YJDNY - 65

The banquet hall was carpeted with a deep red, long-pile rug. In front of the velvet curtains, a man held the hand of the woman before him, bowing his head almost reverently to place a kiss on the back of her hand.

Xiang Ge’s eyes stung slightly, her long lashes lowered as her gaze fell upon his prominent nose.

The crystal chandelier sparkled brilliantly, casting a highlight on the bridge of his nose. His dark lashes were low, and at such close range, she could even see the delicate blue veins beneath his thin eyelids.

Xiang Ge opened her mouth to say something, but suddenly, the lights dimmed.

Only a few wall lamps remained lit in the vast hall, casting a faint blue glow. Rows of white candles flickered along the long tables.

The screen lit up as the designer took the stage under the spotlight to give a speech.

In the darkness, Zhou Xingyan slowly straightened himself. Around them, clusters of soft candlelight illuminated her profile, her dark eyes shimmering with an alluring light.

Xiang Ge stared at him for a few seconds before suddenly pulling him by the hand and taking two steps to the side. Without hesitation, she pulled back the heavy velvet curtain and dragged Zhou Xingyan inside.

The thick, heavy velvet curtain blocked out most of the light, allowing only faint rays from outside to filter through the cross-hatched glass windows—blurry yet clear.

Xiang Ge’s lips curved into a smile as she grabbed the collar of Zhou Xingyan’s shirt and tilted her head upward, kissing him directly.

Outside, the designer finished their speech amid thunderous applause, while behind the velvet curtain, Xiang Ge kissed him passionately, her eyes tightly shut.

At first, she was the one leading, and Zhou Xingyan had always been more than willing to comply when she took the initiative. But tonight, something felt different.

Unbeknownst to her, at some point, she had already unconsciously wrapped herself around him.

Their breaths mingled as they briefly separated, a thin strand of saliva connecting their lips. The lights seeped through the gap in the curtain, and Xiang Ge let out a soft breath, curling her toes nervously within her high heels.

Earlier, when the lights had gone out, she had been overcome with desire and hadn’t thought to restrain herself. Now that the lights were back on, if anyone noticed, they might vaguely see the soles of two pairs of shoes behind the curtain.

Xiang Ge panicked, looking up to push Zhou Xingyan away as she prepared to lead him out.

But he didn’t budge. Instead, he softly chuckled, pulling her back by the waist. He shifted his body, pressing her against the window, his leg sliding between hers and pinning her dress hem. His teeth grazed her collarbone, his breath hot and uneven, though his voice remained cool and calm. “Feeling brave?”

Xiang Ge’s backless dress left much of her weight leaning against the cold glass window. Her bare back pressed against it sent shivers through her body.

The thrill brought on by the tension grew stronger, and she nearly melted into him as she weakly pushed at his chest. “Stop… there are people outside…”

Zhou Xingyan ignored her, his fingers trailing down the line of her shoulder. They gently brushed over her smooth, pale skin, following her spine down to the small of her back. After lingering there for a moment, his fingertips slipped beneath the soft fabric of her dress, probing slightly.

Xiang Ge’s body stiffened, tears welling up in her eyes as she struggled to keep her voice low. “Zhou Xingyan, a little kiss is enough! Are you some kind of beast?”

Zhou Xingyan paused, his fingers halting their movement.

His head buried near her ear, he chuckled softly.

Furious, Xiang Ge ground her teeth and reached out to pinch his firm abs.

She didn’t hold back, her fingers digging in angrily. Zhou Xingyan hissed, shifting slightly to allow her to straighten up.

With a huff, Xiang Ge swatted his hand away from her waist and glared at him. “What’s wrong with you?”

Zhou Xingyan tilted his head, his expression calm and innocent. “What do you mean?”

“We’re still outside, surrounded by people! And what if someone sees us through the window?” She was exasperated.

Zhou Xingyan smiled, reaching up to gently tidy her slightly disheveled hair. “You were the one who seduced me.”

Xiang Ge’s eyes widened, blurting out, “That was involuntary!”

“Mm,” Zhou Xingyan said with a smirk, nodding. “So was I—completely involuntary.”

“…”

Xiang Ge raised an eyebrow, narrowing her eyes slightly. “But I’ve calmed down now. Is this how you propose? Are you mocking me?”

Zhou Xingyan casually stepped out from behind the curtain. “I wasn’t proposing.”

“Are you trying to back out now? Do you feel embarrassed because you didn’t prepare anything before proposing to me?” Xiang Ge nodded. “It’s fine, let me tell you—you really are embarrassing, Zhou Xingyan. I’m so disappointed in you.”

Zhou Xingyan: “… “

Xiang Ge spoke emotionlessly, following him out from behind the curtain as she glanced around to see if anyone had noticed them.

Zhou Xingyan found her behavior amusing. He walked over to the table, his gaze critically scanning the items before picking up a small dessert and handing it to Xiang Ge. “I need to first understand the other party’s intentions.”

Xiang Ge accepted it and quickly grabbed a small fork from a nearby table, eating the dessert with urgency. After all, it wasn’t easy to enjoy sweets under Zhou Xingyan’s watchful eye. Without looking up, she asked casually, “Oh, so have you understood now?”

After she asked, Zhou Xingyan remained silent for a long while.

Xiang Ge looked up from licking the fork.

He smiled at her, the corners of his lips slightly raised, his eyes soft and warm. “Mm, completely understood.”

The pitifully short vacation ended quickly. Zhou Xingyan returned to China, while Xiang Ge had to stay until the end of Fashion Week.

The four major fashion weeks proceeded in order, starting in New York and ending in Paris. After repeatedly assuring him that she’d return in just a few days, Zhou Xingyan boarded the plane with a tight-lipped, silent expression.

Before leaving, he didn’t forget to remind her again and again to take her medication. Xiang Ge recalled how, in both TV dramas and real life, couples usually exchanged heartfelt farewells filled with longing, hugs, and kisses at airports like this.

But their Dr. Zhou, with his aloof, godlike face, left her with one final, indifferent statement—

“Take your medicine properly.”

“…”

Xiang Ge: “Oh.”

Xiang Ge’s outfits were all from Z’s upcoming Asian market collection, designed by independent designers. Since she was the only Asian backup model, fortunately, the response was positive. Several editors from fashion magazines had taken notice of her, and one even came specifically to request an interview.

Although it was for a very small magazine, with far fewer people likely to read the feature than would glance at a random paparazzi photo of Su Yinan, Xiang Ge still felt that this trip had been worth it.

The day before she left, Xiang Ge visited Su Jingnian’s gallery.

The gallery was located in the Marais district, the most vibrant area for contemporary art in Paris. With its transparent glass façade and minimalist interior design combining white and natural wood tones, the space exuded tranquility.

On the white wall at the entrance was a Chinese ink painting of swimming fish, graceful and lively, imbuing the entire space with Su Jingnian’s signature gentle and serene aura.

After picking up her paintbrush again more than a decade ago, Su Jingnian had finally persevered with her dream.

At that moment, the gallery wasn’t crowded, mostly foreigners. Xiang Ge hadn’t told Su Jingnian she was coming, so she quietly examined each piece, stopping eventually in front of a painting at the end of the corridor.

A large wooden easel stood at the entrance of another long hallway, displaying the portrait of a teenage Eastern girl. Her narrow, upward-slanting eyes, jet-black hair, and snow-white skin framed a wide, radiant smile revealing pearly white teeth—a smile full of innocence and joy.

Beside the easel, on the pristine white wall, were characters written in dark blue ink: “My Girl.” Below it, in small French letters: Ma fille.

Xiang Ge stood there for several minutes before sidestepping into the corridor behind the easel.

A black line stretched from where she stood all the way to the end of the corridor, resembling a long timeline. At regular intervals, the line branched off vertically, connecting to a painting.

In the first painting, a tiny infant lay on a soft, pale blue cushion. Sparse, short strands of light black hair covered her head, while chubby arms and legs peeked out of folds in the blanket, resembling lotus root segments.

In the next, a toddler around one or two years old sported two spiky pigtails. Her round, wide-open eyes already hinted at their future slant. She clung to the wall, attempting her first steps forward.

Further along, a little girl in a pink-and-white dress lay on the grass, a colorful rubber ball perched atop her head. Her chubby, baby-faced cheeks seemed dusted with a soft layer of sunlight, glowing faintly.

…

In the latest painting, a young woman in a clean shirt and skirt stood beside a car. Her waist-length hair curled slightly at the ends. Her eyes tilted upward, her lips pursed slightly as she held hands with the man beside her.

Only the man’s profile was visible. His eyes were lowered, soft affection lingering at the corners, a faint smile playing on his lips.

This painting looked freshly hung, as though the oil paint hadn’t yet dried.

Behind it, several blank frames hung silently on the pristine walls, like empty chapters waiting to be filled with color and meaning.

Xiang Ge stood motionless in front of the last painting, her feet seemingly nailed to the floor, unable to move.

She blinked, tears welling up in her eyes, silently dripping onto the cement-gray floor.

Every single painting along this long corridor depicted the same girl.

Each frame, each image, seemed to tell the story of her entire life—detailed and enduring.

It was love, joy, guilt, and repentance—the yearning to reach out but feeling unworthy of doing so.

My little girl, I once chose my dreams over you. I selfishly abandoned my responsibilities, convincing myself with flimsy excuses while wrestling with my pain. If someone has made mistakes in the past, is it truly possible to make amends? Is it ever too late?

If it’s too late, then I will spend the rest of my life silently protecting you. I hope you’ll meet someone who can take my place.

You will meet someone who will care for you, cherish you, and dote on you. Someone who will melt your frozen heart with their warmth and fill the voids in your life with love, making you realize that your life can still be whole and happy.

I also yearn, I also desire, and like every mother in this world, I love my child. I wish I could always stay by your side and say to you: Mom loves you.