Standing at the door, Sheng Yu turned when he heard her voice—and saw Qin Sang already walking up to him. Perhaps because he was about to leave, perhaps because emotions stirred beyond control, or perhaps because he meant to all along—
In the next second, he made the most intimate gesture of the entire night.
He reached out and pulled her straight into his arms.
The movement was gentle—so very gentle.
One arm circled her waist lightly, the other rested at the back of her neck. He lowered his head to her ear, his breath warm, almost burning…
Caught off guard by the sudden embrace, Qin Sang froze. The words on the tip of her tongue scattered. Her body went rigid, afraid to move at all. She only blinked slowly in his arms, then clenched her fingers in confusion.
And in her panic, she realized something even more frightening—
She didn’t want to push him away. Not even a little.
“I’ll be staying in Nancheng for a while,” Sheng Yu said quietly. The hand at her waist tightened almost unconsciously. “I hope we can have another meal together.”
His low, husky voice poured straight into her ears and landed squarely on her heart. Her already-chaotic thoughts dissolved into a numb haze.
Then he let go of her on his own.
Just like before, his hand lifted, reaching instinctively toward the corner of her left eye.
Beneath Qin Sang’s left eye was a faint mole. Sheng Yu had always liked to brush that spot with his fingers.
But now—this familiar gesture—
In an instant, all the rippling confusion in Qin Sang’s heart snapped awake, as if a bucket of cold water had been dumped over her head.
Panicking, she stepped back, avoiding the hand that was about to touch her injured eye. Her gaze dropped warily, shadowed and guarded, avoiding even his eyes.
Watching all of this, Sheng Yu felt a sharp stab in his chest. He took her reaction as rejection—of his touch, of him. His hand hung in midair, fingers twitching against his will.
As he looked at Qin Sang, his eyes darkened, a dangerous hint of possession threatening to break loose. With great effort, he restrained himself. A bleak smile curved his lips as he withdrew his hand.
“Good night,” he said.
Until Sheng Yu’s figure disappeared into the stairwell—until he vanished completely from her sight—Qin Sang didn’t say a single word.
Perhaps it was because over all these years, she had been brave too many times, tried too many times—only to fall into one abyss after another, each more cruel than the last, grinding away every scrap of courage.
Now she was shattered.
She wanted him close—yet she was terrified of his closeness.
Standing at the door, staring in the direction he’d left, Qin Sang remained motionless. Her beautiful eyes held no light at all, her chest so tight it felt hard to breathe.
Her mind replayed everything he’d done that night, his explanation of the past, his promise to give her an answer—the emotion hidden deep in his eyes when he spoke.
That was why, in shock and turmoil, she had called out to stop him—wanting to tell him, I never doubted you. Not once.
Perhaps it was because the love he once gave her had been too fierce, too wholehearted, for her ever to doubt the sincerity of his feelings.
Qin Sang would never forget the summer of her freshman year, when she accompanied her father to a remote village for volunteer teaching.
Sheng Yu had set himself as her phone’s emergency contact—one-tap calling.
That first night, she slept poorly. Half-awake, she picked up her phone and accidentally pressed the emergency call.
It was already one in the morning.
Yet Sheng Yu answered immediately. Even through the phone, she could hear the urgency in his voice. “What’s wrong? Why are you calling so late—are you still awake?”
She replied, “It’s nothing. I pressed it by accident.”
After hanging up, she didn’t think much of it and drifted back to sleep.
But the next morning—
She saw Sheng Yu standing right in front of her.
That village had no direct high-speed rail, no direct buses. The moment he hung up, he’d ridden a motorcycle through the night to get there.
He said he was afraid something had happened to her, that he couldn’t rest until he came to see for himself.
That day, the village was gray and rainy—but to Qin Sang, the whole world felt radiant.
She was the one who lost him.
She was the one who chose family over him and left him behind.
And for all these years, just to ease her conscience, she had told herself again and again that he had hidden his identity, that he had deceived her…
Now—
What right did she have to return to his side?