Chapter 13 I don't want to wait any longer...
By the time she walked out of President Shen's office, night had completely fallen.
The floor-to-ceiling window at the end of the corridor reflected her image on the glass: a dark suit, a cold and aloof profile, and a steady gait, revealing not a trace of emotion.
When Mr. Shen said those words to her, she almost blurted out, "It's a pity that in this world, those who are too subtle have long been taken advantage of."
It's not that she's incapable of being tactful; she just knows all too well that her mild-mannered, good-natured nature has never been able to protect her until today.
The neon lights of the street outside the window cast dappled shadows on the glass, a mix of red and green, like surging tides. The sounds of traffic and distant voices were blocked by the glass and the darkness of the night, as if the whole world was shrouded in a hazy mist, distant and out of focus.
She suddenly felt a strong urge to make a phone call, to just say to anyone, "I'm having a really bad day."
Even though it was just a simple sentence, she didn't type it out. Then, she turned around and went back to her office.
Late at night, the office was empty except for her.
The file window scrolled slowly across the screen, the cool fluorescent light reflecting off her profile, clearly outlining her features—calm, slender, like a pane of glass.
Clean, transparent, and with almost no visible cracks, glass has a terrible property: once broken, it can never be put back into shape.
It was as if the whole world had fallen asleep, but she was still awake, clinging to that dignity that had already begun to crumble.
Her persona is that of a calm and efficient executor. She is "the most reliable person in times of crisis" and "a female director candidate who is never emotional."
But she knew in her heart that what she lost that day was far more than just a project or a relationship; it was the illusion she had built with all her might and believed in wholeheartedly: "I can control everything."
But now, she has no control over anything.
Xia Zhiyao sat in the car, her fingers gripping the steering wheel. There was no music in the car, only the low rumble of the engine and the screeching of the tires on the ground. She drove very steadily, using the last bit of strength to maintain her dignity.
The streets outside the window were deserted, all the shops were dark, and the neon signs flashed wearily. The rows of shop windows and the light and shadows that flashed by shone into her eyes, but they could not reflect any expression.
She turned right into the residential area. The moment the car came to a complete stop, her hands were still gripping the steering wheel. She leaned back in her seat, closed her eyes, and felt a dryness in her throat.
In that instant, she really wanted to make a phone call, even if it was just to say, "I'm having a really bad time right now." But as she scrolled through WeChat, her finger hovered over the "Zhou Yue" contact for a few seconds before silently scrolling past it.
He shouldn't have gotten involved. She shouldn't have grabbed onto another person to share this bottomless storm. She did nothing but push open the car door and get out.
The high heels clicked on the ground, each step like a hammer blow to the heart, cold and heavy, yet unanswerable.
In the elevator, the mirror reflected her tired yet impeccably groomed appearance; her makeup was flawless, and her hair was neatly styled, as if she had just stepped out of a conference room.
She stared at herself in the mirror for a few seconds, then suddenly looked down and smiled. The smile was extremely faint, bitter, and indifferent; it was hard to tell whether she was mocking herself or mourning the possibility of something disappearing.
When she got home, the house was pitch black. She didn't turn on the lights, took off her shoes and threw them by the door, then slumped onto the sofa without moving.
That night, she gave up on a relationship she had exhausted herself trying to maintain, ended a wait that was destined to be fruitless, and watched as the promotion that should have been hers was silently pushed away, stuck in the cracks of the workplace.
But she couldn't even cry; she knew she couldn't fall. She had locked herself in that armor called "efficiency, strength, and invincibility" for far too long, so long that the armor had become part of her flesh and blood, impossible to remove.
Because she knew that once that shell was removed, her fighting power would be gone, her weaknesses would be exposed, and the next second would be like being pierced by a thousand arrows.
She sat on the sofa with her legs together and her back still straight, holding a shallow cushion tightly in her arms, as if she wouldn't fall apart as long as her arms maintained this posture.
The TV screen was flashing, initially showing news, then switching to a TV series whose title she hadn't even noticed. The images kept changing, but she didn't move an inch.
The wind howled outside the window, and raindrops slid down the windowsill, dripping and pattering, as if reminding her again and again: "You have lost a lot today."
She moved her fingers, intending to turn off the TV and the living room light, but suddenly heard a soft "beep" sound coming from the entrance hall.
The sound of the door lock opening and closing made her stop moving, and she instantly became alert, her heartbeat slowing down.
The next second, the door was slowly pushed open, and Zhang Luyuan stood in the doorway, his brows and eyes still showing signs of fatigue and loss of control.
He was wearing a black suit, his coat was wet from the rain, his collar was slightly open, his hair was half wet, and a few strands of water were still wet on his forehead, sliding down his face.
He stood there, the corridor swallowed by the night behind him, like a sudden, unauthorized storm that had stormed into her ruins without warning.
"How come you..." she began instinctively, her voice slightly hoarse, her brows furrowed, "How come you still remember the password?"
“I’ve never forgotten.” His voice was low and hoarse, but his eyes were extremely clear. “I just didn’t dare to use it before.”
Before he finished speaking, he had already stepped inside. The night wind, carrying his coolness, rushed towards her. The next moment, he stepped forward and suddenly pulled her tightly into his arms.
“Zhiyao,” his voice was so low it was almost a whisper, yet it trembled so badly it was almost broken, “Please… don’t leave me.”
His hands gripped her back tightly, as if he wanted to meld her into his very bones, afraid that if he let go, she would be gone forever.
She froze in his arms, neither pushing him away nor responding, simply standing there as if frozen solid. Her damp body clung to his weathered shirt, the temperature difference between them creating a striking contrast.
The light shone on her profile, her plain face unusually calm, yet her eyes were momentarily vacant. There were no tears, no shock, as if she had foreseen this moment, simply standing quietly, waiting for him to complete this utterly unrestrained plea.
Silence hung in the air for a long time.
Zhang Luyuan's breathing gradually calmed down. He seemed to have finally broken free from that overwhelming emotion, but he still didn't let go of her. He just lowered his head and rested his chin on her damp hair.
"I know about what happened on your end." His voice was low and hoarse, as if forced from the depths of his chest. "I heard from President Shen that the project ran into problems... and you got dragged into it, didn't you?"
Xia Zhiyao didn't move. For a moment, her eyelashes trembled slightly, but she still didn't speak.
Zhang Luyuan seemed to understand her silence, and his tone became even lower: "You are the least likely person to make a mistake, Xia Zhiyao. I know you."
She finally made a move, slowly raising her head, her gaze calm to the point of being indifferent: "But still, something happened."
"Zhiyao..." He seemed to want to take a step closer, yet also seemed afraid she would back away, his voice very low, "You've suffered so much injustice, why have you never said a word to me?"
She gazed at him silently, her eyes calm and sharp: "Didn't I tell you? I remember saying I did, but you didn't care at all, so there was no point in me saying it again. I just didn't want to say it anymore."
Zhang Luyuan was stunned, as if those words had choked him.
"It's been four years, Zhang Luyuan." She had been preparing for a long time, wanting to say it in the most indifferent tone, "You live a glamorous and respectable life in your world, but what about me? I'm just surviving in the cracks where you can occasionally catch a glimpse of me, asking for nothing but that you don't leave me."
She paused, as if leaving herself a breath: "But now I realize that you never belonged to me."
Xia Zhiyao slowly pulled her hand out of his arms, her long, slender fingers gently prying his hand apart one by one: "So now, don't pretend that you turned back for my own good."
She stared at him, her eyes as cold as an icy pool: "I've completely lost the ability to trust you anymore."
After saying that, she turned around and walked to the coffee table, picked up the remote control, pressed a button, and the TV screen went black, plunging the room into a deathly silence.
With her back to him, she said, "Go away. I'm too tired tonight, I don't want to deal with you anymore."
Zhang Luyuan suddenly spoke up: "Don't send me away. I'm not here to argue. I really... want to help you."
"Help me?" She chuckled softly, her voice neither sharp nor cold, but carrying a weary, indifferent mockery. "When did you start caring so much about my work?"
“I know your project is in trouble,” his tone suddenly became urgent, “This is serious. If it’s confirmed that you leaked that batch of data—”
"You think I don't know?" She turned around abruptly, her gaze as cold as a blade. "Do you still think I'm waiting for you to remind me, like before, that I'll lose, that I'll fall, that I'll be trampled on?"
Zhang Luyuan's expression froze. He was about to explain, but she wasn't going to give him a chance.
“I’m not a backup plan in your hands, nor am I someone you can fix by suddenly having a ‘purge of conscience.’” Her voice was low, yet carried an extremely suppressed sharpness. “You want to help me? You think I can’t handle this alone?”
She smiled as if she had heard an absurd joke, but there was no smile in her eyes: "Zhang Luyuan, how many steps have I, Xia Zhiyao, taken to get to where I am today, thanks to you?"
Zhang Luyuan opened his mouth, but couldn't say a word.
She looked at him, her gaze gradually darkening, as cold as a lake under the night sky. "I stopped expecting anything from you a long time ago." Her voice was calm to the point of being indifferent.
“I knew it from the moment I took on that case alone, from the moment I weathered all the doubts on my own, from the moment you kept saying, ‘I’m too busy, I can’t get involved, wait until I’m free.’”
She said, slowly and deliberately, "You've never been someone I can rely on. You only come close when it's convenient for you, and then disappear completely when I'm in a bad situation."
The moment those words were spoken, Zhang Luyuan's face instantly turned deathly pale.
"Then why are you here now?" she asked coldly. "Is it because you've had a change of heart? Or because you feel sorry for me?"
She smiled faintly, a smile so thin it was almost cold. "Oh, I see. It's because you realized I'm really leaving this time, and you got scared, so you resorted to your old tricks again."
She looked up at him, her eyes clear and bright: "You can pretend nothing's wrong, or you can pretend to be vulnerable and pitiful. You're willing to try anything, as long as you can win me back."
Zhang Luyuan gritted his teeth, his voice low and hoarse: "I'm really worried about you."
“But I don’t need your concern.” She interrupted him almost immediately, her tone as sharp as a knife. “It’s too late, Zhang Luyuan.”
She turned around, her steps firm, and walked towards the bedroom without pausing: "I don't want to wait any longer, to wait for a future that will lead nowhere."
Xia Zhiyao woke up very early, perhaps because she was too tired last night, or perhaps because of her long-standing habit of light sleep.
She lay on the bed for a few seconds, her mind blank, and for a moment she even forgot what had happened last night.
Until she got up, her bare feet touched the solid wood floor, the sound of her footsteps echoing softly in the quiet room, her gaze fell into the living room.
She saw Zhang Luyuan curled up on the sofa, his tall figure squeezed into a tight ball by the short sofa, making him look extremely cramped.
His suit jacket was casually draped over the back of the chair, several buttons on his shirt were undone, and his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, making him look disheveled and heavy.
The blanket only covered half of his body, not enough to cover his shoulders or feet. He leaned against the back of the sofa, his neck slightly tilted, as if he hadn't changed position all night and his muscles were already stiff.
He didn't look like he was asleep; he looked more like he was in a daze from extreme exhaustion.
Xia Zhiyao stood there, looking at him.
The morning light gradually seeped into the room, making it brighter and brighter, but he remained asleep on the sofa, his brows furrowed, his expression uneasy, instead revealing an indescribable weariness and... fragility.
At that moment, she suddenly remembered a morning many years ago.
He had just returned from a business trip and was still jet-lagged. He was so tired that he slept at her house for one night. When he woke up in the morning, she saw him looking at her like this. He was sleeping restlessly with his brows furrowed, and she felt incredibly soft-hearted.
At that time, she still believed that as long as he was willing to take one step closer, she could wait.
The sound of running water and the soft clinking of cups came from the kitchen, and the aroma of coffee gradually wafted out.
The person on the sofa finally woke up. Zhang Luyuan sat up, rubbed his temples, and when he looked up, he happened to see her back in the kitchen.
She turned around, her eyes still showing the slight weariness of just waking up. She didn't look at him, but simply poured the coffee into a cup, then turned and handed it to him.
"Drink it," she said softly, her tone calm and unhurried.
Zhang Luyuan paused for a moment, took the cup of coffee, and spoke softly, his voice hoarse: "...Thank you."
She didn't respond, but walked to the dining table, sat down, and opened her tablet. A few seconds later, she said calmly, "Don't misunderstand, I have no intention of forgiving you."
Zhang Luyuan's fingers paused for a moment, his knuckles tightened, and the light in his eyes suddenly dimmed.
"I just... don't want to argue anymore." Her tone remained calm, and she didn't turn to look at him, but her face was no longer so cold and hard.
She didn't push him away again, nor did she force him to leave.
That cup of coffee wasn't about reconciliation, nor was it about starting anew.
After a long night, she left behind a last bit of dignity for this relationship, for this person, and for herself.
Continue read on readnovelmtl.com
