Chapter 82: I Am Willing to Shed My Cold Disguise (Happy Valentine’s Day)

The narcissus flower is naturally incompatible with the lily of the valley; placing these two species together inevitably led to the lily’s withering. Who, then, was behind this deliberate destruction?

——

Ye Linglan’s mind was in a haze. She lacked the strength to prepare dinner, so she switched on the television and watched a dull Republican-era drama. That period, rich with history and myriad charm, featured women in cheongsams—graceful, refined, or alluring, each with their own extraordinary appeal. Yet the gaudy costumes and garish makeup on the screen eroded her admiration for that era.

Linglan watched listlessly, feeling drained, until a gentle night lamp illuminated the stage. Under its soft glow, a woman appeared, exquisite as frosted jade, flawless as white porcelain, playing “Greensleeves” on her instrument. Linglan listened intently, drawn in by the melody—a ballad popular since Elizabethan England, telling of love’s sorrow, steeped in classical elegance, yet heartbreakingly poignant.

The man, enraptured by the woman at first sight, confessed with deep sincerity: “...Do you know, when I first saw you, I knew we were fated. I fell in love with you immediately. Promise me, don’t hurt yourself. No matter what, I’ll find a way to take you away from here.”

As the music swelled and the man’s voice deepened, his heartfelt words resonated. Ye Linglan curled up on the sofa, hugging her knees, quietly watching, yet another man’s face surfaced before her eyes, another voice intertwined. He had held her, kissed her with restless fervor, pressed his lips to her lashes, his voice hoarse, deliberately subdued, as deep and unfathomable as a dark pool. Leaning close to her ear, he murmured, “I admire your strength, I respect your talent, and I am drawn by your beauty. So I’m willing to shed this cold facade, to let you see my true feelings.”

She covered her eyes, brow furrowed, the blue glow from the screen reflecting off her flushed face. His voice wrapped tightly around her.

Ye Linglan walked barefoot to the window. Lifting the curtain’s edge, she glimpsed his silhouette—silent and solitary, standing beneath the deepening sky. Snow was falling again, the streetlights casting orange-gold shadows onto the shimmering white, as if gilded, the flakes drifting down beside him. He remained leaning against the car, head bowed, gazing toward her, at the patch of light beneath the lifted curtain, at her faintly revealed face.

They stared at each other across the vast, empty distance, a silent and growing stillness between them. The melody lingered at her ear; the man on the screen continued, deeply moved: “I’ll find a way to take you away, so you never suffer harm again. Trust me. Wait for me!”

Trust me—

Wait for me—

Ye Linglan sighed deeply. What a first night that had been! She thought she might forget, but back then, her cries were unanswered, her pleas unheard. He was so fierce, like the heroic gods and demons depicted on thangkas—dark, formidable, immensely strong. Why had he come to find her now? What was he trying to prove?

——

Bai Yuchen opened the door and returned home. The darkness inside suddenly brightened, and to his surprise, a man was standing by the wall. “You startled me,” he said.

Ye Shenghan pulled out a chair and sat down, gesturing for Bai Yuchen to take the seat opposite. “Sit.”

“What’s going on?”

Ye Shenghan fixed his gaze on him, his dark eyes filled with questions. “These days, you leave early and return late, looking uneasy. Are you hiding something from me?”

Bai Yuchen paused, his eyes flustered. Shenghan’s insight was sharp, but he understood Linglan’s stubbornness. She placed immense value on such matters, and she was fond of Ye. He could empathize with her, especially since he held another secret that meant she could never be with Ye. He would rather Shenghan remain ignorant. Yet, apart from him, who else could Linglan confide in?

“Bai Yuchen,” Ye Shenghan called impatiently, “Stop trying to fool me. I can see in your eyes that you’re hiding something. What is it?”

“There’s nothing to hide,” Bai Yuchen said, striving to conceal the truth. “I just lost my temper with Ye Linglan a while ago. I regret it now, thinking how to make it up to her—it’s driving me crazy. And you’re still pestering me. If you’ve got time to bother me, how’s your project going?”

“The document Linglan compiled is critical, packed with information. We have to act before Tiancheng shows their hand, so we need to strike first,” Ye Shenghan replied. “Focus during these days.”

“Understood,” Bai Yuchen nodded.

“Also, speaking of Linglan, I haven’t seen her in a while. I want to visit her tonight.”

“No, don’t—” Bai Yuchen quickly intervened.

“What’s wrong?” Ye Shenghan turned, puzzled.

Bai Yuchen’s expression faltered. The marks on Linglan’s neck were still too conspicuous, likely not yet faded. If Shenghan saw, who knows what might happen? Shenghan’s feelings for Linglan ran deep; though an outsider, Bai Yuchen could see it clearly. When Linglan was injured in Night City, Shenghan said nothing, even in front of Bai Yuchen, deliberately restraining himself. He couldn’t bear to look at her wounds, nor would he help apply medicine. Late at night, Bai Yuchen discovered him sitting silently on the sofa, gazing at Linglan’s childhood photos, lost in endless memories.

Thus, Bai Yuchen feared what madness might ensue if Shenghan learned Linglan had become Mo Zhicheng’s woman. He dared not imagine it—the more restrained a man, the more violent a storm within. Meeting Ye Shenghan’s questioning look, Bai Yuchen stammered, “I still have some doubts about the project.”

“I’ve already sorted most of it out. Tomorrow, you and I will visit Mengxiang together.”

“But—”

“What but?”

“But you must understand, times have changed. Mo Zhicheng is extremely cautious now. If you keep visiting there, beware of eavesdroppers. If Mo Zhicheng starts watching, and Linglan’s identity is exposed, never mind you—will Linglan have any peace? You’re all grasshoppers on the same boat. Even if you don’t fear exposure, think about her. She’s endured humiliation for your sake. For her, why can’t you bear a little longing?”

Ye Shenghan was taken aback; Bai Yuchen’s words were sound—sometimes painfully so. He lowered his eyes and leaned back in his chair. He missed her, missed her terribly. He wanted to know what gift she had prepared for Mo Zhicheng. Was that answer really so important? It seemed he cared, cared deeply. At last, he murmured, “Fine, I’ll find an appropriate time to meet her.”

Seeing Shenghan relent, Bai Yuchen finally relaxed, thoughtfully patting his shoulder.

——

After the snow cleared, the sun was dazzlingly bright. Ye Linglan arrived early at Tiancheng, waiting until she saw Jiang Min. Linglan rose and brushed past her. “Is it convenient for you to step out for a talk?” Linglan turned her face aside, speaking calmly.

Jiang Min stopped, shifting her gaze to the woman before her. “Is something the matter?” Seeing Linglan’s calm, unruffled eyes, Jiang Min hesitated. “Can’t we discuss it here?”

Linglan smiled faintly, her voice cold, “Are you sure you want me to say it in front of all these people?”

Jiang Min’s expression changed. “What do you mean?” Her voice betrayed urgency.

“Let’s talk outside. I’ll wait for you in the tea room.” Ye Linglan lowered her eyes and walked off.

Standing by the floor-to-ceiling window, she nodded slightly, gazing at the pale sky. Sunlight poured in, but beyond the vast pane, the snowmelt brought a biting chill—like a lie wrapped in a beautiful sugar-coating. The sound of high heels clicking grew closer, and a woman’s voice followed: “Ye Linglan, what is it you want?” Alone together, both dropped their masks of affection.

Ye Linglan turned, calm. “You sabotaged the lily of the valley at the birthday banquet!” Her tone was unequivocal.

A subtle crease flickered in the woman’s eyes. She narrowed her gaze, composed, arms crossed as she looked at Linglan with indifference. “What nonsense are you talking?”

“Jiang Min, don’t make me spell it out.” Linglan smiled. Some things could no longer be tolerated—giving the other a chance only breeds trouble.

“Ye Linglan, stop slandering me.”

“Am I? Why was the hyacinth replaced by narcissus?”

“The supplier ran out, so it was switched.”

“Really?” Linglan stared at her intently. “You stopped me from calling to confirm. I wondered—why were you so nervous over a single phone call?”

“Nervous?” Jiang Min hesitated, her delicate hand loosening, fingers curling in.

The issue had been time-sensitive; after hearing of the shortage, she hadn’t pursued it further. Linglan said, “Jiang Min, the supplier delivered pink roses. But in the end, the lilies of the valley were matched with pink narcissus.”

“Perhaps the supplier made a mistake.”

“A mistake? An outsider might not know, but what supplier would ruin their reputation by pairing narcissus with lily of the valley? These flowers are fine individually, but together, the narcissus overpowers the lily, causing it to wither.”

Hearing this, Jiang Min grew agitated, clenching her fist, blurting out, “Even so, Ye Linglan, what proof do you have that it was me?”