Chapter 95 She's Too Independent

Lin Wei's final words, her tears, and her realization didn't stir much emotion in Song Zhiyi. Everyone has their own path to walk, and it's a good thing that some people realize their mistakes early. But ultimately, that's their business.

In that instant, she remembered a sentence her mother had said: "Love is not about possession, it's about seeing—seeing the other person as they truly are, and seeing yourself as you should be."

My phone vibrated as I walked down to the dormitory building.

Song Zhiyi took out her phone and saw a message from Huo Yanli: "Are you busy today? Grandpa asked me why you didn't come."

The time displayed was 8:47 PM. She had been busy with work meetings all day and indeed hadn't gone to the hospital.

She typed with her head down: "Busy, just got back to the dorm. Please tell Grandpa I'm sorry I couldn't go over today."

The reply came quickly: "It's okay, I told him you were busy with work. He told you not to overwork yourself." A few seconds later, another message came: "Have you eaten?"

"I've eaten." She paused, her finger hovering over the screen for a moment. "How is Grandpa doing today?"

"He's quite stable. The doctor said the lung inflammation has mostly subsided, but the old man is getting on in years and his recovery is slow, so he'll need to stay in the hospital for a while longer." His messages kept coming in, "Tomorrow's Saturday, do you want to go to the hospital together? The old man has been talking about it all day."

Song Zhiyi stood at the entrance of the building, the motion-sensor light turning on and off. She had to go to the library tomorrow morning, and wouldn't be free until the afternoon.

I need to go to the library tomorrow morning. I'll be free in the afternoon, around 3 p.m.

"Okay. I'll come pick you up at three o'clock."

"Okay. Thank you for your help."

"It's no trouble at all."

The conversation ended naturally. There were no extra greetings, nor any deliberate attempts to find topics. It was just like the pattern that had gradually formed over the past few months—if there was something to discuss, we discussed it, and then stopped. Clean, efficient, and comfortable for both of us. It's just that there was always something separating "thank you for your trouble" from "no trouble at all," that politeness.

Song Zhiyi climbed the stairs. The steps of the old dormitory building were rather steep, and her footsteps echoed in the quiet corridor. She recalled Lin Wei's earlier comment, "You're like someone standing in another dimension," and couldn't help but shake her head slightly. There was no other dimension. She had simply understood a principle long ago: life is finite, and one must focus their energy and time on the most important things. As for marriage, or rather, the relationship between her and Huo Yanli that began as an agreement, what was needed at this stage was fulfilling responsibilities and maintaining dignity. She couldn't spare the time or desire to think about anything else.

My phone vibrated again.

She thought it was Huo Yanli again, but when she opened it, she found it was a work group message from a colleague in her department, about the assignment of materials for a briefing on Middle Eastern and North African affairs next week. She stopped and leaned against the window on the third floor, quickly browsed the message and replied to confirm.

The city lights outside the window are dazzling. The silhouette of the China World Trade Center in the distance is particularly clear in the night.

She suddenly remembered many years ago when her grandfather took her to climb Fragrant Hills to see the autumn leaves. Pointing to the brightly lit city of Beijing below, he said, "Zhiyi, look, such a vast expanse of light. Behind each light is a home, and people are living there. What your parents tried so hard to protect back then was this ordinary, everyday life."

She was young then and didn't quite understand. Later, when she did understand, she lived her life as a lamp—not necessarily behind a fixed window, but hoping to illuminate some places, even if they were small.

The phone screen went dark.

She put away her phone and continued upstairs.

...

Meanwhile, in the hospital ward, Huo Yanli stared at the few brief sentences on his phone screen, his fingers unconsciously tracing the edge of the screen.

He had dinner with his grandfather at the hospital that evening, and after his grandfather went to sleep, he dealt with a few company emails before finally having some free time. He hesitated before sending the message—knowing she was probably busy with work today, he was afraid of bothering her by asking too many questions. But his grandfather had indeed mentioned it a few times, and he... wanted to find an excuse to talk to her.

Her reply was quick, polite, and comprehensive, with a reasonable explanation, even her apology was perfectly timed. Three o'clock in the afternoon, "Okay, thank you." Everything was flawless.

But it was precisely this impeccable thoroughness that left a vague emptiness in his heart.

Too independent.

Her independence made his role as "husband" seem almost superfluous. Picking him up, visiting him in the hospital, cooperating in front of the family… she accepted these tasks when needed, and never bothered him when not. She maintained a perfect sense of propriety, yet this also built an invisible wall around her.

Over the past few months, their relationship has appeared to be improving. She would occasionally chat with him about her work, sit quietly beside him at family gatherings, and take good care of him in front of his grandfather. Even last week, when he caught a cold, she had the housekeeper make him ginger tea.

But he could sense that something fundamental hadn't changed.

Her world was complete and self-sufficient. She had ideals, a career, and a sense of responsibility and legacy that she held dear. That world was vast and solid; he stood at its edge, looking in, and could see the starlight shining brightly within, but he couldn't find a door he could push open.

Two days ago, Ji Yun joked with him while drinking: "Yanli, the way you are right now is just like those high school students who have a crush on top students. You're thinking about how to make your presence known to them every day, but you're afraid of disturbing their studies."

He laughed and cursed, "Get lost!" but he knew in his heart that the words were crude but the meaning was sound.

The phone screen went dark.

Huo Yanli placed it face down on the table in front of him, leaned back in the sofa, and rubbed his temples. On the table lay a recent project proposal from the Huo Group's overseas charitable foundation, focusing on post-war regional children's education assistance. This was a project he had initiated a few months ago, requiring substantial initial investment. There had been some dissenting voices within the board of directors, but he had overcome their objections.

Why do this?

Initially, he might have wanted to get closer to her, but after delving deeper into her work, he was deeply moved. The data, case studies, and video footage revealed to him a real world beyond the business empire. And in that world, she had always been walking.

The door was gently pushed open.

Uncle Chen brought in a bottle of hot milk and said, "Have some milk to warm your stomach, go home and rest early, I'll stay tonight."

Huo Yanli nodded: "Thank you, Uncle Chen. I'll stay a while longer."

Uncle Chen is an elder in the family, having watched him grow up, so he talks a lot: "Miss Song is a really good person. She's thoughtful and reliable. Last time she came, she not only brought a radio, but also quietly asked my grandfather how many times he got up at night and how his appetite was. She wrote down all the precautions for me, even more thoughtful than the caregiver."

"Uncle Chen," Huo Yanli suddenly asked, his voice somewhat low, "do you think... she feels comfortable here?"

The question was a bit abrupt, and Uncle Chen paused for a moment before thinking carefully before saying, "Miss Song is quiet and doesn't show her emotions much. However... I think she's quite relaxed around the old man, and she speaks more lightly. It's just..." He carefully chose his words, "...that she's too sensible, arranging everything perfectly, which makes people feel sorry for her. Like today, she didn't come, she must have been busy with important matters, but she must have been thinking about him."

She's so sensible.

Huo Yanli murmured these words, a complex smile playing on his lips. Yes, she always arranged everything perfectly, requiring no one to worry.

Huo Yanli picked up the milk and took a sip; it was warm and comforting. He picked up his phone again and opened his chat with Song Zhiyi. The last message was his "No trouble at all," above which was her "Thank you for your trouble," and above that was their agreed meeting at 3 PM.

The conversation was as concise as a work memo.

His finger hovered over the screen, wanting to say something more, but he didn't know what else to say.

In the end, he didn't send anything and turned off the screen.