Chapter 39: The You I Cannot Wait For (Dedicated to Natural Diamonds)

She gazed at the lotus-pink cheongsam, its sheen clear and luxurious beneath the lamp, while her thoughts flashed like lightning, crossing the city to that red-brick house left behind from the 1980s. In a modest kitchen, a man’s figure was bent in concentration, carefully arranging dishes on plates. Bai Yuchen leaned casually in the doorway, arms crossed, watching quietly.

—Yuchen, after all these years spent navigating the storms of business and the pain of farewells, only you and Lily are the ones I trust completely. So if the whole world betrays me, Ye Shenghan, only you and Lily cannot.

Bai Yuchen seemed thoughtful, his gaze snapping back from that solitary figure. Indeed, Ye Shenghan had once been raised in honeyed luxury, his sense of superiority built on wealth, but in recent years he had endured suffering that nearly drowned him, blows and wounds too heavy to bear. It was hard to imagine that a man so proud, always accustomed to being the center of attention, would now quietly cook alone for a woman. Yet only he knew that there could never be anything between Shenghan and Lily.

Elsewhere, in an elegant teahouse, a woman’s graceful silhouette flickered in the dressing mirror. Ye Lily saw the glimmer of starlight reflected in her eyes, the faint furrow between her brows. She gently swept up her ink-black hair, leaving a single lock to fall against her slender neck, and dabbed on lipstick. From the adjacent room came the cool, watery notes of a guzheng, distant and plaintive, as if weeping. She lowered her gaze, suddenly adrift and lost.

Meanwhile, Ye Shenghan finished washing the vegetables and swiftly chopped the ingredients on the cutting board, movements practiced and sure. The pressure cooker on the stove hissed tightly, filling the air with the aroma of rice and simmering broth—scents that made one’s mouth water and eyes linger. He busily set out the dishes: cola chicken wings, spicy boiled fish, homestyle tofu, and steamed river crab—ordinary fare, yet vibrant, succulent, and inviting.

Scenes overlapped, different dramas unfolding beneath the same brilliant night sky. The early winter night was cold and haunting, fallen yellow leaves caught in the gusts of passing cars, swept endlessly toward the ceaselessly surging city of night.

Bai Yuchen glanced at the table laden with delicacies and couldn’t help but applaud. Ye Shenghan raised an eyebrow without replying, took off his apron, set it aside, and simply pulled out a chair to wait. In no time, his phone rang. He smiled faintly, while Bai Yuchen teased from the side, “Oh! That girl’s here. She went home just to change, I wonder what she’ll look like all dolled up.”

Ye Shenghan smiled lightly. “Don’t start.” His mind and eyes were all on the phone. A message appeared: Young Master Ye, something came up tonight and I may not make it. You and Brother Yuchen go ahead, don’t wait for me. Lily!

The smile froze on the man’s lips, as if he had lost something. His cool, clear gaze dimmed, shadowed by an inexpressible loneliness. Lily held her phone, still with no reply. Her eyes darkened in helplessness, as though both were waiting for something that would never come.

***

Ye Lily walked lightly, pausing before the door to the private room. Pushing it open, she saw only a man lounging at ease on the tatami, a porcelain cup in hand, sipping quietly. She looked surprised and blurted out, “Mr. Mo—”

Mo Zhicheng heard the sound at the door but did not nod. His deep eyes lingered on the ripples in his cup; after a moment, he glanced up, studying the woman before him. At last, he said in a low voice, “Very beautiful.” A simple compliment, offered for her attire.

He had torn her cheongsam last night, yet tonight had sent her another. Why?

Ye Lily paused. Since she had stayed, she could not return empty-handed—she, too, wanted to know what he intended.