Chapter 46 Two years ago, it was you who...
Just as the atmosphere was about to heat up again, Xia Zhiyao, who was sitting in the corner of the sofa, suddenly stood up and said in a gentle and calm voice, "I'm going to the restroom."
She heard every single word of that song clearly. The old wounds were gently reopened, bringing out all the memories she had painstakingly sealed away. Just one more note and she would be crushed, collapsing silently and completely.
She needed to leave, to go to a corner where no one could see her, to suppress the emotions that were welling up inside her, and to pick up and fasten the pieces of armor that had fallen away.
In the outer room of the open-plan restroom, laughter and applause could be heard intermittently from the private room. Xia Zhiyao stood in front of the sink, her makeup was exquisite in the mirror, but a trace of weariness lingered in her eyes.
She turned on the tap, and the water gushed out suddenly. The icy touch splashed onto the back of her hands. She began to wash her hands, first with normal washing, then a second and a third wash, scrubbing her fingertips, between her fingers, and along the edges of her nails, leaving no detail untouched.
She knew she had fallen into her old habit again, but the feeling that something was on her hands compelled her to wash them again and again until her skin was slightly red from being soaked in water.
This mechanical, repetitive action was her only way to temporarily resist losing control, but the more she tried not to think about it, the clearer the images became: the streetlights of New York, the doorway in the snowy night, and the words that shouldn't have been said.
She stared at the foam dissipating in the sink, and she even had an urge to go home and take a shower right away, to wash away the restlessness from her eardrums to her heart.
She took a deep breath and slowly dried her hands with a tissue, but before she could throw the tissue into the trash can, a voice suddenly came from outside the door.
"President Xia." Her hand paused, and she turned her head to look at the door.
Zhou Yue stood outside the restroom, leaning against the wall, his suit impeccably tailored, with one button undone at the collar.
The dim corridor light shone down from the side, his face half-hidden in the boundary between light and shadow, his eyebrows and eyes seemingly etched into the shadows, exuding a restrained to the point of being repressed calm.
Those eyes, though hidden behind lenses, still revealed a deep undercurrent; emotions that had been suppressed for too long were now slowly seeping out, soaked in alcohol and the night.
He stared at her, his gaze unwavering and unyielding, leaving no room for retreat. It was a stubborn, direct gaze, as if he were witnessing a truth he would inevitably have to confront.
"Want to chat sometime?" His voice was deep and slightly hoarse, warm from the alcohol.
Xia Zhiyao met his gaze directly, a flicker of emotion crossing her eyes for a moment, but she quickly suppressed it with composure. She seemed to be weighing her options, yet also responded casually, "Now?"
Zhou Yue nodded: "Right now."
She raised her hand and threw the tissue into the trash can, the movement as decisive as if shaking off some unnecessary emotions: "I want to relax today, I don't want to talk." Her tone was light and flat.
Zhou Yue's eyes darkened instantly, and the emotions he had been suppressing were suddenly ignited.
The next second, he suddenly stepped forward with an irresistible force, grabbed her wrist, took a long stride, pushed open the door of the empty private room next to him, and brought her inside.
"Zhou Yue, you motherfucker..." she exclaimed, trying to break free, but his strength was steady, with a presence that enveloped even her breath.
The door closed behind them, shutting out all the laughter and noise from the KTV outside. Dim lights fell from above, casting shadows that slanted along the ceiling, burying half of Zhou Yue's face in darkness, while the other half, his dark eyes, gleamed with a sharp and uncontrolled light in the light.
She turned to grasp the doorknob, but before she could touch the cold metal, his deep voice barged in.
"Two years ago, you left on your own, right?"
She didn't turn around, but the footsteps behind her suddenly approached. He reached out and grabbed her arms from behind, turning her around and trapping her between himself and the door.
"You didn't even offer an explanation." Zhou Yue looked down at her, his gaze so low it seemed every word carried the warmth of his breath. "You just disappeared without a word, ignoring my calls and messages..."
His eyes were so close to hers that she could see the trembling of his eyelashes. The bloodshot veins in his eyes looked like cracks formed in a snowstorm overnight, yet in her reflection, they revealed an almost stubborn tenderness—a tenderness that, no matter how much pain or hatred he felt, still wanted to hold her.
“Xia Zhiyao…” His voice was so low it sounded like a plea, “Even if you said it yourself, I would accept it. But you didn’t say anything and just left me here.”
She froze for a moment. The instant the incandescent light came on, it shone on his cold features, and the sharpness between his brows and eyes was crushed by the words "I also admit it," revealing the vulnerability and longing that had been buried for many years.
Xia Zhiyao looked away, exhaled as if trying to expel the inexplicable pressure in her chest, and said with a hint of impatience, "Didn't I leave you a letter...?"
"Fuck the letter!" His voice was almost hoarse, his deep anger like a blade against her throat.
Zhou Yue felt as if he had been stabbed in the chest. He took a step closer, and in that instant, darkness surged up in his eyes, suppressing the last line of defense of all his emotions.
“You’ve never thought about solving any problems, have you?” He took a step closer, his breath hot, his eyes burning. “You’re only good at one word—escape.”
Xia Zhiyao's brow furrowed, but she stubbornly refused to back down. Her fingers curled and loosened at her sides, and her fingertips were already wet with sweat.
That familiar sense of fastidiousness crept up on her, making her desperately want to wash the dampness from her palms, but she just stared at him intently, as if building a wall around herself with her sharp gaze.
“Yes, I ran away.” She suddenly smiled, a sharp and cold smile. “But before I ran away, I still knew to leave you an explanation.”
Behind that smile was a fleeting glint in her eyes. He was too close, so close that she could almost smell the lingering tobacco scent on him, so close that she was afraid he would see through her anxiety and insomnia from repeatedly washing her hands at night until her skin turned red.
But his next words struck like a nail: "You say it's for my own good. But in the end, you've just abandoned me."
She abruptly looked away, her fingers digging into her palms as if forcing herself to steady herself. "I've written it very clearly... Let's both calm down." Her voice suddenly rose, carrying a deliberate hardness. "You think I'm running away? What about you?"
She suddenly looked up, as if she had been forced to the edge of a cliff, "You didn't come looking for me either?!" The words were almost shouted, as if in retaliation, but more like an attempt to cover something up.
She stood there, her back stiff, her eyes churning with intense emotions, as if one more word would cause her to completely collapse.
Zhou Yue looked at her without saying anything more, but slowly reached out his hand, as if to penetrate all her defenses. She subconsciously took a half step back, her eyes full of sharpness, but beneath that sharpness was a panicked feeling of guilt.
"What the hell do you want me to say!" he practically roared, his voice hoarse as if pebbles had been scraped from his chest. The roar, filled with rage that had completely shattered his pretense, seemed to shake the entire private room for a moment.
"You didn't give me a chance at all, Xia Zhiyao."
Zhou Yue's breath hitched. He lowered his head, paused for a few seconds, then raised his eyes again, his voice hoarse: "Do you think the whole world has to follow the rhythm you set?"
He took a step closer, his steps heavy, his eyes fixed on her: "You just say it's over, and you don't even bother to give an explanation. You just walk away, and everyone has to obediently accept your arrangements, right?"
“Xia Zhiyao…” he gritted his teeth, his voice so low it was almost swallowed up: “Have you ever thought that I am a human being?”
"It's not a variable in your work, not a project file you can delete whenever you want."
He practically clenched every word: "I have emotions, I feel pain, I'm not someone you can just cut off from!"
She lowered her eyes, as if trying her best to suppress the turmoil in her heart, but the slight tremor at the corner of her eyes betrayed her.
Finally, she spoke, her tone so calm it was almost provocative: "Are you finished?"
Zhou Yue stared intently at her, his anger still burning. Even a word of explanation or accusation would have been better than this indifference.
But she simply raised her chin, her voice calm and unhurried: "I didn't expect you to do anything for me."
Zhou Yue chuckled softly, his smile icy: "So you choose to stay silent and just leave?"
"You're always so self-consistent, Xia Zhiyao. You draw up your own safe zone while pretending you don't owe anyone anything."
She acted as if nothing had happened, her voice still steady: "I'm not running away." She looked up at him, her eyes sharp enough to cut: "I had things I had to deal with back then, my own things, not things you could solve for me."
She paused, a faint, unsmiling smile curving her lips. "Not everything can be handled the way you expect, by putting aside my emotions."
She spoke with unwavering conviction, as if defending herself, but a barely perceptible tension flashed across her eyes—a panicked feeling of being cornered, forced to use sharpness to conceal her true state.
Zhou Yue's breath hitched, her throat bobbed twice, and she froze on the spot, as if she had finally touched the door that had been hidden all along, but what lay behind the door was the truth that she still refused to reveal.
"What else are you hiding from me?" he asked through gritted teeth, his voice hoarse.
Xia Zhiyao didn't speak again. She just glanced at her watch and when she looked up again, her eyes had regained their impeccable calmness.
“It’s been a while, we should go back.” Her voice was light and even, without any ups and downs or ripples, as if this near-out-of-control collapse was just a trivial conversation that went off track.
She turned and pushed open the door, her straight back conveying a sense of quiet desolation and unapproachability, which was precisely what made her so infuriating.
She could turn away, leaving all the tearing, sharp, and clashing pain behind, for Zhou Yue, who was still standing there, gasping for breath.
He wanted an explanation, but she blocked all possible answers with silence, leading to a protracted cold war. She had already written the ending, but she wouldn't show it to him.
He quickly followed, his steps steady, yet they felt like they were pressing on his own heart, each step carrying an intense, suppressed pain, so heavy it was almost suffocating.
"Don't worry." He chuckled, his voice low and hoarse. "I won't make things difficult for you at work." He spoke calmly, his tone flat, yet it carried an undisguised chill.
After walking a few steps, he didn't turn back, leaving behind the words: "But don't expect me to treat you the same way as before."
A second later, her voice came from behind me, extremely calm, even with a hint of cruel composure, "I didn't need it in the first place."
He paused for a moment, the smell of alcohol and singing wafting over him. The private room was still very lively, with assistants chatting quietly in the corner and two project leaders vying for the microphone, creating a heated atmosphere.
No one noticed the figure that suddenly appeared at the door, as if no one had noticed the two who had briefly left their seats.
Zhou Yue's gaze swept across the room and instantly landed on the sofa in the center. Zheng Yaotian had arrived.
He was leaning back on the sofa with a glass of wine in front of him, looking relaxed and at ease. He had one hand on the armrest and was talking to someone in a low voice. Hearing the noise, Zheng Yaotian looked up and smiled as he raised his glass to him.
“Zhou Yue.” He smiled broadly, his tone casual.
Zhou Yue walked over, forced a smile, and nodded politely: "President Zheng."
Zheng Yaotian stood up, raised his hand and lightly patted his shoulder, his eyes carrying a hint of knowing mockery, yet also a casual question: "Where is your CEO, Xia?"
Zhou Yue pursed his lips slightly, lowering his eyes to conceal his gaze: "I went out for a smoke. I just saw her on the phone; she should be back soon." His tone was calm, revealing no sign of anything amiss. He sat back down, picked up the beer on the table, and downed it in one gulp. It was excessively cold, as frosty as the look in her eyes earlier, yet it briefly brought him back to his senses.
A few minutes later, the door was pushed open again, and Xia Zhiyao walked in. She acted as if nothing had happened, her expression calm, and she even smiled and said "Thank you for your hard work" to Lin Qianfan, the assistant who was taking song requests.
She walked slowly to the sofa, not even glancing at Zhou Yue, and sat down directly next to Zheng Yaotian.
She sat very steadily, leaning back lazily, her body slightly tilted to the side, looking down at something on Zheng Yaotian's phone, her tone light and cheerful, with even a faint smile on her lips.
The two stood close together, the atmosphere was natural, as if she had only gone to the restroom from beginning to end, rather than experiencing a heart-wrenching emotional battle with Zhou Yue in the corridor.
A slight smile played on her lips as her fingertips occasionally tapped the screen, seemingly commenting on something or sharing some trivial topic.
She looked calm, composed, and as if nothing had happened; there was no redness in her eyes, no anger, no dishevelment—she seemed even more like herself than before.
Xia Zhiyao, who was always perfect, aloof and elegant in the eyes of others.
Before he could even speak, Zheng Xiaotian was already waving at him while holding the microphone: "Hey, hey, we're short-handed, what have you been up to? Come on, President Zhou, let's have a PK this song!"
He stood up with a laugh, hooked his arm around Zhou Yue's neck, and pulled him to the empty seat next to him, his tone as excited as a child: "The prelude's already started, don't just stand there, you can't escape tonight."
Zhou Yue let him pull him to sit down. His palms were cold and his brow bone was twitching slightly. He didn't answer the microphone, but only glanced at the person opposite him. Xia Zhiyao felt his gaze and seemed to gently look up at him.
She truly is someone who can go from arguing, breaking down, and dredging up old grievances to calming down again in ten minutes, and when she's next to Zheng Yaotian, she smiles even more gently than she ever did in his arms.
He didn't know what she was thinking. All he knew was that she could be so gentle to anyone, any man, but she was so cold to him.
He swallowed hard, suppressing all the urge to explode, and finally took the microphone, speaking in a low voice: "Come on, sing."
After a while, Zheng Yaotian glanced at his watch and slowly said, "Isn't it about time?"
Zheng Xiaotian waved his hand, leaned against the sofa and laughed, "I'll pay. Whoever leaves first shouldn't wait. Don't make it seem like we're seeing off guests. This isn't an old-fashioned drinking party."
Some people in the crowd got up to say goodbye, while others continued to tune their songs. The atmosphere in the private room remained relaxed and noisy, as if no one noticed the sudden, almost imperceptible silence in the air.
Zheng Yaotian suddenly looked at Xia Zhiyao, smiling calmly: "Zhiyao, do you need us to take you home?"
His tone was polite, revealing no ulterior motive, yet it was like a gentle yet sharp pebble, quietly thrown into Zhou Yue's already turbulent heart.
Xia Zhiyao spoke calmly, with a polite smile on her face, but her tone left no room for further refusal. "It's more convenient for me to call a car. President Zheng, please don't bother to take me. I still need to take Xiao Lin back." As soon as she finished speaking, she naturally pulled Lin Qianfan along, her movements swift and graceful.
Lin Qianfan was slightly taken aback, then immediately nodded in agreement: "Yes, we're going the same way."
Zheng Yaotian patted his younger brother on the shoulder, his tone unhurried: "Your CEO Xia is no ordinary person." After saying that, he looked at Zhou Yue, his eyes smiling faintly, yet unable to hide a deep meaning.
A group of people stood at the door exchanging pleasantries. She went to the left, he went to the right, like a duet with a disordered rhythm. On the last beat, they each spun in different directions, back to back, tacit yet resolute.
Neither of them looked back, as if by not looking at each other, they could bury the emotions that hadn't had time to be resolved deep into the dark curtain of the night.
That night, it finally came to an end.
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