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The first feeling that swept over her?
It was complete realization.
So that’s how it was.
His attitude had gradually softened toward her because of this.
She had even started to believe he liked her. She had thought, perhaps, he had been missing her too.
But no.
It felt like a cold mockery of her self-delusion.
And then, what came next?
Humiliation.
It was as if the last shred of modesty had been ruthlessly torn away, leaving her completely exposed, deeply and mortifyingly so.
But most of all, she didn’t want this from him.
She didn’t want his pity or sympathy. She didn’t want him to feel sorry for her.
Oh, the boy I’ve loved so deeply—how I wish my image in your eyes could forever remain untainted, forever radiant.
The air stood still. The living room was eerily silent, as though time itself had frozen. Xiang Ge hung her head low. “…You knew all along?”
Zhou Hangyan said nothing.
“You know everything?”
Her shoulders and lashes trembled. Her voice was soft, yet clear. “You know about the things at my home.”
“You know everything about me.”
Zhou Hangyan’s fingers stiffened, clenching into fists, his knuckles turning white.
After reading the script of Cocoon , Zhou Hangyan’s first instinct was to see her.
He couldn’t explain why. A sense of unease, like wild grass, sprouted uncontrollably within him, impossible to ignore or pretend away.
He thought of her dark, hollow eyes—lifeless and numb. He remembered her sobbing awake from nightmares years ago, remembered the girl lying pale on the hospital bed, almost blending with the sheets, quietly saying, “I hope everyone in this world can suffer a little less.”
A thought naturally surfaced, forming into a vague yet certain hypothesis.
Until he saw that man at her house.
The man looked old and fragile, bearing traces of her features in his eyes and brows.
How simple it seemed.
So very simple.
Everything made sense now.
Zhou Hangyan couldn’t forget Xiang Ge’s expression then, just as he couldn’t forget the wounded girl curled under the streetlamp years ago—the way she had looked at him.
That lost, shivering gaze, stubborn yet clinging to a fragile defiance.
As if the last ray of light had vanished.
She couldn’t see any light. She had only herself to rely on.
How terrified she must have been.
How desperate.
She was such a proud person—how could she bring herself to speak of it?
She should always be bright and happy, confident and radiant, laughing lazily under the sun.
Zhou Hangyan didn’t know. Eight years ago, he didn’t know. Even eight years later, he remained foolishly selfish, wallowing in his own emotions, as if he were the one hurt, the one wronged, as if he had suffered some great betrayal, as if he were the one abandoned.
How utterly foolish.
How terrible.
Where had he been when she was afraid?
Where had he been when she needed him most?
Zhou Hangyan dared not think about it.
He couldn’t bear to imagine how she had endured it alone, how she had spent countless cold nights in silence.
At the thought of it, Zhou Hangyan felt as though a rusty knife had carved a hole into his heart, icy winds rushing in, chilling him to the bone.
Thinking of it made him hate himself.
Not a single word of explanation could leave his lips.
After a long silence, Xiang Ge suddenly laughed, her voice calm once more.
“Of course you knew.”
“You know everything.” She repeated softly, over and over.
“You know everything. There’s nothing I can hide from you.”
“You know it all.”
“Only I, in my delusion, thought I was hiding well, thought I was acting perfectly.”
She raised her head, her eyes red-rimmed but dry. “Zhou Hangyan, did you enjoy watching me play the fool so hard?”
“Say something! Are you mute?!”
Finally, she collapsed into a scream.
Zhou Hangyan opened his mouth, but closed it again, his lips pressed tightly shut. His eyes remained silent, unreadable emotions swirling within.
Xiang Ge no longer cared to understand.
She abruptly stood up and walked past him, but he grabbed her wrist firmly.
His grip was strong, unyielding. Xiang Ge struggled twice, but couldn’t break free.
Zhou Hangyan’s throat moved as he finally spoke, his voice hoarse. “Don’t go.”
Xiang Ge’s lashes fluttered violently, then fell. She let out a bitter laugh.
“Are you my father or my mother? What gives you the right to control me?”
She turned to face him, raising her eyes, a mocking smile playing on her lips. “Zhou Hangyan, do you understand your place?”
Zhou Hangyan said nothing, stubbornly keeping his lips sealed, refusing to release her wrist.
Her wrist throbbed painfully in his grasp.
She averted her eyes. “Let go.”
He said nothing, refusing to release her.
“Let me go.”
“Anything but this,” he rasped suddenly.
“This isn’t allowed.”
“Don’t leave.”
Xiang Ge raised her eyes, pleading.
“Can you just let me be alone for a while?”
Her eyes were red-rimmed, glistening moisture pooling, dampening her lashes.
Zhou Hangyan froze, his fingers unconsciously loosening.
Xiang Ge pulled her hand back and walked into the room, shutting the door behind her.
On the coffee table in the living room, carefully peeled and sliced fruits were neatly arranged on a small plate. In the kitchen, the stove was still on, simmering something with a faint sweet aroma wafting through the air.
Zhou Hangyan stood outside her door, the room silent and still.
He stood there for a long time before silently walking away.
________________________________________
At five in the morning, the sunlight was cold. Xiang Ge dragged her suitcase out of the room, pausing as she stepped out.
Zhou Hangyan was still wearing the same clothes from yesterday. The white shirt made his complexion appear almost pale. He sat quietly in the dining chair, watching her with deep, dark eyes.
Xiang Ge said nothing.
Zhou Hangyan broke the silence first. His throat was dry, his voice low and rough. “Where are you going?”
Xiang Ge didn’t answer, staring at him with an almost stubborn determination.
After a long moment…
“I’ll take you.”
He relented.
Xiang Ge didn’t return home. Instead, she went to Xia Wei’s house.
Xia Wei often traveled for work, and when Xiang Ge arrived, Xia Wei had just returned from a flight and was struggling with jet lag. Drowsy and disoriented, she opened the door to find Xiang Ge standing there and immediately snapped awake.
Seeing Zhou Hangyan behind her, all thoughts of jet lag and sleep vanished. She blinked, looking between the two of them. “Eh? What’s going on here?”
Xiang Ge didn’t say anything, simply dragging her suitcase inside.
Leaving Xia Wei standing at the door, exchanging awkward glances with Zhou Hangyan.
After five seconds of silent eye contact, Xia Wei raised her eyebrows in silent inquiry. Zhou Hangyan didn’t offer an explanation, only pressing his lips together and saying, “I’ll come pick her up in a couple of days.”
Xia Wei raised an eyebrow.
The man hesitated slightly, pulling out his phone and handing it over. “Could you give me your number?”
Looking at his pale, almost translucent face, Xia Wei didn’t hesitate much, quickly entering her number and dialing before handing it back.
Zhou Hangyan nodded slightly, bowing his head in a small gesture of gratitude. “Thank you for the trouble.”
Xia Wei watched him turn and walk away, stepping into the elevator, before closing the door.
As soon as she entered the house, she saw Xiang Ge slumped on the sofa, eyes closed.
Xia Wei walked over and sat beside her, leaning slightly to examine the dark circles under her eyes.
“Little Pigeon, these dark circles seem to be getting worse.”
Xiang Ge kept her eyes closed, offering no response.
“The doctor boyfriend I saw earlier also looked pale, like he hasn’t eaten properly in days, like he’s malnourished.”
Xia Wei deliberately clicked her tongue. “What’s going on with you two? Are you both on some kind of fasting diet or practicing immortality?”
This time, Xiang Ge opened her eyes.
Xia Wei leaned back into the sofa. “Pigeon, got any stories to tell your big sister?”
Xiang Ge stared blankly at the ceiling for a while before suddenly speaking. “I was wrong.”
“I deceived myself.”
“What?” Xia Wei didn’t understand.
“All the things I thought—I was wrong.”
“I thought I could handle it, but none of it worked. I was overestimating myself.”
“Xia Xia.”
Xia Wei looked at her and responded.
“I took on a movie role,” Xiang Ge said slowly. “But I can’t do it. It’s too difficult.”
“It’s really, really hard.”
Xia Wei didn’t say anything.
But she couldn’t help feeling that Xiang Ge wasn’t just talking about the movie.
Xiang Ge temporarily stayed with Xia Wei, who happened to have no travel plans during this period and could stay in town.
While Xia Wei was at work, Xiang Ge quietly stayed home, reading the script. She could sit and read it all day long.
After a week passed, Xia Wei noticed something different about her.
It was as if something was slowly sinking into the depths of water. Xia Wei could clearly sense Xiang Ge becoming increasingly withdrawn, quieter, more cautious, occasionally showing traces of fear and timidity.
Every night, Zhou Hangyan would send a message to check on her.
When another message came through, Xia Wei hesitated for a moment before bringing up the issue.
It was five in the evening, and Xia Wei was stuck at the office finishing two reports when Zhou Hangyan called directly.
The moment she picked up, Zhou Hangyan’s voice came through immediately. “What’s going on?”
Xia Wei explained everything thoroughly.
“And it’s getting worse,” Xia Wei said hesitantly. “It feels like she’s become a completely different person.”
There was silence on the other end for nearly half a minute before he spoke again. “Can I see her?”
His voice carried a slight difference from before. Xia Wei furrowed her brows slightly as she listened.
Without finishing her work, Xia Wei grabbed her car keys and left the office immediately after hanging up. When she arrived home, Zhou Hangyan was already waiting downstairs.
Together, they went upstairs, and Xia Wei unlocked the door.
The living room was empty, the lights off, shrouded in darkness.
Xia Wei turned on the lights, entered the house, and walked to the room where Xiang Ge slept, knocking on the door.
No response.
Zhou Hangyan stood behind her, lowering his eyes. Without hesitation, he pushed down the doorknob and opened the door.
The woman inside was curled up on the floor by the bed. At the sound of the door opening, she flinched like a startled bird, retreating further into the corner. Her cold, black eyes stared at them warily, full of caution.
Her bare feet were on the floor, her toes curling inward.
Beside her feet lay the script, open and worn from being flipped through repeatedly.
Zhou Hangyan froze in place.
Familiarity.
He had read the entire script.
Her appearance now was identical to Shen Jing, the protagonist of Cocoon.
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