The person in front of her had reacted strongly to seeing her, and…
It seemed like she knew her?
Ye Chengxing looked at her more carefully.
She still couldn’t recall any specific memories, but the feeling she got was one of faint, blurry familiarity.
If they knew each other, their past relationship must have been a positive one—at the very least, not a bad one. Especially judging from the woman’s tone: beneath the incredulous shock, there was joy spilling out uncontrollably.
—Since this person knew her, maybe she could tell her what had happened between her and Li Jia.
So when the woman invited her to “go sit somewhere else,” Ye Chengxing didn’t refuse.
The outdoors carried a chill.
But the moment they stepped inside the villa, the lingering cold was enveloped by enveloping warmth.
The door was opened by another woman whose eyes reddened the instant she saw Ye Chengxing.
Ye Chengxing looked at her and figured she must know her too. After all, eyes turning red at first sight screamed a deep connection, no matter how you sliced it.
Just as she hesitated over whether to mention her lost memories, the pink-haired woman who had brought her in spoke first.
“Boss,” Fu Tao said with a grin, giving Xi Yue a playful shove, “let me tell you, Xi Yue’s really made it big now—she’s the Gourmet Chief!”
Xi Yue’s wistful expression shattered under the push, and she couldn’t help but call out Fu Tao’s name.
But Fu Tao’s words had lightened the mood considerably, and soon the two were chatting back and forth, catching up on recent events.
“Xi Ran went to school today. She’s advancing another grade this year—top of her class.”
“Chao Yi and Zhi Yu are in other star systems for now, so they can’t get back right away, but they’ve gotten the news and are on their way.”
“The Gourmet Store’s business is booming. No—it’s always been booming~”
As they spoke, blurry images of those names flickered in Ye Chengxing’s mind.
They had so much to tell her, piling on story after story. Ye Chengxing listened, a smile tugging unconsciously at her lips, and the words slipped out on instinct: “You all seem to be doing really well. That’s great.”
Xi Yue paused at the sound of her voice. “Sis, what about you? How have these past few years been? You doing okay?”
“And we’re all grown up now,” Fu Tao chimed in from the side. “Boss, if you need anything, you have to tell us.”
But after saying that, Fu Tao glanced at Ye Chengxing, her tone turning hesitant. “By the way, Boss… does Li Jia know you’re back?”
Ye Chengxing heard that strange yet familiar name leave her lips and answered the questions one by one.
“I’ve been okay. Since coming back… I haven’t seen her yet.”
After a brief pause, she asked, “How is she?”
As soon as the words left her mouth, the expressions of the two women sitting across from her grew complicated in unison.
Their lips parted and closed, closed and parted again, but neither Fu Tao nor Xi Yue seemed to know how to put it.
How could they describe it?
Li Jia was alive, living better than any of them.
But she was no different from dead—a hollow shell following the single command to keep breathing.
It was as if everything had vanished with Ye Chengxing’s disappearance.
They still remembered that snowy night five years ago.
When they and Wen Qingxi finally tracked down that place, Ye Chengxing was long gone. The Omega in her wedding dress clutched a bouquet of white roses, standing motionless in the blizzard. No one knew how long she had been there.
The wedding dress was splattered with blood. At first, everyone thought it was Ye Chengxing’s, but later they realized it was all Li Jia’s.
It was enough blood to kill anyone, yet Li Jia bore no wounds or lasting effects—as if she had been healed.
After that, they never saw Ye Chengxing again. They figured it was for the best if she had just left. Li Jia’s actions had been too extreme, talking about locking her away—it was horrifying to even think about.
Even understanding that, they had all wept bitterly. Strangely, Li Jia had been the calmest about it.
They didn’t know the full story, only that Ye Chengxing had left because of her. Words had flown sharp and accusatory.
But the Omega wouldn’t even glance their way, much less stop.
The one time her gaze lingered was when she spotted their group photo with Ye Chengxing.
That was when Li Jia realized these people all had photos with her.
Bright, joyful snapshots of good times.
Everyone but her.
She, who had spent nearly every day and night with Ye Chengxing, didn’t have a single one.
After Ye Chengxing left, Li Jia stopped going inside their home. She rarely entered, usually just lingering at the door while robots kept the place spotless.
She lived alone elsewhere but always prepared double portions of everything.
Two toothbrushes, two sets of pajamas…
On lonely nights, she lay in bed, but that faint, soft, familiar scent was gone from every breath.
Li Jia thought she wouldn’t cry anymore—her tears had dried up along with her heart.
But one morning, as she ate her usual double breakfast and took the last bite, she broke down sobbing, collapsing to her knees and unable to get up. A fruit knife clattered to the floor, slicing her skin. In that moment, she realized no voice would ask if she was hurt.
It never would again.
Even a simple cut like this—if Ye Chengxing were there—would be tended to with utmost care, brows furrowed gently, hands soft and precise.
Li Jia could almost picture it.
As the blood from the wound coagulated, she rarely treated her own injuries. Pain was pain, just like she never cared about her own life. But the wounds she ignored always had someone else to care for them meticulously.
So she forced herself up and bandaged it, just as Ye Chengxing had done countless times before.
Two months later, Li Jia returned to Gourmet Street. She remembered Ye Chengxing writing something at a stall back then, and the time was about up.
She figured it probably wasn’t for her but asked anyway.
The stall owner lit up at the sight of her.
“You came at the perfect time, customer. I was just wondering how to get these to you.” The owner looked a bit sheepish. Originally, he had planned to toss the papers. He was just an ordinary street vendor who had promised to deliver them to the right person, but handing them to a celebrity? Unthinkable.
But now that Li Jia was here, problem solved.
His smile widened. “Here they all are—these are all for you.”
Li Jia held the thin stack of papers.
She had known Ye Chengxing wrote for a long time and assumed they were for many people.
She never imagined they were all for her.
Every word, every line—for her alone.
Li Jia stood frozen, fingers trembling. The pages felt like blazing fire, burning her to ashes before reshaping her in an instant. Her heart ached unbearably.
Days later, snow fell again.
She had learned to build snowmen by now, but the first attempt was still one beautiful snowman and one hilariously ugly lump that barely resembled a person.
After finishing, she rebuilt it into two beautiful snowmen, decorating them step by step from memory.
Then she stood quietly for two seconds before pulling out a camera. She struck a pose as if taking a group photo, capturing herself with the two snowmen behind her.
If someone had stood in the empty space beside her, it would have been perfect.
In a daze, Li Jia almost saw the woman’s smiling figure appear next to her in the photo. But a blink brought her back to reality.
Reality was just her, the two snowmen, and the eerily empty space at her side.
She longed to see her again, even in dreams, but sleep eluded her. Every night, she tossed and turned, her mind full of that figure.
To sleep, she started taking sedatives, desperate to dream of her—forgetting that they induced dreamless slumber.
Yet in the haze, she saw Ye Chengxing.
Li Jia thought perhaps the world had finally been kind to her once.
She lay in their old home’s bed, and the figure she longed for sat at the edge. She gently touched Li Jia’s face, sighing softly, her voice tender and helpless: “Not doing well, are you?”
Li Jia wrapped her arms around her waist, pulling her down to lie beside her, then held her tight.
She buried her face in the woman’s neck without a word.
The woman stroked her hair, letting her cling. “Take better care of yourself. Seeing you like this breaks my heart.”
Listening to her voice, Li Jia held her even tighter, her tearful words muffled: “…Sis, I miss you so much.”
The figure in her arms fell silent.
The entire dream crumbled with those words.
Li Jia opened her eyes to the stark white ceiling of a hospital room.
An electronic voice echoed in her mind, laced with unclear emotions—anger, sorrow: 【Li Jia, are you trying to die?】
If 001 hadn’t snapped out of its chaos, hacked the devices, and called emergency services, it might have been too late.
Li Jia listened to 001’s voice and let out a low chuckle moments later. Her first thought was that she still hadn’t dreamed—that vision must have been her life flashing before her eyes.
The chaotic notion comforted her. In her mind, she replied softly to 001: “I won’t anymore.”
She wouldn’t go on like that. Ye Chengxing had used the Wish Contract on her—she couldn’t keep this up.
She would live. Live brilliantly, famed across the stars. Excel in her studies, enter the finest academy.
Live well. Better than anyone.
It wasn’t even that painful. At least she knew deep down that Ye Chengxing had truly loved her.
Not painful at all. Thinking back on it all filled her with unmatched beauty.
Whether one lived in the past or the present hardly mattered. Ye Chengxing existed in her past, so she would forever be frozen in that instant from long ago. There was nothing wrong with that—frozen in the moment when Ye Chengxing had loved her the most, loved her enough to willingly die for her.
She still loved watching romance movies.
She enjoyed preparing a cup of very sweet milk tea and another cup of tea with barely any sweetness while watching a film, just as if they were still drinking together. Her life held no suffering at all—not the slightest bit.
She took excellent care of herself. She even got a navel piercing, from which a bright star dangled. A newly tattooed rose adorned her hip bone, its petals winding upward like a tribute, or as if in beautiful, lingering tenderness it yearned to kiss the star and gather every bit of its starlight into those petals.
Winter yielded to spring, then to summer. In the blink of an eye, her nineteenth birthday arrived. A robot delivered her birthday gift right on schedule, along with a handwritten letter from Ye Chengxing.
In the letter, Ye Chengxing congratulated her on reaching a new year of age. The handwriting remained as beautiful as ever.
It carried the gentle tone Li Jia knew so well—everyday words, lighthearted and casual, laced with many blessings for her.
Li Jia read every word and phrase with care, her gaze lingering over every stroke and line several times. Only then did she carry the letter and gift back to their home. She locked the letter and birthday present away in the room that held all their memories, including the one she’d taken from the stall last time. It was as if she were hiding away treasures, securing these priceless mementos in their own private chamber.
Later, after finishing her exams, she received another letter from Ye Chengxing, timed to arrive once the tests were done.
In that dazed instant, Li Jia couldn’t tell reality from illusion. She always felt as though Ye Chengxing was still right there beside her.
Spring, summer, autumn, winter—they cycled in endless turn. Time dragged on interminably, yet she knew she could keep watch over these memories and the illusions of reality she continued to weave. There was no pain in it, never any pain. New Years came and went, year after year, and every one of them, she set off electronic fireworks by the riverbank on schedule.
Someone would ask her what she was setting off.
At such moments, Li Jia would reply with genuine cheer that they were fireworks—she was celebrating the new year with her beloved.
The onlookers who paused to watch would jot it down themselves, and soon the custom began circulating on Star Net.
And so another two or three years slipped by. By then, many people had started celebrating New Year’s Day that way.
The crowds along the river grew larger, the pairs of lovers more numerous—yet she alone remained solitary.
Li Jia watched those hand-linked couples and felt no envy.
Fireworks bloomed in brilliant splendor across the sky.
The person she loved lay separated from her by the span of an entire world.
She could never reach that world of hers, but in this one, she would love her until her dying breath.
