Chapter 24 I'm leaving, believe me...
The alarm clock rang in the dimly lit bedroom in the early morning. Zhou Yue frowned, reached out to turn it off, and felt a slight movement in the warmth of the person in his arms.
Xia Zhiyao seemed half-awake, but only slightly squinted her eyes, buried her face in his shoulder, and rubbed against him like a cat, refusing to let go.
Just as Zhou Yue was about to get up, she suddenly grabbed his hand, not tightly, but firmly: "Don't go..."
He paused for half a second, looked down and saw that her eyebrows and eyes were still sleepy, her long hair was spread out on the pillow, but her eyes were so clear that she seemed afraid he would disappear if he turned around.
"I have to go to work," he explained patiently, his voice still low and hoarse from just waking up, but she just shook her head and gripped his hand even tighter.
Zhou Yue helplessly squatted down to meet her gaze, gently stroked her hair, and whispered in her ear, his tone so tender it was almost pleading: "I promise I won't work overtime today, I'll come back to be with you, Zhiyao... wait for me to come back, okay?"
His voice was soft, yet it sounded like a solemn promise. At that moment, even the morning light filtering through the curtains seemed to slow down and soften.
He leaned down and placed a tiny kiss on her hair, a kiss as light as a feather, yet as deep as a mark.
He didn't know how much longer Xia Zhiyao could stay, nor was he sure if she would still be lying there when he woke up tomorrow.
But he wanted to leave something behind, even if it was just a trace of flavor or a hint of something, as long as she could remember: he had been here, and she had been loved in this way.
Zhou Yue straightened up and slowly walked to the door. His hand was already on the doorknob, but he couldn't help but turn back to look at her on the bed.
In that instant, a strange unease suddenly surged into his heart. The room was unusually quiet, not like the tranquility of deep sleep, but more like a phantom that might silently slip away from his embrace and from his world at any moment.
Like a gentle dream, it was quietly approaching the edge of waking up. He didn't even dare to blink again, afraid that in that moment of blankness, she would disappear.
Xia Zhiyao had her eyes closed, but just as the door closed, her eyelashes trembled slightly, and then she slowly opened her eyes.
She stared at the ceiling, her gaze unusually clear, as if she hadn't slept all night.
Actually, she had been awake the moment he got up. She could hear him tiptoeing as he dressed, making sure his footsteps were light so as not to wake her.
She could even feel the pause he made when he stopped at the door and turned back. She turned to the side and looked at the spot where he had slept, where the pillow still retained a faint warmth and scent of his body.
She reached out and gently touched the crease where it had been pressed, her fingertips tracing it inch by inch, as if trying to remember the final shape.
But bedding will eventually get cold.
Xia Zhiyao got up, her body moving with exhaustion and a sense of weightlessness. She walked heavily to the living room, opened a drawer, and took out a pen and letter paper.
She sat at the table, her eyes lowered, gazing quietly at the snow-white paper for a long time. She wrote slowly, each stroke deliberate, as if bidding farewell to herself.
Zhou Yue:
I don't intend to explain too much in this letter. We know each other too well, and there are many things we just can't say.
It's not because I don't love you, but because during this time, our emotions have been pushed to the edge of a cliff, and any word or action could cause us to fall.
If this continues, we will only hurt each other again and again.
Our beginning was too hasty and too intense, like a sudden fire, dazzlingly hot and unrealistically dangerous.
You entered my life too quickly, so quickly that I hadn't even had time to say goodbye to the past before I was already caught up in a new storm with you.
But I'm not good at "losing control." I'm used to having everything under control, even if it's just superficial control. But you make me want to hold on tightly, yet I completely lose control of you.
What if all that passion fades away? If there's no surprise of reunion, no late-night alcohol, no outbursts after being suppressed to the extreme, what's left between us?
Sometimes I can't even tell if we're getting closer or if we're entangled and tearing each other apart. You're too young, too sincere, and love so intensely. I'm afraid you're giving too much, and I'm afraid I can't repay you.
So I ask you, give me some time, and give yourself some time too.
I'm not breaking up with you, and I can't truly let you go. It's just that we're not suited to continue right now, not because we don't love each other, but because neither of us is ready to handle what a "real relationship" means.
You always seem so resolute, but I know your heart isn't any more at peace than mine. And I, too, can no longer maintain balance by backing down, even though I want to stay more than anyone else.
I want us all to calm down and think carefully about what we really want.
Don't come looking for me, and don't try to persuade me to stay. I won't be going back to China for the time being. I want to travel alone, see other places, and figure out some things I've never dared to face.
But I'm not someone who runs away forever. When I've really thought things through, I'll go back and tell you, and I'll face those issues that I've never dared to touch.
I know you'll hate me for leaving.
But you should also understand that I can't always hide in your house, and you should take this time to ask yourself: What kind of me do you really want? And what kind of "us" do you want?
You once said you loved me for who I am, but I want to know, if I'm not the way you imagine me, will you still love me the same way?
It's not that I don't want to spend the rest of my life with you, it's just that I'm not yet the kind of person who can stay by your side with peace of mind.
I can only say it again, I'm sorry.
Thank you too, really, thank you for catching me when I broke down that night, even though I didn't say anything.
Please live your life well, just as I secretly hoped, and don't give up anything that belongs to you because of me.
Wait for me. Wait for the more clear-headed and determined me to come back.
—Xia Zhiyao
The luggage was already packed. Xia Zhiyao sat on the edge of the bed, having read the letter in her hand several times. She had carefully considered every word, making sure it was clean, restrained, and without any emotional flaws.
She knew very well that this was not a reassuring letter; it would make Zhou Yue angry, confused, and even feel betrayed. But if she didn't leave, she feared she would never be able to leave again.
But she also understood that she didn't entirely want to leave; she was taking a gamble.
She gambled that after he saw the letter, he would come to her regardless of everything; she gambled that he would break down all her defenses and make her believe that even without any preparation, they could still be together; she gambled that he would prove with his actions that the things she kept saying were impossible were actually possible.
If he really came, perhaps she would pack her bags, throw away the letter, and no longer need any of the reasons she had prepared. She would give up everything and return to his side.
But if he hadn't come... she would tell herself that it was fate, that he had chosen to stop, and in that case, she should learn to turn around.
Thinking of this, she took a deep breath, folded the letter, and placed it on the bedside table.
Before signing her name, she paused for a long time, the tip of her pen lightly tracing an indeterminate line on the paper, as if hesitating, or perhaps leaving blank space—her only, unacknowledged hint.
As the plane shuddered as it taxied onto the runway, tears suddenly welled up in her eyes without warning. She clenched her teeth desperately, trying not to make a sound, but she couldn't control every tremor.
Tears wouldn't stop, so she wiped them haphazardly with the back of her hand, only for them to fall again, like a tide that had finally burst forth after being suppressed for too long.
Before leaving, she stood in the entryway and glanced at the house, which was so familiar and filled with memories. Every item in the living room remained quietly in its place, as if waiting for her to turn back.
But she didn't. She just lowered her head, picked up her suitcase, and the sound of the wheels rolling on the floor was crisp and resolute.
The moment the door closed, she didn't even leave herself a chance to turn back.
On the plane, she sat by the window, the clouds churning outside the glass. The announcement, "Please turn off your mobile devices," was like an invisible knife severing her last connection with the world.
She looked down at her phone; the screen was lit, and Zhou Yue's message was silently displayed before her. Her finger hovered for a long time before she finally typed: "I'm leaving. I left the letter at home; you'll see it. Take care of yourself."
She paused for a moment, then typed another message: "See you later after I've taken care of my business."
These two short lines were the future she had painstakingly drawn for the two of them, using all her reason and courage. She stared at those lines for a long time before steeling herself to press "send" and then turned off her phone.
The screen went black, and even the last bit of connection was extinguished.
The roar of engines grew louder in her ears as the plane slowly taxied. She leaned back in her seat, closed her eyes, and thought she could remain calm enough.
She had rehearsed the scene of leaving in her mind countless times, and carefully crafted the words of the letter over and over again until the tone was rational enough and the language was steady enough.
But a true farewell is never calm.
She remembered him whispering in her ear, "Try walking again, I'm really going crazy." She didn't answer then, afraid that if she opened her mouth, she would never be able to leave again.
But she still left in the end, going to a place where no one could find her. The plane took her further and further away, and every inch of altitude seemed to be taking away the warmth she once possessed.
She began to regret it, but it was too late. She buried her head in the blanket and finally couldn't hold back her long-suppressed sobs.
She tried hard not to think about it, but as soon as she closed her eyes, Zhou Yue's image would appear in her mind. She knew she was doing the right thing; she was always clear-headed, rational, and didn't dwell on things.
She knew that she had stabbed herself in the heart with her own hands, but the pain was real, it was excruciating, so painful that she dared not breathe, and she could only quietly break down alone, ten thousand meters in the air.
She didn't know how long she had been crying until the flight attendant quietly came over, called her name softly, and handed her a clean, soft new blanket.
She slowly raised her head and said, "Thank you," her voice so hoarse it was almost unlike her own.
The flight attendant didn't ask any further questions, but simply nodded and smiled, then walked away gently, leaving her with ample dignity and silence.
She leaned back against the window, covered her legs with the new blanket, and watched as the plane flew through thick clouds, sunlight streaming through gaps in the clouds and illuminating her shoulders.
She only felt cold, a loneliness that penetrated to the bone, as if it were spreading from the end of that beam of light all the way to the depths of her heart. That light was still there, but it was too far away, so far that no matter how far she reached out, she could not touch it.
She was just a traveler drifting in the sky, gradually drifting away from her loved ones, gradually learning not to cry, and gradually hiding herself in the night where no one knew her.
The sky over New York was overcast, with dark clouds pressing down on the city as if they were about to swallow it up.
Zhou Yue had just finished a long meeting, and the fatigue from not sleeping all night still lingered in his eyes. His throat was dry and parched. He looked down at the densely packed meeting minutes on his laptop while planning to down another cup of coffee.
He took out his phone, just about to send Xia Zhiyao a WeChat message, when the screen lit up. It was a message from her. He felt a slight sense of relief and subconsciously opened it.
The next second, it was as if something had hit him hard in front of his eyes. His vision blurred, and the sounds around him vanished instantly, leaving only those two lines of text clearly etched into his mind like the sharp edge of a knife.
His fingers froze on the screen, his heart felt like it had been suddenly grabbed, pounding wildly in his chest, blood rushed to his head and was quickly drained away, his chest felt suffocated as if a huge rock was pressing down on it.
He wanted to say something, but his throat felt like it was being choked, and he couldn't utter a single word. The liquid in the coffee pot had already overflowed, scalding his hand and making him tremble, but he seemed not to feel the pain.
"Impossible..." This thought roared repeatedly in his mind, but it could never drown out the weight of those two lines of text.
He snapped back to reality, as if someone had pushed him, and his phone almost slipped from his hand. He staggered, turned around, and rushed out of the office, dialing her number as he hurried toward the elevator.
"Hello... Zhiyao? Answer the phone, please answer it, okay..." His voice was trembling, as if he was afraid that he would really not hear anything at all in the next second.
The elevator doors opened and closed repeatedly, and he almost fell in. His fingers dialed that familiar number over and over again, and every time he heard "The number you dialed is currently unavailable," it felt like he was being pushed off a great height, his chest plummeting to the bottom.
"No, it can't be like this... She can't really be gone..." he murmured in a low, hoarse voice, his voice trembling with despair, as if he were making a final stand against himself.
As he rushed out of the building, he flagged down the first taxi and, before the door was even properly closed, urged impatiently, "Hurry up, please hurry up!"
The taxi braked sharply and swerved, the street scene outside the window rushing past like fragments torn by the wind.
Zhou Yue gripped his phone tightly, leaning forward on the edge of his seat, his heart pounding uncontrollably against his ribs, as if it were about to burst out of his throat.
His mind was a jumbled mess, yet he stubbornly clung to fragmented images: the way she lingered in bed that morning, the way she occasionally smiled with her head down, and the fleeting moment last night when her lips touched his ear.
"Faster!" he growled, his voice tense. The driver glanced at him through the rearview mirror and saw that his face was frighteningly pale. He silently stepped on the gas.
No matter how fast the car went, it couldn't catch up with the feeling of falling in his heart.
He couldn't imagine whether she was already on her way to the airport or had already passed through the boarding gate.
If you're even a second later, you'll never see her again.
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