Chapter 40
Ren Ruiyun opened a bottle of red wine, Romanée-Conti Corton.
She was still wearing her silk nightgown, and as she poured the wine, her sleeves slipped down, revealing her fragrant, fair wrists.
"Try it, it's from a very good vintage."
Shen Hanyang glanced at it casually, didn't take it, and lit a cigarette for himself.
Ren Ruiyun pushed her wine glass towards him, her beautiful eyes glancing at him lightly: "When did you learn to smoke?"
Shen Hanyang took a puff, and the cigarette butt was quickly extinguished by the sparks, revealing ashes.
Ren Ruiyun said, "I still prefer you when you didn't smoke or drink."
Shen Hanyang scoffed lightly, his gaze falling on the wine glass: "So you prepared this?" He flicked off a bit of ash from his cigarette. "Let's get down to business."
Ren Ruiyun moved gracefully, even her turning and sitting down was elegant, with one leg crossed over the other, and her smooth, creamy skin peeking out from under her long skirt.
She took a sip of her drink, her gaze falling on the gently swirling red liquid in her glass: "I was looking through some old photos today. Do you remember when we spent a summer in Wanaka? On a whim, I searched online and found out that Wanaka's winters are beautiful too."
Shen Hanyang didn't react much: "I don't remember clearly, the photo isn't with me."
"Hanyang," she whispered his name, her tenderness flowing like water, her slender hand reaching over the wine glass to cover his cold hand. "My dream was to travel with you through all the seasons. Along the way, I got lost and wavered, but thankfully, after all that, I finally saw my own heart clearly."
Shen Hanyang didn't immediately pull his hand away. His cold eyelids slowly lifted, scrutinizing her from behind the smoke.
What initially captivated him most about Ren Ruiyun was her eyes. This woman, eight years his senior, possessed a wealth of knowledge and charm, all contained within her brimming eyes that utterly mesmerized him in his early twenties. But now, shrouded in the murky smoke and dust, those eyes appeared dull, clouded, and complex, holding within them two manholes filled with the painful memories of the past.
"If you can see your own heart clearly, can you see mine?"
Shen Hanyang spoke calmly and slowly, the corners of his mouth curving into a smile, or perhaps the tip of a scimitar.
Ren Ruiyun withdrew her hand at the opportune moment: "I don't know. I just want to be honest with myself. As for how you see it, I can't control that." Her voice was gentle, without the slightest hint of coercion.
“Indeed, you can’t change my opinion. My opinion was formed seven years ago.” He gave a nonchalant glance, meaningful yet disdainful.
Ren Ruiyun said, "Human hearts are ever-changing, and who can be sure what will happen in the next second? Perhaps feelings are not black and white, but rather the two extremes of love and hate, a balance that can only be maintained by exerting all our strength."
She walked over, her slender fingers slowly tracing his jawline up to his earlobe and eyebrows. She cupped his head and placed a sweet kiss on his forehead.
Her kiss carried a distinctive, rich fragrance—the scent of roses. After all these years, she still clung to roses. Shen Hanyang chuckled inwardly, knowing she wasn't planning on talking again today. He silently puffed on his cigarette. After exhaling the last two large puffs of smoke, he stubbed it out, pushed her aside, grabbed his coat, and left.
Ren Ruiyun called out to him from behind: "I'm going to sleep for a while. Maybe I'll want to talk when I wake up."
It was the same old routine, the way she treated a dog. She still treated him like a loyal dog that she could summon at will and dismiss at will.
He snorted lightly, about to say something, when his phone beeped with a peculiar notification sound. A thought struck him, and he turned to see his laptop, which he had left in the room.
"What are you doing?" Ren Ruiyun asked, looking at his dazed back.
Shen Hanyang turned his head slightly: "You go to sleep, I'll leave in a bit."
A smile flickered in Ren Ruiyun's eyes as she clenched her fingers, victory once again within her grasp.
Shen Hanyang sat down at his desk and opened his laptop. The computer screen obscured half of his face, revealing the sides of his nose and making his eyes appear dark and bright.
Ren Ruiyun retreated to the bed, hugged her legs, and looked at him.
He tapped the screen lightly, his gaze focused, his eyes occasionally flickering, something on the screen deeply captivating him. He lit another cigarette, causing Ren Ruijun to frown almost imperceptibly. Clearly, he hadn't taken her words about disliking the smell of smoke to heart. What truly displeased her was the melancholy air about him when he smoked, as if the past seven years had been submerged in that quietly burning cigarette, and carelessly shaken off like ashes.
Ren Ruiyun lay down, turned over, and fell asleep facing inwards.
Shen Hanyang was completely oblivious to the commotion on the bed. His attention was entirely on the computer. He skillfully typed a long string of letters and symbols into the web address bar, and the page he had recently become extremely familiar with slowly loaded.
It's unclear when it started, but Shen Hanyang, who was usually indifferent to others, developed a habit of visiting Yan Qing's social media account every day.
Every night, he couldn't fall asleep without checking her social media for a while. In fact, Yan Qing posted very little, and almost all of her posts had been read and reviewed by him countless times. He knew every word and every punctuation mark by heart.
He was also troubled by his voyeuristic tendencies, repeatedly warning himself not to continue like this, but things not only didn't go as he expected, but escalated even further. He couldn't control himself from repeatedly intruding into her space.
He downloaded the social media app on his phone, registered an account, and set her to be on his favorites and receive update notifications. That special ringtone just now was a notification from Yan Qing when she updated her account.
Shen Hanyang couldn't wait a second longer and opened a webpage in the hotel room—he preferred browsing the webpage to using a mobile phone.
However, the most frustrating thing about this platform is that while the mobile app is doing very well, the web version is terrible. It takes forever to display half of the page, and the screen is a mess, like a jigsaw puzzle that has been knocked apart.
As the puzzle pieces gradually came into place, a strange feeling arose within him—he felt as if he were crawling through a hidden, dark tunnel. At the other end of the tunnel lay a realm beyond this mortal world. As light slowly shone into the opening ahead, his heart fluttered like a bird released from its cage.
An update appeared under the account, posted 1 minute ago:
“I often feel like I’m going through a long, slow torture, with thin blades slowly slicing through my flesh and pulling out my bones inch by inch. I have no other desires, I… have nothing.”
Shen Hanyang's hands clenched tightly. A few dozen simple words, arranged together, seemed to leap out of the screen, whipping up a whistling whirlwind that crashed into his eyes, ears, nose, and mouth. He leaned back abruptly, his breathing rapid.
He closed his eyes, trying to calm his anxious heart, but what appeared before him was the scene of her crying in the hospital garden.
It was a very dangerous moment. He truly thought he had gone mad, lost his judgment. He vaguely felt that her resilient exterior had been stripped away; she was so heartbroken, so desperately needing a pair of arms! His hands trembled unseen, his muscles tense, using all his reason to control his body, preventing him from doing anything rash. Yet, his gaze couldn't leave her face for even a second. When she looked at him, he desperately wanted to confirm the tenderness shining through her tears. But her eyes were veiled in mist, and behind the mist, her dark pupils were like jewels sunk to the bottom of the sea, unable to offer a clear answer.
How could she know that her pain was also tormenting someone else?
He really wanted to go find her right now. He had already pushed back his chair and stood up, but a sudden surge of anger welled up inside him for no reason.
Today, she still carried that canvas bag with the name FANTLAND on it, the Chinese knot ornament was so bright red that it was dazzling, and the tassels on it swayed back and forth in his heart, making him unable to calm down for a moment.
He paced back and forth in the room, irritably downing a glass of red wine, but to no avail; his mind remained in turmoil. The tassels became like a pendulum, rhythmically striking his heart, ticking away. Time stretched on, and he didn't know when he would see her again. But he felt an urgent need to do something. He pondered and pondered, yet his mind had never been so sluggish.
The chaotic agitation was interrupted by a sudden hug from behind. The scent of roses filled his hot, disordered nostrils.
Turning around, Ren Ruiyun, like a chicken pecking at rice, suddenly captured his lips.
He did not push him away.
Not long ago, after seven years apart, they met again for the first time, and Shen Hanyang was momentarily stunned. He was amazed by this woman's strength; time had left not a single trace of punishment on her. She was still radiant and charming, and possessed a completely different aura. She checked into the Peninsula Hotel's penthouse suite without any remorse, and shamelessly sent him the room number.
The first time she stepped into this hotel, Ren Ruiyun kissed him with practiced ease, as if they had never been apart. Her eyes were always moist, and in Shen Hanyang's heart, there was a damp corner left behind by her. She undressed, and her naked, dazzlingly white body shone brightly into his bewildered eyes.
Seven years have passed, and she's still the same, hoping to easily shatter his defenses with a flick of her finger.
He pushed her away at the last moment. And the pent-up anger, which he had been suppressing, was vented on Yan Qing when he used the excuse of getting rid of Zhang Linjing.
Ren Ruijun's open arms were a purgatory spewing crimson flames, and Yan Qing was like a pool of water, into which he plunged headlong without hesitation.
Ren Ruiyun breathed softly, her fingers slowly tracing downwards until they found the zipper on Shen Hanyang's pants. After clearly feeling a slight chill on Shen Hanyang's arm, she gently unzipped the pants.
Just when she thought he was on the verge of defeat and about to become her prisoner again, he suddenly grabbed her restless hand, shook it off, and walked away without looking back.
The first thing Shen Hanyang did after getting into the car was to call Yan Qing.
The call connected, and his voice trembled; he couldn't speak for a long time.
"Mr. Shen?" The person on the other end confirmed again, but there was still only a pulsating sound on the phone.
After a moment of silence, the other party hung up.
Shen Hanyang rested his arms on the steering wheel, his breathing gradually slowing. Her voice calmed his racing blood. He reached into his pocket; he was out of cigarettes.
After sitting for a while, I started the car. After driving a distance, I suddenly realized that the computer was still in Ren Ruiyun's room.
In the dimly lit room of the Peninsula Hotel, Ren Ruiyun took a leisurely sip of her drink. The computer screen was lit, and a mathematical symbol she wasn't very familiar with was reflected on the gleaming glass.
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