No, what-ifs…
At this point, even hypotheticals were no longer allowed to exist.
“So even if you weren’t with Shen Dai, you still wouldn’t choose me, is that what you mean? Then the kindness you showed me, the way you treated me as special, was that all just your pity?”
Shen Qing narrowed her eyes, seeming to smile for a moment, her tone full of helplessness and desolation as she cruelly voiced her own understanding.
Though she didn’t want to be so heartless, Jiang Wangshu still forced down her turmoil and made herself say, “Perhaps you’ve heard of ‘imprinting.’ The specialness you perceive may not be real specialness, you just never developed a proper view of love.”
Fine.
So she calls that not special.
Shen Qing was twenty-seven now, and Jiang Wangshu had been part of the first twenty years of her life for sixteen of them, right through the stage when her understanding of the world formed and matured. Jiang Wangshu had taught her so many practical life skills, so that even studying abroad, she wouldn’t starve on the streets because she couldn’t cook. She had educated her about the wonders of the female body, about feminine hygiene products and little toys, so that when her first period came she wouldn’t panic, so that when sudden desire arose she wouldn’t feel ashamed.
Such comprehensive and meticulous guidance meant that when Shen Qing first entered adolescence, she had already recognized her feelings for Jiang Wangshu.
Even after going abroad, even after entering the modeling world where, with her striking looks, tall slender figure, and impeccable sense of style, she never lacked admirers, she had never once been moved. So she had been certain that in this lifetime, she would only ever love Jiang Wangshu.
And now Jiang Wangshu was telling her she’d never developed a proper view of love.
Shen Qing gave a cold laugh, her shoulders and waist trembling uncontrollably. Then, face darkening, she braced one hand against the doorframe beside Jiang Wangshu and loomed over her, trapping her completely, without leaving even a sliver of space.
Sometimes she really wanted to seal that deceitful mouth of Jiang Wangshu’s, then hold up a mirror in front of her and make her take a good look at those eyes that never knew how to lie.
In this moment, Shen Qing looked like a ghost crawled up from the underworld. Jiang Wangshu felt an inexplicable pang of panic.
“Don’t be like this.”
“Fine. Maybe I really did misunderstand.”
Two voices echoed through the bathroom at the same time.
In the seconds of stalemate that followed, Shen Qing made her choice. She released Jiang Wangshu from her confinement, opened the stall door, and stepped back, leaving her room to leave.
After all, it was she who had pressed Jiang Wangshu into this stall in the first place, it was only right that she be the one to yield.
Realizing this, Jiang Wangshu hurried out as if afraid of being entangled again.
She’s gone…
Jiang Wangshu truly avoided her like venom. She would never find that natural closeness they’d once shared.
Watching Jiang Wangshu’s retreating figure, Shen Qing’s whole body trembled, her nails digging into her flesh, blood seeping from her fingertips. Yet she seemed to feel no pain at all, her face expressionless as she stared at herself in the mirror. As usual, she washed her hands at the sink, the blood swirling into the water, slowly turning it pale pink, before flowing down the drain, just another stream of waste.
Shen Qing regained her usual composure, pulled a few sheets of paper towel, and slowly wiped her slender, well-defined hands before tossing them into the trash and leaving the bathroom.
The sound of footsteps faded into the distance. Lin Yue emerged from another stall in the bathroom, her expression one of unprecedented shock.