This is the last time, please.

I stood in the school auditorium, my head buzzing.

I never imagined that my life would turn into a disaster movie scene in just 24 hours, with setbacks in love and an even bigger explosion at work.

It's all in chaos, complete chaos.

Last night I was restless all night because of Gu Wanlin's rejection, so I got up a little late this morning. When I arrived at the event, the symposium had already started.

On the stage sat a portly elderly man, dressed in a shiny leather jacket to appear refined and elegant. His gray hair was combed back with an unknown amount of styling gel, though the zipper on his jacket probably couldn't be zipped up.

I recognized him as the vice dean of the school's external language and literature department. He was on the list of "renowned translators" that my company leaders had recommended to me, but I politely declined.

The person sitting in the host's seat, holding the microphone and talking non-stop, was a young academic star who had become quite famous in recent years. I was so angry that my hands were shaking. The main character of today's symposium was an author I had invited from afar, and this person was so shamelessly narcissistic. He completely forgot his duty as a host and insisted on shining the spotlight on himself in every occasion.

The vice dean reached for the microphone again. I'd bet he'd never read the book, nor understood the recent discussions on feminism. Yet, he spoke with an air of confidence and academic pretension, "Ah, well, I'd like to ask the author... ah, is there any concern that excessive focus on a woman's gender identity might overlook her other identities, such as her class, region, and nationality? And that excessive focus on feminism might obscure other forms of inequality in society?"

After listening to the translation, the author wore a seemingly polite, calm smile, but I could immediately see through it as mockery and impatience towards these dull and arrogant men.

This is a shared code among us women that transcends nationality and language.

She took the microphone and said succinctly, "I don't have that concern, nor do I think the current focus on feminism is excessive."

The vice-dean, seemingly unfazed, took the microphone and began to express his views on "excess." However, he was met with a chorus of boos from the young women in the audience: "We want to hear what the author has to say!"

The male host, still trying to maintain control, began his monologue: "Classmates, I don't believe men can't participate in feminist discussions. If you think my gender is my original sin, then I apologize in advance. But based on my own daily experience, I believe..."

He was interrupted by a loud voice from below the stage, "Do you really think you wrote this book? Not everything is about you!"

My advisor sat casually on the sofa, watching the farce unfold with a cold eye. At first, she tried to argue with the vice dean and the male host, attempting to steer the conversation back to the book itself. But after the situation deteriorated into a disastrous turn of events, like a train derailment, she never picked up the microphone again.

I angrily went backstage and grabbed the head of the marketing department. "I've already arranged all the guests. Where did these two extra people come from?"

My colleague from the marketing department glanced at me and said, "Editor Chen, everyone has their own responsibilities. This event is our group's business. You've overstepped your bounds, haven't you? You're in someone else's territory. Dean Wang is a graduate of the Korean Language Department. How could we not invite him to this event? You've been working for several years now. Don't you understand basic social etiquette? As for the host, he has a deep working relationship with our other projects. He heard about this event and was very interested. He's also an alumnus of your school. Why can't he come to an event held at your school?"

My colleague from the marketing department pulled out his phone and showed it to me. "Look, there's already a ton of real-time discussion. This is definitely going to be trending tonight. You've been in your ivory tower for too long, don't you know how hard it is to sell books these days? Discussion is everything. With discussion comes a steady stream of orders. In the end, if this book sells out, the credit will go to you. Shouldn't you thank our marketing team for their planning?"

I was so angry I felt like all the blood in my body had rushed to my head. So, they were actually hoping for this farce to happen? I was about to say something when my boss stopped me.

I waited anxiously backstage. After the event, when I saw the mentor coming offstage, I immediately went to him. "Mentor, I'm so sorry. When I invited you, I genuinely wanted to make this event a success. The two male guests were added later, and I didn't know that. I'm so sorry you had to watch this embarrassment on stage..."

My mentor patted me on the shoulder and said, "It's okay, Qingyi. I've been in this industry for so many years, I've seen plenty of things like this, I'm used to it. Don't feel too guilty. In this environment, the fact that you were able to produce this book is a positive change. Over time, you'll definitely see the impact. Tell your boss that I have something to do and I won't be able to attend the banquet tonight."

At the dinner table, amidst the clinking of glasses and the exchange of toasts, the bloated vice dean once again turned the room upside down, shamelessly enjoying the compliments from others, completely unconcerned about being booed by the students that afternoon, and showing no remorse for his actions or words. In his conversation, he even adopted an air of superiority, saying that today's young people are too naive, do not have a comprehensive view of issues, have a limited perspective, and cannot understand grand narratives.

Then, pointing at me, he said, "Look, our graduates should be like Xiao Shen, shining brightly in the cultural industry while also keeping their alma mater in their hearts. Come on, Xiao Shen, you did a great job with this book, let's raise a glass and celebrate!"

It's disgusting.

But as the editor who planned this book, I had no choice but to sit at this table and put on a smiling face to politely entertain them. I couldn't refuse anyone who asked me to drink, and with my mind on Gu Wanlin, I unknowingly got completely drunk.

A female colleague eventually drove me back to Gu Wanlin's house. I stood at the door, feeling like I was walking on cotton. I tried to enter the password but couldn't find the right spot. Listening to the beeping of the lock, I shook my head in frustration, but only felt more dizzy.

The door opened from the inside. Gu Wanlin, sitting in a wheelchair, looked at me worriedly and told Sister Zhang to help me in quickly.

It was past midnight when the banquet ended, why wasn't she asleep?

Gu Wanlin frowned, looking at my unsteady steps, and asked, "How did you get so drunk? How much did you drink? Are you feeling unwell?"

I smiled at her, but the thought of moving out of her house after I sobered up made my heart ache. My mind was filled with what she had told me last night, and without thinking, a bitter remark slipped out: "Gu Wanlin, you said it yourself, we should each live our own lives. This is my own business, and you don't need to worry about it."

Gu Wanlin paused for a moment, then leaned back against the backrest with difficulty, supporting himself on the armrests of the wheelchair as if he was about to help me up. He then moved back a little by holding onto the wheel rims.

Sister Zhang chimed in, "Xiao Shen, Xiao Gu saw about your event online and has been waiting for you to come back, refusing to go to sleep. Seeing that you haven't replied to my messages so late, he just said he was going to contact your friend to find out where you are so he could come pick you up."

I felt so nauseous I was about to vomit and couldn't speak.

Shen Qingyi, you should apologize to Gu Wanlin right now.

You said you didn't expect anything in return for Gu Wanlin. You said that to her, and you said it to her friends too. Now that she doesn't want to be with you anymore, is that how you talk to her?

You're not that kind of person, you shouldn't be like this. She waited for you all night and wouldn't sleep, and you treated her like this?

I knelt down in front of her wheelchair and buried my head in her knees. "I'm sorry, Gu Wanlin, I'm feeling so terrible tonight. Please forgive me..."

Before I could finish speaking, a sour, fishy feeling welled up in my stomach. I pushed Gu Wanlin away, staggered into the bathroom, and vomited violently into the toilet.

I really can't remember what happened after that. In a daze, I felt someone lift me up, make me rinse my mouth, feed me some honey water, and help me lie down on the bed. I guess it was Sister Zhang who asked Gu Wanlin to do it.

I lay on the bed in a daze, the ceiling turning into a vortex in my eyes. I forced myself to endure the waves of dizziness and finally fell asleep with my eyes closed.

I don't know how much time passed, but thirst and a headache woke me from my drowsy state. The moonlight flowed in like water through the window, but I was still very dizzy. I squinted and sat up to adjust to the darkness, thinking that I would get out of bed and pour myself a glass of water after a while.

Then I was startled to see Gu Wanlin sitting in a wheelchair, asleep next to my bed.

I glanced at my phone on the bedside table. It had been more than three hours since I got home. How could she be sleeping like that? How long had it been since she had relieved any stress? I was so anxious that I wanted to wake her up immediately and let her go back to her room to sleep.

Gu Wanlin is a very light sleeper. Sensing my movement, she slowly woke up. Holding onto the edge of the bed, she propped herself up, but as soon as she sat up, her legs began to tremble uncontrollably. She casually pressed her elbows against her knees and asked me, "Are you still feeling unwell? Does your stomach hurt?"

I lifted the covers to get out of bed and take her back, but a wave of dizziness washed over me and I couldn't help but vomit by the bedside.

Gu Wanlin maneuvered the wheelchair, placed the prepared trash can next to me, and put his hand on my back, gently patting me.

After I calmed down, I said to her anxiously, "Why aren't you sleeping? What are you doing lying by my bed? What could possibly be wrong with me? How can you be so careless about your health?"

Gu Wanlin smiled gently at me, "I'm fine. I wasn't asleep the whole time. I relieved my stress every now and then. I was probably a little sleepy because it was late at night, so I fell asleep. When you first got home, you were throwing up like that. How could I go to sleep by myself? There's a risk of choking on vomit when you're drunk. Besides, I was worried about your stomach, so I came to keep an eye on you to put my mind at ease."

As she spoke, she tested a glass of water placed on the bedside table. "The honey water is a bit cold. I'll go get you a new glass."

I stopped her, saying, "I can go by myself."

She gave me a reproachful look. "So drunk, can you even walk in a straight line? Just lie down, I'll be back in a bit."

After a long while, she wheeled herself back with a tray on her lap. She gestured for me to pick it up, saying, "Warm honey water, it will make you feel better."

I imagined her struggling in the kitchen, her hands weak, as she prepared a cup of honey water for me. My eyes welled up, and the words that had been swollen in my mind, fueled by the alcohol, spilled out: "Gu Wanlin, come to bed and sleep with me, okay? I'm so sad today. Can you hug me again? I miss you so much."

"This is the last time, please."