Chapter Ninety-Seven: Breaking Up

Fu Wenzhou remained silent for a long time. At last he lifted his head, his expression sincere to the point of looking pitiful.

He liked Song Qingyou far too much. He liked everything about her. He liked her standing beneath the trees in her white dress, so clean she seemed like a fairy untouched by the mortal world. He liked the way she had stood in front of him when they were children, shielding him from all that malice. He liked the special favor she reserved for him alone. He liked kissing her, holding her, every glance, every movement, everything she did. He liked her too much, liked her more than his own life.

So how was he supposed to change?

He could not change.

Under the lights, Song Qingyou looked so beautiful it seemed unreal, her features impossible to see clearly, the light in her eyes broken into drifting shards. In that daze, he seemed to have returned to that pitch-black night of torrential rain. That night, she had stood beneath a streetlamp just like this, dim and indistinct, as though a whole galaxy lay between them.

She was right there before his eyes, yet no matter how he reached, he could never touch her.

Fu Wenzhou’s heart gave a sudden jolt, swallowed by a tide of panic so overwhelming it painted the corners of his eyes red.

So, you don’t want me anymore?

But when the words left his mouth, the panic had already turned itself into anger. “Is this really all it takes for you to break up with me? Even if I change, there has to be time, doesn’t there? You won’t even give me that much time, so how can you know I can’t change? What happened today was my fault, all right? I was wrong, isn’t that enough? I’ll change in the future.”

He nearly ground out the last few words through clenched teeth.

“Qingyou, you can’t condemn me to death over something this small.”

Song Qingyou looked quietly at Fu Wenzhou as he vented the unease in his heart. Then she slowly lifted a hand and touched his earlobe.

“Did I say I was breaking up with you?”

The fury and panic in Fu Wenzhou’s chest died out in an instant. He looked at her in stunned disbelief, even a little puzzled.

“You... aren’t breaking up with me?”

Song Qingyou looked at him and finally let out a soft sigh. Slowly, she crouched before him, tilting her face up slightly, her fingertips moving from his earlobe to his cheek.

“Fu Wenzhou, do I make you that uneasy?”

Fu Wenzhou’s lashes trembled faintly. His dark eyes stayed fixed on her face.

Song Qingyou pressed her thumb gently against the side of his nose, rubbing it lightly. “You don’t need to lower yourself just because you’re afraid I’ll be angry or unhappy. In a relationship, whether man or woman, both people should be equal. You have every right to be jealous and to lose your temper.”

Her features were clear and transcendent, her lashes beaded with droplets that caught the light like dawn’s first dew.

Her voice was soft, yet carried great force. “And you don’t need to worry that I’ll fall for someone else, or break up with you for some other reason. Starting a relationship is not a casual thing. Since I agreed to be with you, it means I will be loyal to you, trust you, and rely on you at the same time.”

She said slowly and distinctly, “Today’s matter was my fault. I didn’t pay enough attention to my boyfriend’s feelings, so of course you had every right to be angry. Why should you apologize to me?”

Fu Wenzhou’s chest tightened, sour and swollen. He pressed his lips together, his eyes filling with grievance and deep, overwhelming love, his gaze locked tightly on Song Qingyou.

Song Qingyou curved her lips, rose onto her tiptoes, and kissed the man’s thin lips. Smiling warmly, she asked, “May I ask if my boyfriend can accept my apology? I promise that next time, I won’t embrace any other man.”

Fu Wenzhou stared at her in a daze, something unrestrained and surging seeming to churn in his eyes.

It was as though a fire had ignited inside him, clamoring to consume him.

His breathing grew heavier, rough with strain. He lowered his head and deepened that fleeting, brush-of-a-breeze kiss.

His kisses moved from her lips to her jaw, then to the nape of her neck, where he nibbled again and again. Every place he touched was followed by a gentle bite, and blooms of red blossomed across Song Qingyou’s fair skin like flowers.

Fu Wenzhou bent over her neck, his breathing growing ragged, his voice low and husky, as if he were trying desperately to suppress something. “Sister, I love you. I love you so much...”

Song Qingyou’s earlobe was damp and warm. She let out a muffled sound.

At last Fu Wenzhou could bear it no longer. With one hand he gripped her long, pale neck, and with a bend of his waist he kissed her lips again, fierce and wanton, then gradually became even more excessive.

When the kiss ended, both of them were gasping for breath.

Song Qingyou nearly ran out of air. The moment Fu Wenzhou released her, she started coughing hard.

He was frightened badly at once, scrambling to find medicine and warm water. After Song Qingyou took the medicine and recovered a little, he looked at her in frustration. “I’ll be more careful from now on.”

Song Qingyou coughed twice more. Seeing the man’s dark, handsome face, she could not help laughing. “My health is poor. Why are you blaming yourself?”

If anything, she should be the one feeling guilty.

With this frail body of hers, she could not even handle a long kiss, and when it came to anything more, Fu Wenzhou had to slow down for fear of hurting her.

On this matter, he was already doing very well.

It was her own body that was disappointing.

Fu Wenzhou’s face turned stern. Without a word, he carried her to the bed and held her from behind.

Only after the person in his arms had settled into even breathing did he slowly sit up and walk to the balcony in the living room.

A shaft of moonlight slipped through the shadows of the nearby trees, tracing the lines of his face. Fu Wenzhou took out a cigarette and lit it slowly. Thin white smoke drifted lazily between his lips as he reached for his phone and made a call.

Just as Gu Bai had lain down, he received Fu Wenzhou’s call. His tone was full of helplessness. “You old devil, do you have no conscience, disturbing someone’s sweet dreams in the middle of the night?”

Fu Wenzhou’s face showed no expression, his voice cold. “How is the search for Master Yunfang going?”

Gu Bai froze. “No luck. There’s no sign of him even on the black market.”

Fu Wenzhou’s expression darkened. “What era is this? How the hell can it be this hard to find a living person?”

Gu Bai lit a cigarette. “Easy for you to say. The world is huge. Where am I supposed to look? Besides, it’s been so long since Master Yunfang disappeared. No one even knows whether he’s dead or alive. Maybe...”

Maybe what, he did not dare say.

He had even used the black market’s connections, and still he could not find Yunfang. If the man was truly alive, then after so much time there should at least have been some news by now.

Fu Wenzhou held a cigarette between his fingers. Under the warm balcony light, the high-rises stood before him, countless windows glowing like a sea of lanterns. Cold wind blew through his black hair, revealing a smooth forehead, while his clothes filled with the chill of the night.

In the darkness, he slowly crushed out the cigarette. “Keep looking. Don’t stop until you find him.”

After the call ended, he stood in the cold wind for a long time. Only when the smell of smoke had faded from his body did he return indoors, hold Song Qingyou in his arms, and slowly close his eyes.