Chapter 58

The weekend after the charity dinner, the sky in Jinzhou was crystal clear. Sunlight streamed through the apartment's enormous floor-to-ceiling windows, spreading a bright, warm glow across the floor. Xia Wan had a rare chance to sleep in, and it was nearly ten in the morning when she woke. From the living room, Jiang Yu's voice sank to the floor, seemingly processing some urgent work emails.

She sat up, hugging the blanket, and rubbed her eyes. The scenes of last night's dinner replayed in her mind like a movie clip. Those scrutinizing gazes, the gorgeous scene, Jiang Yu's steady guidance, and his focused eyes on the dance floor... everything seemed like a dream that wasn't quite real. But the cool touch of the sapphire necklace still seemed to linger around her neck, and her fingertips seemed to recall the warm, ironing warmth of his palm, reminding her that everything had really happened.

A subtle lingering feeling, a mixture of excitement and exhaustion, still lingered within her. She was no longer the "Xia Gong" who existed only in blueprints and project meetings. As "Jiang Yu's female companion," she had been projected into another, vibrant world. This feeling, strange and novel, left her feeling uneasy.

She picked up her phone from her bedside table and habitually scrolled through the news and industry information. As her fingertips slid across the screen, a push notification about local financial gossip caught her eye: "Jinzhou Charity Night was a star-studded affair. The Jiang family's young master appeared with a mysterious female companion, her distinguished demeanor suggests she's an outsider."

Her heart skipped a beat, her fingertips hovering above the screen, she hesitated for a moment before clicking on the link.

The article was accompanied by several high-definition photos from the event. One captured Jiang Yu walking down the red carpet arm in arm with her. In the photo, he gazed sideways at her, his gaze calm and focused, as if the surrounding clamor had blurred into the background. She, chin slightly raised, wore a subtle smile. The hazy blue accentuated her skin, and the sapphire around her neck shone with a calm and noble glow under the flashlight. Another showed them dancing together in the middle of the dance floor, his arm firmly around her waist, her head tilted slightly upwards as she gazed at him. Light and shadow skillfully played across their harmonious silhouettes, creating an atmosphere of intimacy that was difficult for others to intrude upon.

There are already quite a few comments below.

"Wow, who is this girl? She has such a great temperament! She's not an internet celebrity, I love her!"

"She looks so impressive, like a sophisticated and sophisticated woman."

"I heard he's an architect, and he's in charge of that big project renovating the old town. Awesome!"

"They look so good together, evenly matched, and their eyes are so sharp!"

"Compared to the previous one... well, it has a lot more aura. This one looks reliable."

"+1 for the person above. This guy is definitely someone you can fight alongside, not someone who needs to be pampered."

…

Xia Wan read the comments one by one, her cheeks flushing slightly as a mixture of shyness, pride, and a touch of unease permeated her. She had never imagined she would enter the public eye in this way, becoming the subject of such criticism. The comments, "equally matched" and "reliable," brought her a sense of comfort, but the subtle mention of "the one before" pricked her like a tiny thorn. She knew it was Shen Zhiyao. Even though they had never faced each other directly, that name always loomed like a vague ghost in the background of her relationship with Jiang Yu.

Meanwhile, Northern Europe, Norway, Tromsø.

In a studio filled with sunlight, cluttered with canvases, paint cans, and the scent of turpentine, Shen Zhiyao had just finished an oil painting depicting the aurora and the wilderness. In the painting, brilliant, eerie bands of green and purple light danced wildly against the deep blue night sky, while below lay the snow-covered, rugged, and silent black earth. A paradox of extreme splendor and eternal loneliness washed over her. She put down her brush, rubbed her aching neck, and walked to the window, gazing out at the pure yet cold, fairy-tale-like landscape covered in snow.

She wore a pair of worn overalls stained with various colors of paint. Her long hair was casually tied up with a charcoal pencil, a few unruly strands tumbling down her cheeks. Her face was bare, and a faint dark hue lingered under her eyes. Yet, she possessed a beauty, honed through the vicissitudes of life, tinged with a sense of fragmentation and alienation. After leaving Jinzhou and Jiangyu, she quickly entered into several relationships, each as fleeting as a firework. These past few years, like a wounded animal, she has been licking her wounds alone, reassembling herself through wandering and creative endeavors.

As usual, she opened her laptop and browsed the domestic news, one of the few fragile connections she maintained with the glamorous yet suffocating world of her past. Suddenly, a pop-up window popped up with news about the Jinzhou Charity Dinner. Jiang Yu's name pricked her like a long-rusted, yet still sharp, needle.

She clicked on the link almost subconsciously and saw the set of photos.

Her eyes were first drawn to Jiang Yu. He was still as tall and stern as she remembered him, his tailored suit emphasizing broad shoulders and a narrow waist, and he exuded a powerful aura. But her attention was quickly drawn to the strange woman beside him. She wasn't the type she'd imagined Jiang Yu would be—not a socialite, not a celebrity, not even an artist like her... full of uncertainty.

That woman's name was Xia Wan. Shen Zhiyao looked at her face carefully. She was pretty, not the kind of dazzling beauty, but very attractive. There was a calmness and a tenacity between her brows that could not be ignored, and her eyes were clear and determined. She stood beside Jiang Yu, without any sense of dependence like a little bird, nor any deliberately forced momentum, but just a natural and equal shoulder to shoulder. And the way Jiang Yu looked at her... Shen Zhiyao's heart seemed to be gently bumped by something. It was an expression she had never seen in Jiang Yu's eyes before - not the kind of pampering he had done to her in the past with indulgence, fatigue, and even occasional helplessness, but a calm, heartfelt cherishment, appreciation and... love. There was light in those eyes.

A complex and indescribable emotion surged in my heart, not jealousy, not resentment, but more like a kind of...relieved melancholy and distant curiosity, mixed with a hint of self-mockery for my own absurd past.

She thought back to herself many years ago, the star-studded self at Jincheng No. 1 Middle School, yet her heart was barren. Her unhappy childhood had left her like a black hole that could never be filled, a deep sense of insecurity. She mistakenly believed that love meant unconditional demand and possession. She needed Jiang Yu's constant companionship, needed him to give up everything to meet her sudden, unrealistic demands, and needed him to repeatedly break the line with indulgence and compromise to prove that she was deeply loved and important. Like a greedy vine, she desperately entwined herself with him, the tree that was her life, sucking away the nutrients she needed to survive, never considering that this would suffocate him and lead their relationship to a distorted and destructive path.

That near-destructive breakup, like a raging fever, burned away all her unrealistic fantasies and pathological dependencies. She journeyed alone, in a strange land, picking up her paintbrush and unreservedly painting on canvas all her pain, confusion, questions about the meaning of life, and a renewed understanding of love and freedom. Over the years, she wandered through life, searching for herself in the world of art, and gradually came to understand that true love is not about consumption, bondage, or mutual torture in the name of love, but about mutual fulfillment, respect, and freedom of soul. Having exhausted all possibilities between her and Jiang Yu, she finally learned how to reconcile with herself.

She closed the webpage and walked to her easel, looking at her recently completed painting, "Aurora and Ruins." It was brilliant, hazy, yet tinged with an eternal, cold loneliness. It was so much like her past, seemingly glorious and glorious, yet desolate within. Meanwhile, Jiang Yu and the woman named Xia Wan, their present seemed so stable, warm, and solid.

She picked up her phone and clicked on a number belonging to Jiang Yu, a number she had almost never contacted. After hesitating for a moment, she tapped her fingertips on the screen and sent a short message. Her tone was as calm as if she was greeting an old friend who had not been in contact for a long time and had finally let go of her feelings:

"Jiang Yu, I saw the news. Your girlfriend is very beautiful and has a great temperament. I wish you all the best."

She paused, her artist's leaping thoughts prompting her to add, with her characteristic unconventional directness:

"I'm planning to return to China to hold an art exhibition titled 'Ruins and Aurora,' probably in the fall. Perhaps we could meet? Of course, if it's inconvenient, forget it."

The message was successfully sent. She put down her phone, a strange calm settled within her. That twisted and fiery past, the love and hate she had once thought etched deep within her heart, had finally settled into a distant echo over the course of time, no longer holding the power to hurt anyone. She sent this message not to salvage anything, nor was it a test, but more like a ritual, a final closure and reconciliation with her past self and the relationship that had consumed them. She simply wanted to see with her own eyes what the woman who could bring that light back to his eyes looked like. Perhaps it would also allow her to more clearly confirm that the lonely artistic path she had chosen was the right one.

Jinzhou, in Jiang Yu's apartment.

Jiang Yu had just finished a transatlantic video conference and was rubbing his brow when his phone vibrated on his desk. He picked it up and paused imperceptibly when he saw the sender's name—Shen Zhiyao.

This name hadn't appeared in his life for a long time. Like a dusty, old book, closed for years, suddenly opened by the wind. He clicked on the message and read it word by word. His face didn't show any noticeable change, but a complex mix of emotions flashed through his deep eyes: surprise, subtle ripples of reminiscence, but mostly, a sense of calm after the dust had settled. His fingertips lingered on the cold screen for a moment, as if weighing something.

After washing up, Xia Wan walked out of the living room in her comfortable home clothes, her face still flushed from the warm water. She saw Jiang Yu standing in front of the French window, holding his phone. His back was straight, but he had an indescribable look of deep concentration on his face, as if he had encountered something that needed to be considered.

"What's wrong? Is there something going on at the company?" She walked over and asked with concern, her voice soft in the morning.

Jiang Yu turned and looked at her. The sunlight behind him cast a faint golden hue around him. He didn't hide anything, turning his phone screen directly towards her. His tone was calm, as if stating an objective fact: "It's from Shen Zhiyao."

Xia Wan's steps paused momentarily, her heart, which had just relaxed, felt as if an invisible hand gently grasped it, and her breathing paused. Shen Zhiyao... This name, like a scar hidden deep within the years, even though the pain no longer lingered, still lingered, a reminder of a past she hadn't participated in, yet which had somehow impacted Jiang Yu and even indirectly influenced the beginning of their relationship.

She took a deep breath and forced herself to remain calm, "Oh."

She raised her head and looked at Jiang Yu, trying to read something in his eyes—was it nostalgia? Was it emotion? Or...

Jiang Yu met her gaze, his eyes open and clear, like the clear autumn sky, unobstructed. "She just wanted to give us her blessing. She also wanted to return to China for an exhibition and asked if we could meet." He clearly and unequivocally handed the decision to Xia Wan. This was an expression of unconditional trust and respect.

Xia Wan looked into his deep, honest eyes, filled with only her reflection and a calm anticipation for her reaction. The subtle unease and bitterness that had stirred in her heart at the word "ex-girlfriend" instantly dissipated like morning mist bathed in sunlight. She gently leaned against his shoulder, her tone returning to her usual calm and composed composure. "It's up to you. This is between you two." She chose to trust him. Trust in his current feelings for her, and in the healthy, stable relationship they were building. She would not, and should not, become an obstacle to his dealing with past relationships.

Jiang Yu put away his phone and didn't reply immediately. He simply put it aside, then took her hand and pulled her to sit on the sofa. His palm was warm and dry, wrapping around her slightly cool fingertips, conveying a reassuring strength.

"Have you seen the news about the dinner?" He changed the subject, his tone a little more relaxed.

"Yeah, I just saw it." Xia Wan nodded, leaned against him, and felt the reassuring breath from him.

"My mother saw it, too." Jiang Yu's tone carried a barely perceptible sense of relief and... relief? "She just called me."

Xia Wan's heart began to lift again, and she unconsciously sat up straighter: "What...did she say?" She could never completely relax about Jiang's mother's attitude.

Jiang Yu observed her nervous expression, a gentle smile flickering across his eyes. He reached out and gently tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, his gesture intimate and natural. "She said," he mimicked his mother's reserved tone, though a hint of satisfaction could not be concealed, "'The photos are great. The dress you chose really suits you, and the color is so subdued.'"

Xia Wan blinked, a little bit unbelieving. This was almost... a compliment?

"She also said..." Jiang Yu paused, looking into her eyes, his tone becoming particularly serious, "'She looks like a child with independent opinions and who doesn't depend on others. Her eyes are very steady. She's quite different from Zhiyao back then... the crazy, mad woman who couldn't live without you.'"

Xia Wan was completely stunned. This wasn't just a compliment; it was almost the first time Jiang's mother had expressed anything close to positive evaluation of her, and it was by comparing her to Shen Zhiyao. It wasn't because of her family background, or her deliberate flattery or obedience, but because of the independence, confidence, and control she radiated from her. Jiang's mother saw a Xia Wan completely different from Shen Zhiyao—the fragile dodder lover who had once plunged Jiang Yu into a vortex of pain. A partner who, perhaps, could walk alongside Jiang Yu instead of being a burden to him.

A warm current, mingled with an indescribable bitterness and immense emotion, surged through Xia Wan's heart, bringing a slight warmth to her eyes. She knew that behind this seemingly understated remark lay Jiang Yu's patient and intelligent preparation and communication, as well as the recognition she had earned through her hard work, professionalism, and the composure she displayed at the dinner. Finally, through her own strength, she had opened a ray of recognition in the eyes of her critical, condescending mother.

"Auntie...did she really say that?" Her voice was choked with sobs as she confirmed in disbelief.

"Yeah." Jiang Yu gently held her in his arms, his chin resting on the top of her head, his arms folded, his voice low and satisfied, with a kind of laziness after being relieved of a heavy burden, "So, don't worry. Everything is moving in the right direction."

Xia Wan leaned against his warm chest, listening to his steady, strong heartbeat, feeling this hard-earned peace and happiness. Shen Zhiyao's distant blessing was like a gentle breeze, blowing away the last vestiges of the past; the subtle softening of Jiang's mother's attitude was like a ray of sunshine, illuminating the once seemingly insurmountable obstacles ahead. These ripples from the outside world were no longer filled with anxiety and turmoil, but instead carried a gentle and resolute force that pushed their relationship forward toward deeper and more stable ground.

Outside the window, the sun shines brightly, a June breeze caressing the river, rippling the water. The shadows of the past are gradually dispersing, and the picture of their future, painted with brighter, warmer colors, is unfolding under the brushstrokes of mutual trust and joint efforts.