That part contains a deep-seated longing for Qianluo, as well as the fear that "our fate is just a repayment."
The cold sweat on his back instantly soaked through his shirt, sticking stickily to his skin. Even though the warm fragrance of Longjing tea still wafted through the study, it still brought a bone-chilling cold.
Climbing up the spine, even the hairs on the back of the neck stood on end, like the gentle breath Qianluo used to blow on it when she played a prank, familiar yet strange.
Where is the Xin Zimo before us now? She is no longer the aloof star surrounded by spotlights on screen.
She was like a spectator standing on a cloud, looking down from above, or like a reader who had read through the script of my life, seeing clearly the awkward and unspoken thoughts in my heart.
That invisible sense of oppression was like a tight, airtight net, making it almost impossible for me to breathe, and even breathing felt painful and suffocating.
My chest felt like it was blocked by something, suffocating me, as if I had returned to the day Qianluo left, and the suffocating feeling I had when I heard that phone call.
The world went silent; I could only hear my own heartbeat, which felt like it was about to explode.
Just then, a gentle breeze slipped in through the half-open window, carrying a faint scent of jasmine—Qianluo's favorite fragrance.
I used to complain that the scent was too sweet, like being soaked in honey and feeling cloying, but she would always smile and stuff jasmine-scented hard candy into my pocket.
He said, "A-Yun should have some of my scent on her, so that wherever you go on a police mission, it will feel like I'm with you, and bad guys won't dare to bully you."
Once, when I went to another city to handle a major case, I was gone for half a month. She specially put a bag of dried jasmine in my suitcase, wrapped in gauze and tied with a small bow.
He said, "If you miss home, just smell this. The scent is the same as what I wear. It will make you feel less lonely, like I'm right beside you telling you stories."
Even before she went on a mission, she squatted on the balcony planting jasmine seedlings, her hands covered in mud, but she still smiled with her eyes crinkling.
He said, "When the flowers bloom, A-Yun will be able to smell them as soon as she opens the door after working overtime. It's like I've cooked you a sweet soup in advance. When you're tired, you can take a break, and the fragrance will give you energy."
At this moment, the sweet taste is like a fine needle, gently piercing my tense nerves.
For a moment, I thought Qianluo was standing by the window, tilting her head to look at me, her eyes curved like crescent moons dipped in honey.
She was still clutching a jasmine candy in her hand, and she stood on tiptoe to try and put it in my mouth. Her hair was blown by the wind and brushed against my cheeks, carrying a faint lemon scent from her shampoo.
That's the brand she always uses, and she said it goes well with my mint-scented shower gel.
"Ah-Yun, stop daydreaming. The sugar is melting. If you eat something sweet, your heart won't feel bitter anymore."
Her voice seemed to be right next to my ear, soft and gentle, with a slightly coquettish tone, just like before.
"Qianluo..." I murmured unconsciously before snapping back to reality and realizing that I had clenched my fists without even realizing it.
His knuckles were so white they looked like they were about to crack, and even the veins on the back of his hands were throbbing. His fingernails were almost digging into the old scars on his palms.
That scar was inflicted by the suspect last year when she was on duty. She bled a lot at the time, and her eyes were swollen from crying when she arrived at the hospital.
While bandaging me, she scolded me, "How could you be so stupid? Didn't you know to stay away?" Her tone was full of heartache, but her movements were so gentle that it was as if she was afraid of breaking me.
My breathing became erratic, my chest heaving violently, like I was carrying a wildly beating rabbit, each rise and fall accompanied by a sharp pain.
It felt as if I was coughing up my lungs, and tears finally streamed down my face, landing on the back of my hand. They were burning hot, yet as cold as ice.
I leaned back against the sofa, feeling utterly exhausted. The soft velvet cushion supported my body, but it couldn't hold back the turbulent emotions churning inside me.
I gasped for breath, trying to calm myself, but my thoughts were still a jumbled mess.
Qianluo's dimples when she smiled, her warm fingertips when she stuffed candy into her mouth, Xin Zimo's talk of "past lives and present lives," and those times defined as "repaying kindness."
There's also the wrong date on the pathology report, Aunt Zhang's worried look, and the jasmine seedling on the balcony that hasn't bloomed yet—it's still like a headless fly.
It was rampaging through my mind, giving me a splitting headache, and my vision started to blur. Even Xin Ziming's figure became blurry, as if through a layer of moisture.
"Don't overthink it," Xin Ziming's voice rang out again, colder than before.
Like a touch of autumn frost, even the fingertips tapping the edge of the table moved faster, and the rhythm became a bit off.
"I told you before, if I really wanted to do something to you, I wouldn't have bothered with all this."
You're not important enough for me to put on a show—my time is precious, and I don't have the leisure to waste time on these complicated matters.
I have no interest in lying to someone like you who doesn't even dare to admit their own feelings.
The impatience in his words was almost undisguised, like a thin layer of ice being broken to reveal the frankness and irritability underneath.
I glanced up discreetly and, sure enough, saw her brows furrow slightly, and a hint of obvious annoyance flash in her eyes.
Even his originally calm gaze had become sharper, like a cat whose peace had been disturbed, its tail almost standing up.
She even leaned back a little, creating some distance, her fingertips unconsciously rubbing the pearl buttons on her cuffs.
The button was the style she often wore; she had seen it in fashion magazines before, with round pearls that gleamed with a soft light.
At this moment, however, there seemed to be a sense of distance between us, like an invisible wall separating us.
Strangely, this fleeting emotion actually made me feel relieved.
Yes, I was overthinking it. Given her abilities and status, if she truly harbored malicious intent, she wouldn't have needed to go through such a roundabout way.
There's no need to sit here and spout this nonsense about "past lives and present lives"—we can achieve our goal in a simpler and more direct way.
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