Chapter 68: The Breakup

“What’s wrong with you!” Min Rui’s voice rose in frustration, loud enough to disturb the entire dormitory at three in the morning. “Is it Xiao Zhi? Did he bully you? Did he break up with you?”

Yin Mengxi couldn’t answer. She didn’t even know where this overwhelming wave of negative emotions came from. So she shook her head, but tears flowed even harder when she heard his name.

“Xiao Hehe...”

Min Rui truly pitied her and climbed onto her bed to embrace her tightly. Ren Weiwei and Wang Xueru stood below in their pajamas, equally worried.

“I’ve always told you,” Min Rui sighed repeatedly while patting Yin Mengxi’s back. “Your personality is unsuited for unrequited love. You care too much about him. Love is only a part of life, not all of it. You can’t let one man consume all your emotions or control you.”

“Just look at yourself now—everything you do depends on his approval. If you like interning, go ahead! Why care what your boyfriend thinks? Failing a course isn’t the end of the world—why can’t you tell him? He’s not your parent or teacher. Why obsess over his feelings so much?”

“To have a healthy relationship, you first need to focus on yourself. You’ve lost yourself completely. How can you maintain your relationship with him if you don’t even know who you are?”

…Her words were as astute as they could be.

Yin Mengxi knew Min Rui was right, though she didn’t fully understand what Min meant by “your personality.” Only years later, during a psychology talk show, did she hear an expert describe the term “negatively perfectionistic”—a group of people who are excessively cautious, intolerant of mistakes, and constantly set unrealistic goals to avoid failure. Their defining trait wasn’t pursuing perfection but fearing imperfection—a mental illness akin to obsessive-compulsive disorder, characterized by an intense fear of inadequacy.

That was her.

She had always been overly concerned with others’ opinions, but her fixation on Xiao Zhi was a million times worse. The moment she revealed her flaws to him, she felt imperfect. From there, she amplified her perceived defects, turning imaginary failures into certainties. Her self-denial was the root cause of her inner collapse.

“Heehee, I think you really need to sort out your relationship with Senior Xiao...”

Ren Weiwei, standing below the bed, offered her earnest advice.

“If this continues, you’ll hurt yourself. This kind of relationship is unhealthy…”

Sort out?

What did that mean?

…Was it breaking up?

She didn’t want to separate from him.

But as time passed, she increasingly realized... it seemed inevitable.

The human heart is fertile soil. Complex emotions nourish every seed planted within. Once the idea of “breaking up” took root, it grew stronger with each passing day, basking in sunlight and rain until it ripened, ready to fall.

Finally, she sent him that message—

Her: Xiao Zhi.

Her: Let’s break up.

No emotional punctuation, no emojis—it seemed so simple. But the moment she hit send, she collapsed into tears, sobbing uncontrollably as if the world had ended.

His calls and messages came flooding in, incessant and relentless. Her phone rang nonstop, but she lacked the courage to respond, shutting it off and retreating into her own world to escape the storm. What she didn’t expect was that three days later, he would suddenly appear beneath her dormitory building. It seemed he had flown back from the other side of the globe just to see her, so rushed that he hadn’t even brought a single piece of luggage.

“Xiao Xi...”

How familiar the nickname was. A year ago, hearing it for the first time made her heart race. Now, it felt like a dagger piercing her flesh, a reminder that all the sweetness and happiness she once cherished would never belong to her again.

She cried—a complete breakdown, sobbing until her voice was hoarse and her chest ached. Even as he held her tightly in his arms, her tears wouldn’t stop. Her body trembled—not from excitement, but from shock.

“What’s wrong...”

He persisted, probing for answers. Yet she couldn’t explain. Deep down, she still sensed his care. His question lacked a subject—”What’s wrong...” instead of “What’s wrong with you?”—so it didn’t sound accusatory. In truth, she knew all the blame lay with her. His forgiveness was already the kindest mercy.

“I don’t know...”

She was at a loss, her mind unable to function. Her mouth spoke on its own.

“I really don’t know... I... I feel so terrible...”

“I can’t sleep... I can’t eat... I cry all the time...”

“I’m afraid to answer your calls... I’m afraid to think of you... Whenever I think of you, I cry...”

“I feel like everything I do is wrong... Nothing has meaning anymore...”

“I feel awful... I shouldn’t think about money... But I desperately need it...”

“We seem incompatible...”

“I... I can’t meet your expectations. I’ll only disappoint you...”

“I’m not worthy of you...”

…Perhaps this was her most honest moment with him.

All her thoughts spilled out, jumbled and chaotic, though some deeper truths remained unclear. But her raw emotions were laid bare. She had been crushed by pressure and could no longer endure.

She didn’t know how painful or helpless he felt then. Perhaps he had endured just as much hardship over the past year. But their paths had diverged, and it seemed they were heading in different directions, watching each other drift further away.

He had planned many things to say to win her back. During the ten-plus hours after receiving her breakup message and before landing, he had prepared his words carefully, planning to comfort and persuade her. But seeing her sobbing helplessly in his arms made him hesitate.

…Her condition was terrible.

She had grown gaunt, as if ill. No matter how many times she wiped her tears, new waves of sorrow overflowed. This wasn’t how she used to be. When they were together before, her eyes sparkled. There was a shy sparkle, a subtle liveliness. She smiled at him happily, as if he could make her happy.

—And now?

Now… Have I made you so exhausted, so miserable?

His resolve to win her back suddenly felt wrong. Persuading her to stay meant asking her to endure more suffering. A gentle lake, struck by a massive stone, tried desperately not to ripple, still attempting to gift her with shimmering reflections in its final moments.

“Then let’s take a break for a while...”

His voice was hoarse, perhaps from the long flight, or perhaps because he was close to tears himself.

“When you feel better... can we meet again?”

They both knew these words were empty promises.

A dignified breakup should be like this—no shouting, no accusations. Young people part ways maturely, marked by a false promise of a nonexistent future. They embraced as they said goodbye, and she even accompanied him to the airport. The way she addressed him reverted from “Xiao Zhi” to “Senior,” and their interactions regressed from hugs and kisses to polite nods. He glanced at her lingeringly, his deep eyes shrouded in misty valleys. She still felt lost in them, but dared not linger any longer.

“...Goodbye.”

He said.

“Goodbye.”

She replied.

Clean and simple, without excessive drama to destroy dignity. But when he finally turned and disappeared through security, she broke down uncontrollably. Passersby stared at her in astonishment, but she no longer cared. Like a refugee on the last day of the world, she didn’t care if the ruins continued to crumble.

…So be it.

A person’s luck is finite.

Having such a beautiful and radiant first love... I’ve already spent all my future good fortune.

What followed was a long period of adjustment to the breakup.

It was difficult. After the initial collapse of grief, regret began creeping in. On average, she thought about reconciling with him fifty times a day, only to suppress those urges mercilessly. The power of a first love was that strong—even after ending, it tormented her relentlessly. Thoughts of him lingered stubbornly in her heart. She didn’t know when this torment would finally end.

…So she numbed herself with even crazier work.

She practically lived at the station, working harder than any full-time employee. The station’s teachers praised her as a promising talent, joking that she must come work there after graduation and not run off to another TV station. Gains always come with losses; she skipped more and more classes, prompting her counselor to intervene, advising her to balance study and work to avoid jeopardizing her graduation.

The traits of a negatively perfectionistic personality reared their heads again. The goals she set for herself became increasingly unrealistic, forcing her into an exhausting cycle. Yet she kept brainwashing herself, calling it effort, ambition, youthful vigor—anything but wrong, anything but pathological.

Months passed before she slowly began to heal.

The fresh, bloody wound gradually scabbed over. Though it still hurt to touch, it was no longer as shocking. Her weight slowly returned to ninety pounds, and her insomnia lessened. Min Rui and the others were happy for her, saying that old loves must leave for new ones to arrive. She would surely find someone more compatible, someone who would bring her greater happiness.

—What a delicate choice of words: “more compatible” instead of “better.” Clearly, even her closest friends had to admit there was no one better than Xiao Zhi.

Would she love again?

Could she ever feel such intense affection for someone else?

Would she still feel that wild flutter over a library book, a bag of medicine from the campus clinic, or a roasted sweet potato in winter?

Would she still give her all—her heart and her money—to prepare gifts for someone?

Would she still cry silently in the dead of night for someone?

…No.

She had already seen the brightest, gentlest spring this world had to offer.

From now on… there would be no seasons.

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Author’s Note:

One final update remains for the campus arc.