At the Moment of Parting (In honor of Cathy86's Diamond Tier update)

Linglan turned slightly, her back to him, and found she could no longer move. Bathed in a sheen of perspiration and utterly exhausted, she shielded her eyes. Mo Zhicheng gathered her into his arms from behind, his heavy, heated breath ghosting against her ear as he murmured, "I lost control."

She felt a slight tremor run through her body, but she knew it was more than just him who had lost control.

She remembered that night—the moonlight was as bright as silver, and the stillness that followed their intimacy felt like the brief peace after a storm. His heavy frame loomed over her, leaving her breathless, yet he buried his face in the crook of her neck, offering no further words. He only gripped her waist, as if he meant to crush her.

She could feel his body trembling minutely, and she heard his voice, low and strained. The dampness from his face seeped into her delicate skin, leaving her stunned; the warm, wet sensation made her wonder if they were beads of sweat or his tears.

It was then that she felt the heavy weight hidden within his heart.

***

Mo Zhicheng granted her two days off as promised, and Linglan returned home.

When she opened the door, she looked at the lilies in the living room. Their stems had withered into a brittle yellow, drooping in lonely, curled-up postures of defeat. Her gaze lingered, heavy and still.

She scanned the room; the furniture was coated in a layer of dust, devoid of any vitality.

She spent the morning cleaning the apartment. As she tossed out the withered bouquets, she felt a strange, lingering reluctance. She did not know if it was the flowers she was discarding or something else entirely. Regardless, a hollow, indescribable ache settled in her heart.

She walked to the window and looked at the wind chimes of all shapes and sizes—some made of wood, others of metal, and some crafted from strands of clear, translucent glass beads that refracted the golden light into myriad colors. Yet, every single one of those wind chimes held the same meaning for her.

Wind chimes—the secret she had tucked away in her heart since she was young—meant "always together."

But even those wind chimes she had once cherished so dearly were covered in a thin veil of dust, a testament to how long they had been neglected.

She wiped them down, over and over. She did not realize how much force she was using until the chimes began to emit a jarring, shrill sound. The noise echoed in her ears, throwing her thoughts into disarray. No, these were the chimes she had treasured for so long. Her hands slowed, and as the wind chimes danced softly in the morning light, the harsh, frantic clanging finally softened. *Ling... ling...* They returned to their gentle, melodic sound, tugging at her heartstrings.

*Ling...*

*Ling...*

The sound of the chimes grew faint as her phone began to ring, the man’s pleasant voice pulling her back to reality.

It was Young Master Ye. She answered, "Hello," Linglan said softly, "Young Master Ye!"

"Where are you?" the voice on the other end asked.

She laughed, feeling momentarily lost. "I'm at home."

"Shall I come to your place tonight, or will you come to mine?"

His question jolted her back to her senses; Mo Zhicheng knew where she lived, so...

"I'll come to your place."

"Very well. Shall we go buy some groceries and New Year supplies later?" Ye Shenghan asked, testing the waters.

"Alright," she replied.

By dusk, the sky had turned a hazy shade of gray. In the distance, the rows of high-rise buildings were already illuminated, each household glowing like a sea of rising and falling stars, brilliant and dazzling. The distant rumble of firecrackers could be heard, and even outside in the biting winter wind, one could feel the atmosphere of people bidding farewell to the old year and welcoming the new.

Linglan wrapped her coat tightly around herself and headed to the mall to meet Ye Shenghan.