they weren’t just yelling “hug”; they were waiting for an “official announcement.”

She quickly tugged Lin Che’s sleeve, signaling to get offstage fast.

If it dragged on, the misunderstanding would spiral out of control.

Lin Che raised the mic at once, voice laughing but firm. “Thanks for the enthusiasm! But tonight’s feels have maxed out—we’re heading off. See you next time!”

Amid applause and boos, they swiftly exited, the curtain dropping.

Wen Wan Ning stood below the stage, fingers clenched tight on her sleeve.

Those “Get together!” cries from the crowd pierced her soul, dormant for five years, like needles.

She watched Shen Jia Yan’s back vanish behind the curtain, saw the faces cheering for “her and someone else,” and suddenly felt like a complete coward.

She had pushed her away, yet didn’t dare approach again. She’d always thought only of herself, never considering how outstanding Shen Jia Yan was—bound to have many admirers.

People like Zhong Ruyi, radiant, straightforward, bold enough to embrace her onstage without hiding her feelings.

And her? She hid behind contract clauses, using “business as usual” as a shield, “adult desires” as an excuse, watching helplessly as others drew closer.

She’d always thought that as long as she could wait, she’d return to her side.

But she’d forgotten: what Shen Jia Yan wanted wasn’t protection, not responsibility, not belated amends, not veiled atonement through contracts and late-night vigils.

She wanted love—a straightforward “I like you.”

Shen Jia Yan had done so much for her. It was time she changed.

Not as a lawyer, not as an old friend—but as a woman who had loved her for five years, hidden it too long, ached too deeply.