My vocal cords have been operated on, and unlike my previous clear tone, my voice is now noticeably hoarse and deep.
He won't recognize it as me.
But I could clearly hear his familiar breath, as if he were breathing right next to my ear, and I instinctively gripped the microphone tighter.
Who is it?
A detached male voice came through, devoid of any emotion.
Two years later, I finally heard his voice and was "close" to him for the first time.
My eyes stung and welled up with tears, and my heart was filled with a turbulent mix of emotions. A voice inside me said: Fu Yanshen, I am still alive.
But I can't say that.
I took a deep breath, afraid he would hang up on this unfamiliar number again, and quickly racked my brains. "Hello sir, I am a student at Imperial College London. Is the villa at 32 Downing Street yours?"
In order to get him to talk to me more, I had to ask him some rather private questions.
He remained noticeably silent on the other end.
"How did you know?" he asked again after a moment.
He still remembers the villa.
I smiled and deliberately teased him: "Guess?"
"Who exactly are you?" he asked, his voice filled with doubt and a hint of impatience.
My heart skipped a beat. Would he become suspicious?
Probably not. My "death" was meticulously planned. Leng Xiao told me that the body was that of a death row inmate, and the red mole under his armpit was the same as mine. It was also highly charred, and the DNA had been tampered with. No one will suspect my death.
Thinking about it this way, I felt a little lost again.
It was that conflicting feeling of being afraid that if he knew I was still alive, he would recognize me and bring trouble upon himself again, yet I also secretly hoped he would know.
After a moment's hesitation, I spoke again, "I'm an international student and I'd like to rent that villa as my dorm. I got your number from an old lady named Misa."
"No, I won't rent it." He replied coldly.
"Beep—beep—beep—"
He has already hung up.
A sense of loss overwhelmed me.
I stood there frozen, listening to the busy tone for a long time, before finally hanging up the old-fashioned red microphone.
The snow fell heavier and heavier, and the snowflakes landed in my palm and melted into water in an instant.
As I watched the students leaving school, the image of Fu Yanshen stopping in front of me on his motorcycle suddenly flashed into my mind.
At that time, after I got on the bus, I hugged his waist tightly. He visibly stiffened. I thought he was unhappy that I was flirting with him, so I had to let go of him.
He stepped on the gas and sped off, and I was so scared that I immediately hugged him tightly again.
Now I realize he did it on purpose.
As I thought about it, a maternal smile crept onto my lips, and I missed him even more.
In the two years since we separated, I have loved him more than ever before.
To love passionately.
Even though I'm still alive and he's doing well, we have to endure the torment of "separation in life and death." I not only miss him, but I also miss my friends and artists.
As far as I know, Mu Ye is now the boss of Qinghe, gradually moving from a top star to behind-the-scenes work; Shen Hanxing lived up to my expectations, rising to become a first-tier actress; Ji Yan and Wen Yu got married; Song Sinan is also engaged; Luo Luo is still single...
I haven't been able to find any information about Ouyang; she's always been very low-key.
These friends all have close relatives, so they won't be sad for long after I "die".
The people I can't bear to part with, the ones I can't let go of, are still... Fu, Yan, and Shen.
Although he seems to be doing well, I worry that it's just an illusion.
I long to go back and see him, even if it's just secretly...
...
But it's just a thought.
Leng Xiao is keeping a close eye on me, and I don't have a passport, so I can't go back.
I can only continue to use busy work to replace my longing.
In the afternoon, wearing Doc Martens boots and a black wool coat, I strode confidently into the Ronis department store.
The exquisite shop window displayed fashionable clothing, jewelry, and watches. Several saleswomen, upon seeing me, immediately suppressed their smiles, stood in two rows with utmost respect, and called out in unison:
"Good afternoon, Mr. Jiang!"
They were all wearing white shirts and black high-waisted wide-leg pants, and spoke fluent English.
Of the six people, four were indigenous, and the other two were Chinese girls whom I specifically hired as part-time international students to support themselves.
"good."
I nodded to them, walked to the shop window, and browsed the merchandise.
"Mr. Jiang, are you here to do market research again?" saleswoman Annie asked respectfully.
I said expressionlessly, "Yes, bring me this month's sales statistics."
"President Jiang..."
Hearing her stammering voice, my face darkened, I narrowed my eyes, turned to her, and asked seriously:
"Didn't do it?"
"No, it's just that we haven't had time to tally yesterday's numbers yet," Annie said hurriedly, waving her hand nervously.
I glanced at my watch. "It's been 14 hours since yesterday. Why haven't we finished compiling the statistics yet?"
I asked sternly.
When Annie and the others saw me lose my temper, they all looked away and dared not look me in the eye.
"Welcome, Ronnie's!"
At this moment, they, well-trained, bowed at a ninety-degree angle and shouted.
Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of a tall, slender figure in black walking in through the doorway. The clatter of his leather shoes on the floor resonated deep within me.
I turned my head abruptly, and when I saw that unforgettable handsome face, I was instantly breathless and froze.
Am I hallucinating because I miss him so much?
The black and white outfit, the well-tailored bespoke suit and shirt, the simple and restrained style, complemented his cool and aloof temperament, while the long trench coat draped over his shoulders added a touch of domineering presence.
The cool lighting in the store made his handsome face appear even paler, highlighting his sculpted and deep features, thick eyebrows, dark eyes, and thin lips slightly pursed...
He strode towards me with his long legs, like an international supermodel stepping out of a shop window poster.
My vision blurred, my throat tightened, and my heart felt like it was being held captive. Instinctively, I took a step forward, about to walk towards him.
As we passed each other, his sleeve brushed against my arm, leaving a cool, woody scent, like strolling through a pine forest after a snowfall...
"Sir, is there anything I can help you with?"
"Please recommend some jewelry pieces suitable for elderly people."
He spoke fluent English with Annie, and I finally snapped out of my daze, regained my breath, and stared in disbelief at the man who had suddenly appeared in my world, the man I had longed for day and night.
He looked neither fat nor thin, and was full of energy, exuding an air of sophistication.
He didn't recognize me just now, and didn't even glance at me.
I turned my back, took a few deep breaths to compose myself, then turned around and walked to his side, my face beaming with a warm smile.
"Hello sir, I am a senior executive of this brand. I just heard that you want to choose jewelry for your elderly relatives. I can recommend and introduce a few pieces for you to choose from."
I looked him straight in the eye and spoke politely and confidently.
Beneath my calm and composed, well-trained exterior, my heart was pounding with excitement, my blood boiling.
Continue read on readnovelmtl.com
