Two days later, after completing the real estate transfer procedures, An Yi and Yan Chen went to the bank.

An Yi had arranged for a large transaction, and the current house price, discounted along with renovation costs, was transferred to Yan Chen’s account.

Yan Chen’s eyes were dark and bruised. He had been suffering from severe insomnia these past two days, and his throat was hoarse.

He said, “You can give it slowly, there’s no need to take out so much at once.”

“It’s okay, I’ve earned some money over the past two years,” An Yi smiled, “plus the five million I got from you before, it’s enough.”

Yan Chen was stung by his smile.

He would rather An Yi hate him, blame him, than be polite and distant like he was now.

After signing the documents and completing the transfer, An Yi asked Yan Chen to check the amount.

Yan Chen didn’t look, but said to him, “Don’t give up on your sponsorship plan. I… I hope you can do what you love and be seen and recognized by more people.”

“Okay,” An Yi nodded in agreement.

The two of them walked out of the bank, one after the other. The sunlight was good that day, with a gentle breeze blowing. It was a good time to start life anew and move forward.

Yan Chen whispered behind him, “Let’s have a meal together, and then I’ll send you back to Ling’an.”

“No need, I’ve already bought my ticket.”

In the sunlight, An Yi smiled at Yan Chen with curved eyes.

This was the most relaxed moment for him facing Yan Chen in years. He felt calm and free.

“Yan Chen, no matter what, I still want to thank you again. Thank you for everything you’ve done for me, including those years when you didn’t love me. Let’s both be well in the future.”

Yan Chen’s breath caught.

What did it mean to be well? Without An Yi, how could his two-year-long illness ever get better? But An Yi’s smile made it impossible for him to say anything to keep him.

At that moment, a low-key Bentley honked from the roadside.

Yan Heng, the eldest son of the Yan family, sat in the back seat, his eyes sharp as he stared at the two of them.

An Yi put his hands in his pockets and said to Yan Chen, “You go home. We’ll talk later. I’m leaving.”

Leaving, not goodbye. No need to see each other again in the future.

Yan Chen silently watched him turn and walk out of his life. In that moment, he realized clearly that everything had come to an end. For the next few years, or even decades, he and An Yi might not have any intersection again. From now on, every day, this person, this heart, would have nothing to do with him. An Yi would shine in his beloved field, attracting more like-minded people, while he would become a certain someone in some incomplete memory.

The once unrestrained and passionate love had finally burned out, leaving only a dead ash in Yan Chen’s palm.

Yan Chen clenched his hands tightly, watching An Yi’s thin figure disappear around the street corner, completely gone.

He wanted to call An Yi’s name again, but a huge blank in his vision, like an impending virus, instantly eroded his nerves.

His limbs went numb, and even breathing became difficult for a moment.

Yan Heng came over in time to support him. Seeing his bloodshot eyes and pale face, the words of reproach were difficult to say.

After returning home, Yan Chen fell seriously ill.

He would wake up in the middle of the night, with no appetite. Eating even a little would cause severe stomach pain. After going to the hospital for examination and finding no organic lesions, it could only be concluded as psychological.

The doctor prescribed him antidepressants and advised him to go out more often to relax. The symptoms of neurasthenia might improve gradually over time.

But Yan Chen locked himself in his villa where he used to live with An Yi and refused to go out.

Yan Jingwei was furious, almost using his cane to pierce through the floor.

He constantly scolded his youngest son for being worthless, saying it was a disgrace to the Yan family’s reputation to have fallen so low for a man. Later, he switched to questioning An Yi’s background, wondering who could have strung his son along for two years without getting him.

Yan Chen remained unusually silent. When his stomach hurt, he would go to the sunroom of the villa for a while.

It still looked the same as when An Yi left. The flowers and plants An Yi planted in the sunroom were flourishing, well taken care of. Yan Chen always thought that An Yi would be happy to see them when he came back. But the truth was, An Yi was not his caged canary. He had broken free from this splendid cage and flown into the vast world outside, never to look back.

On his way to Jin Hai, An Yi looked at the surging clouds outside the window, his eyes stinging.

He hid in the aircraft restroom and cried bitterly.

It was also a sunny day at the end of spring two years ago when he bid farewell to Yan Chen in the swimming pool, took his documents, and boarded the transoceanic cruise without hesitation. He stood by the mast, thinking of jumping off to end all the pain. And today, two years later, he was going to experience withdrawal again, removing Yan Chen completely from his heart.

Luckily, they didn’t leave many traces of their relationship in the past. There were no anniversary gifts to throw away, no daily habits to change. Those five years were more like experiencing a long, solitary love affair. The few photos they had taken together were already buried at the bottom of the sea with the discarded phone. His lover was just a shadow with handsome features, leaving him with scars that needed to be covered by long sleeves.

He had overcome it once, so he could naturally overcome it a second time.

An Yi was determined to leave all regrets, love, and hatred in the clouds and not bring them off the plane.

Back in Ling’an, he immersed himself in the world of ceramics, ignoring everything outside.

While working on ceramic sculptures with Xie Fei Nian, he made a large cluster of daisies growing between the eyebrows of a young girl on a white porcelain base. After carefully applying colored glazes, the final result was vivid and lifelike.

This work was sent by the Art Bank to the annual ceramic art touring exhibition. After being exhibited in more than thirty cities, it would finally be auctioned off at the Canton-Hong Kong Auction.

An Yi donated all the proceeds from the auction to the Children’s Leukemia Charity Foundation, which was his third consecutive year of donation.

In October of the same year, a porcelain sculpture of Guanyin made by An Yi was leased by the Art Bank to an overseas porcelain art exhibition and was bought at a high price by a foreign collector who loved traditional Chinese porcelain culture.

This was the first large-scale ceramic sculpture completed independently by An Yi, marking a milestone in his career.

All the porcelain merchants and collectors in the country saw the commercial potential of this emerging artist, and people who wanted An Yi to customize works flooded Xie Fei Nian’s home.

Xie Fei Nian advised from the side, “My good grandson, think carefully about whether you want to be a factory worker or a ceramic artist. There is a big difference between the two paths.”

The former produces works, while the latter creates them.

Without hesitation, An Yi chose the latter. “Grandpa, I understand.”

“You’re a clever grandson,” Xie Fei Nian smiled and lay back in his rocking chair. “I’ve taught you everything I can. The rest is up to you to figure out.”

An Yi nodded, politely declining all invitations. Only the entry ticket sent by the Jin Hai Ceramic Art Association was taken down by Xie Fei Nian. “Although this association is just for show, it’s beneficial to go and exchange ideas more. Making ceramics isn’t about working behind closed doors. You should still go.”

“I’ll listen to you grandpa.”

The charity banquet, jointly organized by multiple institutions, featured a porcelain exhibition inside the venue. Invited collectors could purchase their favorite pieces, and the proceeds would be donated to local Hope Schools. It also served as a “welcome dinner” for new association members, fostering exchanges of ideas between old and new members.

An Yi spotted several familiar faces, all of whom had attended the Art Bank sponsorship award ceremony after the New Year.

After exchanging pleasantries, they moved together to the exhibition hall.

At first glance, An Yi saw “Elegance.” She stood under the light of the permanent collection, shining brightly and exuding elegance and grace.

Although from his current technical perspective, this white porcelain statue of a young girl had many flaws, but looking at her across time and space, he still felt tears welling up in his eyes.

His gaze shifted down to the gold-plated nameplate on the corner of the exhibition table, with the names of the maker and the collector written one above the other.

He stared at it for a long time, until someone next to him reminded him that the banquet was about to start. He finally looked away and said with a slight smile, “I’ll be there in a moment.”

The banquet was set up with several long tables, adorned with porcelain vases of flowers and candles. An Yi sat at the end of one long table, occasionally engaging in conversation with others.

This time, there was no need to raise his glass and toast around the table, but An Yi’s mood was not high. He held onto his glass, feeling somewhat suffocated. He excused himself to the restroom, intending to go to the small balcony in the far corner to get some fresh air.

To his surprise, when he pushed open the door, he smelled smoke.

The balcony was only a few square meters, and before he could retract his steps, he made eye contact with the person smoking in the darkness.

Both of them were taken aback.

The person hiding on the balcony smoking flicked his fingertips, and the cigarette ash, carried by the spinning cold wind, floated into the night like scattered snowflakes.

Yan Chen instinctively stood up straight, his eyes showing a hint of nervousness at being discovered by An Yi.

But An Yi just nodded at him and casually said, “What a coincidence.”

Yan Chen extinguished his cigarette, the last spark extinguishing in his dark eyes. He wanted to say “not really,” as he had flown back from overseas specifically to attend this banquet and would have to return to the airport in two hours to catch a red-eye flight.

But his throat rolled twice, and he reluctantly squeezed out the words, “What a coincidence.”

Standing at the doorway, An Yi asked casually, “Didn’t see you earlier, are you here too?”

This question was unnecessary; as one of the organizers of the charity banquet, Yan Chen was supposed to be there.

Yan Chen responded evasively, “You’ve lost weight?”

An Yi wanted to ask the same question, but they were not in a position to exchange pleasantries. He replied, “I’m fine. You carry on, I’ll go somewhere else.”

“An Yi,” Yan Chen blurted out, but afraid of annoying An Yi with whatever he wanted to say, after a while, he managed to squeeze out, “Eat on time. When you’re focused on your ceramics, you forget everything else.”

An Yi smiled faintly, said “Thank you,” and turned to leave.

Yan Chen watched him walk towards the brightly lit banquet hall, and the parting scene gradually overlapped with the one from over half a year ago, becoming a fuzzy blur of light and shadow. He staggered backward, gripping the railing, veins popping on the back of his hand, palms sweaty.

He stood there for a long time, trembling as he lit another cigarette.

When the cigarette burned out, his time was up.

He immediately rushed to the airport to fly to Canada, to conduct another round of negotiations for deeper cooperation between the Art Bank and foreign institutions. He wanted to pave a path of blooming flowers and let everyone applaud An Yi’s journey.