[“Monkey... go back.”]

Zhou Leqi sat alone in the empty apartment, her mind still replaying the scene at the elevator moments ago.

Yuan Jiahui had come—looking for Hou Zihao.

She hadn’t changed much; she was still beautiful and full of spirit. However, instead of the simple school uniform from their high school days, she now wore an elegant and fashionable Chanel-style suit, showcasing refined taste and purchasing power.

She seemed familiar with this apartment but clearly hadn’t expected to run into Zhou Leqi. Her expression upon seeing her was like seeing a ghost, her eyes immediately revealing hostility that was hard to conceal.

…As if Zhou Leqi were an intruder who deserved disdain.

But Zhou Leqi’s shock was no less than hers—truthfully, if not for this unexpected encounter today, she had almost completely forgotten about this former classmate.

They stared at each other, the atmosphere awkward to the extreme, tinged with an inexplicable tension. The deadlock was finally broken when Hou Zihao coughed.

“Why are you here?”

Zhou Leqi heard Hou Zihao ask Yuan Jiahui this.

Yuan Jiahui seemed startled for a moment before reluctantly shifting her gaze from Zhou Leqi to Hou Zihao. “Oh, I... I came to talk to you about something.”

After a pause, she added, “About that thing from last time.”

This addition was subtle, seemingly intended to exclude Zhou Leqi, making her feel like an outsider unaware of the secrets between them, thus boosting her own confidence while undermining others.

This petty tactic wasn’t particularly clever, but under the special circumstances at the time, it had the desired effect—Zhou Leqi indeed felt a sting in her heart, followed by a bittersweet emotion she had never experienced in her previous twenty-six years of life.

What made matters worse was his reaction.

After a brief silence, without directly responding to Yuan Jiahui, he bent down to look at her.

In her wheelchair, she slightly tilted her head up, seeing his profile cast in shadow, and heard him say, “You go rest first... I’ll talk with her for a bit.”

By the time the hour hand on the wall clock pointed to nine o’clock, twenty-five minutes had passed since Hou Zihao left with Yuan Jiahui.

This wasn’t actually a long time, but to Zhou Leqi at that moment, it felt excruciatingly long. Every movement of the second hand appeared in slow motion, each second stretching as long as an hour. During those agonizing twenty-five minutes, she couldn’t help but repeatedly wonder: Why did Yuan Jiahui come? What was their relationship?

Could it be that during these seven years… they had been together?

Hou Zihao walked through the apartment door just as the twenty-sixth minute approached. Yuan Jiahui didn’t follow him in, presumably having already left.

Upon entering, he saw Zhou Leqi sitting on the living room sofa, maintaining the exact same posture he had left her in twenty-five minutes ago. The only change was that her complexion had grown even paler, causing his brows to furrow.

“Why aren’t you resting?” he asked as he approached her.

Zhou Leqi looked up at him from the sofa, expressionless, not answering his question but asking instead, “That was Yuan Jiahui, right? Our high school classmate?”

A rhetorical question, just to open the conversation.

Hou Zihao paused mid-step, stopping two paces away from her. “Mm.”

“Have you kept in touch all these years?” Zhou Leqi looked at him. “Are you close?”

“Not really...” He avoided her gaze. “...She went to the same school as me.”

Zhou Leqi was startled, recalling past events.

Indeed, before the college entrance exam, she had heard that Yuan Jiahui had received offers from foreign universities. Their classmates had envied her, thinking her college entrance exam would be stress-free. Zhou Leqi, focused on her studies, hadn’t paid attention to others’ affairs and never inquired about which school Yuan Jiahui attended. She hadn’t expected it to be Oxford.

They... had been classmates for seven years?

The bitterness in Zhou Leqi’s heart grew stronger.

She found it hard to control her temper, perhaps unable to suppress the sourness and tension within her. Her tone became sharp. “Are you two dating? Is she your current girlfriend?”

At this, his brows tightened, and he instinctively responded, “Of course not, how could...”

He didn’t finish the word “possible,” perhaps retracting it after some thought. Zhou Leqi wasn’t concerned anymore.

Her focus remained on probing their relationship.

Based on her understanding of him, his immediate denial wasn’t a lie—they might genuinely not be in a romantic relationship. This somewhat steadied Zhou Leqi’s emotions. Nevertheless, she was still troubled, unable to accept that another girl had been by his side for these seven long years while she remained oblivious.

Her temper grew harder to control, her tone worsening. “Why did she come to see you? What was that thing from last time? Why couldn’t I hear what you discussed for so long?”

A rapid-fire series of questions.

He sensed her suppressed anger, leaving him momentarily defenseless. The remnants of their youth ran deep—he fundamentally couldn’t resist her because he liked her too much and worried about her being affected by negative emotions.

Thus, he was immediately at a disadvantage in the confrontation, feeling unable to face her despite there being nothing between him and Yuan Jiahui, and her visit being entirely innocent.

They merely had coffee at the café downstairs in the apartment building. Throughout, Yuan Jiahui tried to ask why Zhou Leqi was here, but he didn’t answer, only asking her why she had come.

“I came to talk to you about returning to China...”

She seemed aggrieved, her eyes already red. But probably knowing he wouldn’t comfort or console her, she held back tears, focusing on stating her case.

“...My dad wanted me to ask if you’d consider working in his company...”

“He has always admired you, hoping you’d return to China to help him in the company—he’s already arranged everything, reserved a position for you. He said if you’re not satisfied, he can adjust anytime, and he’ll handle everything.”

“Thank you for Uncle Yuan’s kindness, but it’s probably not suitable,” he finally spoke, his expression distant and unapproachable. “I studied medicine—I’m not skilled in management. Runyuan doesn’t have any business related to pharmaceuticals. It would be hard for me to gain the trust of others in the company. I don’t want to cause trouble for Uncle Yuan.”

“How could that be? Don’t say that!” Yuan Jiahui grew anxious, her tone forceful. “The major you study in university isn’t closely related to actual work anyway. My dad said that after a few years of training, you’ll surely pick up the company’s operations quickly—he trusts you completely!”

At this, Hou Zihao gave a faint smile, his gaze piercing.

“Uncle only looks out for me because of his friendship with my parents,” he calmly explained. “It’s not about trust.”

Yuan Jiahui shook her head repeatedly, as if unsure how to persuade him further.

“How can you think like that? My parents have always treated you like their own child—more than they do me...”

“Don’t you remember when we were studying at Oxford? They always sent double gifts during holidays, eagerly awaited your return with me every vacation, and asked about you every time they called.”

“They truly care about you, admire you, and genuinely hope you’ll come back home.”

“Even though your parents can no longer be by your side... my parents can, and so can I.”

“Monkey... go back.”

“...Consider it a favor from me.”

“...Please, Hou Zihao, just say something.”

The voice from his memories was suddenly replaced by reality. Hou Zihao snapped out of it, looking up to meet Zhou Leqi’s eyes—eyes that sought answers, clean, beautiful, yet brimming with sadness.

His heart felt as though it had been stung, a feeling entirely different from when he faced someone else’s tears moments ago.

…He couldn’t ignore her pain.

But at the same time… he couldn’t bring himself to tell her everything.

“I have nothing more to say...”

He heard himself reply in a cold, mechanical tone, and in her eyes, he saw even deeper pain. This made it impossible for him to continue looking into her eyes, so he avoided them to suppress the urge to embrace her.

“...It’s late. Rest.”

At ten o’clock in the evening, Zhou Leqi was already lying on the bed in the bedroom.

Investment bankers never kept such healthy hours. Anyone sleeping before midnight was either crazy or didn’t want to work anymore. Under normal circumstances, even with a fever and an IV drip, one had to push through reports and reply to messages, not stopping until one or two in the morning to meet the bare minimum. Capitalists paid high salaries not for you to focus on health—you had to give every ounce of your labor.

Yet tonight, she was lying in bed at ten o’clock—a rare opportunity to rest. Unfortunately, she couldn’t sleep. Her mind was a jumbled mess, her heart soaked in bitter, dirty water, the pain unbearable.

She turned over, seeing only an empty room. She was alone here; he had insisted on sleeping on the sofa outside, refusing to share a room with her.

He said it was “inappropriate” for them to sleep in the same room.

Now, she lay in his bed, covered with his blanket, resting her head on his pillow, completely enveloped in his scent. But this brought her no sense of happiness or security—instead, she felt even lonelier and sadder. Moreover, a strong sense of helplessness overwhelmed her. She knew there was a tall, thick glass wall between them. Though seemingly invisible, it thoroughly separated them. She wanted to shatter it but couldn’t find where it stood.

Hou Zihao...

...How did we end up like this?

The silent night amplified emptiness and illusion, which in turn fueled fragility and panic. Zhou Leqi felt her palms icy cold while her body seemed to burn with fire, scorching her from head to toe.

Finally, she couldn’t lie down anymore. In the darkness, she sat up, gripping the wall to try standing. She wanted to find him, to talk to him—otherwise, she wouldn’t get through tonight.

Just as she stood up and tried to take the first step—

Thud.

She fell to the ground again.