Chapter 88

What is left for them?

After pouring out words filled with hatred, grievances, and frustration, both fell into silence, with only the heavy breathing between them remaining.

The voices in the garden had quieted down, and the attendant who had been behind the reception desk was gone. The sliding glass door had been gently pulled closed by someone.

No one remained except the two of them.

“Six years, babe.” Xiang Feiran crushed the already cold and lifeless cigarette butt in his palm. “What do we still have?”

Shang Mingbao was already speechless, tears streaming down her face.

“You don’t understand me, I don’t believe it. You had to use these words to stab my heart today,” Xiang Feiran said, his fingers pointing to his own beating heart through his suit and shirt. “Go on, say it. You might as well say that my mother died early and didn’t teach me what love is, or that my father had a low character, so it’s no wonder I ignored the coldness I’ve shown you over the past two years, unable to see your true feelings, Shang Mingbao—why doesn’t Xiang Feiran just break up with me? Why doesn’t he take a hint? Or say that my upbringing never included long-lasting, pure love, so I failed and it’s my own fault—babe, if you say these things to me and deny the six years between us, I will thank you.”

Shang Mingbao bit her lip hard, as if trying to secure her mouth with an extra layer of protection.

Xiang Feiran looked at her with an icy calm, his eyes slowly filling with burning red pain. “Say it.”

Shang Mingbao shook her head, but her body was grabbed by him as she took a half-step back. “Say it!”

“I won’t say it, I won’t say it…” Shang Mingbao’s every word was fragmented, her eyes looking at him with confusion and fear—not fear of Xiang Feiran, but fear of every word she had just said and the outcomes they might lead to.

“You’re afraid,” Xiang Feiran said with a clear and painful insight from his elevated position. “You’re afraid that what I said is true, that I really did enter my father’s company for you, and that you can’t bear it. My all-out effort has made you anxious, especially since you’ve been constantly thinking about how to leave me.”

“No, Brother Feiran…” Shang Mingbao opened her mouth, but found she had no rebuttal.

If not for her instinctive fear and reluctance to endure his heavy, all-in love, her words could only be taken as believing he was driven by greed. Did she believe it? Perhaps when Wu Baiyan jokingly mentioned three or four hundred billion, she had a fleeting moment of belief. But now, whether she believed it or not no longer mattered; her careless words had led her into a dead end.

She couldn’t compare whether being unable to bear his love hurt him more or believing in his greed hurt him more.

“I’ll tell you, Shang Mingbao,” Xiang Feiran said, each word clear and cruel, “You believe I might be driven by greed and are afraid I might really sell my soul for you.”

The shaking of stones in her heart resonated through Shang Mingbao’s body wrapped in her evening gown.

There were words she wanted to shout out, using her usual tactics of arrogance, blame, and vagueness, or simply to whine and act spoiled, but with Xiang Feiran’s gaze on her, she felt like a butterfly with broken wings, pitifully displayed on the counter.

She was so exposed, so weak, her soul.

Being seen through brought a cruel and self-abandoning satisfaction.

Shang Mingbao’s tears gradually stopped, and she took a deep breath, gazing at him. “Brother Feiran, I’m so tired…”

She finally spoke the truth: “You are tired too, I know. You’re right; over the past two years, I haven’t been thinking about how to end up with you. I’ve been thinking about how to live after you leave me. The rocky beach you told me about feels like it’s pressing on my heart. I can’t believe I have the weight to make you change. I can’t believe my love could dilute the tragic shadow your mother left you… I was afraid. I gave us four years. I thought four years would be enough for a long-distance relationship, for me not to love you and for you not to love me. If you really changed for me, four years would be enough… Talking to Alan was because I truly considered him a friend. I often talked about you with him. I didn’t want to confide in Ning because I was afraid she would be caught in the middle.”

Shang Mingbao handed over her phone. “All of Alan’s contact details are blacklisted and deleted from my phone, including his number. Last time in Sri Lanka, he saved me. I had a concussion and a broken arm. He asked me not to blacklist him again, so I unblocked him on Instagram.”

Xiang Feiran did not take her phone or verify her claim. He believed her. What hurt him was never these surface things.

“Four years.” He repeated, feeling it was both laughable and sorrowful. “Why didn’t you tell me? I thought it was only one year, two years. When I knew about it, I desperately tried to make myself think, to keep thinking.”

It was like running through a long tunnel, not daring to stop, exhausting every effort, hoping to quickly pass through the endless darkness and reach the light where she was.

“I don’t want you to experience the anXiangty I felt in the first three years. I didn’t expect Alan to tell you. If Alan told you, why didn’t you ask me?”

“I didn’t dare.”

Shang Mingbao pressed her lips together, her expression a mix of tears and a smile. She wiped her dry cheeks with the back of her hand out of habit.

After two years of an international relationship, there were too many misalignments between them, too many gaps that could never be closed. They ignored, avoided, and pretended not to see these issues. Each meeting’s enthusiastic hugs and kisses were used as a means to resolve problems, believing that as long as they could embrace and make love in the moment, the distance in their hearts would remain unchanged.

“Feiran gege, we…”

Her words were interrupted by Xiang Feiran suddenly pulling her into his arms.

Tonight, he held her tightly for the first time, using the same posture as always.

“Don’t speak too easily,” Xiang Feiran said firmly. “Not now, not after an argument.”

Pushing open the garden door and walking down the corridor to the banquet hall, Shang Mingbao took a deep breath and called Wendy, telling her that something had come up and she couldn’t return.

Wendy arrived soon after, startled by her disheveled appearance. “Did Alan have a fight with you?”

Shang Mingbao frowned in disbelief. “I have nothing to do with Alan. Why would you ask that?”

“Well…” Wendy shrugged. “He has a bad temper, and you have a bad temper too. It’s normal to have some conflict.”

“Then why did you say I was engaged to Alan?” Shang Mingbao asked her business partner.

Wendy smiled nonchalantly. “Honey, it looks like you’re about to have a marriage alliance. Everyone in the circle knows.”

Shang Mingbao’s face went stiff, appearing especially rigid under her patchy foundation.

“What marriage alliance?”

“You’re from the Shang family, glory, babe. You don’t think I don’t know, do you?” Wendy maintained her elegant and intellectual smile, adjusting her curls. “I understand you like to play this game of hiding your identity in North America. I was the same way at your age.”

Shang Mingbao asked quietly, “How did you know?”

“Oh honey…” Wendy smiled at her reaction. “It’s not difficult. Not everyone is as tight-lipped as Shena. But I admit, I only found out recently,” she made a slightly playful gesture, “you’re still very well hidden by your family.”

“So, you didn’t want to give me your gemstone design at first but suddenly started appreciating me, willing to open a flagship store on Fifth Avenue with me.”

Wendy, a bit annoyed, but still patient, responded: “Of course, he knows. Babe, you’re the most naive, and we’re all happy to protect your naivety and play this game with you.”

A crystal diamond fell from her evening bag—Shang Mingbao scratched it off with such force that blood seeped from her fingers, a pain that seemed to cut deep: “All this time, I’ve been appearing as the third miss of the Shang family, with Alan at your events.”

“Clearly.”

So that’s how it was.

So that’s how it was.

Shang Mingbao seemed to lose her sense of pain, aggressively using her bleeding nails to scrape off the second diamond. She was doing her nails, and the whitening of her nail surface was covered by dark red nail polish.

She thought she was being clever and deceptive, but in reality, everyone was just playing a game with her.

It was her appearance with Wu Baiyan, smiling and chatting, that gave others the chance to spread rumors about their planned marriage, while she remained unaware, continuing to appear in the same social circles with Wu Baiyan.

Several circles knew he was pursuing her, climbing mountains and crossing seas with extraordinary perseverance. Several circles also knew he was always by her side, threading needles for her brand.

No wonder the wealthy ladies’ attitudes changed 180 degrees, from polite refusals to willingness to hear about her design ideas. No wonder Hollywood stars were willing to meet her and try on her works.

The rules of social class and circles are like an invisible, sharp fishing net. She thought she was in a broad and transparent new world, but she had never left the arena of sycophancy and competition.

Shang Mingbao laughed hysterically, looking at Wendy with a shaky gaze: “Why are you playing this game with me? I’m just a small daughter, I don’t bring you any benefits…”

She asked numbly.

Wendy couldn’t ignore her teary eyes. She approached and comforted her as if wiping away a child’s tears, “There, there… babe, we’ve been friends for so many years, future partners for decades. I like you just because you are you.”

She remained elegant and composed, using her practiced deep voice and well-maintained fingers to wipe the tears from Shang Mingbao’s dirty lashes.

Shang Mingbao watched as Wendy wiped the tears from her wet fingertips.

In the quiet of the corridor and the string music of the banquet hall, her voice suddenly rang out: “You know, at first, you had to wash your hands after touching my skin.”

Wendy was stunned.

“Goodbye.” Shang Mingbao took a deep look at her. “And by the way, the gentleman you just saw is actually my boyfriend. You really are blind.”

She walked in the direction opposite the banquet hall, ignoring Wendy’s angry shouts behind her. She walked faster and faster, pushing through one door after another.

On her way back home, the soles of her high heels were worn out and ragged from the rough ground, and her fishtail dress dragged through the dirty, chaotic streets of Manhattan. She clutched her evening bag under her arm, pursing her lips until her cheeks were hollow.

The lighter in her hand just wouldn’t spark. She awkwardly scraped the wheel, the blood from her nail beds dried, but the sudden pain in her heart matched the scraping. When the flame finally appeared, her steps came to a halt, and she crouched by the flowerbed of the street tree, crying out loud.

It was awful!

Everything was awful.

The site of the High Pearl Club, the magnificent three-story corner building, the endless contracts, framework agreements, equity, gemstone suppliers, workshops, interviewing artisans, the series of popping champagne… it was all fake, all a game. Lawyers, bankers, socialites, celebrities, real estate agents, PR people, and brokers were all playing make-believe with her, all pretending to be grown-ups…

That night, she slept in cold sweat, her long hair sticking to her neck and back from the sweat. She called Wen Youyi with a pale voice, asking, “Mom, are you free? Can I come home?”

Wen Youyi immediately knew something was wrong and arranged for a private jet, but was first informed by Sophie that Shang Mingbao was already on her way to the airport.

“The young lady said she missed home.”

Wen Youyi waited for her at home, initially thinking she had suffered some grievances in New York. When she saw her, she could hardly believe her eyes.

“Sweetie…” She hugged her, stroking her blue-tinted face. “What happened? What’s going on?”

“Where’s Dad? I want to see Dad.” Shang Mingbao’s calmness had a desperate, pathological edge. Clutching a large stack of something under her suit-clad arm, her eyes searched the large building, unable to find a place to settle. “I want to see Dad… it’s the weekend, he should be home.”

“He’s in the study, discussing matters, babe—” Wen Youyi turned her by the shoulders, calling her name to bring her focus back to the present. “If there’s something, you can tell me.”

Shang Mingbao shook her head. “Mommy can’t help me, can’t help me…”

She stubbornly walked towards Shang Yuye’s study. After being stopped by the secretary, she obediently sat on the sofa, hunched over the stack of papers, her toes mechanically tapping inside her open-toe high heels.

Her ankles were covered with several crooked bandages, and she wore a wool suit that clearly could only be worn in early spring. Her body was sweating, oblivious to the discomfort.

The secretary looked on, suddenly feeling a pang of pity, fearing that the young lady might throw a tantrum or might not. In silence, she seemed to be undergoing an endurance test.

Suddenly, the study door opened, and footsteps could be heard. It turned out to be her uncle discussing family matters. Shang Mingbao’s pupils dilated as she unfoundedly suspected he had come to discuss a marriage match for her.

After seeing off her uncle, Shang Yuye looked at her strangely and let her in.

Family matters were more complicated than business affairs, involving blood relations. Shang Yuye’s study was filled with the smell of cigars, and the ashtray was already full. He picked up a glass of water, took a sip, and asked Shang Mingbao, “Why did you suddenly come back from New York?” After another look at her, he smiled and criticized, “What are you wearing? It’s June in New York and there’s still a cold wave?”

“Dad, is Uncle here to introduce me to someone?”

“No.” Shang Yuye furrowed his brow slightly. “Babe, you’re only twenty-five. I wouldn’t arrange you with anyone without your consent.”

“Is Xiang Feiran okay?” Shang Mingbao asked earnestly. “His grandfather is Xiang Lianqiao, his father is Xiang Weishan, who is… a very prominent scientist and businessman my brother has interacted with. His mother is a prominent botanist and painter. I introduced him to you last time… Dad.”

Shang Yuye’s expression turned cold. “You went to New York to focus on your career, not to let men charm you.”

“That’s not it. My brand is in preparation, and I encountered some minor troubles… Is Xiang Feiran okay? His anti-marriage stance has changed; he proposed to me.”

Her sentences and reasoning were at their breaking point, her eyes full of pleading as she looked at Shang Yuye.

“I investigated before you told me,” Shang Yuye’s expression was as cold as ice, holding his glass and speaking each word deliberately. “My answer is no.”

Shang Mingbao felt struck by lightning, feeling dizzy. “Why? Mommy said it was okay. Think about it again,” she insisted.

It was the first time Shang Yuye heard someone ask him to reconsider, and for a moment, absurdity and the pressure of his position showed on his face. “How could Youyi say it’s okay? She never even knew what your boyfriend’s name was.”

Shang Mingbao slightly parted her lips, stunned and confused by his dismissive denial.

“Mommy knows him; she’s met him,” she tried to collect her thoughts and stammered. “She wanted to introduce him to Second Sister. She said that although Brother Feiran has a political background, it can be downplayed…”

“Get some sleep, and don’t talk nonsense with me.” Shang Yuye’s knuckles rested on the desk as he said indifferently.

For the first time, he examined himself, feeling he had spoiled his youngest daughter, realizing that in the careful nurturing process, there seemed to be a crucial element missing.

“Dad…” Shang Mingbao’s lips trembled, afraid of him but opened the stack of papers in front of him. They were notebooks and folders, bulging with years of accumulation. Some loose pages and leaf specimens fell as she opened them.

“Look, look at this. These are my notes from going out into the wild with Feiran Gege. The annotations on it were dictated by him to me. This is my hand-drawn sketch, this is my inspiration shorthand, and this is my design draft. Back then, the drawings weren’t good, and Shena wanted me to ask the teacher to redo them, but the teacher isn’t as good as Feiran Gege. There are over three thousand types… Dad, I’ve seen over three thousand types of flowers and plants with my own eyes. Some only grow in a specific river or ditch, and some only bloom once every five or six years and die after blooming. This one, this one…”

Shang Mingbao turned to a random page, “Long-stemmed double-flower wood. Its seeds need to go through two winters to germinate. From flowering to new seedlings takes four years. Dad, don’t you think it’s amazing? It looks like this…”

“That’s enough.” Shang Yuye put down his cup, his tone heavy and stern, his face severe and cold.

Shang Mingbao shivered, clutching her messy loose-leaf notebook, “Dad, please promise me. He’s a good person, he won’t make me suffer. He shouldn’t have to go back to his father’s place because of me…”

Shang Yuye asked coldly, “Why shouldn’t he? Isn’t his father a prominent scientist and businessman? If he can’t go back, is it because his rise was built on abandoning his family?”

Shang Mingbao’s face turned pale, “You know about that.”

“I said I’d investigate thoroughly. The Xiang family is fine, but his father’s surname is Zhou. Have you looked into what their family has done or the lawsuits they’ve been involved in? Such a family with such a complicated reorganization—how many siblings are there? Forget it, babe, find someone with a clear background.”

“He’s from the Xiang family! What does he have to do with the Zhou family? He hasn’t even gone back!” Shang Mingbao was shaking with anger, clenching her teeth as she retorted for the first time, “You’re being biased! You’re just prejudiced against him; you don’t even care to understand who Xiang Feiran really is!”

Shang Yuye picked up the cup to smash it but, thinking it was his youngest daughter and not the two unfilial sons, managed to hold back his anger. He paced a few steps and said sternly, “Yes! Dad is indeed biased. Why should anyone be kept hanging for five or six years?!”

The thought of a man using her youth and naivety to control her and keep her waiting for five or six years, while claiming he had difficulties, made him more than biased; he almost wanted to kill him!

Wen Youyi, who had been pacing outside the door, could no longer bear it. She burst in and pulled Shang Mingbao into her embrace, “Why are you yelling at her? Our daughter is sick!”

The anguished “Our daughter is sick” made Shang Yuye suddenly fall silent. He looked at Shang Mingbao, who was being protected in Wen Youyi’s arms with unfamiliar eyes.

She was indeed ill; her eyes were burning and fragmented, her lips dry and pale, her face as thin as a willow leaf, looking green. She was standing there purely out of instinct, speaking instinctively, “Didn’t you investigate? Don’t you know what happened to his parents? Why can’t you understand him? He’s already proposed to me. He went to his father’s place for me. I want him to come back… just to get married…”

“Breaking up would be fine too!” Shang Yuye’s voice, already hoarse from a day of shouting, turned into a cough as he got angrier, “If he’s still at his father’s place after the breakup, it means that’s what he wanted all along, and you won’t feel guilty! Ask your mother, with so many things happening back then, did I ever say it was for her good?!”

“Why is everyone pressuring me!” Shang Mingbao threw her notebook away fiercely, “Pressuring me to love, pressuring me not to love, pressuring me to get married, pressuring me not to marry. Anti-marriage, Dad pressuring me, Wu Baiyan pressuring me, Wendy pressuring me. I didn’t want this… What can I do…”

Wen Youyi couldn’t stand hearing and seeing any more. She placed her hand on Shang Mingbao’s burning eyes and shook her head sternly at her husband.

“Babe, get some sleep. No one is pressuring you. Mommy promises that nothing will change when you wake up.”

Her gentle voice drifted in the dimness, seeming far away.

Shang Mingbao couldn’t sleep well, always feeling that her parents were discussing something behind her back, waking intermittently with suspicion.

After an unknown amount of time, she woke up to find the sunlight gentle, her notebook neatly arranged by her pillow.

Sensing the smell of pencils, ballpoint pens, and paper, Shang Mingbao closed her eyes and held them close, cuddling them under the blanket. Gradually, she curled up and fell asleep in the fetal position, hugging them like a baby.

She woke up with the thought that Xiang Feiran was still waiting for her answer.

She suddenly sat up from the bed, startling Wen Youyi, who had been napping on the side. Wen Youyi sighed and said helplessly, “Babe, you’ve only slept for an hour.”

“Mom, I need to go back to New York.” Shang Mingbao tried to pull the blanket off, but Wen Youyi held her shoulder.

She then sat on the edge of the bed, “You can’t go back right now. Tell me, how did a good relationship turn into this? What’s this anti-marriage thing? Why is there a proposal now?”

Seeing her silence, Wen Youyi didn’t rush. She pressed the service bell and called for the maid. After a while, the maid came in with a tray containing a warm towel and sweet soup. Wen Youyi unfolded the towel and wiped Shang Mingbao’s forehead and cheeks, “You’re twenty-five now. Being proposed to and feeling lost, isn’t it?”

Shang Mingbao felt tears welling up again but didn’t want to cry anymore. Her face felt refreshed after being wiped with the warm towel.

“I don’t know how to say it, Mommy. I’m happy, but also scared.”

“Why?”

“I’m happy because he changed for me and wants to marry me. I’m scared because he might have forced himself to change. I’m afraid my love isn’t enough for him, that he’s just temporarily infatuated… and that he won’t be happy in the future.”

Wen Youyi placed the thick warm towel over her eyes, “It sounds like you’re very considerate of him but also seem to lack the courage to respond to his love.”

In those few seconds with her eyes closed, Shang Mingbao saw a pinkish-red vision, like a closed box. Is it the heart? She heard the echoes from deep within her, knocked by her mother.

“After applying enough, Wen Youyi removed the towel she had used and took the new one handed to her by the servant, then lifted Shang Mingbao’s arm: ‘Mommy made a mistake. Mommy has known that you two have been together for many years. That year when you went to New York for New Year’s Eve, you had just gotten together, right?’

‘Yes.’ Shang Mingbao tugged at the corners of her lips. ‘He even performed at a bar on New Year’s Eve. When he was on the phone with his cousin, I learned that he was always alone, his mother had already passed away. I went to find him…’ She lowered her face, tears dripping into the blanket. ‘I clearly knew how important his mother was to him, yet I used this to hurt him.'”

‘Mommy knows that you are always blunt and only want to vent when you’re throwing a tantrum,’ Wen Youyi said, pausing. ‘I know you only act like this with those close to you, and that your family won’t hold it against you, knowing you don’t mean it sincerely… I forgot to teach you that there will be new loved ones and new family members around you.’

Shang Mingbao shook her head. ‘I had to hurt him. For the past two years, I’ve felt a kind of anger building up inside me. I didn’t know why, didn’t know how to resolve it, how to release it, or who to talk to, so I just kept it inside… The other day, when we finally fought, I felt the blood rushing to my head and knew what words would hurt him, so I said those words.’

Wen Youyi held her close. ‘Babe, Mommy was wrong. If I had known he was an anti-marriage advocate, I wouldn’t have given you hope, and you two wouldn’t have ended up so exhausted.’

‘He promised me he would try to change, but I didn’t dare to believe it… I felt like he couldn’t move on from the past, so for the past two years,’ Shang Mingbao paused to catch her breath, ‘I didn’t do enough.’

‘Not enough? You said it,’ Wen Youyi said, her motion of wiping Shang Mingbao’s fingers gradually stopping. ‘Mingbao, love can be rekindled, but if you only consume it, it becomes nothing more than a consumable.’

She now understood this principle, but it seemed it was too late.

‘Mommy has a vision in her mind. Do you want to hear it?’ Wen Youyi asked.

Shang Mingbao nodded.

‘It’s a carriage speeding up, its wheels rolling, dragging him behind. He desperately wants to hold onto the carriage, so he’s being tortured, his body covered in wounds and blood.’

‘Mom!’ Shang Mingbao exclaimed in sudden pain, her pupils widening, not daring to look closely at the image in her mind.

Wen Youyi looked into her eyes. ‘Break up first.’

‘But he’s proposing to me now!’ Shang Mingbao said anxiously and confusedly.

‘What do you think marriage is? Since you were little, you thought of marriage as the beautiful dress and veil of a bride. When you grew up, you said you wanted a life like mine, believing I was the happiest person in the world. But have you seriously thought about what the marriage you’re pursuing actually is?’

Shang Mingbao wanted to answer, but Wen Youyi held her hand. ‘Don’t rush to answer me.’

What is marriage? Shang Mingbao realized she had been pursuing it like Gatsby chasing the green light across the bay. It was a rich and beautiful illusion created by her parents. But what exactly was the illusion? She had never thought about it carefully. She had only regarded it as a fixed term, a fixed matter.

‘Marriage is nothing more than a certificate, a legal document. What you yearn for is not the institution of marriage itself, but the love and companionship of two people, living together and pursuing ideals. It’s the life of two people that gives substance to the term marriage, but you, babe, treated it as a goal to be reached at the wedding ceremony. A fulfilling marriage is a journey, not a destination. It isn’t settled until death, but your life is the journey towards it.’

Wen Youyi finished wiping her arms and fingers and said, ‘Of course, you must have your own answers. You are twenty-five now and can answer the question of life. Pull yourself together, stand tall. Only those who dare to take responsibility for their decisions have the freedom to make choices. Otherwise, it’s just harming others and oneself.’

Her words were quite stern. Shang Mingbao suddenly realized how weak and hollow her spine was. Besides that one resolute return to Ningshi to keep him, she had never made decisions; she just let things happen, passive and unresisting.

‘Mommy!’ Shang Mingbao called out to her, her voice trembling. ‘Are you like Daddy, not agreeing to me marrying him?’

‘It’s not about him. Daddy was just scaring you. It’s just that both of you need to think about it. In such a hasty and reckless manner, who is chasing you? Misaligned lines will gradually tighten into a dead knot, and it will be too late to untie it then.’

Wen Youyi closed the door and sighed deeply against the door panel. She felt her eyes sting but didn’t know who to blame.

Wen Youyi made Shang Mingbao think, and she really did. As the morning bells and evening drums sounded, walking in her garden, she thought about the dazzling three years and the weary two years.

She took a day to visit Xiang Lianqiao.

Xiang Lianqiao was very happy to see her and said, ‘Feiran said she’d invite you for the New Year. Isn’t it New Year now? Little Mingbao.’

Shang Mingbao spent the whole day with him, only to find that at eighty-two, he still worked at his desk. ‘For an hour or two, Feiran doesn’t allow it, saying I’ll go blind,’ Xiang Lianqiao said with some satisfaction.

Shang Mingbao helped him with transcribing and proofreading. The time in the mountains passed quickly, and dusk came before she could grasp it.

The summer sunset is best for watching the mountains. Shang Mingbao helped him smooth out the shawl on his lap and watched the grass change from green to yellow, and then to gray and black.

She was familiar with the routine, like that year when she found the specimen room key under the clay pot in the corner of the yard. In the top drawer, she took out an old album and lingered over the photo of Xiang Feiran at sixteen, his youthful face.

On the last page, Shang Mingbao inserted their photos one by one into the interrupted blank plastic sheets.

Too many to choose from. She stuffed one in, that year’s New Year’s Eve; stuffed another in, a photo of the snow-capped mountains; stuffed one more, a selfie under the Brooklyn Bridge watching the sunset… And also, a kiss in front of the tent, gentle teasing on the drum stool.

Under the Rockefeller Center Christmas tree, she made a puzzle, printed it on a photo paper, and included it in the last six years they had together.

She had passed through Xiang Feiran’s life.

Maybe he, like before, would never touch this photo album again. Perhaps one day, if he ever did, he might smile knowingly instead of having tears well up in his eyes.

As she was leaving, Shang Mingbao gave Aunt Lan a discreet gesture with her index finger. Aunt Lan understood and nodded.

Xiang Lianqiao, sitting under the living room light and arranging a game of Go, lifted his head with a smile when he heard her footsteps, knowing she had come to say goodbye. “Are you leaving?”

Shang Mingbao nodded. “Yes, I am.”

“Will you still come to visit Grandpa?”

He seemed to be asking himself, or perhaps someone else.

Shang Mingbao hesitated for a moment. Xiang Lianqiao waved his hand toward the outside. “No need to answer. Just come if you want. The mountain is still here, it won’t run away. Go on, Mingbao.”

Life is still long, go on, go on.

She went to the dormitory where Xiang Feiran lived at the plant institute.

Sitting in the living room, she quietly drank a glass of water. Someone pushed open the door. “Xiang Bo is back?”

Shang Mingbao stood up. “Not yet.”

“Oh, sister-in-law.” They greeted each other with a wave.

It was a familiar researcher, but there were so many researchers here, she couldn’t distinguish which of the seven from that year he was.

After a few pleasantries, Shang Mingbao picked up her bag.

“Leaving already?”

“Mm, leaving now.”

She was politely escorted to the end of the corridor. Shang Mingbao descended the stairs step by step and took the car to the airport.

In just four days of back-and-forth flights, her biological rhythms were thrown into disarray and exhaustion from jet lag and travel. Thinking about Xiang Feiran over the past two years, Shang Mingbao rested her head against the window.

The plane crossed the twilight line, the deep blue, pink orange, half night, and half dawn.

The next day, at the United Nations headquarters in New York, Xiang Feiran, a young botanist from China, gave the keynote speech on youth leadership in biodiversity at 3 p.m.

Standing on the podium with his back to the blue olive symbol of the UN and facing the circular tiered auditorium, Xiang Feiran, tall and striking in a well-tailored dark blue suit, was a standout presence. His suit and demeanor exuded elegance and made him captivating to the eye.

Xiang Feiran treated it as just another academic report, speaking in Chinese as his words were simultaneously translated into various languages and heard through the headphones of delegates from around the world and observer organizations.

Calm, concise, and comprehensive.

In his report and appeal closely tied to the topic, he paused for a name, interspersing a story about a female botanist who had once faced a marauding poaching gang with a knife, and spoke of the moon.

At the end of the twenty-minute speech, applause erupted. Xiang Feiran stepped down and casually picked up the black thermos from the podium.

Back at the venue, colleagues congratulated him, admiring his unflappable demeanor.

Little did they know he had been relying on melatonin to sleep for the past two months.

With a long agenda ahead, Xiang Feiran sat down and habitually opened his phone. That day had ended in discord, with questions unresolved, and he was waiting for the chime of fate.

After the organizer’s buffet, Xiang Feiran left the building, turned around the street corner, and in the bright night and bustling crowd, saw Shang Mingbao.

She was dressed in a formal gown, a pink cake skirt, fully made up, as if heading to a banquet.

Amidst the hurried crowd, Shang Mingbao smiled at him first.

Xiang Feiran also lifted the corners of his lips, seeming to chuckle softly in relief. It was as if he heard the chime, solemn and vast.

Shang Mingbao lifted the hem of her skirt, the night like a moving image with frames missing, and the pink hue came into his view.

Xiang Feiran embraced her gently, as if afraid she might fall. He first noticed the bandage on her right thumb, encircling her nail.

“Injured?” He held her hand. The bandage was wrapped in a somewhat endearing manner.

“It’s a small issue.” Shang Mingbao, holding his hand, yearned to keep his warmth.

“How was the report?” She looked at his dark blue suit, light blue shirt, and dark blue striped tie. Her gaze traveled from his Adam’s apple to his chin, drowning in his gaze.

After so many years and so many days, she was still struck by his handsomeness.

“It went well,” Xiang Feiran replied, pulling her into his embrace and exhaling a barely audible sigh behind her.

“Are there any evening parties?” he asked.

There wasn’t, but Shang Mingbao responded with an “mm.”

This was the same dress she had worn when she went to Mount Sinai for surgery. After removing the large petal train, it became a light, airy cake skirt.

“The skirt got dirty.”

Shang Mingbao nestled against him. “It’s fine. About what I said that day…”

“I know you’re like this.” He didn’t say much, neither forgiving nor holding grudges.

“I’m sorry.” Shang Mingbao still said sincerely, “I know you haven’t changed. The person I love has always been right in front of me.”

In the tenderness, there was a gap of silence. Xiang Feiran’s Adam’s apple rolled slightly under the tie knot. “Have you thought it through?”

“I have.”

Xiang Feiran’s lips were pressed together with a slight curve, a natural expression only appearing when facing her.

The body he held rose and fell with deep breaths.

Shang Mingbao closed her eyes. “Brother Feiran, let’s end it here.”

This was not the answer Xiang Feiran wanted to hear.

It was not the answer he had mentally prepared to hear.

He was caught off guard, his body stiffening, and then he tightened his arms without even waiting a second. “Why? I disagree.”

He was so far removed from her life, grasping at the few threads he had, “Is it because… you’re going to marry Wu Baiyan? Your parents decided, and you…” He swallowed, suddenly feeling the dress in his arms as if it were on fire, burning him. “Are you going to… attend the banquet with him?”

Shang Mingbao shook her head gently. “It’s not about him, Brother Feiran. Step out of the fog your father gave you. I don’t love him.”

“Then why?” Xiang Feiran furrowed his brow, thinking of a possible reason that made him feel even more devastated than when he thought she was going to get engaged. It quickly numbed his limbs. “You really don’t love me anymore, do you?”

Shang Mingbao said clearly this time, “I love you, but not as much as before. Brother Feiran, I’m sorry.”

His fingertips trembled for a moment, and with his heart intertwined with his fingers, he couldn’t distinguish where the pain was coming from.

The person who insisted that only two minutes were enough, thought he could survive on just two minutes.

“I used to love you so much; you’ll never know how much I loved you.”

It was the love that had controlled the urge to call him “husband” during their most intimate moments.

It was the wedding dress she had fantasized about, the dresses she had chosen.

It was the pain she felt for him, the wounds she bore for him.

“But I’ve changed. I’ve become selfish, timid, and weak. I dragged you along, hoping you’d get tired and actively say goodbye. I don’t deserve your love. I have no courage, not even to tell you the truth.”

“I don’t care, babe,” Xiang Feiran said urgently, trying to dispel her thoughts. “If it’s something I can give, I’ll give it to you. I have no regrets and I’m not tired. Let’s try again, okay? You just don’t love me as much as before, not… not that you don’t love me.”

“We both need to stop, Brother Feiran. For these years, either I’ve been oppressed by your refusal to marry, or you’ve been chased by my deadlines. We’ve never really had a moment to breathe. This relationship has always been unhealthy from the start—either I compromise or you do. Do you really think you’re ready for marriage? Not because of the crisis you feel from my indifference these past two years or the uncertainty Wu Boyan brings? Do you think you need to finish this answer before the exam bell rings?”

Shang Mingbao spoke calmly and gently.

“Is it healthy to give up your mother’s legacy, to abandon the Cretaceous amber flower for me? You’re so smart; you should know that I don’t lack material things and don’t need you to support me this way. But because of love, your father has easily manipulated and restrained you. Brother Feiran, step out of that company. I know you’re not suited for it, and it makes you unhappy.

“Brother Feiran,” Shang Mingbao lifted her face from his embrace, “let me see you one last time.”

“One last time.”

How filled with the word “farewell.”

Xiang Feiran’s eyes were red, a sight she had never seen before. On his deeply cold face, there was a look of desperate finality.

“Don’t be sad,” Shang Mingbao tilted her face up. “There’s something I’ve always been reluctant to tell you. The reason my parents relented is based on my grandfather’s passing. I went to see him that day; I hoped he would live a long life. With him here, you had a way back.”

After this sentence, Xiang Feiran could no longer speak. His lips were tightly pressed together, his gaze fixed unwaveringly on Shang Mingbao’s face.

It was time for “one last look at her.”

Shang Mingbao lifted her hand, her fingertips touching his pale face.

It is an unhealthy relationship that invites so much envy and attack. Love shouldn’t be a constant chase or fitting into someone else’s expectations.

Can lost love be regained just by saying so? She didn’t know. She only knew she couldn’t try again, couldn’t rely on his love for her to make him wait in place.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t become stronger, couldn’t grow up with you,” Shang Mingbao reminded herself not to cry, as she had practiced many times, perfecting her favorite makeup.

“Goodbye, Xiang Feiran.”

She took a step back, and as usual, he grabbed her wrist.

“You’ve really made up your mind,” Xiang Feiran held her hand tightly, his grip firm, his sharp eyes showing no panic, no haste, only a final, resolute calm.

Shang Mingbao knew this was his last attempt to keep her.

She smiled, giving him one last serene look. “I’ve made up my mind.”

He let go, watching her take a step back, turn, and begin to leave. Just as she was about to go, he hugged her desperately.

“Don’t go.” He tried hard not to let the words tremble.

Shang Mingbao turned back, holding him tightly. The tears she had been holding back flowed freely down her face. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”

She really left, pushing him away, walking into the bustling golden night of Manhattan without looking back, her layered cake dress billowing in the wind.

Xiang Feiran finally recognized that the dress was the one she wore before her surgery.

He was like her heart condition, goodbye in the years destined to pass.

Suddenly, Xiang Feiran couldn’t see the streetlights, the moon, or the buildings and signs. His vision was blurred, like an endless snowfall. Kneeling on the ground, he didn’t know what was coming out from his heart or chest.

“Sir?” Someone approached him. He couldn’t see clearly, only hearing the buzzing of voices.

He was asked if he needed an ambulance.

Xiang Feiran waved his hand, saying he was fine.

“But…”

The blood vomited under the streetlamp.

He’s fine.

He just suddenly feels that everything in front of him is black.

He needs to wait for this wave of darkness to recede.