Yan Chen walked out of the ceramic hall, his steps floating, almost unable to stand.

He leaned against the wall and took a moment to catch his breath. The numbness in his limbs surged and slowly receded like a tide. He took out a box of painkillers, poured out two pills into his palm, and swallowed them hard.

The painkillers didn’t work much; the pain in his stomach was mostly caused by psychological factors.

In fact, as long as he didn’t think about An Yi, he wouldn’t be in pain, but he couldn’t help but think about him.

He was going crazy with thoughts of him.

But he didn’t dare to appear in front of An Yi again. He had realized firsthand the pain he had caused An Yi, a shot straight to the soul, a bullet that had pierced through An Yi’s chest, traversing years in time and now piercing his own heart.

Since returning from the snowy mountain, Yan Chen had been soaked in excruciating pain every moment, unable to extricate himself, unable to save himself.

Sometimes he woke up in a cold sweat in the middle of the night, struggling to breathe as if he were dying. He was very tired, but he dared not sleep; he was afraid that if he closed his eyes, he would dream of An Yi, covered in wounds, freezing to death in the snow.

Unable to endure it, he could only distract himself temporarily by looking at things and thinking of people.

He never expected that An Yi would come to Berlin.

With a new face by An Yi’s side, young and handsome, would An Yi be healed by being with him? An Yi never liked to wear accessories; the necklace he bought for him and gave to him had never appeared around An Yi’s neck, but the rings they had on their hands just now… They were obviously couple rings.

Does he like him so much?

Yan Chen felt like he wanted to smoke a cigarette.

 He tilted his head back, took out a cigarette, and bit it between his lips. Then, mechanically, he knocked the back of his head against the wall, once and then again.

“You can’t smoke in the exhibition area.”

A sudden reminder from beside him almost made him unable to hold onto the cigarette in his mouth.

Yan Chen turned his head to look and saw An Yi standing in the gallery a few steps away. It wasn’t an illusion, and he wasn’t injured. Yan Chen immediately straightened up, took down the cigarette, and clenched it in his palm.

“Sorry.”

The cigarette was still unlit, but he still apologized.

An Yi walked over and said, “I heard you resigned.”

Yan Chen just made a sound of acknowledgment without saying much. An Yi probably wasn’t interested in his affairs. He just explained the chance encounter today, “I didn’t know you would come here. I…had already withdrawn the people watching you.”

An Yi also made a sound of acknowledgment, “I know.”

The two of them faced each other in silence, their gazes meeting and then parting.

After a brief silence, An Yi said, “Smoke less.”

The tone was flat, and it was completely devoid of any “concern,” but these two words were like an adrenaline shot into Yan Chen’s pulse.

Suddenly, he summoned up the courage and stopped An Yi.

An Yi turned back.

The cigarette in Yan Chen’s palm was almost crushed. He asked, “Are you happier now?”

After asking, he regretted it, feeling that he had wasted an opportunity to talk to An Yi. An Yi had visibly become happier and more confident after leaving him, so his question was completely unnecessary.

So Yan Chen said again, “I didn’t mean anything else, I just think that guy is a bit young…I’m afraid you’ll get hurt.”

An Yi smiled faintly, “I’ve already endured the worst, what else can hurt me now?”

Yan Chen froze.

Once again, he watched An Yi walk out of his sight.

Yan Chen gritted his teeth and barely managed to leave the museum.

He sat on a bench in the square in front of the door to rest and received a call from his sister, Yan Jin. Yan Jin asked where he was, and Yan Chen stared at the pigeons not far away for a long time before finally squeezing out a sentence from his throat, “I feel so uncomfortable…”

Yan Jin asked, “Where are you exactly?”

Yan Chen answered without answering, “I’ve never properly said ‘happy birthday’ to him, not even once.”

“…” Yan Jin sighed, “Send me your location, I’ll come pick you up.”

Yan Chen hung up the phone, and after staring at the pigeons for a while longer, feeling very empty in his stomach, he went to a dessert shop on the street and bought a piece of mousse cake.

It was exquisitely wrapped with the best ribbon, accompanied by a faintly fragrant birthday card. He carried it to the outside of the museum’s banquet hall.

An Yi was having dinner with the young man at the same table, chatting happily while eating. He even placed a slice of steak he had cut onto the man’s plate, and the man immediately sent him an air kiss, making his smile even brighter.

The person in charge of the exhibition recognized Yan Chen and immediately came to greet him when he saw him standing outside.

Yan Chen waved his hand and said he had other arrangements, declining the organizer’s kindness.

He didn’t ask anyone to deliver the cake; instead, he carried it alone through the crowd-filled square in front of the museum, sat down before sunset, and finished the entire 6-inch cake by himself.

When Yan Jin found him, Yan Chen still had cream on his lips, his eyes bloodshot, looking pitiful and pathetic.

Yan Jin helplessly said, “Is it that delicious?”

Yan Chen lowered his eyelids, silently putting away the birthday card.

Yan Jin took him back to the hotel to rest. As soon as they entered the room, Yan Chen rushed into the bathroom and vomited violently. Yan Jin stood with her arms crossed, saying softly, “Is it fun for you to torture yourself like this?”

Yan Chen washed his face and then leaned against the sink, head bowed, droplets of water clinging to his hair tips fell like tears.

He murmured softly, “It’s deserved.”

What he owed An Yi was more than just this turmoil. Betraying someone’s sincerity should warrant swallowing a thousand needles.

Berlin was the last stop of this group exhibition, and all exhibited works were auctioned off on An Yi’s birthday evening.

An Yi’s two works were particularly outstanding, both exceeding the highest estimate initially set by the auction house. Especially the triptych pastel porcelain landscape painting, which was sold for a high price of $250,000 to an Italian-Chinese collector, six times the initial highest estimate.

Yan Chen felt a hollow in his heart upon hearing this news.

But he could only accept it.

Staying in Berlin any longer was meaningless for him. The next day, he flew to Austria with Yan Jin. Yan Jin had some foreign trade deals to discuss contract details, and Yan Chen was her assistant.

Yan Chen wasn’t interested in foreign trade.

After resigning as the CEO of Art Bank, he didn’t return to Xichuan to continue managing his previous entertainment company. It was because he needed a completely unfamiliar job to keep himself busy and numb the nerve that had always been attached to An Yi.

Did An Yi know about his resignation? Would he still think that he was as impatient as before, never able to stick with anything for long?

Actually, Yan Chen was quite reluctant.

Although the original intention of founding Art Bank was not pure, it was the crystallization of hard work by him and his team members, after many days and nights of hard work and negotiations with various parties.

Now, he was just stepping down as CEO and retiring to the background, which couldn’t be considered a real departure from the group’s core. Compared to when he reluctantly let An Yi do the “dirty work” of pottery, which once injured An Yi’s hand and almost ruined his career, these actions now were not even considered as punishment for him.

Yan Chen and his sister stayed in Europe for more than three months. When they returned to Xichuan, the trees along the road had begun to turn yellow and shed their leaves.

Before Yan Chen could even adjust to the jet lag, he was dragged onto a yacht by Qi Wenxing. On the yacht were handsome men and beautiful women, with loud music shaking the sky, which was Qi Wenxing’s usual extravagant style.

As soon as Yan Chen boarded the ship, he was sprayed with colorful glitter.

“Happy birthday!” Qi Wenxing shouted loudly, placing a gilded birthday crown on Yan Chen’s head, “Today our young master Yan turns eighteen!”

Yan Chen took off the exaggerated crown and handed it back to Qi Wenxing, “Childish.”

Qi Wenxing grabbed him, “Where are you going? Today, your good buddy has meticulously prepared a thirtieth birthday party for you. Don’t be ungrateful.”

Yan Chen showed him his dark circles, “Tired, want to sleep.”

“You can sleep on the boat,” Qi Wenxing said, putting his arm around Yan Chen’s shoulder and leaning in close to his ear with a suggestive smile, “Want someone to cuddle with?”

“Boring.” Yan Chen was really tired. He didn’t want to waste time with Qi Wenxing, so he blew out the candle and took a glass of wine to his room to sleep.

When he woke up, it was already dark outside, with a pitiful crescent moon hanging in the night sky, reflected on the rippling sea, shattered by the oars of the yacht.

Yan Chen walked to the deck, where people were playing cards, dancing, and chatting to the music, but he didn’t want to participate in any of the revelry.

He stood by the railing.

The white waves rolled under his feet, swallowed by the dark night.

The words that Xie Nancang had told him echoed in his ears like a demon whispering incessantly.

“An Yi wanted to jump into the sea.”

Yan Chen bent down, his arms resting on the railing.

He felt the veins on his forehead and neck bulging with discomfort.

He wanted to scream, to cry for help, but his throat was gripped by two invisible hands, and the only person who could save him had once told him with an indifferent face to “regard each other as strangers from now on.”

Yan Chen subconsciously reached for the painkiller box, but his hand didn’t steady, and the box fell, rolling twice and landing by his foot.

“Is your stomach still not better?” Qin Muye picked up the medicine box and glanced at it, “What kind of doctor did you see, only prescribing painkillers?”

Yan Chen stood a little straighter, his voice deep, “Give it back.”

“Using this stuff is easy to get addicted to. Are you pretending to have a stomachache while actually taking drugs?” Qin Muye scrutinized him seriously.

Yan Chen gave him a cold glance, mirroring the deadpan expression that Qin Muye used to hate the most.

Qin Muye felt a little relieved.

He walked over to Yan Chen with the medicine box in hand, fiddling with it as he spoke, “In the blink of an eye, you’re already thirty. Have you learned your lessons from these past few years?”

Yan Chen pressed his lips together, gazing out at the boundless sea.

Qin Muye continued, “Actually, I kinda miss the days when we used to goof off and banter with each other. Now you’re all repentant, spending your days helping Sister Jin with her cases. It’s driving my parents crazy. Even though I’m not doing too bad myself, in their eyes, you’ll always be a little bit better than me.”

Yan Chen muttered softly, “What good does being better do?”

“Yeah, what good does it do,” Qin Muye sneered, “To have a relationship like yours, you’re one of a kind in Xichuang.”

With a sigh, he added, “I don’t feel sorry for you at all. The one who’s really pitiful is Yi-ge. He’s been single for these past few years, making up all sorts of excuses not to date. I think it’s going to be very difficult for him to establish a normal intimate relationship with someone again.”

Yan Chen gripped the railing tightly. “Did he… break up with that person?”

Thinking he was referring to Xie Nancang, Qin Muye sighed softly, “Lin Yuming and I both thought he was pretty good, but it didn’t work out in the end.”

“Ultimately, it’s all because of you. Reflect on yourself,” he said as he tossed the medicine box to Yan Chen and walked away.

Yan Chen lowered his head, pulling out a thin strip of paper from around the bottle cap, which had only a string of numbers written on it.

He looked at Qin Muye, who seemed to sense something and raised his hand without turning back, giving him the middle finger.