In the past, seeing him like this would have made Shen Xi Fan feel proud, even a little smug. But now, when he looked at her with that same self-assured gaze, she felt an inexplicable mix of sorrow and anger. How dare he? she thought bitterly. After all the pain he caused me, how can he still assume I’ll welcome him back, like the naive girl I once was?
Yan Heng strode toward her quickly, his breathing slightly uneven. When he spoke, his voice was soft: “I miss you. After that night, when we parted ways, I went to the U.S. But there, I realized how much I missed you. Night after night, your face haunted my thoughts. So I had to come back, to tell you—I miss you.”
Her heart churned violently, waves of emotion crashing within her. But she forced herself to stay calm, her voice steady. “Is that all you have to say?”
“No!” Yan Heng’s response was firm. He took a step closer, cautiously trying to embrace her, but she subtly sidestepped, causing him to miss.
Unwilling to relent, he grabbed her arms tightly and pulled her into a forceful hug. His chin pressed against the top of her head. She struggled, twisting and pushing against him, but it was futile. In the end, utterly drained, she stared into the endless darkness of the hallway.
After a long silence, his voice came low and soft, filled with regret. “I’m sorry, Xiao Fan. I was wrong three years ago. Can you come back to me?”
She had waited three years for those words.
But now that she finally heard them, there was no joy, no satisfaction—only a crushing desire to cry. She wanted to sob uncontrollably, to release all the pain, resentment, and heartache that had built up over the years. She hated him for the way he had hurt her, for his cruelty.
How can he just say ‘I’m sorry’? How can he utter those words so easily? What does he want from me now?
And then she understood: one moment of hesitation could lead to a lifetime of missed chances.
Noticing her body stiffen unnaturally in his arms, Yan Heng released her slightly to see what was wrong. But with a sudden burst of energy, she broke free and ran off without looking back.
A single tear had soaked into the fabric of his suit, leaving a dark stain.
He prepared to chase after her, but a cold voice stopped him in his tracks.
“She won’t see you. You should leave.”
Standing under the soft orange glow of the corridor light, Lin Yi Shen had his hands tucked into his pockets. His faint smile carried a hint of disdain, but his gaze was surprisingly gentle. “Go home. She needs time to think.”
Yan Heng’s once-dominant aura dissipated as he walked toward the staircase. As he passed Lin Yi Shen, he glanced back but found no sign of Shen Xi Fan. Only Lin Yi Shen’s parting words echoed faintly in the empty corridor:
“She’s my little junior sister. How could you make her cry?”
Outside, the pale moon cast its indifferent light over the world. Somewhere in the endless cycle of life, an inaudible sigh seemed to ripple through the night.
“Don’t cry, little junior sister…”
Shen Xi Fan looked up, her eyes struggling to adjust to the sudden brightness. Dizziness washed over her, but she steadied herself and met Lin Yi Shen’s gaze. She opened her mouth, wanting to speak, but no words came out.
“He’s gone. I already sent him away.” Lin Yi Shen examined her face and seemed surprised. “So, you weren’t crying? And here I was worrying for nothing.”
Shen Xi Fan forced a smile. “Of course not. He’s not worth it. I just didn’t want to deal with him.”
Lin Yi Shen chuckled softly, brushing aside a strand of her hair that had fallen out of place. She sighed, exasperated. “Senior Brother, you seem to have plenty of free time, but unfortunately, I don’t. I need to get home for dinner.”
As she reached the door, she hesitated and asked tentatively, “Senior Brother, do you know about… me and him?”
Still sitting at the table, Lin Yi Shen didn’t look at her. He stared out the window, his tone distant, every word striking her heart. “You’re my little junior sister… How could I not know?”
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