Chapter 77: An Empty Joy

Cheng Xingye reached out, wanting to grasp her arm, but Lu Qingyue had already turned away resolutely, walking back through the rain. The downpour quickly soaked her thin figure. She seemed like a drifting water lily, carried farther and farther away by the wind and rain. He had never seen her look so determined before; his heart raced in panic, desperate only to hold onto her.

But before he could catch up, he heard the faint sound of a door opening through the rain. Xi Yu stepped out, standing on the steps, surprised to see her daughter drenched to the bone. She asked in astonishment, “Dian Dian, what’s wrong?”

Cheng Xingye saw Lu Qingyue glance back at him briefly before she looked away. Her light voice carried a faint note of emotion. “It’s nothing. My brother’s friend forgot his umbrella, so I went to give it to him.”

With that, she pushed open the door and followed her mother inside, never looking back at him. Cheng Xingye stood outside, watching as the door slowly closed in front of him, ultimately sealing off the gaze he refused to withdraw. Cold raindrops battered the small umbrella Lu Qingyue had pressed into his hand. There was still a trace of her warmth left on the handle, but the person before him was gone.

He stood in the torrential rain, letting the relentless downpour engulf him, allowing the bone-chilling cold to swallow him whole. He raised his hand to touch the corner of his lips; the pain had faded, but his fingertips came away stained with a hint of crimson.

…

Lu Qingyue returned home, facing her parents’ worried gazes. She forced a difficult smile. “I’m going upstairs to do my homework.”

Head lowered, she hurried up the stairs, not daring to let anyone see the redness at the corners of her eyes.

Xi Yu called after her, worried, “Dian Dian…”

Lu Qingyue paused. “Yes?”

She stood on the steps, soaked through, her eyes lowered and her head drooping, looking for all the world like an abandoned kitten—pitiful yet stubborn. Xi Yu and Lu Jiachen stood at the foot of the stairs, watching their daughter’s sorrowful state, and understood, at least in part, what she was going through. They exchanged a glance, and Xi Yu said softly, “If you’re unhappy, don’t force yourself to bear it. You can come talk to us.”

Lu Qingyue bit her lip, her head still bowed. “I know.”

She didn’t want to worry her parents, but she couldn’t control her emotions. She blinked rapidly, and before her tears could fall, she turned and ran up the stairs. Only when she’d closed her bedroom door did the tears fall, heavy and cold, splashing onto the tops of her feet.

In truth, she had already understood much when she saw that interview transcript on Weibo. Lu Qingyue wasn’t foolish; she could feel Cheng Xingye’s indulgence and favoritism during this time together—he truly liked her.

But precisely because of that, she couldn’t go on pretending nothing had changed.

Between him and Ye Zixuan, bound by that life-saving debt, there was surely a bond deeper than that of ordinary lovers. Otherwise, why else would he have kept her things for so long? With such a relationship in place, whether Cheng Xingye admitted it or not, Ye Zixuan and the Ye family behind her were the ones who could truly affect his future.

That was why her heart ached when she heard the words “white moonlight.” It felt as if her chest was flooded with sourness, making it hard even to breathe.

At sixteen, she had fallen for someone with all the innocence of youth, eagerly offering her heart, giving him the brightest and boldest part of herself, thinking that mutual affection would be enough for them to walk side by side. But in the end, she realized what she gained was nothing more than an empty illusion—a fleeting joy like a flower in a mirror or the moon’s reflection on water.

No matter how young she was, Lu Qingyue was not one to chase unrealistic dreams. Hadn’t Cheng Xingye taught her himself? Girls should read more, so that at critical moments, sheer willpower could help them maintain their dignity: if someone doesn’t love us, we stand up and walk away, no need to linger.

Besides, he already had a fiancée, so why should she dwell on whether he loved her?

Lu Qingyue slowly took off her drenched clothes. Whether it was the chill of the rainy day or the coldness in her heart, she shivered uncontrollably and quickly found dry clothes to change into.

She pulled out her homework from her bag, forcing herself to become absorbed in her studies and think of nothing else. But the words on the page blurred before her eyes; the ink from freshly written characters bled as her tears fell onto the paper.

She rubbed her eyes hard. This wasn’t heartbreak—they’d never even defined their relationship—yet Lu Qingyue still felt as if she’d been abandoned.

How could she not be sad? I never even had the chance to call you mine, and already you are lost to me.

…

Cheng Xingye, soaked to the skin, pushed open his front door with a loud bang. Cheng Li and Guo Mengyun were both in the living room, startled by the noise and turning to look at him. Seeing him dripping wet, clutching a rain-soaked umbrella, Guo Mengyun immediately sprang from the sofa. “How did you get yourself into this state?!”

Cheng Xingye didn’t answer. Water dripped from his short bangs, but he seemed numb to it all, struggling to keep calm as he asked, “Why didn’t anyone tell me about this?”

It was obvious what “this” referred to. Guo Mengyun’s face grew awkward; she didn’t know how to explain. Yet, faced with her son’s cold, intense gaze, she could only sigh and try to defend herself. “We were caught off guard too. Xuanxuan’s mother never gave us any warning and suddenly said all that to the media, putting us in a very passive position.”

They had, in fact, made several calls to the Ye family about this today. To be honest, Guo Mengyun was angry as well. She thought she had been clear in her refusal at that dinner, only to have the other side act without a word, catching them completely off guard.

Cheng Xingye found this reasoning absurd. He sneered, frowning, and pressed on calmly, “Then why did the company’s public account repost it? Doesn’t a repost represent your stance?”

Without authorization from upper management, the social media staff would never have shared an interview transcript that was almost entirely unrelated to the company’s business.

“Well…” Guo Mengyun hesitated.

Cheng Li, who hadn’t spoken until now, finally broke his silence. “I instructed them. We couldn’t just let the Ye family make an announcement and not respond. Otherwise, it would look like they were throwing themselves at us, which would be bad for Xuanxuan’s reputation—especially since she once saved your life…”

That same old excuse.

Cheng Xingye’s lips twisted in a bitter smile. The emotions he’d been suppressing on his way from the Lu house erupted at last. He clenched the umbrella, his fingers curling in anger, then forced himself to swallow hard and said, weary and despairing, “Then why don’t I just give my life back to the Ye family?”

He didn’t want to owe anyone anymore. Not even his life. Wouldn’t that satisfy everyone?

Cheng Li’s brow furrowed, and he slapped the armrest of the sofa. “What nonsense are you talking about?”

Guo Mengyun quickly grabbed his arm, afraid father and son would start arguing. But Cheng Xingye only forced a faint smile, his voice faintly mocking. “Isn’t that what you’re most afraid of, owing someone a debt? If I give my life back to them, we don’t owe the Ye family anything anymore, do we?”

“Xingye…”

Guo Mengyun tried to stop him, but Cheng Xingye had already lowered his head, closing his eyes wearily, silently wrestling with the turmoil inside.

Seeing her son so defeated, she was suddenly struck silent. In that moment, it dawned on her—he was already a twenty-three-year-old man. Did he have someone he loved? Had he confessed to her? Had today’s events destroyed what could have been a good ending?

Guo Mengyun pressed her lips together, unwilling to think further. She and Cheng Li sat in silence, watching as he hunched over, shoulders bowed, looking like a defeated soldier. After a long while, he finally murmured in a husky voice, “I don’t owe the Ye family. From start to finish, the only one I owe is Dian Dian.”

Before Guo Mengyun and Cheng Li could figure out who “Dian Dian” was, Cheng Xingye found he could no longer stay in this house. With a self-mocking, despairing smile, he hastily collected himself, turned, and walked out.

Guo Mengyun wanted to call him back, but before she could speak, the door had already closed. She and Cheng Li sat in the living room for a long time, staring at the tightly shut door and the puddle left in the entryway, not knowing what to feel.

It was only after a while that Guo Mengyun realized in a daze—he was soaked from head to toe, yet the whole time, he never let go of that dripping umbrella.