Meng Fuyuan arrived at the airport at noon.

After eating a meal with the inspection team members and returning to his apartment for a brief rest, he went to the company.

Pei Shao wasn’t there, so he didn’t know the origin of the leather case on the desk. He simply assumed it was a New Year gift box sent by some business partner and placed it aside, not bothering to open it for the time being.

Later, he suddenly realized that packing things in leather cases had always been Chen Qingwu’s style.

So he hurriedly took it over and opened it.

A tea set—one pot and four cups.

A clear, translucent ash-blue color, like a rainy day when clouds and mist rise on all sides, with that hint of blue emerging from distant mountain ranges.

There was also a handwritten card in the case.

“Last year at Sister An’s tea room, I suddenly had the impulse to give you a tea set in return.

It’s dragged on until now to complete because I was dissatisfied several times along the way and had to start over.

Right before your birthday, I finally fired a glaze color I was satisfied with.

I want to name it Azure in Mist.

Happy birthday.

Others’ praise of me is merely ashes.

Your criticism of me is also commendation. (*)

January 17

Chen Qingwu”

No time to appreciate it carefully—he immediately set out, rushing toward Nancheng. He had originally planned to return home tomorrow.

When he exited the highway and entered the city, the darkened sky began to snow.

The road was completely congested, car lights connected to car lights, everywhere were people hurrying home for the New Year.

It seemed as long as driving for a century before finally arriving.

He smoked a cigarette in the snowy courtyard, organized his emotions, then climbed the steps.

Just as he was about to open the door, the housekeeper happened to walk out.

Upon inquiry, he learned that neither Chen Qingwu nor Meng Qiran were there. The housekeeper said they might have gone out together.

Entering and hearing laughter from the tea room, he was too tired to immediately go socialize, so he went upstairs silently, planning to return to his bedroom first to shower and change clothes.

Passing by the study, he discovered the door was ajar.

Entry without permission was forbidden—this was a rule he had established, and no one in the house dared violate it.

So he immediately stopped, wanting to see who was so bold.

Pushing the door open, adjusting to the darkness, recognizing who was standing by the window, he paused slightly, then felt a thin anger he couldn’t suppress.

Did she think that by stepping into his space while he wasn’t there, it still wouldn’t count?

“…Who gave you permission to come in here?”

Chen Qingwu was clearly startled. “I…”

Before she could speak, Meng Fuyuan slammed the door shut with his backhand. Without turning on the light, he walked straight toward her.

Because of the snow, outdoors was brighter than usual, and lights were also on in the back courtyard.

That dim light coming in was enough to distinguish Chen Qingwu’s silhouette.

He removed his coat and threw it onto the nearby desk.

Taking another step closer, he directly reached out, grasped her wrist in one motion, pulled her, and walked toward the single-seat sofa in the corner without allowing any discussion.

“Meng Fuyuan, listen to me…”

Afraid of hearing “it doesn’t count” from her mouth a second time, he interrupted coldly, “You’ll have your turn to speak.”

Chen Qingwu was pressed onto the single-seat sofa.

Meng Fuyuan leaned down toward her. Her eyelashes trembled, and she immediately closed her eyes.

Suddenly the room brightened.

Only then did she realize he had extended his arm to pull the cord switch of the vintage floor lamp beside her.

Meng Fuyuan stepped back and sat down on the wooden coffee table across from her.

In the quiet, secluded room, the lamplight was dim yellow.

Meng Fuyuan seemed somewhat irritably loosening his collar, then took cigarettes from his pocket.

He tapped one out, lowered his head to light it, casually tossed the brand-new lighter aside, exhaled a mouthful of smoke, then raised his eyes to look at her. “Has your cold gotten better?”

With such an aggressive manner, she hadn’t expected his first words to be such earnest concern.

Chen Qingwu nodded. “…It’s already better.”

Only then did Meng Fuyuan seem reassured to enter the main topic. “There are some things I originally didn’t want to tell you, because saying them would inevitably seem like moral blackmail.”

Chen Qingwu felt inexplicably nervous, her palms gripping the edge of the sofa as she looked at Meng Fuyuan, waiting for him to continue.

However, Meng Fuyuan lowered his gaze for a moment, remaining silent for quite a while before speaking again. “Have you ever wondered, Qingwu, why only Qiran’s name contains surnames from both parents?”

An unexpected opening.

But Chen Qingwu didn’t ask anything, just nodded.

Of course she had wondered. She had even asked Liao Shuman—Brother Yuan couldn’t possibly not be biological, right? Liao Shuman said it was complete nonsense; she had watched Meng Fuyuan being carried out of the delivery room.

“…They married through a matchmaking arrangement. At that time, my dad had broken up with his first love due to family reasons. Under the elders’ arrangement, he went on a blind date with my mom, and three months later they got married…”

After marriage, the relationship between the couple was once very cold.

Or rather, it was Meng Chengyong’s unilateral coldness.

Before Meng Chengyong went into business, he originally worked at a machinery and electrical factory. Qi Lin was in the factory’s HR department. She had taken a liking to Meng Chengyong early on, so she asked a matchmaker to help make the connection.

The happy newlywed life she had hoped for didn’t materialize—everything was tasteless.

This continued for three years until one day, Meng Chengyong reunited with his first love.

At that time, his first love had just divorced and was very depressed. Meng Chengyong couldn’t abandon her, so he couldn’t help but visit and care for her.

Later, Meng Chengyong made up his mind to divorce Qi Lin and rekindle his old romance with his first love.

Just at this time, Qi Lin discovered she was pregnant.

Both families took turns applying pressure, and coupled with being unable to bear ending the pregnancy, Meng Chengyong chose to give up his first love.

When he truly made this decision, the child was already nearly five months along.

For Qi Lin, those were indescribable five months, each day spent in humiliation and torment.

Forced back to his family, Meng Chengyong was naturally unwilling. Afterward, taking the opportunity to expand the market, he went to Africa for three months at a stretch.

Throughout the entire pregnancy, Qi Lin essentially endured it alone. When she went into premature labor, he wasn’t able to rush back to her side in time.

Even the child’s name was chosen by his grandfather—”Fuyuan,” carrying the blessing that there would be no more barriers or estrangement between them.

Later, when Meng Chengyong returned from his business trip, perhaps feeling guilty after all, he finally decided to completely let go of his first love and properly manage the family.

In mutual support, their careers flourished and their relationship continued to warm.

In the eyes of both families’ elders, this was the model of “love after marriage.”

Under these circumstances, they had a second child—Meng Qiran.

Born with full love and expectation, even his name had to clearly demonstrate it.

Before Qiran was born, Meng Fuyuan didn’t feel he had suffered much injustice, because traditional thinking held that boys shouldn’t be spoiled but should be strictly raised.

With Qiran as a comparison, he gradually realized that his parents always lacked a few degrees of natural intimacy toward him.

Even then, he didn’t think much of it, assuming that as the eldest son in the family, bearing more responsibility was only natural.

It wasn’t until he was sixteen, organizing his grandfather’s study, that he inadvertently discovered in old books the correspondence between Meng Chengyong and his first love that his grandfather had confiscated.

It completely recorded his struggles, his fights, and his unavoidable abandonment.

Only then did he suddenly understand.

Oh, so his birth had been so ill-timed from the start.

If not for him, his parents would have already divorced and restarted their lives.

And his existence was a conspicuous stain.

It reminded Meng Chengyong of the spineless inability to choose his first love, and reminded Qi Lin of the humiliation of compromising.

Every time they cast their gaze upon him, they would think of that period of the past and, almost inevitably, harbor reservations.

Chen Qingwu listened in complete astonishment.

Meng Chengyong and Qi Lin had always been synonymous with devoted couples in her mind, especially compared to her own parents.

And among the four parents, Meng Chengyong was the kindest one. Since childhood, whenever she and Qiran wanted anything, Meng Chengyong never refused. Meng Chengyong’s flaw might be being overly enthusiastic, but this enthusiasm was only from genuine warmth.

But who could have imagined that this loving and kind couple had such an unbearable past?

“When you were a sophomore and started wearing glasses, it was because…” Chen Qingwu’s voice caught.

Meng Fuyuan nodded.

He didn’t want anyone else to see the envy he would occasionally inadvertently reveal when casting his gaze toward his parents and Qiran.

However, children always have a disadvantaged position facing parents. No matter how slighted, they would still subconsciously seek to please, seeking recognition.

When he understood he couldn’t receive unconditional favoritism, it seemed only one path remained—becoming excellent in the worldly sense.

And while forcing himself to become excellent, he gradually grew accustomed to hiding his emotions and scrutinizing his surroundings.

That envy toward Qiran, in the endless cycle of only receiving praise when he achieved first place, gradually became fainter and fainter.

He thought he would never envy anyone again, until at twenty-six, he suddenly fell in love with Chen Qingwu.

His life seemed to be Meng Qiran’s contrasting sample. He was excellent and successful, but failed utterly.

“It’s not like that…” Chen Qingwu only felt her throat constricting.

Meng Fuyuan reached out and pressed the back of her hand, indicating she should let him finish first.

“When Qiran nearly drowned at twelve, I also bear responsibility.”

Chen Qingwu had always known about this.

That day, Qiran was swimming in the deep end when his leg suddenly cramped. Meng Fuyuan went inside to answer a phone call and didn’t hear his call for help.

Qiran choked on water badly and nearly didn’t make it.

That afternoon she was napping in the vacation villa. When she woke up, it was chaotic outside, and only then did she learn about the near-accident.

She still remembered how Meng Chengyong and Qi Lin blamed Meng Fuyuan at that time.

But Meng Fuyuan had only just finished the college entrance exam—he was far from deserving the so-called “adult” responsibility.

Yet at that time, Meng Fuyuan didn’t say a word throughout, never defending himself once.

She secretly observed his expression—his eyes hidden behind lenses were impossible to read.

She vaguely felt he was extremely dejected, as if one person confronting the world’s criticism.

After that, Meng Fuyuan rarely “argued” with Meng Qiran as he had before. No matter what material needs Qiran had, he would unconditionally support them.

When Qiran played those extreme sports that mostly burned money, without his subsidies, it would have been basically unsustainable.

Someone who was always so introspective would often be tormented more deeply by responsibility and morality.

Chen Qingwu looked at the person sitting across from her.

The cigarette held in his hand, bluish smoke rising under the lamplight.

“Qingwu…” Meng Fuyuan’s gaze fixed tightly on her. “My kinship with my parents is already tenuous, and I owe Qiran a debt. Once I’m determined to follow my heart, it inevitably means I’ll have no place left in the Meng family. I said I’m willing to wait for you to think it through completely before making a decision. This final step, I’m leaving it to you to take. I can wait, but you can’t keep testing back and forth…”

Meng Fuyuan methodically stubbed out the cigarette in his hand in the ashtray.

Then he suddenly leaned forward.

Chen Qingwu instinctively held her breath.

Meng Fuyuan raised his hand, fingers pinching her chin, forcing her to tilt her head slightly and meet his gaze. “You don’t know how much determination it took for me to resist looking for you. Since you haven’t decided yet, why did you send me a set of porcelain, and fire it so well, so beautifully?”

The look in his eyes behind the lenses carried a dangerous edge that made one’s spine tighten. His voice became even colder. “Are you deliberately trying to make me keep celibacy for you for a lifetime? Hmm?”

“I…”

Meng Fuyuan lowered his head, lips coming to her ear, that heavy voice seeming to drill directly into her ear. “Perhaps you think I’m despicable, going back on my word—none of that matters, because you came to find me of your own initiative. Three strikes and you’re out, Qingwu. I won’t care about your life or death anymore.”

Her ear itched, making her uncontrollably tighten the back of her neck. His crisp, cool scent rushed into her breath. That withered fire from that night reignited in her heart, making her throat dry. She couldn’t help but swallow.

And just at this moment, Meng Fuyuan extended his arm to tightly encircle her waist. His kiss lightly brushed along her ear, finally landing behind her ear as he warned in a low voice, “Don’t make a sound. The door isn’t locked. If they hear you, you’ll be betrayed by everyone.”

His palm moved downward, close against her waist, lifting the hem of her sweater and exploring beneath.

Chen Qingwu couldn’t breathe. All sensations were magnified—his slightly rough fingertips, and brushing across her skin, that silver tail ring.

Finally, his palm pressed against her ribs, stopping just inches from the lower edge of her undergarment.

This moment of hesitation was captured in time by Chen Qingwu.

She opened her eyes amid the intense heartbeat, her voice like a trembling flame. “…You don’t dare?”

Meng Fuyuan’s eyes narrowed at once.

“Didn’t you say you wouldn’t care about my life or death?” Chen Qingwu laughed lightly. “You’ve been the only one talking since you came in. Can you give me a chance to say something too?”

Her voice was like acting cute, carrying a hint of unbearable sweetness.

“…Speak.” Meng Fuyuan’s Adam’s apple rolled uncontrollably.

Chen Qingwu noticed, her palm stroking up to his neck, fingers lightly caressing his Adam’s apple.

As her hand dropped down, she stood up slightly, grabbed his wrist, pulled him, pushed him to turn around, and pressed him down onto the sofa.

Her knee bent, kneeling between his legs. She raised her hand, grasped his glasses frames, directly removed them, and tossed them onto the coffee table behind her.

Meng Fuyuan instinctively closed his eyes.

When he opened them again, he saw that slender hand pressing on his tie knot, pausing for a moment before pulling it down in one motion.

While staring intently at him, she pulled down his hands, brought them together, wound the tie around his wrists—one circle, then another circle.

“Never mind… it’s not important.” She smiled, crossing the tie and pulling hard.

A muffled sound came from Meng Fuyuan’s throat.

Chen Qingwu tied the tie in a knot, her fingers climbing up to his fingers.

Throughout, she gazed into his eyes, her finger touching the tail ring on his pinky, removing it and slipping it onto her own ring finger.

The next instant, she leaned down close.

He involuntarily tilted his head back.

The kiss landed on his Adam’s apple, scorching like a brand.

“Let’s be betrayed by everyone together… Brother Yuan.”

*Note: Quote from Akhmatova’s “Two-Line Poem”