The answer was the swift and thunderous slam of a door.
Jiang Bomu flinched at the sound, instinctively closing her eyes. In her mind, the scene from when she had first come home tonight resurfaced—it had been even worse then.
Gu Yu had already walked ninety-nine steps toward her. If she had been willing, Gu Yu would have run the last step. Instead, she had directly shut the door, locking Gu Yu’s affection outside.
What had Xunxun been thinking at that moment?
She wasn’t sure. But she understood now with stark clarity. Xunxun’s despair had turned to heartbreak. She would never open this door again.
In complete darkness, Jiang Bomu leaned against the door, standing there for a long, long time.
She pulled out her phone, wanting to send a message to explain. She opened her chat with Gu Yu but suddenly remembered Gu Yu didn’t like that—she liked to talk things out face to face.
Not wanting to annoy her further, Jiang Bomu put her phone away. She lifted her eyes, and through her blurred vision, saw the small round table beneath the French window.
She froze, then walked over, turning on the light out of habit.
The bright fairy lights no longer twinkled. The delicate flowers were wilted. The carefully prepared cake was a wreck. The four dishes and soup were mixed together into a mess. A few unopened beer bottles lay toppled over.
Whether it was the sight of the beer or the ruined scene before her, she found it hard to breathe. She hurriedly averted her face, tears welling in her eyes.
She had utterly betrayed Xunxun’s heartfelt effort. But this… this was exactly what she had once wished to see—Gu Yu no longer liking her.
That way, she could continue her relationship with Grandma Qiao as before. Facing the mentor who had recognized her talent and changed her life, she could have a clear conscience.
So she shouldn’t be crying. She should be smiling.
Seize the moment. In the end, it was just the purest, most beautiful wish.
She turned resolutely and walked back to her room, not sparing the second bedroom a single backward glance.
Inside the second bedroom, Gu Yu was packing her things, quietly, slowly.
She’d thought that, just like when she arrived, one suitcase wouldn’t even be full. But she had underestimated herself. Even after stuffing the suitcase to the brim, a third of her belongings remained.
Sitting on the floor, Gu Yu contemplated life. Knowing all along that she would eventually leave, why had she treated this place like a second home?
Out with the old, in with the new. She pulled everything back out of the suitcase, ready to declutter.
This time she packed even slower, but by the time all her things were organized, the knocking hadn’t sounded again.
Gu Yu mocked herself. Of course, the other party wouldn’t knock a second time. Who would be like her, eagerly throwing herself forward, pressing a warm face against a cold backside?
Once, humiliating herself like that, was enough.
It was time for her to wake up, too.
She set an alarm for six o’clock and turned off all the lights.
Darkness swallowed every trace of light. Only by the curtains did a few cold, pale slivers of moonlight still tremble. Gu Yu closed her eyes and let out a soft sigh of relief.
She’d already accommodated Jiang Bomu long enough. She still preferred sleeping with the lights off.
From now on, she would please herself.
That night, in the second bedroom, her sleep was dreamless. In the master bedroom, however, the light remained on.
Jiang Bomu lay in bed, silently thinking about how to explain her outburst to Gu Yu tomorrow. But a tangled mess of thoughts ensnared her, making it impossible to think.
That tangled mess screamed at her to tell Gu Yu everything. Yet she always hesitated, unable to move forward.
So be it. Let everything return to the starting point.
Jiang Bomu kept her eyes open until the first light of dawn filtered through before finally sinking into a deep sleep.
One minute after she fell asleep, the door to the second bedroom clicked.
Gu Yu walked out of the room with Wan An.
Her eyes fixed straight ahead, she walked to the entrance. Wan An, tucked in her pocket, suddenly meowed. She gently patted it but couldn’t resist glancing back just once.
A true departure is silent. Gu Yu finally understood the meaning of that phrase.
Bending down to put on her own shoes, she placed the slippers back in their original spot, dusted them clean.
This home was wonderful. The mistress of this home was beautiful. She just… never belonged to her.
Stepping out of the elevator, the sun hadn’t yet unleashed its full power. There was still a slight breeze, brushing gently against her cheek, so soft it almost made her want to cry.
Gu Yu left that hint of sadness in the wind and resolutely walked down the steps.
Yue’an Mansion was truly vast.
She hadn’t realized it when she first arrived, because the patrol car was fast and convenient. She hadn’t felt it while living here, because she’d walk with Jiang Bomu, always wishing the path was shorter. She hadn’t noticed it last night when she dashed downstairs to buy wine—in the middle of preparing a surprise, even a road of a thousand miles would have felt easy.
But today, dragging her suitcase, it felt as heavy as a thousand pounds, like a waterlogged sponge pressing down on her, making every single step incredibly difficult.
Finally, she walked out of the complex. She hailed a taxi, got in, closed the door, and they drove away. Her gaze remained forward the entire time.
The driver asked her destination. Gu Yu almost blurted out “Yue’an Mansion.” With a self-deprecating smile, she enunciated each word: “Yunhua Mansion.”
That was her home.
Twenty minutes later, Gu Yu walked into her house. The dust that rose to greet her made her cough twice. Covering her nose, she opened the windows to air it out. She spent the whole morning tidying up, finally getting her room in order.
In the new environment, Wan An wasn’t adapting well. It scrambled into a pile of plush toys, shivering. But after the initial fear, hunger won out. It circled Gu Yu, meowing pitifully.
Gu Yu was hungry too. She ordered takeout, then ran to the supermarket to buy goat milk powder. Once Wan An was fed and asleep, she took a quick shower. The takeout arrived shortly after.
While eating, a new WeChat message popped up. Her heart skipped a beat. She hesitated, then opened it. It was from Jian Ya.
She wasn’t sure if it was relief or disappointment she felt. Not dwelling on it, she clicked the voice message.
“Are you home yet? Need help unpacking?”
Gu Yu replied simply: [No need.]
After a moment’s thought, she called Jian Ya.
“Come over in a couple of days. Help me take care of Wan An for a bit. My mom’s allergic to cat fur.”
Jian Ya naturally agreed, but voiced a concern: “But I can’t keep it forever. What will you do when you go back to school?”
“I’ll live off campus,” Gu Yu said lightly.
Her university was in the neighboring province. When she’d gotten her acceptance letter, her parents had bought her a small one-bedroom apartment near the campus. It had been empty all this time; moving in now wouldn’t be a waste.
“Okay, just let me know when the time comes,” Jian Ya hesitated, then asked, “Are you doing alright?”
Gu Yu played dumb. “Not great. Unpacking is tiring.”
Jian Ya sighed, but seeing Gu Yu didn’t want to talk about it, she chatted idly for a bit before hanging up.
After lunch, Gu Yu walked around the house. Everywhere needed cleaning, but she didn’t feel like doing any more. Thinking of that tiny apartment that had been empty for two years felt even more daunting, so she contacted a local roommate to help hire a cleaner.
There were three days left until her parents returned to Yuning City. Gu Yu cleaned two rooms every day and finally finished everything just before they arrived.
She first took Wan An to Jian Ya’s place, then rushed to the airport to pick up her parents.
Seeing them emerge in the distance, she waved vigorously, giving each a hug. “Greetings to His Majesty the Emperor and Her Majesty the Empress upon their return!” she teased playfully.
After over a month apart, her dad had gained a little weight, but her mom was still slender. Their faces, however, hadn’t changed—both filled with longing and relief as they looked at her.
“Sweet talker,” Yu Qing pinched her daughter’s nose affectionately. “Mommy missed you to death!”
“I missed you too,” Gu Yu’s nose stung, her eyes instantly reddening. “Mom…” she choked out.
“Oh dear, what’s wrong?” Yu Qing was a little flustered, hugging her.
Gu Yu also realized she was being overly emotional. Afraid of worrying her parents, she quickly wiped her tears and put on a smile. “It’s nothing. Just missed you too much.”
Yu Qing’s heart ached instantly. She held her tightly as they got into a taxi, showering her with concern and questions.
Gu Zhenglin glanced at his daughter but didn’t speak, silently loading the suitcases into the trunk. As soon as he got in the car, he heard Yu Qing ask, “Xunxun, did you have fun at your Sister’s house?”
Gu Yu used the motion of wiping away tears to lower her head, smoothing the now-straight line of her lips. She nodded vigorously. “Of course, I had a blast!”
“I knew it,” Yu Qing giggled, covering her mouth. “Spending all that time together… did you grow to like her?”
Though she knew her mom’s “like” didn’t mean that kind of like, Gu Yu didn’t want to answer. She deflected with coquettishness. “We can talk about all that later. Right now I just want to hug you.”
“Okay, okay, we’ll talk once we’re home.”
Gu Yu closed her eyes. How would she talk about it when they got home?
She’d probably break down crying.
But the thing she was worried about didn’t happen. Her parents, after being on a plane for so long, were aching and exhausted. They said a few words and went straight to rest. Gu Yu breathed a sigh of relief. She’d managed to dodge it for another day.
In the evening, Yu Qing suggested Gu Yu cook dinner, to test out her newfound culinary skills.
Gu Yu didn’t want to. Every dish she had learned to make carried a trace of Jiang Bomu. She didn’t want to be reminded of her.
So, she purposely put on a pitiful act. “I’ve been cleaning the house for days, I’m still exhausted. How about we eat out? My treat!”
Yu Qing was puzzled. “Do you even have any money left?”
By all logic, two months’ living allowance should have been spent long ago.
Gu Yu pressed her lips together, forced to bring up Jiang Bomu. “When I was at Sister’s place, I didn’t spend a penny. She paid for everything.”
Yu Qing and Gu Zhenglin exchanged astonished glances. “Oh dear, that’s not right,” Yu Qing sighed.
Gu Yu mumbled, “Just consider it my tuition for teaching her to draw.”
Though, in the end, they hadn’t had many lessons. After returning from the film set, they’d both forgotten all about it.
“You were staying at her place, so that about evens out,” Yu Qing still felt it was improper. “Give her a call. Invite her to come have a meal at our house when she’s free.”
Gu Yu froze, instinctively refusing. “No!”
Realizing her voice was too loud—even her dad, standing some distance away, looked over—she racked her brain for an excuse. “She’s super busy lately, tons of work. A new movie is about to start filming, so she’s even more tied up.”
“Regardless of whether she can come or not, we still have to ask,” Yu Qing insisted with a frown.
Gu Yu had no choice but to agree half-heartedly.
For the next few days, she was constantly on edge. Thankfully, her parents didn’t bring it up again. They both taught at the same university, which was close to home. With the start of the semester looming, they often had to go to campus.
Gu Yu deliberately avoided them as much as possible. Two days passed peacefully. Just as she was about to leave for school and had let her guard down, her parents cornered her.
“Did you ask her?” Yu Qing asked. “What did Jiang Bomu say?”
Gu Yu hardened her resolve and lied: “She’s a bit busy. Said she couldn’t make it.”
In reality, they hadn’t spoken in three days. Jiang Bomu hadn’t asked where she went, and she hadn’t offered an explanation. A tacit understanding hung in the silence between them.
“Oh, I see,” Yu Qing thought for a moment. “Give me her phone number. I’ll make a formal invitation myself. Otherwise, I won’t feel right about it.”
Gu Yu: “…Let me do it.”
At two in the morning, she opened WeChat and finally gathered the courage to type.
[Do you have some free time? My parents would like to invite you over for dinner.]
She hit send.
Jiang Bomu’s name instantly changed to “the other party is typing…”
