In the end, Zhou Yanze could not hold back any longer.
He spoke in a voice that tried to remain calm, yet carried a deliberate, guiding weight. “A-Yan, look… Kexia is here too. All these years, her feelings for you, we’ve all seen them. She’s a good person, gentle, thoughtful, from a respectable family. Your parents like her very much. Why don’t you… try dating her?”
The words felt forced even as they left his mouth.
The moment he finished speaking, the room fell into a suffocating silence.
The soft blues music continued to drift through the air, but it now felt strangely out of place.
An Kexia’s heart leapt into her throat. A blush spread across her cheeks as her hands tightened in her lap. She looked at Xie Shiyan with quiet hope, her gaze fixed on his profile.
Xie Shiyan stopped moving his glass.
He did not respond immediately. Only the faint clink of melting ice against the glass echoed in the silence.
A few seconds later, he slowly turned his head.
His gaze swept over An Kexia, calm and detached.
There was no disgust, no anger.
There was nothing at all.
His lips parted slightly.
“It isn’t suitable.”
Three simple words.
Clear, cold, final.
They landed heavily on An Kexia. The color drained from her face, her eyes dimming as the hope within them collapsed. Her fingers loosened, falling helplessly to her side. Embarrassment and disappointment flooded her, so intense she wished she could disappear.
Zhou Yanze’s expression darkened.
The frustration he had buried for years, mixed with helpless concern, surged to the surface.
He stood up abruptly, his voice rising without restraint.
“Not suitable? How would you know if you’ve never even tried?” His tone sharpened, emotion breaking through. “Xie Shiyan, look at yourself. You’re living like a machine with no feelings. Ningning is dead. She’s been gone for eight years. There’s nothing left. Are you going to spend your whole life clinging to her memory? Wake up. Let her go, will you?”
“Yanze!”
Shen Nianan rushed forward, grabbing his arm, her face pale as she shook her head at him.
Xiao Xiao covered her mouth in shock.
Lu Jingshen frowned deeply.
Zhou Yanze’s chest rose and fell rapidly.
Only then did he realize what he had said, especially that name he should never have spoken.
He closed his eyes, frustration flashing across his face as he dropped back into his seat, running a hand through his hair.
“…Sorry. I drank too much.”
But it was too late.
That name had already cut straight into the deepest, most unhealed wound.
Xie Shiyan’s fingers tightened around his glass.
His knuckles turned stark white.
He did not look at anyone.
He did not respond.
He simply lifted the glass and drank the remaining liquor in one harsh swallow.
His throat moved sharply.
The empty glass hit the table with a dull, heavy sound.
An Kexia sat frozen, shaken by both Zhou Yanze’s words and Xie Shiyan’s reaction. She no longer dared to look at him, shrinking back into the corner of the sofa, lost and silent.
The air in the room grew cold.
When the gathering ended, everyone left quietly.
Zhou Yanze and Lu Jingshen took their wives home.
An Kexia left with Jiang Yueyao.
Xie Shiyan was half supported by his driver as he was helped into the back seat of his Maybach.
…
The car door shut, sealing off the noise of the outside world.
Xie Shiyan leaned back against the cool leather seat, his eyes closed, his hair falling loosely across his forehead. The scent of alcohol clung to him, mixing with the faint trace of agarwood he always wore.
The car moved smoothly through the night, entering the most exclusive residential district in the city.
It finally stopped in front of a brightly lit villa.
Mrs. Xie had been waiting at the door.
The moment she saw her son being helped out of the car, her heart tightened painfully.
For eight years, scenes like this had repeated themselves again and again.
“Thank you,” she said softly to the driver, her voice hoarse with exhaustion.
She forced a small smile, then stepped forward to take over.
The instant her hand touched Xie Shiyan’s arm, she felt the unnatural stiffness of his body, the coldness beneath the expensive fabric.
Her chest ached.
“Mom…”
He seemed to recognize her, his voice low and unclear as he leaned his weight against her without resistance.
Mr. and Mrs. Xie supported him together, step by step, bringing him back to his room.
They laid him down on the wide bed, its gray sheets cold and untouched.
Mrs. Xie’s breathing grew uneven, a thin layer of sweat forming on her forehead. She pulled a blanket over him gently.
As the fabric settled over his chest, broken whispers slipped from his lips.
“Ningning… don’t go…”
“Ningning… wait for me…”
“Ningning… it hurts…”
Each word was faint, yet heavy with pain.
The name alone shattered what little composure Mrs. Xie had left.
She covered her mouth as a sob escaped, her shoulders trembling.
“My son…”
Her hand trembled as she brushed the damp strands of hair from his forehead. Even in sleep, his brow was tightly drawn, as if he were trapped in endless suffering.
Her heart twisted.
“Tell me… what should I do?” Her voice broke, filled with helpless pleading. “What can I possibly do… to make you forget her?”
Tears fell freely from her eyes, landing on his cold hand.
He did not respond.
He could not feel it.
It took a long time before she managed to steady herself.
She wiped her face with her sleeve, taking a slow breath.
After one last look at her son lying there in quiet torment, she turned and walked out, closing the heavy door behind her.
The whispers were shut away in the room.
Outside, the hallway was brightly lit.
Mr. Xie stood there in silence.
He had heard everything.
He said nothing.
Instead, he reached out and pulled his trembling wife gently against his shoulder.
A long, heavy sigh escaped him.
Together, they walked back to their room, leaning on each other in silence.