YJDNY - 34

Shen Jing’s father, Shen Shuheng, was a teacher at a provincial key high school. Gentle and elegant, he was deeply loved by his students.

No one had noticed the essence hidden beneath his calm exterior. After discovering that various attempts to seek help yielded little effect, Shen Jing gradually began to change.

Silent, numb, yet hysterical.

Until the day before the college entrance exam, she committed suicide.

She was rushed to the hospital, where a large dose of sleeping pills and sedatives were found in her stomach.

The overall decoration style of Xia Wei’s home leaned towards warmth.

Warm-colored wallpaper, soft feather chandeliers—yet at this moment, it felt cold and lifeless.

Xiang Ge sat curled up in the corner, her lips tightly pressed together, her eyes pitch black.

She was already thin, but now she looked even thinner, her handbones protruding from her pale skin.

“She told me it was just for her movie role,” Xia Wei said with furrowed brows, worried. “But I always felt something wasn’t right. This can’t go on.”

Zhou Xingyan didn’t respond.

Xia Wei hesitated for a moment, then left the room, closing the door behind her.

Zhou Xingyan stood still.

Xiang Ge tilted her head up to look at him, her expression slowly changing.

She slightly curved the corners of her lips, her voice weak and low: “You’re here.”

Zhou Xingyan didn’t speak. His gaze lingered briefly on the script beside her hand before returning to her face.

Xiang Ge noticed his expression and tilted her head slightly.

“You don’t have to look at me like that,” she said indifferently. “I know who I am.”

Zhou Xingyan pursed his lips, walked over, and crouched down in front of her.

Xiang Ge watched him approach, instinctively flinching.

Zhou Xingyan froze.

She stared at him, pulling her legs back, murmuring softly: “I know who I am…”

Zhou Xingyan’s voice softened as he called her name: “Xiang Ge.”

Xiang Ge gazed at him absentmindedly, unresponsive.

“Xiang Ge.”

He called again.

Her focus finally returned.

Her dark eyes were filled with confusion, her long lashes trembling slightly. Her eyes were swollen, and the corners were faintly moist.

Zhou Xingyan’s throat tightened as he moved closer.

She immediately noticed, panicking like a frightened animal, retreating backward. But there was a bed behind her, leaving her nowhere to go.

In vain, she tried to move back, her spine pressing tightly against the bed frame.

Zhou Xingyan lowered his eyelashes, raising his hand to gently rest it on top of her head.

Xiang Ge trembled slightly.

He forced himself not to let go, gently stroking her soft, long hair. The movement was slow and tender, lasting until she finally calmed down.

The man’s palm was warm, his presence familiar, clean, and reassuring.

Xiang Ge hunched her shoulders, lowering her head, and suddenly began to cry.

She had always told herself not to be afraid.

From the very beginning, she hadn’t cried over this matter or because of Xiang Lin. She kept telling herself she had never been afraid of him.

But she wasn’t made of steel. How could anyone be so strong?

Years of suppressed fear suddenly found an outlet, and along with it came a flood of memories rushing back, swirling in her mind like an inescapable shadow.

Like a child, she whimpered softly, tears falling heavily, trembling as she muttered:

“I’m so scared…”

“I’m exactly like her…”

“Please, I’m so scared.”

“It feels like I’m two different people.”

“I can’t get out…”

Zhou Xingyan’s jaw tightened, a suffocating feeling rising in his chest like a tide.

Leaning forward, he reached out and pulled her into his arms.

The woman in his embrace was small and frail, like paper, as if too much force would break her apart.

Only then did he realize how much weight she had lost.

His chin rested on the top of her head, his arms tightening slightly. His voice was steady, hoarse, and emphatic as he repeated her name over and over again.

“You are not like her.”

“You are much braver than her.”

“You’ve done great.”

It was only after Xiang Ge fell asleep that Zhou Xingyan moved.

He sat on the floor, cradling the girl, slowly stood up, and placed her on the bed. Then, he soaked a warm towel and gently wiped away the tear stains from her face.

When he stepped out, Xia Wei immediately stood up from the sofa, looking at him with concern and unease. After a long pause, she said: “I’m sorry.”

Even though they had known each other for eight years, and she was her friend.

But facing Zhou Xingyan, Xia Wei felt a sense of guilt and apology.

Zhou Xingyan raised his eyes.

“It’s my fault for not taking care of her,” Xia Wei sighed. “At first, I thought you two were just arguing. Plus, she had taken on a movie role, saying she needed to prepare for her character, so I—” She paused.

“By the time I realized something was wrong, I didn’t know what to do anymore.”

Xia Wei said dejectedly: “She wouldn’t tell me anything. It’s always been like that since we were kids. If she doesn’t want to say something, no one can make her.”

Upon hearing this, Zhou Xingyan raised his eyes: “When did you two meet?”

“About six or seven years ago, in France.” Xia Wei recalled, “I heard about her when I was in preparatory school. Later, we attended the same high school and became close.”

She turned her head slightly, “But between you and her, I’ve always felt like you two seem to have known each other for a long time.”

Zhou Xingyan silently smiled, lowering his eyes: “Yes.”

A long time.

“This kind of situation is quite common.”

On the second floor of a suburban villa, Zhou’s mother sat lazily on a long chair, crossing her legs as she plucked a grape and popped it into her mouth.

“There are all kinds of cases—depression, schizophrenia, even suicide attempts. It all depends on whether they can pull through and adjust afterward. This is also a necessary path for a good actor. Once they overcome this hurdle, their future is limitless. If they can’t, they’re done for, and might as well quit the industry.”

“…”

Seeing Zhou Xingyan fall silent, his mother glanced at him sideways. “What’s wrong? Is your little model stuck?” She exclaimed, “So early? They haven’t even started filming yet. Usually, it happens after wrapping up—at least a month or two, sometimes even years.”

Zhou Xingyan raised his eyes but didn’t speak.

His mother thought for a moment and continued: “But for her role, it’s not hard to understand why she’s struggling. To truly empathize with the character, one must first immerse themselves.”

She’s immersed herself so deeply that she can’t get out.

Zhou Xingyan rubbed his temples. “Do you have any solutions?”

His mother spat out the grape seeds: “What’s worrying you? Isn’t it good to let her stay in this state? Or should I tell you after the filming is done?”

“…”

“Forget it.” Zhou Xingyan sighed. “When does filming start?”

“Early next month.” His mother looked at him suspiciously. “What are you planning? Did you come all the way here in the middle of the night just to ask about your little model?”

Zhou Xingyan nodded and walked toward the door: “Tell Dad I’m applying for annual leave. No need to report to higher-ups.”

His mother watched him leave with an exasperated expression, grabbed her phone from the side, tapped on Dean Zhou’s profile, and typed quickly: [Your son wants to take annual leave to chase a girl. Don’t let him come back unless he succeeds.]

Dean Zhou, who was on a business trip, replied quickly: [Approved. Tell him not to come back if he fails.]

Zhou’s mother rolled her eyes and sent the screenshot to Zhou Xingyan.

Xiang Ge woke up several times in her sleep, disoriented and unable to distinguish between dreams and reality.

As night fell, the room was pitch black. She stared blankly at the ceiling for a while before suddenly reaching out to turn on the bedside lamp.

Zhou Xingyan happened to walk in at that moment.

Xiang Ge quickly turned her head, startled, instinctively retreating further.

Zhou Xingyan remained still, giving her time to recover, and softly called her name: “Xiang Ge.”

She stared at him for a long moment, blinked, and slowly relaxed.

“I am Xiang Ge,” she muttered to herself, her eyes hollow as if reminding herself.

Zhou Xingyan suppressed the tightness in his chest, turned around to close the door, and walked over to sit by the bed: “Want to sleep a little more?”

Xiang Ge snapped out of her daze and slowly shook her head.

“Hungry?”

She shook her head again.

Zhou Xingyan sighed helplessly: “Xia Wei said she prepared all sorts of delicious meals for you every night during this period, but you barely ate.”

Xiang Ge lowered her eyes, unresponsive.

Zhou Xingyan smiled: “How are you bullying her?”

Xiang Ge finally lifted her eyes to look at him.

She must have cried in her sleep, as her long lashes were still wet, and the corners of her eyes were red.

Zhou Xingyan reached out to wipe away the moisture from the corners of her eyes. “Want to go out and play?”

She shook her head.

“We’ll go somewhere far away, where no one knows us. We won’t think about anything.” He spoke softly.

She seemed to hesitate, remaining silent for a long time.

Taking her silence as consent, Zhou Xingyan pulled the blanket up, adjusted her pillow, and lay down on the edge of the bed. He propped his head up with his elbow and used his other arm to gently wrap around her through the blanket, patting her rhythmically. His voice was light and slow, carrying a deep tenderness under the dim yellow light.

“You’ve spent many years in Europe, so you must be tired of it. How about we go to Japan? At this time of year, we might still catch the tail end of cherry blossoms.”

Xiang Ge turned her head, her hair brushing against the pillow, making a faint rustling sound.

Zhou Xingyan was looking down at her.

Their eyes met, and she quickly lowered her lashes. Her body, wrapped in the blanket, shifted slightly, and finally, she opened her mouth in a hoarse voice: “You’re not working anymore.”

Zhou Xingyan loosened his hold on her slightly. “Mm, I’m not. I haven’t rested in a long time. I figured I’d take some annual leave and rest properly.”

Xiang Ge remained silent for a while before letting out a self-deprecating smile. “You don’t have to do this. I’ve already gotten used to it. I don’t need anyone—”

To sympathize with me.

She didn’t finish her sentence.

Zhou Xingyan tightened his arms around her and suddenly leaned closer.

His thin lips gently landed on her damp eyelids, softly touching her skin.

Warm and soft, the sensation lingered.

Xiang Ge’s eyes widened.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured against the corner of her eye, his voice husky, as if suppressing something.

“For not being by your side all the time, I’m sorry.”

“It won’t happen again. From now on, I’ll be with you wherever you go. If you leave, I’ll find you.”

“Can you… forgive me just once?”