The next day, Chen An drove back to Taixi early in the morning. Cheng Lele arranged to meet him at a coffee shop on a street corner.

Today she had spent a long time on makeup. Double eyelid tape saved her eyes that looked different sizes due to insomnia, concealer covered the dark circles under her eyes, and crimson lipstick made her pale lips look full. She carefully chose her clothes, matched them with beautiful shoes, wore her favorite necklace, and sat here seriously waiting.

Before, it was always Little Bro waiting for her. Now it was her turn to wait for Little Bro.

It had rained all last night. Today the rain had stopped and the sky had cleared, and the light was beautiful. The sun only peeked out halfway, with large swaths of sky tinted by the morning glow, magnificent gradient colors spreading from far to near. There were hardly any people in the 24-hour coffee shop. Cheng Lele sat by the glass window and saw Chen An with his broad shoulders and narrow waist walking toward her, treading on golden light. She couldn’t make out his expression, but the two were too familiar—even now she could imagine his gaze was gentle and indulgent, and his proud eye corners would become docile the moment he saw her.

Unfortunately, she would never see it again.

Chen An pushed open the door. The bell on the door rang melodiously.

Chen An was in a good mood. The track he had carefully designed over these years kept changing constantly, but fortunately victory was in sight. Cheng Lele was finally going to reunite with him in the new city. Although there had been some deviation in between, from now on, things should develop according to plan with perfect precision.

Yesterday he and Guan Luning went to visit a Japanese female painter. At her home, he took a liking to a set of curtains with great artistic flair. He felt this was a style Cheng Lele would like, so he specially asked the painter about the curtain designer. Upon learning she had designed it herself, for almost the first time in his life he coaxed and cajoled her to gift him the design draft.

In the end, he succeeded. He planned to give it to Cheng Lele as a surprise gift today.

Chen An sat down across from her, his eyes full of rosy light, teasing her: “Well well, doing well on exams really makes a difference—even the little lazy pig can get up this early. What would you like to drink?”

Cheng Lele looked at him greedily yet quickly and said: “No need. I’ll leave after I finish speaking.”

Chen An seemed puzzled. He stopped flipping through the menu and looked at her suspiciously.

Cheng Lele licked her lips. She felt something seemed wrong with her throat—every breath she took carried a strong rusty iron smell. She wanted to open her mouth to speak, but she didn’t hear any sound. After trying several times, she realized it wasn’t a hearing problem—she genuinely hadn’t made any sound.

To avoid appearing too nervous, she had thoughtfully asked for a straw in advance, so she wouldn’t expose the fact that her hands were shaking.

She sucked through the straw and drank down half the glass at once.

“That thirsty?” Chen An had the server come over to add water.

Cheng Lele abruptly stopped him: “Really no need. I’m only sitting for a few minutes.”

“What’s wrong? Something urgent?” Now Chen An put down the menu and looked at her with some concern.

Cheng Lele thought dejectedly, why not just tell him the truth—she had never been good at lying anyway.

However, once she opened her mouth, the script she had rehearsed several times came straight to the point on its own: “Little Bro, on my birthday night, I woke up.”

Chen An’s hand on the table curled slightly. His expression didn’t change at all, but every heartbeat beneath his chest was like beating a drum. He picked up his water glass and took a sip, then put it back down. The dark veins on the back of his hand were extremely prominent.

“Mm.” After a long while, he made a meaningless sound.

This was an unexpected situation he had never considered. He didn’t know Cheng Lele had seen through everything long ago, but once she brought it up like this, the awkward strangeness of these past days seemed to make sense. However, she also didn’t seem to have shown any extreme resistance during these days. Chen An secretly assessed his odds of winning. This was a probability problem he couldn’t calculate. But he believed that no matter which outcome occurred, he had a way to handle it, because Cheng Lele couldn’t leave him, just as he couldn’t leave her.

Chen An decided to wait and see, so he remained silent. He was very nervous now, like a gambler who had run out of chips but still had some skill—he could accept winning or losing, but his desire to win was incomparably strong.

Cheng Lele no longer looked at him: “I’ve been adapting to this change recently. You should have noticed.”

The meaning was to declare this decision was not impulsive, but the result of careful consideration. Chen An made another “mm” sound.

Cheng Lele’s fingers trembled unconsciously: “I know that for eighteen years, you’ve always protected me, and I’m very grateful. I didn’t know you viewed me with those feelings. I’m sorry. I tried, but I can’t adapt, and I can’t reciprocate the same feelings. I think it will be very difficult for us to get along like before.”

He lost. A complete loss at that.

Chen An wanted to say there was no need to get along like before, but they could live together like roommates… or like relatives, occasionally going over to have meals with her… His mind was actually very chaotic because he hadn’t expected Cheng Lele to speak so absolutely. She wasn’t a gentle little rabbit, but a ruthless hunter pressing a gun barrel against his heart. He was caught off guard and couldn’t find sophisticated reasons to make her stay.

But he believed that once he calmed down, he would surely think of a way.

Having reached this point, the most difficult part was over. Cheng Lele’s speech quickened: “Since our relationship has become this awkward, I have no way to apply to Communication University as we agreed before, and I definitely can’t live with you in the same apartment.” As she spoke, she placed the key she had been clutching hot in her palm on the table. “It just so happens my mom is going to Beijing for work. I want to go there with her for university.”

Chen An’s gaze fell on Cheng Lele’s constantly moving lips. The ruthless hunter had fired the gun, and all the blood flowed out from his chest. Chen An felt colder than ever before. The castle about the future he had carefully constructed was like worthless sand in her eyes, letting seawater flood over it and wash away every trace.

Cheng Lele allowed herself to continue reciting: “I remember you once promised me a wish valid for life. Today, I want to cash it in with you in person.”

Chen An’s gaze shifted away, looking out the window without a word.

He was like a criminal awaiting autumn execution, not daring to face the executioner’s blade.

Cheng Lele felt her limbs and body had gone numb, but the cold words still lacked a conclusion. She persisted until the moment she finished speaking: “I hope you won’t come disturb my life anymore.”

A promise that once contained happiness had become a knife, picked up by the other person to stab him. Were his feelings this terrifying and hateful? Making her abandon her dependence and attachment, fleeing to Beijing as if afraid she couldn’t escape fast enough, breaking ties with him, wishing never to see him again for the rest of her life?

Eighteen years of feelings were as light as smoke and dust. She hadn’t left him a single way out.

It was as if she wanted to nail him into a coffin, lock him in chains, and throw him into a bottomless, eternally dark ocean.

Cheng Lele stood up trembling: “I’m sorry. I owe you so much, yet I’m still making demands. I really have no face. But I think you’re also used to me being this kind of person.” She paused, imprinting his features in her heart once more before saying, “I’m leaving now, Chen An.”

She turned and left, pulling open the glass door.

Zhong Ming was waiting for her not far away.

Chen An indeed chased out as Cheng Lele had predicted. He actually didn’t know why he would rush out the door, nor did he know what reason he should use to make someone stay who was determined to abandon him. But if he didn’t try to keep her now, in the future, out of self-respect, he certainly wouldn’t go see her again. Then they would truly become two people in parallel universes.

Eighteen years of lives bound and stuck together—when cut with one stroke, anyone would be left bloody and mangled. He didn’t believe Cheng Lele would feel good about it. Yet today Cheng Lele’s theme was expressing her strong disgust toward his feelings—and after a period of adjustment, her final experience report was indeed that she couldn’t tolerate it.

So what should he do?

For the first time in his life, he followed behind Cheng Lele in confusion and disorder, without any plan. However, the moment he saw Zhong Ming, he stopped in place and didn’t chase further.

Cheng Lele’s hint was obvious enough. That she didn’t say it directly was preserving his dignity.

Zhong Ming looked back before turning the corner.

That proud young man stood alone on the empty street, like a monument battered by wind and sand, nearly cracked and ready to collapse at any moment.