Qin Yining looked at her, feeling a tightness in her chest.
She had known Gu Ziyao since they were children, even attending school together. She had watched this girl transform from a naive sweetheart who cried over poor exam results into the woman she was now—someone who hid all her emotions beneath a calm exterior.
She knew how difficult Gu Ziyao’s life had been these past few years. Directly parachuted into the Gu Group, she had struggled to hold the company together amidst a pack of hungry wolves. Day and night, she pushed herself relentlessly, and only Qin Yining knew that she simply didn’t dare stop.
“Yaoyao.” Qin Yining stood up and walked over to her. “No matter what you decide, I’m on your side. But you have to promise me one thing.”
“What?”
“If Shen Junyan finds out anything, if this blows up, don’t carry it alone.” Qin Yining took her hand. “Tell me, and I’ll help you.”
Gu Ziyao looked at her, her eyes reddening again.
“Okay,” she said.
“One more thing.” Qin Yining’s expression suddenly turned slightly odd. “You lost an earring?”
Gu Ziyao reached up to touch both ears. When she felt the emptiness on her right side, her eyes filled with shock.
“It couldn’t have fallen in his room, could it?” she said after a few seconds, then added as if trying to reassure herself, “He won’t know. He doesn’t know whose earring it is. Maybe he’ll think it was left by a previous guest, or maybe housekeeping will take it. It’s no big deal.”
Qin Yining opened her mouth, wanting to say, “If he checks the surveillance and sees you went to that room, then finds the earring, wouldn’t he connect the dots?” But she glanced at Gu Ziyao’s expression and swallowed the words.
Forget it.
The surveillance was already deleted. Shen Junyan probably wouldn’t notice the earring.
Probably.
“Come on.” Qin Yining patted her shoulder. “Go take a shower and change. You can wear any of my clothes—just take whatever from the closet. After you’re done, I’ll make you breakfast.”
“I’m not hungry—”
“You don’t have a choice.” Qin Yining nudged her toward the bathroom. “Shower, eat, then sleep. You’re not going anywhere today. You’re staying right here with me.”
Gu Ziyao was pushed into the bathroom, and the door closed behind her.
Standing inside, she looked at herself in the mirror.
Her hair was disheveled, her eyes swollen and red, a small cut on her lip, and a few faint marks below her collarbone.
Beneath her black blazer, the zipper of her dress was torn open in a long gash, revealing a large expanse of pale skin on her back.
She looked like someone who had been shattered and pieced back together—superficially intact, but cracks everywhere.
Gu Ziyao slowly took off her blazer and dress, stood under the showerhead, and turned on the faucet.
Hot water poured down, over her head, her face, her body. The temperature was high, scalding her skin red, but she didn’t lower it.
She wanted to wash away everything from last night with the heat.
Shen Junyan’s body warmth, the strength of his fingers gripping her wrist, the two words he whispered against her earlobe, his arm draped over her waist as he slept, his face in the morning light as serene as a painting.
Wash it all away.
She squeezed out a generous amount of body wash, scrubbing every inch of her skin with force. The finger marks on her shoulders, the hickeys beneath her collarbone, the red marks on her wrists left by his grip—she scrubbed them over and over, scrubbing until her skin turned red and sore, scrubbing until those marks became even more pronounced.
Then she stopped.
She crouched on the bathroom floor, the showerhead above still spraying water. Hot water poured down her back, following her spine before flowing into the drain.
She buried her face in her knees, her shoulders beginning to tremble.
The sound of the water drowned out her sobs.
Maybe she cried, maybe she didn’t. She couldn’t even tell herself.
All she knew was that the place in her chest hurt terribly.
Not the kind of pain from being bumped, nor the kind from being cut. It was a dull, heavy ache, hard to pinpoint, as if something were stuck in her chest—something she couldn’t swallow or spit out.
That thing had been stuck there ever since Shen Junyan turned and walked away three years ago.
For three years, she had pretended it didn’t exist, pretended she was fine, pretended nothing mattered.
But this morning, when she woke up beside him, when she saw his sleeping face, when she felt the weight of his arm draped over her waist—
That thing shifted.
Not loosened, but lodged even deeper.
Gu Ziyao stayed in the bathroom for a long time.
So long that Qin Yining knocked on the door outside: “Yaoyao? Are you okay?”
“Mm,” she replied, her voice mostly muffled by the sound of the water. “Coming out soon.”
She stood up, turned off the faucet, and dried herself with a towel.
Qin Yining had hung clothes on the doorknob—a white cotton T-shirt, a pair of gray athletic shorts, and a brand-new set of underwear.
Gu Ziyao dressed and stepped out of the bathroom.
Qin Yining was already busy in the kitchen. Though she was the little princess of the family, she was never spoiled, and simple meals were no challenge for her.
Eggs sizzled in the frying pan. Toast popped out of the toaster, filling the air with the aroma of wheat. The coffee machine hummed, steam and the scent of coffee permeating the entire kitchen.
The room was warm, bright, and brimming with the feeling of life.
Gu Ziyao stood at the bathroom door, watching Qin Yining’s busy back, and suddenly felt her nose sting again.
“What are you standing there for?” Qin Yining said without turning around. “Come sit, it’s almost ready.”
Gu Ziyao walked over and sat down at the dining table.
On the table were a glass of warm water, a small plate of fruit, and a box of tissues.
When Qin Yining pushed the tissue box toward her, she said nothing, only glanced at her.
That look held heartache, anger, helplessness, and a trace of barely noticeable resolve.
She turned back and continued frying the eggs.
“Ning Ning,” Gu Ziyao suddenly spoke up.
“Hmm?”
“Thank you.”
Qin Yining’s hand paused for a moment before she resumed flipping the eggs.
“For what,” she said, her voice deliberately light. “If you really want to thank me, hurry up and eat your breakfast, then go to sleep. Don’t get sentimental with me here.”
Gu Ziyao smiled, this time with a bit more sincerity than before.
She picked up a slice of toast and took a bite.
The toast was perfectly toasted—crispy on the outside, soft on the inside, with the sweetness of butter and honey.
It was warm.
The sunlight outside the window grew brighter, shining on the dining table, on the rim of the coffee cup, and on Qin Yining’s busy back.
Gu Ziyao gazed at that patch of sunlight, slowly swallowing the toast in her mouth.
She didn’t know what would happen next.
She didn’t know if Shen Junyan would check the surveillance footage after waking up, didn’t know if that earring would be discovered, didn’t know if she could cleanly sign the divorce papers when the three-year term arrived.
But she knew that, at this moment, in this room, there was a light shining for her.
That was enough.