Chapter 73: Devotion

—When was the last time they stood together in the rain?

It seemed like such a long time ago.

She still remembered that night—the fireworks at the amusement park were extraordinarily brilliant, and the rain outside the subway station was particularly stubborn. The embrace and kiss he gave her in the darkness felt as though they had been branded onto her soul. Even after all these years, she couldn’t forget. Now wasn’t much different—only the location had changed from the house near his school to her rented apartment. He was still the one taking care of her, dutifully fetching a dry towel to gently pat her wet hair while she sat on the couch in the living room.

“Are you cold?” His voice was low as he asked, “…Do you want to change your clothes?”

The room was dimly lit by a single floor lamp. She kept her eyes half-lowered to avoid meeting his gaze, but she could see the slight tremor of his Adam’s apple as he spoke.

“No,” she muttered, shaking her head.

He seemed to sigh, a familiar kind of helplessness. A small silence grew between them, calm on the surface but concealing turbulent emotions beneath. They both knew it, yet neither could bring themselves to break it just yet.

“Did something happen?” he asked, close enough that his warm breath brushed against her ear, soft as a lover’s whisper during their honeymoon phase. “You look… very troubled.”

Troubled?

…Did he still worry about her?

Her lashes fluttered, and slowly, she raised her eyes. The yellowish light illuminated his overly handsome face. The young man had transformed into a more mature and reserved version of himself, raindrops still trickling down his dark hair.

“…No,” she shook her head again, her eyes growing redder as she looked at him. She would never take the initiative to confess, yet trying to hide it was futile.

He already knew. Her heart tightened just as much as her brows did. A lover’s tears were a flood that overwhelmed reason—he had always known how powerful they could be, and now he understood how long their effects could linger. She was enveloped in his arms again, his damp shirt doing little to mask the warmth of his embrace. The floating world quietly settled once more; she knew someone was trying to catch her.

“I’m so sorry…”

His voice was close to her ear, almost brushing against her earlobe. His apology was without clear cause—she knew she had never been owed anything—but that didn’t stop her from crying harder or venting her emotions toward him.

“Why are you apologizing to me?” She sounded almost accusatory, like a failing student questioning their teacher. “You didn’t do anything wrong…”

Did he not?

No.

In the past, he thought he hadn’t, but gradually, he realized how much responsibility he bore for the failure of their first love.

She had always been the one actively giving—cross-disciplinary courses in the literature department, tirelessly helping with theater club logistics, even giving up the student council election to work on the Challenge Cup with him. Yet he merely accepted silently. At first, he quietly accepted her subtle stares in the library, then later her careful approaches in the drama club. Even after they got together, he remained passive, which was why she had nervously run back to school that year, bursting into tears the moment she reached him.

He should have known her unease.

Their timing wasn’t ideal. Her secret exposed cruelly in front of everyone—how awkward and sorrowful her heart must have been. But he failed to protect her. Knowing she often browsed that inexplicable forum, he didn’t understand what it truly reflected: her sensitivity to others’ gazes. Being closer to her than those anonymous faces behind screens, he naturally caused her greater harm.

…That was his biggest mistake. When they disagreed over her internship, he said something cruel—”How could you become like this?”

What was that?

What right did he have to judge her choices?

What did “like this” mean? Those two simple words carried a distinct value judgment. In saying them, he unconsciously adopted a condescending stance, as if she had committed some grave error or made an absurd decision. In truth, she was only doing what she had always wanted to do.

What was wrong with working hard at internships? Was academia inherently purer and nobler than other jobs? Even if she pursued money wholeheartedly, so what? It was just a lifestyle choice—all options should be equal. The unfamiliar look in his eyes must have deeply hurt her, which was why she increasingly avoided his gaze, eventually losing the ability to communicate with him altogether.

He had been careless.

And too decisive, too narrow-minded.

“I should have known…” He held her tighter, his voice damp like the rain-soaked air. “…You’ve always been so tired.”

“I left you feeling lonely, didn’t I? I never understood your choices or how hard you worked.”

“I thought I wouldn’t make you feel uneasy, but I kept making mistakes… I hurt you deeply.”

…He hadn’t changed.

Perhaps ultimate gentleness was like this—not just soft-spoken elegance but also a strong sense of responsibility. Even ambiguous wrongs were acknowledged as certainties. It seemed he was determined to cast her as an innocent victim while writing himself a lengthy list of sins, signing and sealing it without complaint.

…But it wasn’t like that.

The one who made mistakes was her.

The unease she felt wasn’t because of him—it stemmed from her own inferiority and obsession. She knew security couldn’t be granted by others but had to be earned by oneself. That’s why she worked so hard at internships, believing money could be the foundation of everything.

But she was wrong.

Money wasn’t that great, and inferiority wasn’t easily overcome. Those who truly believed in themselves could stand brilliantly amidst life’s chaos without relying on external things. But those burdened by inferiority, even if wealthy beyond measure, could still be easily crushed by random factors.

She had been wrong from the start—completely, absurdly wrong.

“It’s not like that…”

Now, all she could do was shake her head. Her scalding tears mingled with the cold raindrops falling from his hair, a strange mix of contradiction and warmth.

“You shouldn’t apologize to me. The one who made mistakes was me…”

“I’ve always liked you, but I always felt unworthy of being with you… When they snatched my diary in the hotpot restaurant, I felt humiliated and ashamed. But later, I thought it was fortunate—it might have given me the courage to tell you how I felt. Otherwise, I might never have dared to say it…”

“I often felt ashamed. Every day after we got together, I felt like I was taking advantage… I heard people talk about how good your family background was, but I was too afraid to ask you directly… Because I knew I wasn’t worthy… I’m so ordinary… I have nothing…”

“The day we argued, I lied—really, I’m not that obsessed with money. I just wanted to improve myself, to avoid being despised by your family or looked down upon by others. What I said about disliking writing papers or working on the Challenge Cup—I lied about all of it. I actually liked those things. I just… I just…”

Just what?

She couldn’t continue. Her emotions spilled over, tears flooding uncontrollably. Her disjointed words were hard to follow, but he seemed to understand. His arm around her shoulder tightened, as if心疼(pained) by her, or perhaps falling deeper in love with her.

“Xiao Xi…”

He called her name softly. Even the youngest associate professor of the top-tier literature department could be rendered speechless when emotions ran high. The meaning of a first love could never be confined to romance alone—it was part of time itself, leaving indelible marks in the brightest parts of life, telling you that you could never forget the person who brought you through those tumultuous seasons.

She didn’t care if he was speechless. The seven years of separation had been silent, and now, finally, the honesty that lingered found its outlet. She couldn’t rein it in anymore, letting it run wild and unchecked.

“I was so close to succeeding… really, just a little bit more…”

“I could stay in this city on my own, buy a house with my own strength… I could excel, make many people know my name…”

“I tried so hard… I just… I just didn’t have enough luck…”

…Again, her words turned childishly plaintive.

Like a student who didn’t perform well on an exam, complaining tearfully to their parents: I did try, but my pencil broke during the test. The listening broadcast was unclear. The classmate next to me kept disturbing me… He understood it all. Even with just these few short sentences, he could imagine the hardships she endured over the years. Stubborn girls often pushed themselves to the brink, as if taking a breath would be sinful.

“I know…” He gently stroked her hair, as cautious and restrained as on their first day together, yet the depth of his appreciation had grown immeasurably. This was the inevitable legacy their shared experiences had bestowed upon them. “You’ve done so well…”

—Wasn’t that true?

She had done so well. But no one had told her this in all those years. Outcome-driven standards were the cruelest judges—every effort before “success” seemed worthless. But the truth was far from it. Every step she took had meaning. She didn’t need exaggerated praise—just someone to tell her, “You’ve done so well…”

He knew what she needed. All the companionship and comfort he had owed her in the past was now repaid tenfold in his tenderness. The lingering sound of rain outside paled in comparison to the allure of his whispers. Through her tear-blurred eyes, she raised her head to look at him. Under the dim yellow light, she could barely make out his deep, tranquil eyes. The lake of his youth seemed insufficient now—it had expanded into something vast and tender, like the moon rising over the sea.

“Xiao Xi…”

He called her name again, the unique term washing over her heart like waves. She could be many things—”Xixi” to Min Rui, “Little Yin” to Sun Jianbin, “Teacher Yin” to Yao Ankai, “Sister Mengxi” to Wei Chi—but only to him was she “Xiao Xi,” stripped bare of all pretenses. He fused bitterness and sweetness together, his warm breath whispering to her that the lingering springtime continued, entwined like lotus roots.

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Author’s Note:

Let’s set rational conversations aside for now and dive into some wild, passionate romance (

Tomorrow at 18:00, you’ll understand what I mean!!