Lu Weidong finally voiced the question lingering in his mind.
“Do you really want to go to university?”
“Yes.”
Ye Wenxi nodded, then a flicker of subtle nervousness crossed her eyes.
She suddenly realized how “radical” it must seem in this era for a married woman to want to step away from family and pursue higher education.
Not just in this time… even in her original era, not every husband would support such a choice.
Would Lu Weidong agree?
“I think… you probably want to understand me a bit more,” she said.
Lu Weidong looked at her, acknowledging her thought, silently encouraging her to continue.
“I think differently from many women of this era.”
“I pursue self-realization. I crave success. I want to make a mark in my field.”
“For me, marriage isn’t the end. I need to keep growing, to have social identity and self-worth.”
“I probably can’t be like those traditional wives, revolving entirely around the stove and home.”
“Perhaps it seems selfish.”
“But losing the chance to learn and try things would be more painful than anything else.”
Having said this, Ye Wenxi lowered her head, fingers nervously twisting the corner of her draft paper, afraid to look at Lu Weidong’s expression.
A warmth settled on her shoulder—a broad, comforting hand lightly patted twice.
Lu Weidong’s voice came from above, steady and strong:
“Don’t worry. I’ll support you. If you want to take the exam, then go for it.”
“Live by your own ideas—no one has the right to stop you.”
The tension in Ye Wenxi’s shoulders instantly melted. She exhaled long and deep, feeling a weight lifted.
With that, he didn’t linger, turning toward the door.
“Get some rest.”
The soft closing of the door sealed off the world outside.
That night, Ye Wenxi slept soundly, as if an invisible stone had been lifted from her chest.
Meanwhile, Lu Weidong lay in his own bed, tossing and turning, wide awake.
Night deepened. Streetlights cast dim halos across the darkened streets.
Beneath these halos, a few young people lingered, leaning against walls or standing around.
Shadows stretched long and crooked across the cold cement.
The air was thick with acrid smoke and the scent of overnight alcohol.
Some shouted through the haze, occasional muttered curses cutting through.
Xu Miao sat slouched on the curb, clutching a green beer bottle, head tilted back, gulping it down.
The liquid spilled from her mouth, trickled down her neck into her collar—and she didn’t care.
She drank not for thirst, but as if to drown herself in it.
A nearby girl, ponytailed, tried to snatch the bottle away.
“Xu Miao, stop! How much have you had?”
“Yeah, you hardly ever drink. What’s gotten into you today?”
Another bespectacled boy also tried to reason with her, concern in his voice.
Xu Miao shrugged off the hands effortlessly, surprising everyone with her strength.
Ignoring them, she grabbed another bottle, bit the cap off with her teeth, and kept drinking.
Only when it was empty did she slam the bottle down with a dull thud.
She let out a low, hoarse laugh, self-mocking:
“Heh… all these years, I’ve been such a fool.”
The surrounding crowd fell silent for a moment. Xu Miao stared at the wavering lights on the ground, eyes hollow.
“But even as a fool, I’m willing… as long as there’s still a tiny glimmer of hope.”
Her voice dropped lower, almost choking, but she forced it down.
“But… he’s getting married.”
The table went utterly silent.
Her friends and classmates exchanged glances, shock and comprehension mingling in their eyes.
They all knew Xu Miao well—some had steady jobs, some still wandered the streets as unemployed youth.
Xu Miao had always stood out: good family, striking looks, a respectable job, radiating presence wherever she went.
Everyone knew she’d held someone in her heart for years.
“Lu Weidong’s getting married?”
A short-haired girl hesitated, breaking the frozen air.
“Impossible… he’s always been single, refusing all advances. Did you hear wrong?”
Xu Miao sneered, flushed with alcohol, eyes icy:
“I saw it myself. He told me himself.”
She paused, every word seeming squeezed out through clenched teeth:
“My fiancée.”
“Whoa—”
A ripple of murmurs spread through the crowd.
Some gasped, eyes wide; others glanced at Xu Miao and quickly looked away.
She ignored everyone, grabbed another unopened beer, and slammed it against the table.
For years, Xu Miao had been the most devoted secret fan, following Lu Weidong’s every move.
She knew he had refused the most prominent female performers from the art troupe.
She knew he didn’t give a favorable look even to the general’s daughter.
All of it, she knew.
So, she didn’t think herself pathetic.
All those outstanding women had failed.
She even secretly thought maybe Lu Weidong simply couldn’t hold anyone in his heart; perhaps he would never marry.
This bitter certainty had been her secret pillar for years.
But seeing a real “fiancée” appear before her… it was devastating.
Who was she? Why? On what grounds??
A large hand suddenly reached over, pressing down on the bottle Xu Miao was lifting to her lips.
She tried to shake it off, but the hand was like iron, unmoving.
“Enough! Stop drinking!”
Zhang Lei barked, voice cutting through the noise, drawing all eyes.
He grabbed the drunk, staggering Xu Miao: “I’ll take you home.”
Zhang Lei had never held a serious job, usually wandering the streets.
He had liked Xu Miao since high school, never confessing, quietly helping her through minor troubles over the years, like a silent shadow.
Xu Miao had little strength left to resist.
Half carrying, half supporting her, he guided her unsteadily away.
He didn’t speak much, quietly escorting her to her family compound.
Watching her disappear into the shadows, he finally let go.
The next day, Xu Miao’s family was having lunch. Weekend. Xu Miao’s father and younger brother were home.
The atmosphere at the table was heavy.
Her mother sighed, wanting to call her daughter but hesitating.
Xu Miao had come home in the early hours, reeking of alcohol, vomiting as soon as she entered.
Her father had been furious.
Even by noon, she hadn’t left her room.
After lunch, her mother asked Xu Zhigang to bring some food to his sister.
Zhigang tried the door—it wasn’t locked.
“Sis, I’m coming in,” he said.
He placed the food on her desk.
Xu Miao lay in bed, eyes swollen from crying, like two goldfish bubbles.
Seeing her like this, he didn’t dare advise her. He said only: “Eat this,” and prepared to leave.
“Gangzi,” Xu Miao called, stopping him.
“Can you help your sister?”