Chapter 117 Daily Life After Divorce
Song Zhiyi's work at the United Nations remains busy. The peace process negotiations have entered a new round of intensive consultations, and her coordination team is like a high-speed, precision instrument, with each member being an indispensable cog. She often stays in the office until late at night, analyzing the changing positions of all parties on her computer screen and scrutinizing every potentially ambiguous word in the negotiation text.
Alongside this high-intensity work, Huo Yanli exists in a new, more stable, and more relaxed way, both outside her life's radius and frequently touching its boundaries.
He no longer carries the unspoken anxiety and tentativeness he did before the divorce. Now, his presence and contact are more like background noise—stable, clear, and non-aggressive, yet impossible to ignore.
Sometimes, it's a brief message sent across more than 10,000 kilometers and a twelve-hour time difference.
"The weather forecast says it will get colder and rainy in New York tomorrow. Remember to wear warm clothes and bring an umbrella."
Or it could be a picture, perhaps a progress photo of a school construction project funded by the Fok Foundation, showing children smiling brightly in their new classrooms, captioned: "Thinking you might want to take a look."
Or perhaps, it's just a simple sentence: "Grandpa was thinking of you. He's in good health, so don't worry."
She didn't reply to every message, but when she did, a subtle mix of warmth and bittersweetness would always well up inside her. She would selectively reply, her tone polite and brief: "Thank you, I've received the reminder." "The children's smiles are so powerful, please give my regards to Grandpa."
Sometimes, it was just a coincidence that he was in New York for business. He knew she was busy, so he never asked her out for dinner without prior notice. He would only send a message after confirming that she was unlikely to be working late that night.
"I'm in New York, leaving tomorrow afternoon. Are you free after 8 pm? The tea house by the East River, if you'd like to relax with a cup of hot tea."
Faced with such invitations, Song Zhiyi would often hesitate before swallowing the words of refusal. She was indeed tired and needed a temporary escape from documents and screens. As for Huo Yanli, after everything he had been through, having a quiet cup of tea with him had become a strangely comforting way to relax.
The teahouse overlooks the East River, with soft lighting and an elegant ambiance. They usually choose a corner by the window. Huo Yanli will order her preferred jasmine tea and some light snacks in advance.
When they met, the conversation always started with work and family. He would ask about the progress of negotiations (without revealing any confidential information), listen to her briefly recount the challenges or minor breakthroughs she had encountered, and occasionally offer different perspectives from a business or geopolitical standpoint. She would also ask about the recent situations of Mr. Huo, Mrs. Huo, Siqi, and even Ji Yun. He told her that Ji Yun's relief fund had successfully assisted a Chinese medical team in entering a disaster area, that Zhou Mubai's law firm had just won a very meaningful public interest lawsuit, and that Shen Yu's ESG department had invested in a promising environmental technology project.
Their conversation was calm and rational, like old friends catching up. But when he looked at her, his gaze was focused and gentle; he would refill her teacup when it was empty and remind her that certain snacks were hard to digest if they got cold. He no longer hid his concern, but it was strictly controlled within a range that made her feel comfortable, without feeling offended or pressured.
Once, halfway through her tea, a light drizzle began to fall outside the window. Song Zhiyi watched the raindrops trace patterns on the river and the glass, suddenly lost in thought. The fatigue accumulated from her intense work, combined with the stillness of the late night in a foreign land, caused a tiny crack to appear in the hard protective shell around her heart.
“Sometimes I feel,” she said unconsciously, as if talking to herself, “that this path I’ve chosen is too lonely.”
As soon as the words left her mouth, she was stunned. This wasn't something she would normally say.
Huo Yanli paused slightly as he poured tea. He looked up at her. Under the lamplight, her profile appeared somewhat pale, her eyes showing obvious weariness, and a fleeting, rare look of confusion and vulnerability crossed her gaze as she looked out the window.
His heart skipped a beat, a subtle ache rising within him. But he showed no excessive concern or surprise, simply pushing the poured tea gently towards her, his voice steady and gentle:
"Whether you're lonely or not depends on your perspective," he said slowly. "From the perspective of companionship, perhaps you are. But what you want to do is a path that only a few people persist on. The person who walks at the forefront and explores the way always looks lonely from behind."
He paused, looking at her as she turned her gaze back: "But you are not alone. Your team, your colleagues, countless people around the world who believe in peace and work for it, and... the children and families who can sleep a little more peacefully because of your efforts, they are all, in a sense, walking alongside you."
He didn't say "I'm here for you." But his calm gaze and the complete understanding and support in his words were more powerful than any straightforward declaration.
Song Zhiyi looked at him for several seconds, then lowered her eyes, picked up the cup of warm tea, and slowly took a sip. The fragrance of jasmine melted in her mouth, and the warmth slid down her throat, seemingly dispelling some of the chill and confusion in her heart.
"Thank you," she said softly.
"You're welcome." Huo Yanli smiled slightly and naturally changed the subject.
When she left the teahouse that night, Huo Yanli held an umbrella and escorted her to her apartment building.
"Go upstairs and get some rest." He stood at the bottom of the steps, tilting the umbrella slightly towards her.
"Hmm. What time is your flight tomorrow?" she asked.
"Three o'clock in the afternoon."
Have a safe journey.
"good."
She turned and walked into the stairwell, the motion-sensor light turning on. As she reached the corner on the second floor, she instinctively turned back and looked out the window. He was still standing there, watching her window. In the dim glow of the streetlight, his figure was tall and serene, like a silent lighthouse.
At that moment, Song Zhiyi clearly felt a small, soft spot in her heart collapse. The feeling of being understood, supported, and patiently and steadfastly waited for was like a warm stream, silently nourishing her heart, which had become somewhat parched and hardened by ideals and responsibilities.
She knew why he did it. She also knew that her permission for this connection and meeting, and even her occasional reliance on this quiet understanding, was not merely out of gratitude or habit.
Some feelings are like seeds buried deep in the ground. You think they've been buried with a piece of paper. But when you're trekking alone on a long road, feeling tired and cold, you'll be surprised to find that the seed has quietly sprouted, pushing through the heavy soil and showing its tender yet tenacious green shoot.
However, the road ahead remains long and fraught with difficulties. The dilapidated state of the field hospital, the faces locked in deadlock at the negotiating table, the cold casualty figures in the reports... these remain the main themes of her life. She cannot promise the future, cannot offer ordinary companionship, and cannot even guarantee her own safety.
Therefore, she could only carefully seal away that quietly growing tenderness and fluttering feeling. She continued to face him, the world, and herself with a calm and rational demeanor.
Back at her apartment, she received a message from him: "Arrived. Get some sleep."
She stared at the screen, her finger lingering for a long time, before finally replying with just one word: "Okay."
This is their daily life after their divorce. Closer than strangers, more distant than lovers; more understanding than friends, yet separated by a high wall built of ideals and risks.
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