PSE - 30

The warmth on his body lasted only a moment before the bone-chilling cold returned.

When it came to handling Xue Jing’s emotions, Ha Yue truly had an innate talent for manipulating them with ease.

Xue Jing’s right hand, gripping the chopsticks, gradually tightened until the knuckles turned white from the excessive pressure. In his line of sight, just as Ha Yue’s thin, rough fingers touched the edge of the thermos, his left hand grabbed hers.

He held her hand, which still carried the scent of blood, the same hand that had slaughtered the goose.

Their fingers intertwined, sending fine electric currents through their nerve endings. Xue Jing swallowed the food in his mouth in one gulp, then used his right hand to pick up another piece of goose meat and force himself to chew it while maintaining a gentle demeanor.

Ha Yue was right—he wanted to vomit, his internal organs churning like a washing machine. But he didn’t want to be easily provoked by Ha Yue, led by the nose, and say something he would immediately regret. So, he pretended not to understand the proposition she was expressing.

“What does your plan to slaughter pigs next year have to do with me eating now?”

“Can you speak plainly? Your words are all over the place—I don’t understand.”

“What era are we in, still dividing people into different classes? I really don’t get it. What kind of person are you? What kind of person am I? Aren’t we both primates? If you can stay here, why can’t I? Why?”

“Why exactly?”

This was the third time Xue Jing had asked her “why” in half an hour, but just like the previous times, it wasn’t because he didn’t know the answer.

At this moment, he was not only blurring the argument but also destroying evidence. The goose meat in his mouth piled up more and more, as if he were a hamster storing food in its cheeks.

But could Ha Yue not see that he was forcing himself? His tense lips and hurried eating made her even more uncomfortable. The right hand he was holding burned all the way to her chest. Her heart, which had already sunk, began to ache again. The outer shell had cracked, and her heart could no longer remain impervious. Everything she did seemed clumsy and panicked.

The silent sorrow swept her from the beach straight into the Pacific Ocean. Her nose tingled with the urge to cry.

Pulling her right hand free, Ha Yue raised her voice to stop herself from tearing up.

“If you don’t want to eat, then don’t eat.”

“Who said I don’t want to eat?”

“Xue Jing!”

“What?”

In the heat of their argument, Ha Yue snatched Xue Jing’s chopsticks, and as he dodged, he accidentally knocked over the thermos.

The white rice soup dripped down the corner of the table, and the braised goose meat rolled away like marbles escaping from a child’s hand, scattering to various corners of the room.

Ha Yue, wearing brand-new slippers, cautiously entered his space but still ended up dirtying his immaculate house.

The late-night meal she had painstakingly prepared hadn’t managed to comfort his weary and hungry body.

She probably made his already exhausted body feel even sadder.

On such a night filled with the bittersweet feeling of loss and regained solitude, Ha Yue had genuinely wanted to peacefully coexist with Xue Jing. But their opposing energies clashed once again, leaving a mess just like in the past.

Her food, her presence, her very breath didn’t belong in his space.

It seemed she always ended up doing harm with good intentions, unable to handle Xue Jing properly no matter what she did. Being continuously chosen didn’t make her happy; instead, it made her feel insignificant, tormented, and anxious.

Ha Yue lowered her arms, finally giving up. She stopped arguing with him, shoved the chopsticks back into his hand, and bowed her head to clean the wetness on the table with a paper towel. Her voice was as bitter as the torn paper towel in her hand. “Can you stop pretending? Don’t you already know why?”

Yes, Xue Jing certainly knew.

Every spirited youth wanted to display their best qualities in front of the person they liked—it was a natural mating behavior. During their first love, Xue Jing had done just that. To nurture their relationship, he constantly flaunted his charm in front of Ha Yue, like a peacock spreading its feathers, madly releasing his allure.

He desperately wanted to succeed with his first love and live out the urban fairy tale he imagined, breaking free from the curse of his origins.

This obsession reached an almost fanatical level. He was meticulous and diligent, carefully weighing every word and action in his mind. Almost every milestone in their relationship had been planned and mentally rehearsed in advance, spanning years.

He never said the wrong thing or did the wrong thing, naively believing that his absolute excellence would naturally earn Ha Yue’s unconditional favor.

Little did he expect that this deliberately cultivated “glow” would persist so strongly that even now, Ha Yue still saw him through the lens of a halo effect.

Times had changed. Ha Yue didn’t like perfect people. To achieve his goal again, he had no choice but to tuck away his dazzling feathers and show her the less glamorous side of the peacock’s display.

If Ha Yue feared the halo around him, then he would simply turn off the light. It wasn’t a big deal.

He wasn’t a gentleman to begin with.

With a relaxed brow, Xue Jing turned around, grabbed some disposable kitchen wipes, and tossed the paper towels Ha Yue was holding into the trash. After wiping the table clean, he started cleaning the floor. When he looked up, his face still bore a pale, sickly hue, but his voice was calm, carrying a sense of resolute honesty. “I know, but I’m not the person you think I am.”

“I didn’t mention this earlier, but when Cao Xiaoyu was rushed to the emergency room, the hospital had already arranged for her to undergo a brain CT scan. Radiation poses a risk of causing deformities in fetal development. If I really cared about this matter, I would have immediately advised the couple to terminate the pregnancy before focusing on recovery. But I found it troublesome.”

Since reading Bertrand Russell in his youth, Xue Jing had completely devoted himself to the camp of materialism. In his entire life, he had never prayed to gods or Buddha, considering entrusting one’s fate to any “deity” a sign of weakness. Yet, just a few hours ago, over the phone, he had told Jinzi the empty platitude, “Good people have heaven’s protection.”

Where in this world does good fortune come from? What heaven and fate? It’s all about methods and techniques.

If he were to speak frankly, he believed that good people don’t live long, while scoundrels survive for centuries.

Why do good people always suffer misfortune? Isn’t it simply because they aren’t ruthless enough?

In the past, he pretended to be magnanimous—loving her meant letting her go. Now, following his true nature, he was consumed with forcing her back, even if it meant breaking her bones.

“Besides, bringing up these topics during a meal would certainly ruin the atmosphere of our conversation, so I didn’t mention it to you.”

Speak human language to humans, ghost language to ghosts. Refusing to be a bad person yet allowing situations to deteriorate to their worst is equivalent to hypocrisy. So, which is worse—hypocrisy or a lack of compassion?

Clearly, it’s the selfishness of those who empathize but still choose to avoid risks.

When Ha Yue spoke of “people like us” versus him, wasn’t he actually the more despicable one?

Being with her, no matter how you looked at it, he wasn’t the disadvantaged party. His shining qualities were all fake gold plating; inside, the broken copper and rusted iron had long corroded.

“You probably think my inaction is terrifying, right? But it’s not just that—I’ve done plenty of things over the years that are unworthy of my position. On Weibo, I sold off-brand keyboards and substandard massage devices, products I wouldn’t even use myself. Yet, I hyped them up extravagantly.”

Relying on traffic for monetization, as long as the money was right, he accepted both subtle and blatant advertisements. He only bought expensive things, spending hundreds of thousands on antiques to decorate his home, while on social media, he encouraged everyone to use the same cheap products he promoted.

Through these garbage business deals, he bought a large luxury apartment in Jicheng, choosing only the most expensive properties in the most prime and scarce locations. Not only did he enjoy the right to live there, but the property value was also rapidly increasing.

Always saying money wasn’t important, yet not missing out on a single penny—all of it flowed into his pocket.

“Oh, by the way, did you know I started teaching classes six months ago? I partnered with male friends to create paid knowledge content, writing lesson plans, designing courses, and practically hand-holding students to teach them how to write bestsellers. But in reality, I haven’t written a book in over a year.”

“I’m already an outdated relic myself. How can I possibly teach others?”

He was quite “successful” now, but none of this brilliance had anything to do with the dreams Ha Yue once supported him for.

The path of writing had led him further astray. The youth who once pursued literary excellence had long been extinguished by worldly concerns. If he had to categorize his own “success,” he was now almost a replica of his father—a profit-driven puppet, the very type of person he once despised the most.

This kind of deceitful money-making scheme could be achieved by anyone. The difference was that most people spent their entire lives working hard with their heads down, never drawing the winning lottery ticket.

So when Ha Yue wished him success in writing the next global bestseller, he became uncontrollably angry. Deep down, he knew his own unworthiness—he didn’t deserve her blessings.

Wouldn’t Ha Yue feel disappointed hearing all this? The “Teacher Xue” she imagined walking the flowery path didn’t exist. In front of her stood only a man with a barren heart, outwardly strong but inwardly weak.

But even so, Xue Jing didn’t want to lose another chance to bare his true self to her. He wanted to lay himself open like a book for her to despise. Didn’t ordinary villains also have the right to pursue the ones they loved? Feelings naturally grew uncontrollably—what was wrong with love?

Ha Yue’s side wasn’t crowded. Adding an old boyfriend wouldn’t cause any problems.

As he spoke, Xue Jing walked over to the computer, shoved the annotated draft into Ha Yue’s arms, then turned to pick up the thermos and carry it to the sink.

Standing by the sink, Xue Jing felt completely drained. Perhaps the emotional fluctuations had accelerated the half-life of the painkillers. A sharp pain pierced his brow, and he suddenly shivered. But he hadn’t finished speaking, and he didn’t want to show weakness in front of the person he liked. So, gritting his teeth, he rolled up his sleeves and bent over to wash the dishes.

The chill enveloping him now didn’t seem to come from the outside—it was emanating endlessly from within him.

The snow outside had melted into water, but he felt as though he were trapped in a blizzard, his limbs stiff and unresponsive.

Turning on the faucet, he scrubbed the stainless steel thermos with a sponge soaked in dish soap. Dense foam covered his fingertips, and icy cold water submerged his wrists. His skin couldn’t even feel the touch of the water—it was all guided by sight alone.

Before his mouth went numb, he sped up his words.

“In the past, were you pretending too? Funny enough, so was I. You have no idea how selfish I am, so don’t feel guilty.”

“I’m staying here because I’ve got the outline of a new work.”

“The reason I’m trying to get close to you now isn’t because I’m kind and deeply affectionate, nor because I pity you and want to save you. It’s because I see a more valuable version of myself in you. Ultimately, everything I’m doing is for my own benefit.”

What did romantic enthusiasts achieve when they loved someone? Of course, they fueled the fermenting love they initiated. Love originated from the subject, and if the object of love felt happiness, it was merely a chain reaction of emotional projection.

Compared to the fulfillment the subject felt, it was negligible.

“So, Ha Yue, whether you’re drawn to me out of impulse, ambiguity, or some other reason, I don’t care. After all, I truly don’t mind, but guilt is unnecessary—it’s redundant and worthless. Don’t thank me for considering you.”

All the cards were laid out on the table. Blame the person who still reached out to place a bet.

“Of course, I know being with me will be a burden for you. But for me, even arguing with you like this feels good. So, can you overcome your discomfort and indulge my wishes?”

Xue Jing’s meaning was clear: at this stage, whether they were together or not, one of them would inevitably suffer. He didn’t want to be the one in pain, so why not let her bear it instead?

Sure enough, the selfish man was seeking a selfish kind of love. He had personally stripped off his mask, handing her a “get-out-of-jail-free” card. Its purpose? To pressure her.

The dishes were washed. There had been no sound from behind him. The clean, short nails dug into his palm, but no matter how hard he pressed, it was difficult to feel pain. Xue Jing’s lips were pale as he took a deep breath and finally released his clenched fist.

“And my family isn’t some model household either. Before I started school, I didn’t even live with my dad. My mom wasn’t his first wife…”

Water droplets fell from his fingertips onto the floor. But when Xue Jing turned around, the spot at the dining table where Ha Yue had been sitting was already empty.

His gaze followed to the entrance—there was a gap in the door, wide enough for a person to slip through. Ha Yue must have left that way. As for whether she had heard everything he said, Xue Jing wasn’t sure.

The only thing he could confirm was that Ha Yue had left in a hurry, without even taking her down jacket from the coat rack.