Parting in Lancheng (Updated for Shanshan's Diamond)

When Ye Linglan woke up, she realized Ye Shenghan had been watching her the whole time. Looking at the sky, she realized she had been in a deep sleep for a long time, perhaps out of sheer exhaustion. Seeing her phone with the battery removed, she felt a numbness spread through her body, a numbness so profound it left her devoid of sensation.

She leaned down to pick it up and turned it back on. The notification sounds crashed in like a heavy barrage, causing the phone to freeze momentarily. Her gaze became vacant; every single missed call displayed the same name, accompanied by one unread text message.

Linglan froze, then froze again. As she gently tapped to open it, her heart hammered against her ribs like a creature breaking out of its shell. Her eyes locked onto the words: "Is this the answer you are giving me?" The message had been sent half an hour ago, at four in the afternoon.

They had made plans to visit the little wind chime today, but she had failed to show up. Was her silence her answer to him?

They had agreed that today marked the end of their one-month pact. If she insisted on leaving, he would not hold her back. Was her failure to return her answer to him?

A thin veil of moisture welled up in Linglan’s eyes; she understood what the outcome was.

Ye Shenghan watched her in silence. She hung her head, staring at the phone for a long, long time until faint tears fell onto the screen, blurring the lines of the display. The hospital room was empty and silent, save for the slanting sunset by the window, which looked like blood piercing the chest of the sky. The crimson light bathed her, but Linglan neither wiped her tears nor looked up. She only said, "Young Master Ye, you must be hungry by noon. I’ll go out and get you something to eat. Wait for me!" As she rose, he reached out to stop her. She looked up in confusion, and the tears in her eyes spilled over unexpectedly. He froze, as if catching a glimpse of bewilderment, melancholy, and sorrow mixed into those clear, crystalline drops.

Ye Shenghan’s heart ached, but he took his coat from the hospital bed and draped it over her, replying, "I will wait for you."

She offered a faint smile. The moment she stepped out of the room, the smile on her lips froze. She ordered a bowl of wontons at a small snack shop in front of the hospital, but shortly after leaving the shop, she was bumped into by a crowd of men rushing in. The wontons spilled all over her hand, and an immediate, scorching pain flared up.

Linglan knitted her brows, realizing that the stinging heat was nothing compared to the repression in her heart, which felt like it was being poked by a blunt object again and again. Even though Young Master Ye had said he didn't leak the news early, why did she still feel so lost and sad, as if everything had fallen away?

She sighed deeply, forcing back those nameless emotions. She returned to the shop to reorder the wontons, but when she reached into her pocket to pay, she discovered her purse and phone were gone.

Recalling the man who had bumped into her, she realized he was a thief. Linglan panicked, her face etched with anxiety and sorrow. There wasn't much money in the purse, and the phone wasn't worth much, but why was she so panicked? Was it because... the phone held so many messages from that man? If she lost even this, what would be left between her and him?

Linglan held her forehead, all her thoughts intertwined. Finally, she rushed out of the shop. Night had settled, and the neon lights along the streets wound and curled, cloaking the world in a hazy, tender veil.

This was the last time she would indulge her own willfulness.

It was like that New Year's Eve, passing by familiar street corners, following familiar routes, scenes flipping through her mind. Two hours later, she arrived at the man's seaside villa. She punched in the password with practiced ease, and with a crisp click of the lock, she was plunged into the silence and darkness of the house.

Ye Linglan stepped forward. Through the dim light, she seemed to see that firm figure merging into the night sea. She couldn't even see his face clearly; he was just a black silhouette, like an Asura from a night prison. Their gazes met in the darkness, chilling her to the bone.

With every step she took, her feet felt as heavy as stone, the pressure making it hard to breathe. She had come here penniless, all alone. The frantic running had left her unable to calm her pounding heart. Blunt pain surged from within, mixed with emotions she could not quell. She gasped in agony, yet it was all to catch one last glimpse of that man before parting.

She had once thought that the madness of her youth was entirely surrendered to one man, but she had not expected that another would unexpectedly intrude upon the remainder of her life.

*The flute sounds in the autumn, blowing sand around the night-veiled city.* It turned out he had already built a fortress within her heart.

She leaned against the wall in the darkness, trembling slightly. In the cold air, all that could be heard was the sound of their breathing. Linglan did not know how long she stood there, only that the gaze from not far away felt like an ice blade, as if it would carve her into a river of blood, only finding peace when she was torn to pieces.

She struggled to steady her breathing and pressed the wall switch. The lights in the dining room flickered on—from night to day in a single instant.

The crystal chandelier spun lazily, casting bright and eerie reflections. The atmosphere was terrifyingly still. Her gaze finally fell upon the polished rosewood dining table, where dishes were neatly laid out—delicacies and fine foods, vibrant in color, all her favorites. But those dishes looked as though they had been neglected for a long time, like withered bouquets, devoid of any vitality.

Her gaze moved upward to the nearly empty bottle of red wine and the stemmed glass beside it, shimmering with an alluring hue. The man’s fingers held the glass. She was all too familiar with the owner of those hands—refined yet powerful, with prominent knuckles that seemed to hold immeasurable strength.

When she finally saw the man's icy face, her breathing suddenly froze. Time seemed to stop in that moment. She saw his expression was desolate, his deep eyes like a barren wasteland, obscure and lifeless. Yet, the way he looked at her was so cold—as cold as thousands of hidden arrows shot directly at her, shaking her until she couldn't move.

But she had to approach him to etch his face into her memory; perhaps, this was the last time she would truly be this close to him.

Meeting his gaze, she feigned indifference, masking herself with a touch of detachment. Looking into those eyes as deep as the sea, her nose stung. The lost phone contained ninety-eight text messages.

Thirty-two of them consisted of only three words. What he asked most often was "What are you doing?"; what he said most often was "You're distracted"; but the most beautiful was "I miss you."

She remembered the gold card he had hidden in her notebook, accompanied by a text message telling her to pay off the remaining mortgage.

She remembered when her cold refusal had displeased him, and he had said that things given by Mo Zhicheng were never taken back.

Ninety-eight messages told the story of their intimacy over the past month. But they were not friends, not lovers, and certainly not soulmates. She was his sworn enemy, yet in the arms of the enemy, she had shamelessly birthed a nameless affection.

Memories flickered like light and shadow. Brother Yuchen had said that during the transition between spring and summer that year, green grass was sprouting on the orphanage basketball court. She had sat there quietly, watching the heated competition on the court. Ye Shenghan’s white shirt billowed as he ran. The young man leaped, sinking a beautiful three-pointer that struck her heart like the breaking dawn in the evening breeze.

—Linglan, you still remember all of this, don't you?

Yes, she remembered it all. Seventeen years of silent guarding, one month of lingering attachment—in her hesitation, she had been lost; in her wavering, she had been confused. At this moment, the answer had fallen into place in her heart.

Yes, she had already reached her answer.

Ye Linglan stopped, only a few steps away from him. The man said nothing, his fingers tightening around the glass as if all his rage could not be vented, and he was struggling to restrain himself for fear of losing control.

Linglan gave a light hum and a smile, saying faintly, "Why are you sitting in the dining room alone so late? You didn't even turn on the lights; you scared me." Her voice was soft and gentle, tender and boneless. "The food has all gone cold. Why haven't you touched any of it?"

Mo Zhicheng looked at her coldly. After a long silence, he only said, "Is this the answer you are giving me?"

At that moment, the moisture in Linglan's eyes trembled uncontrollably. But she took a deep breath, forcing back the tears that were about to fall, only to hear him repeat, "Is this the answer you are giving me?"

She had tried every way to prevent Young Master Ye from exposing the "scandal"—this was the best compensation she could offer him. Likewise, she had to leave his side, leave his sight. Would such an ending be better for both of them?

She murmured, "Yes!"

As soon as the words left her lips, the man stood up with a sudden *whoosh*, gazing at her with such tragic intensity that it was as if he wanted to grind her to dust. No, he wanted to cut open her heart to see what it was made of. "Is this the answer you are giving me?" He seemed unable to believe that such an answer could spill from that woman's lips.

"Yes!"

"Is this the answer you are giving me?"

"What's wrong? Are you reluctant to let go? I came here today to make things clear to you in person. Or is Mr. Mo a petty man who goes back on his word and lacks integrity?" Linglan smiled, though her eyes were blurred with tears, turning his face into overlapping shadows. She was still smiling, smiling until her tears splattered across the floor, even as she watched the veins on his forehead throb and his sharp gaze threaten to kill her. "Have you forgotten? You said that courtship is a matter of mutual affection. If you are willing, but I am not, why bother?"

"I am asking you, is this the answer you are giving me, Ye Linglan!!!" The man's stubbornness transformed into a sharp roar that shook the entire villa.

"Yes, yes, yes, this is the answer I am giving you, Mo Zhicheng!" Finally, she could no longer pretend and growled, "How many times do I have to say it for you to be satisfied? Today is the day the pact expires, have you forgotten? One month ago that night, I stood in this very spot, and you held my face and said, 'One month, one month's time. If you still want to leave after that, I will never hold you back!' Have you forgotten? Have you forgotten?"

She roared with all her might. As soon as she finished, he flew into a rage, violently sweeping the table of delicacies aside. With a loud crash, the porcelain plates shattered into pieces.

But it still wasn't enough. With long, swift strides, he dragged her body toward him, threw her onto the dining table, and loomed over her. He was filled with tragic grief, gripping her shoulders tightly, but the iron-gray men's coat she wore had already foretold everything.

"Ye Linglan..." he choked out, his voice thick with rage, but he couldn't utter another word. His deep eyes gazed sadly at her face, which was filled with a faint sneer and mockery.