Let's break up.

Sunlight filtered through the blinds into the apartment, casting dappled patterns of light on the floor. Ning Zhichu knelt on the carpet, an open camphor wood chest laid out before her. Inside, neatly stacked were the gifts Wei Ting had given her: a handmade camera case from Florence, a silver bracelet engraved with "W&N," and the repaired sunflower mug, its cracks gleaming like tiny silver threads in the sunlight, almost painful to her eyes.

Her fingertips traced the stitches on the camera case, made by an old tailor from Florence, commissioned by Wei Ting. The lining was embroidered with tiny star and moon patterns, exactly the same as her silver bracelet. Last autumn, when she went to the Northwest to interview about a wind power project, her camera fell on the Gobi Desert. Upon her return, Wei Ting didn't say anything, but quietly asked a friend to bring this case back, saying, "From now on, I'll protect your camera." The warmth of that moment still lingered in the stitches, but now, thinking back, only a dull ache remained in her heart.

"Ding—" A notification popped up on her phone calendar—it was a "meeting with Wei Ting" she had set yesterday. The location was an Italian restaurant on Huaihai Road, the place where they had their first date. It was decorated like a Florentine bistro, and even the background music was an accordion version of "Santa Lucia." She chose this place not because she wanted to rekindle their old flame, but because she wanted to give this relationship a dignified ending—after all, those sweet and warm memories were real and shouldn't have become unrecognizable in the cold war and arguments.

Ning Zhichu put the silver bracelet and camera case into the velvet box. After hesitating for a long time, she still left the sunflower cup in the camphor wood box. She straightened her beige trench coat in front of the mirror. The pearl necklace around her neck was an anniversary gift from Wei Ting. The luster of the pearl was warm and soft in the sunlight. She touched the clasp of the necklace. Wei Ting had put it on her by hand. At that time, he said, "This pearl is like you. It looks gentle, but it has its own edges."

As the restaurant's wooden doors opened, the sound of an accordion wafted out. The waiter expertly led her to a window seat—the one where they had their first date. Climbing roses grew outside, their withered vines clinging to the wrought-iron railings in late autumn. "Ms. Ning, the usual?" the waiter asked with a smile. "Mr. Wei always reserves this spot in advance, saying you enjoy the street view."

Ning Zhichu gripped the velvet box tightly, her fingertips turning white. She ordered two tiramisu, a hot cocoa, and Wei Ting's favorite espresso—all things they ordered on their first date. At that time, Wei Ting had just finished a multinational video conference, exhausted, yet he still patiently listened to her recount the interesting things that happened during the interview, his eyes shining brighter than the candles on the table.

"Sorry I'm late." A familiar voice sounded behind her, tinged with a barely perceptible panic. Ning Zhichu turned around and saw Wei Ting standing by the table, wearing a light gray cashmere sweater that she had knitted for him last year, the cuffs frayed slightly. He was carrying a thermal bag, his hair neatly combed, but the bloodshot eyes were still visible, clearly indicating that he hadn't slept well for several nights.

"It's okay, I just arrived too." Ning Zhichu's voice was soft, her knuckles tapping unconsciously on the table. When Wei Ting sat down, she saw that his hand under the table was clenched tightly, his knuckles white, like a student awaiting sentencing.

"Your favorite crab roe xiaolongbao, from that old-established shop at the end of the alley, I queued up to buy it." Wei Ting pushed the insulated bag in front of her, his tone cautiously ingratiating, "It's still warm, try it quickly, you said you wanted to eat it last time, I've been remembering it."

When the insulated bag was opened, a delicious aroma of steam wafted out. Ning Zhichu looked at the plump, white steamed buns in the steamer, and tears almost welled up in her eyes—she had only posted on her WeChat Moments last week, "Suddenly craving crab roe steamed buns," and she hadn't expected him to actually remember it. But this thoughtfulness only made her feel worse at this moment; she gripped the velvet box tighter, her nails almost digging into her palms.

"Wei Ting, I'm here to talk to you about something." Ning Zhichu pushed away the insulated bag, her voice as calm as if she were talking about someone else's business. "Let's... break up peacefully."

With a crash, Wei Ting's coffee cup slammed into the saucer, espresso splashing onto the tablecloth and leaving a dark stain. He looked up abruptly, his eyes wide with surprise, as if he hadn't heard her: "What did you say? Break up?"

“Yes, a peaceful breakup.” Ning Zhichu avoided his gaze and looked at the withered vines outside the window. “We have incompatible values, and staying together would only torment each other. Thank you for the love and happy memories you gave me during this time; I cherish them. In the future… we can still be friends.”

“Friend?” Wei Ting suddenly laughed, a laugh tinged with chilling coldness, making the accordion version of “Santa Lucia” sound particularly jarring. He reached out to grab her wrist, but she jerked away. This action froze his smile on his face, and the astonishment in his eyes turned into anger. “Ning Zhichu, what do you take me for? A playmate you can summon and dismiss at will? In your eyes, this relationship can end with just the words ‘incompatible values’?”

“No, I didn’t treat you as a playmate.” Ning Zhichu’s voice trembled, and tears finally fell. “I took this relationship very seriously, otherwise I wouldn’t have gone to Florence with you, wouldn’t have introduced you to my family and friends, wouldn’t… knit this cashmere sweater for you.” She pointed to the sweater he was wearing. “But Wei Ting, we’re really not suitable. What happened with President Li wasn’t accidental; it’s because our ways of handling problems are fundamentally different—you’re used to solving problems with power and capital, while I’m used to speaking with facts and words; you think protecting me means clearing all obstacles for me, while I think protecting me means believing that I can overcome obstacles on my own.”

She thought of the sunflower cup that Wei Ting had glued back together, but the crack would always remain: "We're like this cup. No matter how much you glue it back together after it's broken, the crack will never be gone. Rather than arguing about the same issues later, it's better to separate gracefully now."

"Inappropriate?" Wei Ting's voice rose, drawing glances from the next table. He grabbed a velvet box from the table and slammed it to the ground. The box opened, and a silver bracelet and camera case rolled out, making a crisp sound on the floor. "What you mean by 'inappropriate' is that when I stand up for you, you think I'm condescending; when I show you kindness, you think I lose face; when I argue with you, you think I disrespect you? Ning Zhichu, what exactly do you want?"

His voice trembled with despair: "I know I was wrong about what happened, Mr. Li. I apologize to you. I'll change, okay? I'll respect your decisions from now on. I'll help you check data and write reports. I won't solve problems my way. I'll listen to you, okay? You can't negate all our past because of this one incident!"

Ning Zhichu stared at the silver bracelet lying at her feet, its star and moon pattern slightly distorted from the fall, much like her heart at that moment. She remembered Wei Ting adjusting her camera's focus in Piazzale Michelangelo in Florence, promising to accompany her to see sunrises all over the world; she remembered him worrying about her safety before collapsing in the London hospital; she remembered how, when they first got together, he would stay up all night helping her prepare interview outlines, and secretly send her encouraging text messages when she was being difficult by interviewees. Those memories flooded back like a tidal wave, making her heart ache so much she could barely breathe.

“It’s not just one thing.” Ning Zhichu wiped away her tears, her voice weary yet resolute. “It’s many things. You always say I’m giving you the silent treatment, but have you ever considered that after every argument, you use ‘I’m doing this for your own good’ to mask your controlling nature? You gave me a pearl necklace, saying I needed to be cherished like a pearl; you turned down difficult interviews for me, saying you were afraid I would get hurt; you helped me deal with Mr. Li, saying you didn’t want me to suffer anymore. But Wei Ting, I’m not a pearl, I’m Ning Zhichu, a journalist who can engage in heated debates with entrepreneurs during interviews, and who can stay up all night investigating data for three months to expose fraud. What I need isn’t a greenhouse, but the trust to stand shoulder to shoulder with you through thick and thin.”

Wei Ting stood frozen in place, looking at Ning Zhichu's reddened eyes, his heart aching as if being cut by a knife. He never thought his gestures of goodwill were a form of control; he was simply afraid she would get hurt—he had witnessed too much treachery in the financial world, too many journalists retaliated against for exposing scandals. He only wanted to protect her, but he never imagined that this protection would become her shackles.

"So, you're just going to brush me off with 'peaceful breakup'?" Wei Ting's voice lowered, carrying an almost desperate self-mockery. "We were together for two years. The sunrises we watched in Florence, the rain we got caught in in London, the crab roe dumplings we ate together in Shanghai, the interview outlines we revised together late at night, the difficulties we faced together in the storm... In your eyes, none of that matters as much as 'incompatible values'?"

He grabbed the insulated bag from the table and slammed it to the ground. The crab roe xiaolongbao rolled out, staining the table with oil. "I queued for forty minutes to buy xiaolongbao, and you didn't even taste a single one; I spent three nights gluing a cup, and you left it in the box; I knitted a sweater for a month, and now you say the person wearing it doesn't share your values." His voice trembled with tears. "Ning Zhichu, have you never truly loved me? You just liked that I was good to you, liked that I protected you, and now you feel that this kindness has become a burden, so you want to kick it aside?"

"I didn't!" Ning Zhichu stood up abruptly, the chair legs scraping against the floor with a screeching sound. People at the next table stopped eating and turned to look at them. She grabbed the velvet box from the floor, stuffed the silver bracelet and camera case inside, and shoved it forcefully in front of Wei Ting. "Don't say that! If I didn't love you, I wouldn't have stayed at the hospital for three days and three nights while you were unconscious; if I didn't love you, I wouldn't have risked retaliation to investigate evidence when you were framed by Chen Jingming; if I didn't love you, I wouldn't have spent the entire afternoon crying in the break room because of your words, 'You're not even as good as a dog!'"

Her tears fell onto the velvet box, spreading a small dark patch: "I'm just tired, Wei Ting. I'm tired of having to explain after every argument that I don't want you to give in, I want your respect; I'm tired of solving every problem for me first without asking if I want to; I'm tired of living under your protection, and I'm almost losing my professional pride."

Looking at her tear-streaked face, Wei Ting's anger suddenly subsided, leaving only a dense, throbbing pain. He reached out to hug her, wanting to say, "I'm sorry, I'll change," but the words that came out were a cold, "I know." He picked up the velvet box, stood up, and the cuff of his cashmere sweater brushed against the tiramisu on the corner of the table, causing the cake to fall to the floor. Cream splattered onto Ning Zhichu's trench coat, resembling a messy buttercream flower.

“Since you feel it’s not right, then forget it.” Wei Ting’s voice was hoarse, and he didn’t dare to look her in the eye. “I will keep those memories safe. As for being friends, that’s unnecessary. I can’t bear to see you with someone else and still smile and say ‘long time no see.’”

He turned and left, slamming the wooden door shut with a loud bang, abruptly stopping the accordion music. Everyone in the restaurant stared at Ning Zhichu, who stood there, tears streaming down her face. A waiter approached, carefully offering her tissues: "Ms. Ning, would you like us to tidy up?"

Ning Zhichu shook her head, bent down to pick up the sunflower cup from the ground—it had been brought out when Wei Ting dropped the insulated bag earlier; the cup had shattered again, this time with wider cracks, and could no longer be glued back together. Holding the broken cup, she sat at the empty dining table. The sunlight outside the window gradually slanted westward, casting long shadows of the climbing roses, much like the time between them that could never be returned.

I don't know how long I sat there, but my phone suddenly rang. It was Su Xiaoran calling. "At first, how did your talk with Wei Ting go? Lu Zexu said that Wei Ting just drove past the company building, ran a red light and almost crashed into the guardrail. Now he's locked himself in his office and won't see anyone."

Ning Zhichu's voice was thick with nasal tone: "We broke up."

"Break up?" Su Xiaoran shouted on the other end of the phone, "Are you crazy? Just because of that little thing with President Li? You two have been through so many storms together, Chen Jingming's framing, Xingneng's fraud, the London crisis, you've survived all of that, and now you're breaking up over this little thing?"

“It’s not a trivial matter.” Ning Zhichu leaned back in her chair, looking at the darkening sky outside the window. “We’re really not compatible. His protection is my shackle, and my independence is his burden. It’s better to end it now than to suffer for a long time.”

After hanging up the phone, Ning Zhichu slowly walked out of the restaurant. A cold autumn wind, carrying fallen leaves, blew past. She wrapped her trench coat tighter, but still felt cold. She remembered the first time she came here with Wei Ting; he was also wearing this cashmere sweater, shielding her from the crowd, smiling and saying, "I'll protect you from now on"; she remembered the first time he put a pearl necklace on her, saying, "This pearl is for the most precious person"; she remembered the first time he made her breakfast, a perfectly cooked egg with a soft-boiled yolk hidden inside.

Those sweet, warm, quarrelsome, and heartbreaking memories flashed through her mind like a movie. She walked to the trash can on the street corner and threw the broken sunflower cup in—some things, once broken, are broken forever, and no matter how much you cherish them, you can never go back.

Meanwhile, in Lu's Investment's top-floor office, Wei Ting sat by the floor-to-ceiling window, clutching a silver bracelet from a velvet box. The lights of Lujiazui outside shone brightly, but they couldn't illuminate the darkness in his eyes. He remembered Ning Zhichu's tearful face, her words, "I'm tired," and the tiramisu she had thrown on the floor. His heart felt like it was being squeezed by an invisible hand, the pain almost suffocating him.

Lu Zexu pushed open the door and walked in, seeing empty coffee cups piled up on the floor in front of him, and an ashtray overflowing with cigarette butts. "Are you crazy? You almost got into a car accident running a red light, and people from the board of directors called to ask if something had happened to you." He placed a cup of hot milk in front of Wei Ting. "Zhi Chu just messaged Su Xiaoran, saying she threw away her sunflower cup and cried for half an hour by the trash can. You two, you clearly still love each other, yet you insist on pushing each other to the opposite side."

Wei Ting didn't speak, but just gripped the silver bracelet tightly in his hand, his knuckles turning white. He knew that Ning Zhichu wasn't unloving of him, and he knew that he wasn't unloving of her either, but they were like two cars driving in different directions. Even though they had once traveled side by side, they would eventually head towards different destinations.

As night deepened, the neon lights of Shanghai cast dappled shadows on the Huangpu River. Ning Zhichu stood on her apartment balcony, gazing at the lights of the office buildings across the river, a half-finished cup of hot cocoa in her hand, now completely cold. Wei Ting sat by the floor-to-ceiling window of his office, watching the bustling traffic below. The silver bracelet on his wrist was warmed by his body heat, but it couldn't warm his icy heart.

They both knew that this breakup was not the end, but the beginning of a long, torturous journey for both of them. The love and memories etched into their bones could not be erased by a simple "incompatible values." But at this moment, neither of them knew how to turn back or how to move forward.