The red box hit Chen Jin’s cheekbone, yet he didn’t dodge, letting it fall into his lap. He gripped the steering wheel tightly, driving instinctively, his thoughts like a taut string—no extra reasoning, only reflex.
His cheek was now red from the impact, but he didn’t notice. He stopped the car and took two deep, controlled breaths, each exhalation trembling slightly.
Earlier, he hadn’t dared to look at He Qi. Now, as he did, he froze.
Tears streamed down He Qi’s face, but she didn’t cry out. Her expression was both heart-wrenching and lifeless.
Seeing her stare at him, Chen Jin felt a rage as if her gaze could carve a hole in him.
A wave of panic surged, enough to engulf him.
In their seven years together, he’d only seen He Qi this devastated once—when she told her parents she would never marry.
Then, Chen Jin had soothed her, guided her, tried every way to lift her from pain, creating a haven where she could feel safe.
Now, he had personally pushed her back into that abyss, perpetuating her suffering.
Doing this, he must have lost his mind.
Realizing this, Chen Jin’s heart raced, almost leaping from his chest into He Qi’s hands, desperate to tell her he regretted it, that no future regret could compare.
He tried to wipe her tears, even to kiss her in despair, but He Qi forcefully resisted.
“I was wrong,” Chen Jin said, gripping her wrist, watching tears fall, speaking frantically: “It’s for someone else. He Qi… it’s for someone else. I got it wrong.”
He Qi let out a bitter, almost absurd laugh. “Then who is it for? Who are you giving it to?!”
In the midst of this collapse, Chen Jin grabbed both her wrists, as if holding her could stabilize something. He lowered his head in helplessness, as if it could prevent something from being lost.
But the moment he decided to place the rings in front of He Qi, their trust had irreversibly shattered.
He Qi choked on her words, barely able to speak, each one accompanied by a hoarse sob: “Why are you doing this to me? Chen Jin, what did I do wrong?”
“Was your call with my mom about this? Was it?!”
The fishing line was still wrapped tightly around He Qi’s heart, tying knot after knot. When pulled upward, it sliced through her flesh, and the blood and pain flowed like decay.
She was in excruciating pain.
How could Chen Jin treat her like this?
“Do you want to get married?” He Qi asked, her crying finally exhausting her, then she strangely calmed down.
Chen Jin suddenly lifted his head to deny it, but He Qi didn’t give him the chance.
“If you want to get married, then just tell me! Are you afraid I’ll cling to you? Afraid I won’t let go? Do you think I’m the reason you can’t enter a normal marriage? So you use this trick to deal with me, to betray me, right?”
Seven years—seven full years—He Qi had never doubted that Chen Jin would waver in the slightest regarding her refusal to marry.
She had wrestled with her family, bloody and relentless. No matter how humiliating or difficult the circumstances, Chen Jin had always been like a rock beside her: unshakable, supportive, a safe harbor. She had trusted him with her whole heart for seven years.
She had trusted him more than her family, and in some ways, even more than herself.
But now, in this completely sealed, narrow, suffocating space, everything that had seemed indestructible collapsed silently and catastrophically.
He Qi desperately wanted to know if she had made some huge mistake that had driven Chen Jin against her. She sensed their relationship had entered a fatigued phase, and when she tried to probe its sore spots, she seemed powerless. So she habitually avoided the issue. From her experience, pretending nothing was wrong could at least maintain a fragile peace.
Going with the flow—this was something Chen Jin had taught her. It worked, so she had always adhered to it.
So where had it gone wrong? Tell her, she would change anything!
But when the pair of rings appeared before her eyes, it was too late to fix anything. The foundation of their relationship had vanished.
She felt caught off guard, but also accepted it. Perhaps her genes carried this curse; she would never enjoy long-lasting luck in love.
He Qi shook off Chen Jin’s hand, raised her hand to wipe her tears, but it was futile—her hands were wet too, and more weak tears streamed down her face.
“Chen Jin… you succeeded,” she said, forcing her voice steady. “I also thank you… for not giving me this tomorrow. Thank you for at least not letting my birthday carry a lifelong shadow.”
With that, she turned in despair and slammed the door behind her.
At the same time, Chen Jin got out of the car. His steps were long, following behind He Qi by less than half a step, trying several times to grab her hand.
He Qi, unable to tolerate it, swung her hand violently and turned around, the back of her hand striking his neck with force.
Her phone in her pocket vibrated, and her arm went numb; she couldn’t tell whether it was from the strike or the phone.
Chen Jin said nothing. He only held her other hand and pleaded, “Let’s go home first. This isn’t—”
“I don’t want to see you right now!” He Qi shouted, breaking him off, but she couldn’t shake off his grip. “Let go of me! Or I’ll go to your parents!”
Chen Jin still held her, gripping tighter.
“Let go! Do you think I’ll go crazy at your company? Ruin your reputation?”
This was the first time He Qi had acted shamelessly against Chen Jin. It was chaotic and futile.
Her anger reached its peak. Filled with hatred, she looked at Chen Jin and said in a low voice, “Before I calm down enough to talk to you, don’t let me see you. Otherwise, we never need to meet again in this life.”
As soon as the words fell, the grip on her wrist loosened slightly, and she immediately pulled away and left.
She walked quickly. The wind hit her face, and she cried uncontrollably again, finally audibly.
Cars flowed continuously beside the road. Pedestrians on both sides looked at her strangely. Her hair stuck to her face uncomfortably, and suddenly she broke into a run.
She ran with all her might. People on the road moved aside for her. The wind tore into her mouth, intermittently suffocating her.
She didn’t know how long she ran. When she felt certain Chen Jin would not follow, she stopped and took out her phone to call a taxi.
But then she saw a message from editor Luo Luo—the source of the phone vibration earlier.
“Ms. He, we regret to inform you that your work ‘Judy’s New Home’ did not pass the second review. Thank you again for your submission!”
Not early, not late—right at this moment.
He Qi felt the world was deliberately toying with her, unwilling to let her life go smoothly, flipping her life like blocks in her palm.
But she didn’t even have the energy to complain. Tears fell on the screen. She wiped them with her sleeve, forced herself to reply “Received” to Luo Luo, then decisively hailed a taxi to the station.
From Jiang City, she took the high-speed train to Ning City, then a taxi home. Deep in the autumn night, she tossed and turned, feeling no joy or relief at returning home.
The ride-hailing driver was overly talkative. She leaned against the window, giving only brief answers. The woman enjoyed herself until the last stretch, when she suddenly sensed something, fell silent, and asked if He Qi needed tissues.
He Qi took two sheets, wiped her face completely dry, didn’t let the driver into the residential area, and walked a stretch in the cold wind herself.
The familiar yet unfamiliar road brought her emotions to an extreme calm.
She knew very clearly this calm was a clumsy disguise, a brief and false composure after a storm and before the next predictable storm.
It was her body’s protection mechanism, to prevent her from doing something impulsive before her birthday.
She slowly stepped into the familiar stairwell, smelling the damp dust in the air. The fragile calm began to crack.
Climbing to the third floor, the motion-sensor light by her door turned on. She looked up to see countless small locksmith advertisements plastered on the door.
He Qi stared at the mess, raised her hand, and slammed the door violently.
She didn’t use a fingerprint lock, deliberately pounding the door so loudly that everyone in the building would be woken to witness the commotion.
Between slams, she heard Xu Yan’s footsteps, light but hurried, coming from the bedroom. The door opened, and Xu Yan looked at her in shock.
He Qi spoke first, coldly demanding, “What did you say to Chen Jin?”
Tears began to fall again uncontrollably.
Xu Yan showed a worried, guilty expression, trying to pull her inside. “Come in and talk.”
Seeing her mother made no attempt to defend herself, He Qi closed her eyes in despair, shook her off, and raised her voice:
“I’m never coming back in this house. Mom, I’m telling you, I will never get married in my life!”
He Yunping stepped out, hearing this, furious. “Get in here! Do you want everyone to laugh at us?!”
Yes, today she wanted people to watch. She could even imagine, tomorrow morning, at sunrise, how the residents of the community park would gossip about her family’s chaos.
“I’m telling you clearly: even if you put a knife to my neck, you cannot force me to marry!”
“Beast!” He Yunping’s face immediately turned dark red. He raised his hand as if to strike her.
Xu Yan lunged forward to stop him, then turned to He Qi, tears streaming down her face.
“Qi Qi! What are you trying to do?!”
He Qi stood outside, looking sadly at this woman, realizing clearly that a part of her lived within her mother.
She saw Xu Yan standing before the enraged man, crying in pain, like another version of herself.
This scene caused her emotions to collapse completely. She shouted, “What else do you want from me?! Money? I’ll repay any amount! Borrow, loan, I’ll pay it all back! Please, just leave me alone!”
He Yunping’s chest heaved violently with anger.
Xu Yan, crying, lunged again, holding both He Qi’s arms, shaking her as if to wake her: “Mom doesn’t want your money! Mom just wants you to live like a normal person!”
He Qi remembered this motion—Chen Jin had done the same in the car not long ago.
But back then, she had been able to shake off Chen Jin. Now she could not shake off her mother.
Her body, thin and pale like paper, was battered by wind and rain. She looked down at Xu Yan, slightly shorter than herself, tears streaming down her face, choking with sobs:
“I’m not abnormal. The abnormal ones are you.”
In the old stairwell, He Qi heard deliberately light footsteps and whispers from all directions, like a swarm of ants devouring her heart.
She felt a strange, nauseating sense of relief and almost unconsciously said, “Just tell me how much I owe, then I won’t respond to any messages again. You can consider me dead.”
Saying that, she seized the moment while Xu Yan was stunned, pulled herself free with resolute determination, ran down the stairs, and dashed out.
The wind cut like knives past her ears. She suspected Xu Yan would chase her, like years ago after fights with her family.
She didn’t dare stop for a moment, determined to let no one catch up.
She ran out of the residential area into a nearby park and collapsed on a bench, exhausted.
She lay there, quietly crying for a long time, feeling as if she had returned to her college years, realizing she hadn’t made any progress over the years—only difference being whether Chen Jin was beside her.
After a while, her emotions gradually stabilized; she could just cry silently. She restarted her phone.
When the lock screen appeared, the interface froze for two seconds, then countless missed calls and unread messages flooded in.
She opened WeChat. At the top was Xu Yan, still sending voice messages three minutes ago. Without blinking, He Qi swiped left, tapped “Clear chat and hide conversation.”
Below, there was Chen Jin, with a red dot labeled “8,” and the last message was from over ten minutes ago, asking her where she was. She didn’t open it either, just swiped left.
The next one was Li Jiajia. He tapped it to read.
“Where are you? Did you have a fight with Chen Jin? He isn’t telling me anything either.”
“Reply to me, or I’ll call the police.”
The timestamp showed it was over an hour ago, around the time she had just separated from Chen Jin.
He didn’t know if she had actually called the police. Hesitating for a moment, she slowly typed:
“It’s fine. I’m back in Ningshi. Don’t tell Chen Jin, just let him know I’m safe.”
Li Jiajia almost replied instantly:
“Do you have money on you? Should I come find you?”
“I have plenty. Don’t come. I want to be alone. Sleep early.”
“Speak properly, don’t flaunt. So where are you staying? Your parents’ place? A hotel? If not, you can stay at my place.”
“Got it. I have somewhere to stay.”
After sending that, a very faint smile appeared on her face. She was too exhausted to show a proper expression, so the faint humor only touched her eyes.
She exited the chat, and her eyes went further down. She saw that Fang Yi had also sent her a message just half an hour ago. That faint smile froze instantly.
“Sister, where are you? Did something happen?”
She didn’t know how he had gotten the news. Up until now, only Chen Jin and Li Jiajia knew. Li Jiajia had no reason to proactively inform or ask; after all, in her view, this had nothing to do with Fang Yi.
That meant it had to be Chen Jin. He didn’t have Fang Yi’s contact information, so he probably asked Li Jiajia to pass it along.
He must have been desperate to find out her whereabouts through Fang Yi. Why did he think Fang Yi could know something that even he and Li Jiajia didn’t? Just because she had met Fang Yi today and happened to be seen by him?
Holding her phone, staring blankly at the screen, her thoughts drifted—but her mind kept involuntarily replaying the scene from the moment she saw the Cartier gift bag.
Like a nightmare, she didn’t even know how she had survived the past few hours. Her emotions had completely overtaken her mind; there was no rational thought, almost as if she had been acting purely out of spite.
That spite still hadn’t entirely dissipated. Her half-released destructive impulses were starting to stir again. Deep down, she was still that stubborn girl she had always been. Over the years, society had worn her down, and she had learned to value peace—but she couldn’t be pushed too far.
Going with the flow was learned; retaliation was in her bones.
Whoever tried to destroy her, she would destroy in return.
He Yunping cared about face? She would make the family scandal explode. Xu Yan forced her to be “normal”? Fine—she’d be a lifelong single “freak.” As for Chen Jin…
She still couldn’t quite figure out what he meant with the ring today, but she knew one thing for certain: he didn’t want anything.
What he had done to her a few hours ago, the thing everyone would hate, was called betrayal.
Driven by some strange compulsion, her fingertips tensed as she typed letter by letter.
“I’m in Ningshi.”
Three seconds after sending it, a cold gust hit her face, and she snapped fully awake. Her heart pounded violently. Panicked, she hurriedly recalled the message.
Then she turned off her phone screen and shoved it deep into her pocket.
She had lost her mind. Even she thought so.
The act was extreme, beyond any second of contemplation. She was so annoyed she wanted to delete Fang Yi.
He wouldn’t see it. She reassured herself. It had only been a few seconds; WeChat on this old phone always lagged. Even if he had looked, he wouldn’t know her exact location—he definitely wouldn’t come.
Her head throbbed, probably from crying. She collapsed onto the bench, not caring if it was dirty, curling her legs and arms, burying her chin in her collar, and let herself sleep in utter abandon.
The cold wind made her shiver, but once asleep, she felt nothing.
She didn’t know how long had passed before she felt someone gently shaking her shoulder.
A voice gradually became clear in her ears:
“Sister, wake up.”