On the flight back to Yi City, Zhang Lian once again turned on his phone that had been black-screened for a long time.

After unlocking, the first thing that came into view was Zhou Mi’s bright face, enlarged. He resized her to the original size, back to the same group photo with Jijie, and then exited.

Business trips were routine for Zhang Lian. Except for his first flight as a child, he hadn’t experienced this feeling of weightlessness in his heart for a long time, as if he had left the atmosphere, even though outside the window, everything was calm, with clouds spread like soft snow.

It was as if he were a delayed flight, unable to land safely due to a malfunction, forced to circle at high altitude.

He wanted to return to the ground immediately.

By the time he reached Yi City, it was already late at night. Zhang Lian didn’t go home to rest but drove directly to the company, heading purposefully to the client department.

He didn’t use any excuses.

Upon seeing Zhou Mi’s empty chair, he remembered her vacation hadn’t ended yet.

“Do you need something?” Ye Yan, who was working overtime nearby, was quite surprised by his sudden appearance.

Zhang Lian shook his head.

Back in his office, Zhang Lian sat there thinking for a long time, not reflecting on his impulsive, rash, and unusual behavior just now, but rather, if Zhou Mi had been there, what would he have done or said?

Selfishly, the first thing he could think of was questioning her. That sense of possessiveness and deprivation had been tormenting him the whole way, causing him anger, heartache, restlessness, and agony, his brain overheating, and he had come to the company with these unbearable negative emotions.

Fortunately, she wasn’t there, otherwise he might have said some hurtful words he didn’t mean to her face.

Zhang Lian opened a bottle of ice water for himself, drank half of it in one go, and sat back at his desk.

During the gradually calming half hour, he slowly realized that there was nothing he could do or say.

It wasn’t about being helpless.

Three months ago, on that impulsive night that was misunderstood, he had already made his decision and choice. To retreat to a safe zone, he had almost instinctively activated his defense mechanism.

But his “thoroughness” meant Zhou Mi’s “danger”; his air-raid shelter was Zhou Mi’s lightning rod.

He once again faced a long-forgotten, unsolvable problem in Zhou Mi’s painful tears.

At this moment, Zhang Lian agreed more than ever that marriage was a curse.

Zhang Lian began a long period of withdrawal.

It wasn’t that he hadn’t experienced heartbreak before. Accurately speaking, getting over a breakup in Zhang Lian’s eyes was equivalent to a process of breaking and rebuilding habits.

Abandoning sharing, abandoning feedback, abandoning expectations, abandoning dependency, abandoning all passionate contact, and fluctuating emotions.

To avoid any leisure time that might lead to overthinking, he tried his best to keep himself focused on work, exercising, and working out day after day.

To prevent triggering memories, he restored all items in the master bedroom to how they were during his time living alone, and never opened or entered the room where Zhou Mi had stayed.

But unlike with Lin Sui, Zhou Mi was still ubiquitous.

Company, group chats, social media—he would accidentally encounter her to some extent.

Each time this happened, those minute details from his memories would climb up like vines, with hidden discomfort and desolation rising from all around, like wind, like ghosts, like a deep valley bottom, reminding him that he had never truly detached.

When beautiful colors have existed in life but are then brutally wiped away, the days afterward cannot return to blank paper but remain a leaden grey haze.

Zhou Mi’s current boyfriend must like her. In his lens, she was colorful, no longer hiding, needing to post moments visible only to herself. Perhaps she still did, but the recipient was no longer him.

He saw others at the company commenting below: “So envious that you have such a beautiful girlfriend.”

Jijie replied: “I’m envious of myself too.”

Zhang Lian opened that photo. Zhou Mi indeed looked very beautiful, and she was becoming more beautiful.

If WeChat had a “most frequently visited” interface, Zhang Lian was certain the first and second would be Zhou Mi and her new boyfriend.

Before sleep, he would compulsively check their social media intermittently, like someone possessed, to learn about Zhou Mi’s recent situation.

The first time he blocked Jijie’s moments was after seeing a short video where Jijie wrapped a piece of roast duck and fed it to Zhou Mi across from him, with the caption: “Feeding the little pig.”

He had just revisited his previous conversations with Zhou Mi. During the early period of their cohabitation agreement, after receiving that prank ring, he had also jokingly called her “little pig.”

Beginning with a ring, ending with a ring. Unspeakably ironic.

At that moment, he suddenly became clear-headed, realizing he had completely lost Zhou Mi.

Regrettably, they had not parted on good terms. It wasn’t a well-thought-out decision after suffering outweighed happiness, but a forced interruption.

A work-related call interrupted his trance. After the call, Zhang Lian immediately canceled the ringtone Zhou Mi had set for him and changed it back to the most basic system default music.

But the next day he almost forgot about this. During lunch, it was the client who reminded him: “Fabian, isn’t that your phone ringing?”

Changing habits was so difficult, far beyond what he had anticipated. Zhang Lian began to tire of this deliberate, self-conflicting readjustment, making him appear overly concerned.

Zhang Lian changed the ringtone back, believing that this part also belonged to him now, with no need to fear or avoid.

On the night Ye Yan resigned, partly for personal and partly for professional reasons, he accepted the invitation to attend because he knew Zhou Mi would be there. He hadn’t seen her up close for a long time.

At the same table, the young woman looked elegant, her slightly curved smile making him feel particularly distant and unfamiliar.

Zhang Lian suddenly recalled a description she had once used for him: a person in a glass display case.

At that moment, his chest felt empty, intense regret and remorse flooding his brain, making him completely unable to concentrate.

Throughout the entire event, he kept warning himself not to pay too much attention to Zhou Mi, because every glance, even just from the corner of his eye, was torturous. Since being with her, he had lost the ability to observe and examine her objectively, turning it into a form of insight, of empathy.

After the gathering, even though he could have walked and talked on the phone simultaneously, upon seeing her back the next moment, he instinctively chose to stop talking, standing parallel to her at a distance.

He could feel Zhou Mi’s gaze, like a distress signal from a deserted island, like a whale lost in the deep sea, that hertz frequency only audible to its kind.

The next second, he thought he was being too conceited. She was doing well, the kind of well he should be happy for.

But that night, Zhang Lian couldn’t sleep.

On Christmas Day, the company carried out its traditional activities as usual. Everyone needed to prepare gifts in advance and place them under the two-meter-high Christmas tree. They could specify the recipient, but couldn’t sign their name.

Zhang Lian had Lilith take his gift over. It was a book called “Using Oneself as Method.” He had wrapped it in a deep brown leather cover and attached a hard paper tag that read “To Minnie,” making it look like a medieval foreign poetry collection. Of course, this wasn’t in his handwriting, as he didn’t want his writing to be recognized.

Unfortunately, she left early, and this unclaimed book was brought back by the secretary.

She explained somewhat awkwardly: “Maybe there were too many gifts, and it was buried under others, so Minnie didn’t notice it.”

Zhang Lian took it back with an expressionless face.

That night, Zhou Mi wore a little black dress, dressed like Audrey Hepburn in her prime. Almost all the straight men in the company couldn’t take their eyes off her. They held wine glasses, leaning against the long dessert table, discussing and admiring.

But even the most beautiful and eye-catching princess at the ball, once fallen in love, would leave early for another private meeting.

Love transforms a sweet holiday from a giant cake to be shared among many into a small dessert just enough for two people to share.

That same night, Zhang Lian reopened Jijie’s moments, out of fatigue, out of helplessness, because he had no other choice.

He had fought with himself for several days, ultimately defeated by himself.

Once again, he peered into Zhou Mi from another’s perspective. She looked as beautiful as a mannequin, flawless, impeccable, suitable to be displayed at the entrance of a wax museum.

Zhang Lian began to regret. He should have had Lilith personally deliver the book to her.

All because of a book that wasn’t delivered.

After that, every day, from waking to sleeping, became a cycle of bone-chilling and dull pain.

Time did not heal the gap in his spirit. On the contrary, after a period of self-healing, there was minimal effect, and it even intensified.

He fully awakened from the anesthetic, facing wounds that had been festering for a long time.

He began to pay attention to Zhou Mi’s activities from multiple channels, seeking her figure at the company, attempting to make contact with her, even developing some immoral thoughts. At the same time, he worried to the point of anxiety, self-blame, and difficulty sleeping and eating. During this period, Zhang Lian also went to a friend’s hospital for a comprehensive physical examination, especially for his heart and stomach.

“There’s nothing wrong,” Cheng Xi looked at the various test reports. “I recommend you get psychological counseling.”

Before the Spring Festival, Zhang Lian found a weekend and made time to visit Cheng He’s psychology clinic. He told the doctor about all the troubles that had been plaguing him for a long time, including the past and present.

But throughout the whole confession process, he showed no sadness or anger, his expression calm, as if defending a thesis, clearly stating the content of his paper.

The doctor said, “I think you’re not anti-marriage, but afraid of marriage. Your expectations for relationships are very high, almost to the point of perfection, or rather, extremity. You can’t tolerate any flaws or entanglements. But people can’t be completely rational; human emotions are the one gap among a hundred tight seals. But this gap isn’t a real gap; it’s what makes our humanity more complete. I like people like you because your self and your id are highly aligned. But now the concept of resisting marriage has caused your self and id to begin splitting and separating, so you often feel pain. You feel you can’t help the girl you love, powerless. The essential reason is that you can’t reconcile with yourself; you simply can’t persuade yourself. The key to solving the problem is to find the root of the problem. Are marriage and love opposites? It depends on how you realize and maintain them. I suggest you accept your changes, don’t suppress them, and follow your heart. After all, this pain has already affected your life, hasn’t it?”

On New Year’s Eve, Zhang Lian went back home extraordinarily.

Xun Fengzhi was sarcastic and unusually pulled out some English: “Wow! Amazing! The unfilial son came home for the New Year.”

Zhang Lian smiled meaningfully but said nothing as he walked into the villa.

Xun Fengzhi said, “What are you smiling about?”

Zhang Lian said, “It has nothing to do with you.”

Xun Fengzhi’s expression grew more contemptuous.

Why was he smiling? Was it because Zhou Mi and her boyfriend had simultaneously cleared their social media posts about each other? Or was it because he was proud, proud of this girl’s self-growth and redemption? His heart ailment improved overnight; she was indeed his good medicine.

On the sixth day of the New Year, Zhang Lian returned to Huajun, took out the Cartier ring box from the safe, and opened it.

The silver ring that had been sealed inside for a long time finally saw the light of day again.

Zhang Lian gazed at the engraving on the inside for a long time. Then he put it on his ring finger.

It fit perfectly.

As if it had always been his token, his answer, his guidance for the hesitation he couldn’t overcome.

Zhang Lian’s chest heaved deeply once. He took off the ring and put it back in its place. At this moment, the wall was pushed down, everything resolved, he was at peace, calm, determined, the path ahead clear.

It had nothing to do with marriage at all, even if it was related to marriage—Zhou Mi’s poet, this was who he most wanted to become in love with.