[Simply because… she still likes him.]

Milan, of course, knew exactly who Zhou Leqi was thinking about.

That person had become unspeakable. The matters tied to him were far too complex and terrifying. Only after the horrifying incident years ago did everyone realize how privileged his background truly was—Chairman Hao Ting was his biological mother. That ruthless woman had single-handedly destroyed Yan Lin’s entire family, along with the peaceful lives of so many others, even taking some of their lives.

This left no one able to… continue seeing him as a friend.

Milan didn’t want to bring up that person either. Even though she and Yan Lin had long broken up, she still vividly remembered the moment seven years ago when Yan Lin learned of the connection between that person and the tragedy—the instant shattering in his eyes. She also recalled the daily hardships and pain he endured over these seven years. Having once loved him so sincerely, she naturally couldn’t forgive the person who caused him such suffering.

She didn’t want Zhou Leqi to dwell on him anymore, so she tried to steer the conversation back, smiling and saying, “I don’t know what you’re fretting about. How could you let a great guy like Senior Pei slip away? If I were you, I would’ve made my move the day he came back to give that campus talk. Why waste so many years?”

This was an unsuccessful attempt at distraction. The memory Milan brought up still involved him , and for Zhou Leqi, it inevitably stirred up pain.

A flood of images rushed through her mind—all of them about him. They hadn’t grown old or faded, because over these seven years, she had repeatedly revisited them, like cherished antiques carefully maintained, gleaming despite their age.

Zhou Leqi smiled faintly, masking the sudden surge of bitterness in her heart, and took another sip of milk from her cup. “We’re just friends and colleagues… nothing more will ever happen.”

She’d said this to Pei Qiming more than once.

Seven years ago, back in high school, she had been clear about it. Later, Pei Qiming had seen firsthand how tormented she was by that person’s sudden disappearance. Yet, all these years, he had continued to help and care for her. He had dated two girlfriends but ended both relationships. Once, during a dinner party, he drank too much and called her late at night, slightly drunk.

“Lucky…” His voice carried a hazy drunkenness. “…I still like you.”

He still liked her.

Even after trying to be with others, in the end, he couldn’t overcome the feelings he’d developed as a teenager.

And her response remained the same as always.

“I’m sorry,” she replied in a calm, measured tone that contrasted sharply with his emotion. “…I can’t like anyone else.”

She had once loved someone.

With all her courage and sincerity, she had staked everything on that love.

That first love, which had ended without resolution and in absurdity, had drained all her passion. To this day, it still occupied her entire heart. She even allowed her spirit to remain trapped in the past, silently mourning its loss.

He probably couldn’t understand her stubbornness, so he asked her again, his voice tinged with confusion: “Why?”

“Are you still waiting for him?”

For someone who vanished without a word?

For someone burdened with countless lawsuits?

For someone who clearly couldn’t return?

Could she really still be waiting for him?

Zhou Leqi didn’t answer this question.

It wasn’t that she was stingy with her words—it was that she didn’t know how to articulate her feelings. Her command of language had never been particularly strong.

In truth, she wasn’t waiting for him. On reflection, she had hardly envisioned him reappearing before her, especially after hearing about the nationwide scandal that shook everyone years ago. By now, she had already accepted that losing him was irreversible.

She simply couldn’t accept anyone else, solely because… she still liked him.

It had nothing to do with whether there would be a result, whether it was right or wrong, or whether this choice was worth it. It was simply, “She still likes him.” That was all.

Milan likely understood Zhou Leqi’s feelings. After all, they were both women, and some things didn’t need to be spelled out. Some emotions are meant to be experienced only once in a lifetime. Even if they bring no result, even if they cause pain, they are still treasured deep within the heart, never to change.

Just like how Milan felt about Yan Lin… wasn’t it the same?

Milan chuckled softly, appearing carefree, but her eyes betrayed a hidden bitterness.

This fleeting flicker of emotion didn’t escape Zhou Leqi’s notice. After a brief silence, feeling compelled to say something, she finally spoke: “Milan… You and Yan Lin are different from us.”

“You still have a chance.”

At this, Milan froze for a moment, then laughed, lightly pushing Zhou Leqi. “What chance? We broke up years ago. Old history can’t sprout new flowers. Look at how he barely said a word all night—he doesn’t want anything to do with me.”

Milan sounded certain, but Zhou Leqi disagreed with her analysis.

Someone as emotionally reserved as Yan Lin would almost never make unnecessary compromises for others. He was currently interning at a law firm, so busy he barely touched the ground. If he really didn’t want to attend this gathering, he could have simply declined. Their relationship wasn’t particularly close—there was no harm in refusing. What reason did he have to travel all the way to Tongzhou for dinner unless it was for Milan’s sake?

Clearly, he still cared.

To Zhou Leqi, this was obvious, but Milan refused to see it. Even as they prepared to leave that evening, she kept urging Zhou Leqi not to force matchmaking again. “There’s really no future for Yan Lin and me.”

There was one thing she kept buried in her heart, unspoken.

She… no longer wanted to be with Yan Lin either.

After leaving Zhou Leqi’s apartment building, Pei Qiming offered to drive Yan Lin and Milan back to the city center. However, since they weren’t very familiar with each other and their residences were far apart, making the trip inconvenient, both politely declined his offer.

Pei Qiming didn’t insist further. After a brief farewell with the two juniors, he drove off.

Left alone in Beijing’s chilly spring night in early March, Milan and Yan Lin stood awkwardly together.

The two of them stood in silence, as if even saying “goodbye” to each other was a struggle. Milan’s toes curled with awkwardness, practically digging into the ground to build an entire Magic Fairy Castle. In desperation, she pulled out her phone, opened the navigation app, and began searching for the nearest subway station.

She had barely typed two characters when the person beside her suddenly spoke.

“To the subway station?” His voice was as cold as ever, but his tone had grown more rigid, almost mechanical. “Let’s go together. I’m heading there too.”

Milan nearly panicked at his words. Thank you very much, she thought sarcastically.

She really didn’t want to be alone with Yan Lin, nor did she want to endure any more awkwardness. At the same time, she knew he was just as uncomfortable. No matter how impressive Yan Lin might seem, he was still human. How could anyone face their ex-girlfriend without feeling at least a little awkward? His offer to walk her to the subway station was probably just polite small talk. She imagined he was secretly praying she wouldn’t foolishly accept.

Thinking about this made Milan chuckle inwardly, and mischievous thoughts crept into her mind: What if she unexpectedly agreed to his suggestion? How would his face look then?

The idea thrilled her.

But these trivial, mischievous thoughts were only fleeting. Milan was now a mature adult and no longer indulged in games that made both parties uncomfortable. Thus, she politely nodded at Yan Lin with a smile and said, “No need, no need. You go ahead. I’ll go by myself.”

Her manners were impeccable—she could serve as a model for ex-girlfriends everywhere. However, Yan Lin seemed a bit strange. Upon hearing her response, he frowned and asked, “Why?”

This left Milan stunned. “...Huh?”

“Why not walk together?” he asked seriously. “We’re going to the same place anyway.”

Oh boy.

How was she supposed to answer that?

Milan felt a bit stuck, momentarily confused by Yan Lin’s inability to understand her efforts to avoid awkwardness. Later, she realized this was precisely the difference between her and Yan Lin—she genuinely liked him and cared about him, which is why she felt awkward. But he didn’t care as much, so he wasn’t awkward at all.

Sigh, so that’s how it is.

Milan felt a bit speechless, oddly realizing that her deeper feelings put her at a disadvantage. She felt a twinge of unhappiness, but it quickly dissipated. After all, she had never held the upper hand in her relationship with Yan Lin. If failure was the norm, why bother caring?

With that, she let it go and started brainstorming excuses to send him on his way first, aiming to do so in the most natural way possible.

But finding such an excuse wasn’t easy. She racked her brain for several seconds but couldn’t come up with anything brilliant. There was no good explanation for why they shouldn’t walk together when they were headed in the same direction. Fortunately, just then, her phone rang. She pulled it out and saw the caller ID: “Peng Shuai.”

Well, isn’t this convenient.

Peng Shuai was a colleague from her TV station who covered sports news. He was introduced to her by her boss, and they had gone on a blind date and shared a few meals. They hadn’t explicitly discussed whether they were dating yet and were still in the “getting to know each other” phase. Earlier that day, before leaving work, Milan had casually mentioned to Peng Shuai that she was going to a friend’s house for dinner. His call now was likely to check if her dinner was over.

Milan saw this as a perfect opportunity to resolve the awkward situation. She smiled happily at her phone, then turned to Yan Lin, nodding with a grin, and said, “Excuse me, I need to take this call.”

He stood under the streetlamp in his black suit, expressionless, looking even colder than in his youth. But as he watched her smile, his eyes softened slightly. He didn’t say anything, only giving a faint nod.

Milan pressed the answer button.

“Hello? Yeah, it’s over, we’ve just finished… Mm-hmm, I’m heading back now… You want to pick me up? Oh, no need for that trouble, I’ll just take the sub—”

Milan had originally intended to tell Peng Shuai, “I’ll just take the subway,” but then she suddenly realized that saying so wouldn’t help her avoid the awkwardness of walking to the subway station with Yan Lin. She’d still have to endure the torment of being with him. So mid-sentence, she abruptly changed course, saying, “...Or, actually, maybe you should come pick me up after all. I won’t take the subway…”

Yan Lin: “...”