Chapter 71: It Turns Out She Was Heading My Way Part 1

In the solemn and majestic Great Hall, a woman dressed in simple, plain clothes held incense sticks above her head. She bowed three times with devout sincerity before rising to plant them into the burner before her.

A young nun immediately stepped forward, holding out a bamboo cylinder of fortune sticks for the woman to draw from.

The woman’s fingers brushed against a wooden slip, but before she could pull it out, she suddenly let go and dropped it back into the container. She let out a soft, weary sigh. “Never mind. I’ve been drawing these for so many years… let today be the end of it.”

The elderly Abbess chanted a prayer to the Buddha and approached, her prayer beads swaying as she gave a slight bow. “Benefactor, you have come to pray for twenty-two years. Why end it today? Has your wish been fulfilled, or is it…?”

“Twenty-two years, has it been?” The woman pulled at the collar of her overcoat, gazing up at the towering, sublime statue of the Buddha. For a moment, she felt dazed.

She seemed to see her younger self from twenty-two years ago—that weak, fragile girl standing in this very spot, lost and helpless.

Back then, she had clung to the last shred of hope regarding the concept of ‘transmigration.’ She would rather believe in ghosts and gods than accept that a wrinkled, ugly newborn baby would one day grow into the person she longed for.

During that era, she had poured her entire soul into her career. Whenever she was forced to rest, she would find a small temple, stay for a few days, chant sutras, and pray.

She had asked this Buddha, who looked down upon all living beings: Can You give my lover back to me?

Please.

She is all I have left.

But the Buddha who gazes upon the world does not stop for a single soul. All she could do back then was reach out with trembling hands and draw a stick from the current Abbess—who was then just a young nun.

She remembered her own haggard face as she handed the stick to the nun. “Forgive me, Master. Please interpret this for me.”

The nun had hesitated before speaking. “Benefactor, this lot… Fate is fickle; do not cling to obsession.”

Do not cling to obsession?

Twenty-two years later, Su Ye stood before the nun who had since become the Abbess. She lightly traced the faint lines at the corners of her eyes. “Do you still remember my first lot, Abbess?”

It wasn’t just the first one. Every single lot she had drawn over the years, when decoded, carried the exact same message: Fate is fickle; do not cling to obsession.

The Abbess chanted a blessing for all living things and bowed respectfully to this woman, who had become a highly successful entrepreneur. “To see the Benefactor finally choose to let go… this poor nun is truly happy for you.”

Su Ye merely shook her head.

She was no longer the lively, spirited girl she used to be. Many parts of her had been tucked away and hidden as the years bled by, but this one thing—she could not let go.

Simply trying not to cling to the obsession had already exhausted her entire being.

However, “It is already October 2023. That specific date has already passed. It’s better if I stop hoping,” Su Ye said, her lips curving into a faint, exhausted smile.

She and Yue Huan had met in April. It was likely that Qiqi’s “incident” would also happen in April. Therefore, as April approached this year, everyone had been holding their breath—not just Su Ye, but also Yue Wenfeng, who had long since understood the full story.

Back in April, Yue Wenfeng had asked her out. “Su Ye, it has been twenty-two years. Can’t you choose to let go?”

Twenty-two years.

Su Ye looked down at her clothes, which had grown more subdued and elegant over time. In a trance, she could still see her former self: wearing a white T-shirt and denim shorts, hair in a ponytail, wandering through the streets and alleys.

In the blink of an eye, two decades had vanished.

She took a sip of bitter coffee. She had grown accustomed to the taste. During the countless nights she spent working late, she would actively seek out this beverage—something she used to find nauseating—to keep her company and maintain absolute clarity in the dead of night.

After swallowing the bitterness, she finally spoke. “Feng-jie, it’s too hard.”

“Is there any emotion that can bridge twenty-two years? Su Ye, are you sure this is still love and not just a fixation?” Yue Wenfeng’s voice grew sharp. She took a breath and softened her tone. “Su Ye, President Su, Boss Su… I’m begging you. Qiqi deserves her own life. If we work together, we can stop that ridiculous transmigration. I…”

Yue Wenfeng’s lips trembled. She turned her head away, blinking back tears. “I can’t lose Qiqi either.”

Su Ye felt a profound sense of powerlessness. She had wealth, power, and social status. Compared to the mother sitting across from her, she truly possessed too much. If she spoke of loss, she was merely losing a lover—but this mother stood to lose her own flesh and blood, the daughter who shared her heart.

The only family that mother had left in this world.

As for Su Ye herself… she had been alone for a very long time.

Every logical argument made Su Ye’s obsession seem trivial. For years, she had used these same arguments to tell herself: Don’t force it.

Don’t force it, don’t cling, don’t go mad.

And so, that day under the fading twilight, Su Ye had smiled weakly. Pressing her fingers against the age lines by her eyes, she said—

“Feng-jie, I’m forty-five. I just had my birthday last month. Why would I go looking for something in a twenty-two-year-old child, right?” She looked down at the white swirls in her coffee—milk that hadn’t quite blended with the bitter liquid.

Don’t make her say she gives up. It’s too cruel.

“In these twenty-two years, I haven’t looked for a replacement in Qiqi. Qiqi is Qiqi, and Ah Huan is Ah Huan. How could I possibly confuse the two?” Her fingers tightened slightly on the thin stir-spoon.

Don’t make her say she gives up. Please.

“My Ah Huan left a long time ago. She isn’t coming back. As for Qiqi…” The spoon slowly stirred, drowning the white swirls into the dark coffee.

Don’t make her say it. Don’t force her.

“…She will pass her twenty-second year safely. I will help you ensure she makes it through smoothly, reaches her twenty-third birthday, and then…” Her knuckles turned white against the spoon.

Don’t make her say it. She’s going to break.

“…She’ll pass her twenty-fourth year, her twenty-fifth, and once the bells ring for 2025, she will be completely free of that fate. I accept it. I’ve always accepted it.”

She let go of the poor spoon, which now had tiny stress fractures at the handle.

Su Ye’s eyes curved. In the sunset, the marks carved by time grew damp. She raised a hand to brush away the moisture, staring down at her palm. “The calluses I got from riding that tricycle through the streets… after all these years, they’re finally gone.”

The subtext was clear: the beauty of the past was gone, and she would no longer try to force it back.

Su Ye looked at the woman across from her, who looked equally weathered by time. “Feng-jie, are you satisfied with that answer?”

Yue Wenfeng closed her eyes. With a heavy thud, she knelt on the floor.

“Thank you.”

Su Ye’s lips twitched upward. “No. It’s not for us. It’s for her.”

1998 belonged to her Ah Huan, but in 2023, only Qiqi could exist. The social circles, the people, the friends and strangers—they only knew Yue Chengqi. It had to stay that way.

She just wanted her to be well. That was enough.

Yue Wenfeng’s lips trembled, but she couldn’t find the words. She turned her head, and after a long silence, grabbed her bag and stood up.

She couldn’t face Su Ye, just as she couldn’t face the last twenty-two years—a period her own daughter had labeled a “failure of education” and a “painful relationship.” Ever since she confirmed through Su Ye that her Qiqi was the future (or rather, the past) Yue Huan, she had been on the verge of a breakdown.

Back then, Qiqi was only eighteen, just an adult starting a bright, beautiful life.

Even so, she didn’t want her child to face that pain… She couldn’t imagine how agonizing it would be to wake up in a completely foreign era, only to eventually vanish from existence. She was a failed mother, but she wasn’t a mother who could stand by and watch her daughter run toward a tragic future.

She knew she was doing Su Ye wrong. This girl was equally pitiable and suffering, but she had no choice. The human heart is made of flesh; it has its preferences. She was already failing to protect her own daughter; she didn’t have the strength to balance someone else’s scales.

She could only beg Su Ye to take a step back, and then another, even going so far as to kneel. Kneeling again and again.

From that day on, they had collectively “stalled” Yue Chengqi in Ye City. Throughout April, they reminded her daily to be careful and avoid danger. During the May Day holiday, they refused to let her come home. Together, they had dragged her through the last six months.

For Su Ye, this was like being executed by a thousand cuts.

Until today, when she came to the temple to end her twenty-two-year vigil.

“Abbess,” Su Ye said, lowering her gaze. “Goodbye. I likely won’t be coming back.”

“I’ve changed my wish. It’s a wish that doesn’t really require heaven’s protection anymore.”

She no longer prayed for her lover’s return—at least, not if it meant her return was a mere replacement.

She hoped that if there was no future, they would never meet again. No reunions.

The Abbess gave a Buddhist salute, watching the benefactor who had been obsessed for twenty-two years depart.

Once the woman’s lonely, desolate figure vanished down the winding mountain path, the Abbess turned and patted the head of a young disciple. she sighed softly. “Do not cling to obsession.”

As the hall grew empty, the young nun couldn’t suppress her curiosity. Remembering the lot the benefactor had almost drawn, she turned around, found it in the cylinder, and peeked. She bit her lip and sighed.

Whether it was good luck or bad, the lot read: “Life is fickle; do not cling to obsession.”

The young nun shook her head. What kind of life must someone lead to draw lots for twenty-two years, be told the same thing for twenty-two years, and yet still remain so deeply obsessed that it becomes a heart-demon?

She didn’t understand. Secular people were too difficult to fathom.

***

October. A day with clear, cloudless skies. Inside Su Ye’s office, a young woman was nervously delivering a work report.

“…And that concludes the promotion of the discount policies in Qing City during the National Day holiday and the feedback we received.”

She finished and stole a glance at the person behind the desk.

The woman was wearing a beige shirt today. The top button was undone, revealing her collarbones and a glimpse of a white camisole beneath. The marks of time on her neck were visible, as was a worn necklace that had been rubbed so thin its details were illegible.

Her chestnut-brown hair was loosely clipped back, exposing her slender neck. One finger tapped rhythmically against her chin.

Tap. Tap. As if in deep thought.

After a long silence, she slowly opened her eyes. Her long lashes fluttered as she looked down. “I’ve given you five minutes,” she said calmly. “You may begin your analysis.”

The girl snapped back to reality and slapped her own cheeks.

Had five minutes passed already? She had just… been staring at President Su’s collarbones for five minutes?

Seeing her silence, Su Ye frowned slightly. “Is this your first time reporting?”

Her voice was calm, but the slight furrow of her brow and the lack of a smile made the girl—who was already terrified—realize she was in trouble.

The girl shrunk her neck, trembling. “Y-Yes… Manager Yan had something come up this week. I’m her secretary, so I came to report instead.”