Chapter 87

The United Nations Headquarters in New York holds meetings daily, and mid-this month, the Man and the Biosphere Program will host a Youth Leadership Forum there. The keynote speech on the second day of the agenda will be delivered by a young Chinese scholar.

Before heading to New York, Xiang Feiran spent a weekend with Xiang Lianqiao in the mountains.

Chronic illness has plagued him for so many years, yet he hasn’t changed much—still possessing that scholarly elegance, his gaze clear. However, his sharp suit has been replaced by a shirt washed but forgotten to be dried, hanging loosely on his frail frame in the wheelchair, with wrinkles dragging against his skin.

The weather was nice; it was already June, the beginning of summer. Xiang Feiran pushed the wheelchair, accompanying Xiang Lianqiao as they basked in the sun in the courtyard. The shadow of the Acacia tree provided cool shade over them.

He waited for Xiang Lianqiao to ask him about “Weishan Life,” whether it be a question or a challenge. But Xiang Lianqiao only asked, “Are you happy?”

He didn’t ask about the initial intention, the reasons, or the future—only whether he was happy walking down this path.

Xiang Feiran remained silent for two seconds before replying, “If I keep going, I will be happy.”

Xiang Lianqiao nodded, his palm rubbing the black leather armrest of the wheelchair. “You’ve always known what you want.”

He trusted him, knowing that he had escaped Xiang Weishan’s control, and if he chose to go back, it must be voluntary. But as to why—whether it was to return to his first ideal, to re-embrace fame and fortune, or for something else in his mother’s name—Xiang Lianqiao didn’t ask.

Nodding off to sleep, he suddenly woke and said, “Why doesn’t that little girl Mingbao come to see me anymore?”

“She went back to New York, busy with her career,” Xiang Feiran supported him by the shoulder. “When she returns next time, I’ll bring her to see you.”

Xiang Lianqiao hesitated, turning his face slowly and softly asking, “She’s gone back to New York?”

“Her client base is in North America, and starting there is more advantageous.”

The ground was littered with fallen rose apples, overripe and unpicked, dropping from the branches onto the solid earth and gradually rotting.

Xiang Lianqiao looked at the flesh of the fruit, rotting to transparency, and calculated the days, “The sixth year?”

“Yes.”

Having dealt with grand narratives and geopolitical matters his entire life, Xiang Lianqiao found himself unable to comprehend these small loves and affections. Those who loved deeply always seemed to be separated; the thread of fate, once broken, stubbornly held on.

“Will she come to see me again?” Xiang Lianqiao closed his eyes, his voice muddled and rolling from his throat. The sun reddened the age-spotted face.

Xiang Feiran pushed him back to the room, saying, “Yes, during this year’s New Year, shall I invite her over?”

The wrinkles on Xiang Lianqiao’s face loosened and softened into a smile.

Aunt Lan had a lot of gray hair on her temples, having forgotten to go down the mountain to dye it. While helping Xiang Feiran pack, she reminisced, “When you went to America for school, your suitcase was filled only with a windbreaker, and I even complained that it took up too much space. Now, look, these suits are even more difficult to manage.”

The custom-tailored black suit was packed in a garment bag and needed ironing when it arrived.

“You’re not like the old gentleman, always having assistants and secretaries wherever you go. You need to know how to take care of yourself.”

As she spoke, Aunt Lan draped the suit over her arm, blinking to clear the sand from her eye.

Although no one mentioned it, with the best of intentions, it felt like they could see the end of the road.

Xiang Feiran slung a medium-sized backpack over his shoulder, carried a black inner lining in his hand, and rolled the suitcase Aunt Lan had helped him pack down the stairs.

This trip to New York had many events. Besides the keynote speech at the United Nations, there was a charity dinner hosted by a watch brand upon landing.

Since Shang Mingbao went to New York, he hadn’t had time to visit her, so this time, he wanted to surprise her, to avoid the moments of anticipation and waiting. Thus, Xiang Feiran deliberately kept it a secret from her.

Landing in New York, memories flooded back clearly. He recalled the year he picked her up from the airport, even though they had only been apart for a month. But Shang Mingbao, upon coming out of the terminal, ran and leaped into his arms.

She was so light that he could hold her up with one hand, and even with the other, he had enough strength to catch the suitcase that was about to slip.

The PR team of the watch brand picked him up at the airport and drove straight to the hotel.

This charity dinner required nothing from Xiang Feiran. Like the other guests, he was merely invited to attend. Perhaps the brand executives would introduce him to their partners and VIP clients, and he would have to exchange a few simple words.

The car arrived at the hotel, and after checking in, Xiang Feiran changed into his suit, tied his tie, and sent a message to Shang Mingbao: “In New York.”

He didn’t often attend such banquets.

Most of the events he attended were academic conferences and various professors’ buffet receptions—relatively comfortable and relaxed, within his familiar social circles. Although he couldn’t avoid the small talk typical of white people, he was used to being concise and didn’t find it troublesome. Occasionally, he would even gain valuable insights and judgments while listening to others’ discussions.

It was Xiang Feiran’s first time attending a banquet composed of noble ladies, newly wealthy elites, socialites, and people from the fashion circle.

He knew them well: they would express concern for impoverished children and war victims in Africa but were adamant that the idea of swarms of rats in New York’s subway was an urban legend. They cared about global warming and environmental protection yet would fly to islands in private jets with a one-way carbon footprint of 20 tons to discuss how to curb rising sea levels.

The air conditioning in the banquet hall was chilly, and a unique fragrance filled the room from the fresh flowers.

He hadn’t expected to see Shang Mingbao here.

She had arrived earlier than him and was standing with her back to him, positioned at the center of a small group. To her left stood a tall man, and to her right, a Caucasian noblewoman.

Someone he hadn’t seen for a long time suddenly appeared before him, and Xiang Feiran hesitated to approach. Instead, he gazed longingly at her silhouette.

In the six years they had been together, he had never attended any of her social gatherings. He didn’t know what this side of her was like—the way those exquisite and elegant high-end dresses draped over her, and how her shadow moved under the crystal chandeliers, like a flower’s reflection upon a shimmering lake.

Today, Shang Mingbao was wearing a black satin gown with a halter-neck design, a small stand-up collar around her neck, and a slim fishtail that lightly trailed on the ground. She was measured in her approach, never trying to outshine others at such events, preferring to present herself with subtlety. But her natural assets were undeniable—her height and figure were perfect, and with her hair simply tied in a bun at the top of her head, she appeared graceful and poised.

Before seeing her, Xiang Feiran had only felt irritation towards the banquet. But after seeing her, his heartbeat quickened.

His little girl, a familiar yet inexplicably distant profile, holding a champagne glass and conversing with charm and ease—so alluring, yet so unfamiliar.

He felt as though he only occupied a small part of her life. Even after six years together, he could still see a new side of her.

He wasn’t sure how to present himself in front of her, afraid that too much surprise might cause her to lose her composure.

With this thought, a sense of nervousness crept into Xiang Feiran’s throat and fingertips. He subconsciously hooked his fingers into his tie knot and loosened it slightly.

“…Of course, I’m confident that the Glory brand will establish itself on Fifth Avenue. You know my eye for these things.”

As he stepped closer, the deliberately subdued, elegant tone became clearer.

A knowing smile, a small round of compliments—the noblewoman placed her hand on Shang Mingbao’s shoulder.

“Speaking of which, it’s really quite remarkable. To find the best gems—not just leftover stock from the Indians and Russians—she spent so long at the mining site. I can hardly bear to recall what happened in Sri Lanka.”

Xiang Feiran’s steps faltered as he struggled to understand the meaning behind this statement—

What had happened in Sri Lanka?

The next second, he understood.

Wendy shook her head. “Honestly, if Alan hadn’t acted quickly, my dear might have been lost there forever.”

She affectionately referred to Shang Mingbao as her dear and even wanted to adopt her as her goddaughter—despite only being less than twenty years older than her.

After she finished speaking, her elegantly charming face turned to Shang Mingbao: “Honey, I hope you’re no longer having nightmares—” Then, addressing the group with sympathy and pity: “She had nightmares for several months.”

All sales are essentially the sale of stories. A captivating story is essential for promoting a new brand. Wendy, the social queen of Upper East Side luncheons, was precise in her tone, smile, and pauses, as if she had rehearsed it beforehand.

Shang Mingbao allowed her to embellish the tale of this adventure in the East and gave her affirmation whenever required.

“And as for Alan—her hero,” Wendy said with unparalleled admiration.

When all eyes turned toward the man beside Shang Mingbao, Xiang Feiran finally allowed his narrow gaze to shift slightly to the side.

Wu Baiyan smiled and described the situation at the time. Though his words were simple, they caused a palpable tension in the room:

“There were two men, one holding a brick, the other a stick. I’m just glad I was by her side all that time and could act in time.”

Someone commented, “I like this hero-saves-the-damsel story.”

A waiter passed by, and Xiang Feiran picked up a glass from the tray. He had no idea what kind of cocktail it was, what it tasted like, or what aroma it had. He downed it in one go, the cold liquid sliding down his throat, and the intense burning that followed set his insides ablaze.

This kind of banquet wasn’t supposed to serve such strong alcohol.

The person he had wanted to protect had already faced danger, had been in life-threatening situations, and he had known nothing about it—not even informed directly, but overhearing it in such a casual manner.

What was all that talk about protecting her?

Xiang Feiran, you’re ridiculous.

Just as he was about to leave, his steps were blocked by a brand executive who had come to introduce him to an important client—a top contributor to their annual environmental charity auction and one of the most generous patrons who cared about endangered species.

There were only a few steps left, and as soon as the brand representative appeared, the small group’s conversation came to a timely pause, smiling as they waited for them to approach.

The sharp-eyed waiter stepped forward discreetly to ensure that no guest at such an event held an empty glass stained with lipstick.

Shang Mingbao exchanged her glass for a fresh one from the tray. As her gaze swept across, the glass slipped from her hand and fell to the floor.

Xiang Feiran?

The carpet was thick and the glass didn’t shatter; it was just a dull thud as the wine spilled and stained her skirt.

Such an ungraceful move instantly cooled the previously elegant and witty atmosphere, making Wendy’s face slightly stiffen. She wondered why this usually flawless young woman made such a careless mistake today.

Under the gaze of many, Shang Mingbao bent over to let the waiter fix her skirt, her milk-white ears and neck turning red.

Xiang Feiran observed her discomfort.

He had added unnecessary trouble for her.

The minor commotion was quickly handled. The brand representative introduced Shang Mingbao as a young botanist from China, a consultant for a United Nations project, and an ambassador for the brand’s “Discover·Cherish” plan for the next five years.

Wu Baiyan stood close to Shang Mingbao, his gaze moving from her to Xiang Feiran’s face.

No one recognized Xiang Feiran, nor did they know his relationship with Shang Mingbao.

He was a stranger to her, an outsider.

Due to the formal introduction, those present mistakenly believed Xiang Feiran was a prominent Chinese scholar, and Wendy, casually making adjustments, said to Shang Mingbao with a smile, “I thought you knew Mr. Xiang, judging by your surprised reaction.”

Shang Mingbao moved her lips, wanting to speak but struggling to find the right words. Xiang Feiran, however, calmly spoke first, “Nice to meet you.”

He nodded in greeting, his gaze moving away from her face.

“Glory doesn’t seem very comfortable,” Wendy, not noticing Shang Mingbao’s unease but thinking she had been embarrassed and needed to leave, said clearly to Wu Baiyan, “Please take her outside for some fresh air.”

As Shang Mingbao walked away, she shakily opened her evening bag. Her vision was already blurred, making it hard to see the clasp. After finally managing to open it, she took out her phone and saw Xiang Feiran’s messages.

The first message informed her he was in New York.

The second message contained the hotel’s location.

The third said, “I miss you, baby. Can I see you tonight?”

She waited for Xiang Feiran at the entrance to the garden.

She knew he couldn’t stand such a boring and wasteful event and would eagerly come out for some fresh air.

Upon seeing him, her eyes reddened before she could even speak.

Xiang Feiran chuckled softly, “Don’t be like this, babe.”

He walked past her and asked a waiter at the concierge desk for a cigarette. As he lit it, his calm eyes were briefly illuminated by the flame, though it seemed to reveal nothing.

“Brother Feiran, let me explain,” Shang Mingbao bit her lip and caught up with him.

Xiang Feiran, holding the cigarette, looked at her with a gentle gaze and said, “You look very beautiful today.”

Shang Mingbao took a deep breath, “I was just invited to this event, and coincidentally, Wu Baiyan had an invitation too. This circle is just that small. Don’t be upset; I’ve finished explaining.”

Xiang Feiran, with a cigarette in hand, looked at her with unfamiliar eyes, “If you were only worried about me being upset, you wouldn’t have acted so out of character. Shang Mingbao, you’re much more capable than you think. Tell me, when you saw me, was it surprise or fear that crossed your mind?”

Shang Mingbao tightened her shawl around her.

“You heard me, right? It wasn’t surprise or fear; I was just worried about you being upset.”

Xiang Feiran remained expressionless, “Is that so? Because you were worried about me being upset, you didn’t tell me about the danger you faced in Sri Lanka? You came back to Hong Kong, said you had trouble with the local environment, and then what? Do you think it’s just over and done with?”

“Isn’t it?” Shang Mingbao frowned, not understanding why he cared so much.

She was also scared and terrified; she was the one who truly faced danger, yet she stood here being reprimanded.

“Once it’s past, it’s past. What’s the point of telling you except to make you worry and fuss over me?”

“What do you mean ‘point’?” Xiang Feiran didn’t understand. “Babe, we’re in a relationship. I care about your safety. When something so serious happens to you and you hide it from me, what do you think I’ll think?”

“But telling you is pointless,” Shang Mingbao was even more confused, feeling an unjust frustration, “Can you hire security or stay with me 24/7? I don’t want to make you needlessly worried. Is that my fault?”

Every word she said was reasonable and objective, even someone as smart as Xiang Feiran couldn’t find a flaw to argue.

He could only sigh with a pained heart, feeling a sense of “so that’s how it is”: “What’s the use of telling me? You’re right.”

He was asking himself the same question. He couldn’t find the answer.

He wanted to protect someone for life, who not only didn’t need his protection but also felt sharing it with him was meaningless and a waste of breath.

“Brother Feiran, there really is nothing between me and Wu Baiyan,” Shang Mingbao said wearily, “Can’t you stop being jealous of him?”

“It’s not jealousy, babe.” Xiang Feiran paused, his expression calm but indifferent, “I just miss you. Why has he contacted you so many times, and you haven’t told me even once?”

“It’s his business to contact me. What does it have to do with you?” Shang Mingbao felt a surge of powerless irritation, “Why does he need to appear in our conversations? We already have so little time to talk each day. Why waste it on irrelevant people? Telling you only makes you uncomfortable, makes you care, makes you doubt. What’s the point? Brother Feiran, I can manage my own feelings!”

“Have you managed them well?” Xiang Feiran asked uncompromisingly.

Shang Mingbao was taken aback and filled with disbelief: “What are you doubting? Do you think I’m two-timing? Do you think I’ve changed my heart and betrayed you?”

Her voice, choked and subdued due to the anger, was made worse by the presence of others in the garden who were smoking and having conversations.

Suddenly, Xiang Feiran grabbed her wrist: “You’re not? If you’re not, why does he keep appearing around you repeatedly? If you’re not, why do others perceive your relationship as so intimate? Let me ask you, Shang Mingbao, everyone around me knows I have you as my girlfriend, but what about you? Your family, your noble social circle, your business partners—do they know? Or—”

The dull pain in his heart caused him to lose control and hurt her, as if he wanted to crush her slender wrist bone.

“Or,” Xiang Feiran said word by word, “do they think that Wu Baiyan is your… lover?”

He didn’t use the term “boyfriend” because it didn’t suit their six-year relationship, their connection that was made at a glance that summer.

Lover.

The thought of placing Wu Baiyan’s name alongside those words was almost unbearable.

But it was so hidden in the garden’s dimly lit corners that Shang Mingbao couldn’t see through it.

Shang Mingbao was also in pain, her body trembling and her eyes impossibly bright due to the tears: “Xiang Feiran, is it my fault that he keeps pestering me? Did I give him my address? Doesn’t he have his own ways to find out? What do you want me to do, gouge out my eyes when he appears or jump off the building?”

The collapse, exhaustion, and frustration from being entangled with Wu Baiyan for a year surged up at once.

She had tried everything—she had said all the good and bad things, blocked him, ignored him, avoided him as much as possible. But the crowded social circle made it impossible to completely avoid him, and Wu Baiyan’s relentless pursuit left her exhausted, as if she had wrapped her heart in a bulletproof vest for twenty-four hours a day.

“I’ve said a hundred times that I don’t like him. Does that mean I should get someone to kill him or chop off his feet?!” Shang Mingbao’s emotions were on the brink of collapse, “I’m also desperate, annoyed, and helpless. What do you want me to do? And you? Lin Xi likes you, and you still recruited her as your PhD student? Did I say anything about it? She spends more than ten hours a day with you. Have I ever questioned or doubted you?!”

Xiang Feiran was shocked, confused, and incredulous: “What are you talking about? Lin Xi likes me? Can you be more clear-headed? She’s my student! I’m her PhD advisor!”

“So what? Wasn’t the third wife of Xiang Weishan once his junior in his lab, and they still got married?! Are you saying you won’t be like your father?!”

After she said this, a deathly silence fell between them, leaving only heavy breathing.

“Shang Mingbao, this is how you see me.”

He said slowly, releasing the grip on her wrist.

“No…” Shang Mingbao pulled him back, lowered her head, and tried to sort out her thoughts, “I didn’t mean that. I’m not doubting you and Lin Xi. I’m sorry…”

“I’ll talk to her. If it’s true, I’ll arrange for her to leave my research group and transfer to another advisor,” Xiang Feiran said calmly, “And you? Can you make Wu Baiyan leave your life and your world? Is it because you can’t, or because you’re unwilling? Is it really that difficult? Your brand, does he know more about it, or do I? Your ideals, your designs, your passion—has he heard more about them from you, or have I?”

“He’s Wendy’s good friend. Wendy was introduced to me by him. Wendy… she’s very important, very useful, and has helped me a lot—Xiang Feiran, you can’t doubt me like this.”

Shang Mingbao struggled to breathe, tears streaming from her wide-open eyes, “I’ve left my family’s circle to start my own business. Wendy is a relationship I’ve built myself over six years. She’s known Wu Baiyan longer and is closer to him. It has nothing to do with me… Why does it become my fault? I can’t cut off contact between her and Wu Baiyan. I’ve made it very clear. I’m also troubled. I’ve rejected him very obviously…”

“Alright,” Xiang Feiran said, slowly breathing, loosening his tie, and looking at her coldly, “Then why did you tell Wu Baiyan about the deadline you set for us and not me?”

“What?” Shang Mingbao was stunned, as if struck by a blow.

Xiang Feiran asked clearly again: “You set a deadline for our relationship. Why did you tell him and not me? Is it to give him a waiting period? To tell him there’s hope and he won’t have to wait too long?”

Shang Mingbao, unable to believe it, forgot to deny it and instinctively asked the fatal question: “How did you know?”

The cigarette had burned out, and Xiang Feiran had not smoked it. The cigarette butt was crushed into a crescent-shaped mark, but he didn’t know. He only knew that his fingers holding the half-smoked cigarette were trembling uncontrollably.

“How did I know.” His cold white face actually showed a real smile this time, “Yes, how did I know? Because he’s your confidant, so he knows all your secrets and plans. I’m an outsider, only responsible for being notified by you—or by him. What’s the deadline you gave me? Is it reached? Are you now heartless enough to tell me?”

“At that time, he hadn’t confessed to me yet. He’s my good friend. It’s not what you think…”

Her incoherent explanation, firm and urgent tone, was full of helplessness.

Clearly, she was speaking the truth, so why did she feel unable to prove herself?

She had no words to refute.

Everything was not her intention, but one piece after another, like a puzzle, it all came together into a terrifying vortex, a bizarre trap, an ugly chasm. Even though she was innocent, she could not prove her innocence.

“Good friends getting married is also a common path for alliances in your circle, right?” Xiang Feiran asked cruelly, clearly with a cold sneer, “Shang Mingbao, as a citizen of the free world, I didn’t expect your life to already have a path dependency—experiencing a heartfelt love, then marrying a good friend you know well, marrying first and loving later.”

“When did I ever say I wanted to marry him?” The unresolvable grievance hit her like waves, heavy and suffocating, making her temples throb. “Xiang Feiran, can you stop speaking for yourself?”

“In the minute you and Wu Boyan left, your important partner announced to everyone present that you and he would be getting married.”

“Impossible!” Shang Mingbao trembled with embarrassment and swore the dirtiest words she had ever uttered, “Wendy doesn’t even know my identity. How could she think we are marrying? How could she think I am worthy of Wu Boyan?”

Wendy, a staunch advocate of bloodline theory, a defender of the Upper East Side, a gatekeeper of aristocratic families. She, a mere daughter of a small factory owner, working as a gem broker for wealthy women in New York, was not worthy of Wendy’s view of the descendants of renowned investors rooted in New York for four generations.

“So, it means she doesn’t see it as an alliance but as a union of love. Is that enough? Babe, you know I love you. Even if you only leave me two points of love, it’s enough for me to risk my life for you. This was my initial promise to you, and it’s been fulfilled. But now—”

Xiang Feiran reached out, as if to touch her face. But with his lover so distant, his hand fell.

“… Do I still have two points of love for you?”

With a click, Shang Mingbao’s slender high heels took a step back, and she struggled to maintain her unsteady body, trying to focus on him, “I love you, but you feel so strange to me now.”

The young man in a combat jacket she liked, catching and tossing a coin with half-finger gloves amidst lush greenery, the cold yet unpretentious PhD who spoke without pretense, even while riding a bike through the snowy streets of New York with ease and calmness, had become the man in front of her now—wearing a suit and tie, navigating banquets with ease, toasting, socializing, and playing polite games with people.

Attending such a boring waste of his academic life, listening to others’ praise and empty words, mingling with people she had grown tired of since childhood, who were polite, gentlemanly, and businesslike.

So… high society.

Yes, he was still charming, but she felt she didn’t know him anymore.

“I love you,” Shang Mingbao wiped her tears indiscriminately, “but what kind of person are you now? What did you offer me when I loved you most? You can’t even accompany me in realizing my dreams. You talked about your mother’s tragedy, how you were hurt and influenced, I believed, I communicated, I felt sorry for you, respected you, and never pressured you. I slowly let go, slowly told myself that loving you was not the only option in this life—yet what about you?”

Her nasal passages were blocked with tears, and her cries sounded like they were coughed out.

“Why can you walk so calmly into your father’s company? Didn’t you hate him? Why is your mother’s reason valid for facing my marriage dreams, but the billions in family assets are not? Why can you let go, why can you reconcile? How am I supposed to love you? I don’t even know if I still recognize you!”

Xiang Feiran couldn’t believe what he was hearing, his eyes, scorched with pain, fixed on her. “Why would I go to Xiang Weishan’s company? Why would I go to Xiang Weishan’s company?”

Every breath he took trembled. “Why would I go to Xiang Weishan’s company, don’t you know? If not for you, if not because of your family—”

A surge of destructive fury, which Shang Mingbao had suppressed for two years, suddenly erupted from her body, and she threw Xiang Feiran’s hand away—

“Stop making excuses! I am not your excuse driven by greed! Xiang Feiran! Do you think I care about this money? If I wanted money, would I be with you? If I needed you to bring me luxury goods and villas, would I choose you? I like you because you are you, and our love does not need you to provide it with money! From the beginning to the end, our relationship does not require you to sacrifice your ideals or your soul to sustain it! After all these years, do you still not understand me at all?”

Her face, streaming with tears, made it hard to see Xiang Feiran.

She had respected his pain and past so much, admired his will to break free from his father’s control. After six years of dating, she never allowed him to give her excessively expensive gifts; even a piece of quartz or a handful of snow was joyfully treasured by her. She even made her elder sister cooperate in telling so many faulty lies about hotel room fees. And the ugly apples with worms, the mountain paths that wore out shoes, the rocky beach under dark clouds—seemed trivial in the face of this overwhelming reality and wealth.

“I cannot bear your grandiose, heavy, and deeply emotional excuses.” Shang Mingbao, exhausted, felt everything had changed beyond recognition. “Go talk to your mother’s spirit in the sky if you feel you owe her.”

In the pain of a thousand arrows piercing her heart, Xiang Feiran closed his eyes and leaned against a nearby railing.

“Your marriage to the Wu family was announced first, and only then did I try to fight for it,” he was still trying to make sense of the entire conversation from tonight.

“If your father, if your parents think that a plant scientist, a PI, a Young Scholar, and all my credentials combined are enough to impress them and be worthy of you, this pearl, if you think that my love alone is sufficient to move you, rather than believing that my love can be replaced by several gardeners, drivers, housekeepers, and servants, I am willing… I am willing to give you everything, rather than stepping into that company that disgusts me every day.”

He still wanted this pearl.

He still wanted this… treasure he once told his mother about at the rocky beach.

Bright, Xiang Feiran’s treasure.

He wanted to let go, but his father never taught him how to love, and his mother never taught him how to let go.