Wen Zhao’s intentions were clear, and Qin Zhuyu understood them. As for how long it would take for her to come to terms with it, Wen Zhao was powerless to help.
Qin Zhuyu chose the location for the evening. Since Wen Zhao usually slept early, she had informed her in advance that she could stay with her until just past midnight. Qin Zhuyu chose the highest point in the city.
The Starlight Tower was the landmark building of City B, and its top floor was undoubtedly the highest point in the entire city. Qin Zhuyu had booked the entire top floor for the night.
The two sat side by side, shoulders touching, in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows. Neither looked at the other; their eyes were filled only with the bustling night view and the shimmering reflection of tears.
“If the one begging you over and over again were Zheng Miaoning, you would definitely agree to stay, wouldn’t you?” Qin Zhuyu’s tone was very calm.
Wen Zhao didn’t want to answer. But she had already promised Qin Zhuyu that for this final half-hour, she would tell the truth regardless of what was asked.
Wen Zhao gave a low, muffled “Mm.”
Qin Zhuyu gave a self-mocking laugh. “You don’t like eating tomatoes?”
“…It’s not that I dislike them, but indeed, I don’t love them that much.” Wen Zhao’s upbringing didn’t allow her to be a picky eater; as long as she wasn’t allergic to it, she would eat anything. Her internal resistance to tomatoes was something Zheng Miaoning had noticed and pointed out; Wen Zhao herself didn’t truly understand her own likes and dislikes. If Zheng Miaoning hadn’t appeared that day, she would have finished every tomato in the set meal.
Qin Zhuyu didn’t know how to feel. She loathed Zheng Miaoning and constantly compared herself to her, believing she was more obedient and more attentive. She was always indignant, unable to understand why Wen Zhao loved Zheng Miaoning more—yet she didn’t even know what Wen Zhao liked to eat.
“Can I still look for you?”
Wen Zhao lowered her eyelashes. “You can.”
The hands of the giant clock on the building opposite the Starlight Tower were about to reach twelve. Qin Zhuyu asked one last question: “Do you like me?”
“You are a very good person. Of course I like you,” Wen Zhao said after much deliberation.
The contract term had ended. Wen Zhao stood up and left the room. After two years together, Qin Zhuyu was no longer just a name Wen Zhao had typed out on a keyboard on a whim; her value was no longer limited to being a foil for Zheng Miaoning’s brilliance.
Leaving the room, Wen Zhao saw Zheng Miaoning’s shadow at the other end of the corridor. The young girl with loose, flowing hair stood under the lights. The overhead lighting cast shadows across her face. She stood there waiting, uncharacteristically quiet.
To get to the elevator, Wen Zhao had to pass her. As the distance closed step by step, Wen Zhao prayed silently in her heart, hoping that today’s “Beagle Miao” would be as sensible as she was the other day.
“Mama.” Zheng Miaoning suddenly reached out and grabbed Wen Zhao’s arm, her eyes filled with unabashed obsession. She had come to pick up Wen Zhao.
Wen Zhao immediately looked around. Seeing no one else, she felt a slight relief, but then looked at Zheng Miaoning’s hand with a headache. “Don’t call me that. Also, let go.”
She tensed her arm muscles, trying to pull away, but Zheng Miaoning didn’t budge. Not only did she not let go, but her other free hand slithered like a snake up Wen Zhao’s back, following the fragile spine and shoulder blades until her fingers gripped the back of Wen Zhao’s neck.
Wen Zhao was forced back step by step.
Zheng Miaoning had long since grown from a slender girl into a tall woman. Her thick, long hair cascaded from her tilted shoulder, falling heavily against Wen Zhao’s neck before dangling in mid-air. From a distance, it was impossible to tell whose hair was draped behind Wen Zhao.
The long hair walled off a small, private space. In the dimness, Zheng Miaoning’s gaze was burning. Wen Zhao closed her eyes, refusing to look at her.
But their hair, their breath, and their fates were tightly intertwined. It wasn’t something Wen Zhao could escape just by closing her eyes.
“What’s wrong, Mama? Didn’t you once say that you were my mother? Why won’t you let me call you that now?” Zheng Miaoning’s lips were almost pressed against Wen Zhao’s earlobe as she asked provocatively.
Wen Zhao’s eyelashes trembled uncontrollably. She was afraid someone would appear, but Zheng Miaoning wouldn’t let her turn her head away.
Mama. Mama.
Those two words had long since turned sour after that night; they both knew it in their hearts. Yet Zheng Miaoning insisted on repeating the title over and over. Wen Zhao didn’t want to guess her intentions, nor did she have the energy to deal with them.
Trapped in such an awkward yet intimate environment, Wen Zhao instinctively wanted to hide.
“You were also the one who said it yourself—that this title makes you feel disgusted,” Wen Zhao whispered, her voice suppressed and trembling as she tore open the wound again just to make Zheng Miaoning see reality. “Miaoning, there are consequences for the things we say. I have already borne mine. You… you should let go too.”
Wen Zhao opened her eyes and met Zheng Miaoning’s gaze. Realizing that Wen Zhao was serious, Zheng Miaoning frowned, her hands not moving an inch.
She hadn’t looked at Wen Zhao this closely in a long time. Even in the dim light, Zheng Miaoning could clearly see the fine vertical lines of stress between Wen Zhao’s relaxed brows. Wen Zhao had not been happy by Qin Zhuyu’s side.
Zheng Miaoning said, “Your contract with Qin Zhuyu is over. I can’t think of a single reason why you would still refuse me.”
Wen Zhao gazed into her eyes and reached out to pat Zheng Miaoning’s back. Just as Zheng Miaoning thought she was about to relent, Wen Zhao said, “I don’t want to. That is the most sufficient reason.”
Wen Zhao used all her strength to push Zheng Miaoning away. To match the dinner Qin Zhuyu had prepared, Wen Zhao had swapped her sportswear for an ankle-length dress. The cumbersome hem and thin heels restricted her movement, but she didn’t want to stop for even a second as she ran forward.
Not being soft-hearted now was her way of loving her.
She was only a few steps from the elevator, but the floor was so high that waiting for the elevator would take several minutes. Zheng Miaoning’s ghostly voice drifted from behind her.
“Wen Zhao, you were the one who appeared and said you loved me. You were the one who made me understand that you love me most. I can tolerate a temporary wandering, but I will never allow you to leave me.”
“This is the price for provoking me.”
The cold, lingering words wrapped around Wen Zhao like a specter.
Tap. Tap. The sound of Zheng Miaoning’s leisurely footsteps approached. Wen Zhao kept her hand on the elevator button, looking back toward her. Zheng Miaoning’s eyes held an emotion deeper than the night. Wen Zhao had no way to reciprocate, so she silently begged the elevator to come faster.
Ding.
The elevator doors opened. Wen Zhao stepped in nimbly and hammered the close button.
“Wen Zhao, this is the last chance I’m giving you.”
Zheng Miaoning walked slowly, never intending to catch up; she just wanted to scare her. The sight of the usually composed Wen Zhao looking frantic fascinated her.
The elevator doors shut firmly. Wen Zhao had seen Zheng Miaoning’s shadow, but Zheng Miaoning didn’t press the call button again. She had truly let her go.
Wen Zhao leaned against the cold wall of the elevator car, gasping for breath. Zheng Miaoning had let her go. It should have been a relief, but Wen Zhao couldn’t bring herself to smile.
Rushing out of the Starlight Tower, the late-night wind chilled her to the bone. She dragged her nearly frozen body home. Her neatly packed luggage sat in the living room. Wen Zhao checked her items one by one.
After confirming everything was there, she walked to the bathroom mirror. The woman in the mirror had red-rimmed eyes and faint dark circles of exhaustion.
This was the person Wen Zhao hated the most.
To avoid any complications, Wen Zhao bought an early morning flight. Waking up early wasn’t a challenge for her after staying up all night. With her light luggage, she turned off the main power switch and the gas valve, carefully locked the door, and left.
Where would she stay tonight? Wen Zhao didn’t know. Leaving Zheng Miaoning in this book world meant she had no idea where to go.
The driver she hailed was very kind, even getting out to help with her luggage and trying to carry it into the airport for her. Wen Zhao politely declined. In a place like this where cars only stop briefly, a driver who frequently goes to airports and high-speed rail stations would never possess such irrational enthusiasm.
The process from security to boarding was incredibly smooth; she didn’t spend a single minute in line. There were several messages in her social apps, but she didn’t look at any of them. They were from the Qin parents, Xu Hexuan, and Zheng Lihui. Those two, however, were uncharacteristically quiet.
So quiet that Wen Zhao felt a faint sense of unease. Combined with the strange driver and the perfect smoothness of the journey, she felt something was wrong.
It wasn’t until the plane took off that Wen Zhao’s heart settled slightly. The system had said that Wen Zhao possessed absolute control over this world, but it didn’t know how to grant her the ability to rewrite the plot at will without signing a contract. Wen Zhao didn’t really need that power. She only wanted Zheng Miaoning to be happy forever.
The reason for the deterioration of Zheng Miaoning’s condition still required an answer from the system. Wen Zhao thought she would distance herself from Qin Zhuyu first and let the returning system observe the situation. Perhaps that would lead to an answer faster.
In the four years since she transmigrated into the book, Wen Zhao had never had a day as leisurely as today. For her, leisure meant emptiness. Being idle was what she feared most. When there was no one or nothing requiring her action, she couldn’t help but overthink, questioning the meaning of her existence.
Fortunately, these four years had been filled with the trivialities of Zheng Miaoning and then Qin Zhuyu. To endure until the system returned and not break her promise, she had to find something to do.
In many places Wen Zhao hadn’t focused on in her writing, endless suffering and happiness had quietly sprouted. Before the system returned, she would stay in a place where suffering outweighed happiness—at a practical level.
The plane landed smoothly. Wen Zhao, who had been resting with her eyes closed, slowly opened them.
Songping County. She had arrived.
This was the destination the system had mentioned before leaving; it was under the jurisdiction of City H. The system had phrased it as a “suggestion,” and Wen Zhao happened to be someone who listened well to suggestions—especially when she couldn’t think of any other options.
There were almost no places in the county that could be called hotels. Wen Zhao only found a few chain guesthouses. She picked a relatively legitimate one and checked in. The receptionist was nodding off with sleepiness. Wen Zhao didn’t have the heart to disturb her more than necessary, so she took the room key and followed the signs to the elevator.
Then, in front of her room door, she saw Zheng Miaoning.