Wen Nuan spent all of Sunday wondering if Zhan Nanxian had seen her resignation letter.
After everything that had happened between them, the courage she had once mustered vanished. She couldn't bring herself to ask him about it. The thought of his reaction—especially his anger—made her hesitant. She had to admit it now; she was afraid of him, but not in a conventional sense. It wasn’t that she feared him outright, but rather the way his indifference pierced her whenever she made a mistake. His silent gaze made her feel small, guilty, as though she had wronged him in ways she couldn’t explain.
Today, that same feeling gnawed at her. Part of her wanted to know if he had seen the letter, yet she was equally afraid to find out. She felt trapped, conflicted between wanting answers and avoiding his possible wrath. She owed him so much, more than she could ever repay, and her regret ran deep. With each passing moment, she found herself giving in to him, retreating, and doing whatever it took to keep him from being unhappy.
She didn’t want to see him upset, not ever.
There was something indescribable within her—an instinct to protect and compensate for him, no matter what. The weight of her emotions followed her throughout the day, but he didn’t call. Not in the morning, not in the afternoon, and not by evening. Though she was at peace with not hearing from him, a small part of her, deep down, felt disappointment creeping in. She hated to admit it, but she missed him.
That evening, she went to watch a tennis match at the indoor court. Roger Federer and Andy Roddick—her favorite players—were going head-to-head. Her seat, a comfortable one in the second VIP box, offered a perfect view. As the match began, she noticed the top box across from her was still empty, though the stadium was nearly full. People whispered around her, wondering who had reserved such prime seats and hadn’t shown up.
Federer struggled in the early sets, and the crowd cheered for both players. The energy in the room was electric. Yet as she tried to focus on the game, her phone buzzed in her pocket. It was Zhan Nanxian.
Her heart raced as his name lit up on the screen. She had barely managed to push thoughts of him aside, but now here he was, invading her mind once again. She hesitated, letting the phone vibrate in her hand before finally answering.
“Smile again, like you were before,” his voice broke through the silence.
Startled, she asked, “What?”
“Like before. Smile again.”
Confused, her eyes scanned the court until they landed on him. He sat alone in the once-empty top box, dressed casually in sportswear, his phone in hand. That familiar smirk tugged at his lips, and though distance separated them, the unmistakable starlight in his eyes sent a wave of unease through her.
The urge to leave gripped her, but she remained frozen. The match had started, and she couldn’t move. Then, as if taunting her, his voice broke the silence. “I bet you a kiss that Roddick will win this game,” he said before hanging up.
She shut her eyes, willing herself to breathe. "Please, control yourself. Calm down. Don’t try to run. You have your own life, you can’t let him affect you like this," she repeated silently.
A burst of applause snapped her eyes open. Without looking, she could feel it—his gaze, burning into her like a predator locking onto prey. Her heart raced, and her mind spun, but she forced her attention back to the game.
Just as Zhan Nanxian had predicted, despite Federer’s incredible plays, Roddick took control with his powerful serves, clinching two consecutive games. His ace serves were like meteors, and his aggressive net play set the tone for the match. Roddick ultimately won the first set, 6-4.
The second set grew more thrilling. Though Federer was on the back foot, he stayed composed, steadily finding his rhythm. The points were intense, and each rally more captivating than the last.
During the break after the eleventh game of the second set, she noticed Zhan Nanxian had disappeared from his seat. He didn't return until the game resumed.
She exhaled deeply. He was finally gone.
Few knew that Zhan Nanxian, a titan in the business world, was also a tennis savant. His talents weren’t widely recognized because he was selective about his opponents. She remembered him once telling her, "I'd rather lose 3-0 than waste my time with someone I could easily beat."
It wasn't just tennis. He excelled in basketball, squash, bowling, and chess—every sport she once loved, or had started to love because of him. Her gaze drifted back to the empty box. He was really gone this time, or so it seemed.
"Looking for me?" A low voice, tinged with amusement, whispered in her ear.
Startled, she spun around.
There he was, leaning over the chair rail behind her, arms folded, face inches from hers. His usually cold, deep-set eyes had softened into playful crescents, and his lips held an undeniable allure. Her heart stuttered.
Before she could pull away, his hand cradled her face. "I loved watching you just now," he murmured. "One moment, you were glowing with happiness. Then, in an instant, you were sad. And then, you looked so shy, like you were falling for me all over again. It made me pity you."
He leaned in and whispered, “I won the bet earlier.” Without waiting for a response, he kissed her.
Her heart fluttered in confusion—a tangled mix of helplessness, sweetness, and sadness.
When he finally pulled away, she barely had time to catch her breath before he raised a finger to his lips. "Shh... focus on the game." With that, his attention returned to the court, leaving her to absorb the stares of the crowd, as if what had just happened was her doing alone.
Her heart still raced from the kiss, embarrassment and frustration stirring inside her. But getting angry seemed pointless, so she sat upright, trying to steady herself.
Before long, the intensity of the tiebreak pulled her back into the moment. Roddick was ahead, 5-2, while Federer, uncharacteristically making mistakes, seemed close to losing.
At 6-4, Roddick needed only two points to win. But then Federer, with precision, tied the score at 6-6. The match was electrifying, and the entire audience held their breath.
Just when she was fully engrossed, a familiar voice leaned close. "Baby, I’m telling you, Roddick’s going to lose this tiebreak."
She glanced at the court, puzzled. Roddick had regained an 8-7 lead. "Why do you think that?" she asked.
His voice was calm. "Roddick’s showing signs of instability. Against someone like Federer, that’s fatal."
As if on cue, Federer pulled ahead, 9-8.
Then, something unimaginable happened. Roddick, with the advantage, botched a high-pressure shot. The match, which could have been tied at 10-10, was instead clinched by Federer at 10-8.
She turned to Zhan Nanxian, who smirked with a knowing glint in his eye, as if he had predicted the outcome all along.
The third set began, and Federer displayed near-perfect technique. His serves, volleys, and tactical finesse were impeccable, as if there was no gap between his offense and defense. The crowd watched in awe, while Roddick’s uneven performance only grew more pronounced. His playful interaction with the ball boys brought applause, but it did little to shift the tide. Federer seized control and eventually won the match, 2-1.
When she finally glanced back to where Zhan Nanxian had been seated, he was gone. Disappointment crept in as she searched the crowd for any sign of him.
That disappointment lingered all the way home. A part of her clung to the hope that he would call, or that his car would suddenly pull up beside her. But deep down, she knew his unpredictability had left her heart in disarray.
After washing up, she flicked through the TV channels and stopped on a music interview. It was a world-famous Irish band, their familiar melodies pulling her back to memories of Zhan Nanxian's room, where she had once been moved by their songs during the holidays.
A single touch can revive old wounds. After all these years, hearing the familiar melody of “Unbreakable” again feels like a gentle breeze from the past, bringing back memories of the person and the song that had once been her only solace during lonely nights of separation.
In those 2,500 days and nights, the stars in her eyes had longed for the person she now saw on the screen. Time has etched its marks on their faces. The song remains, but the vibrant youth has faded, replaced by the realities of aging. They are no longer the boys they once were, just as she has moved beyond the era of her youth.
As she reflected on how the world changes daily, she felt the weight of time’s passage. Lost in thought, she was startled by a knock on the door and jumped from the sofa.
Her heart raced with a mix of excitement and fear. She had waited half her life for this moment, hoping he would finally return. Yet, she was terrified that her years of waiting might be in vain, that he might come back only to leave again.
Sweat dampened her palms as she nervously called out, "Who’s there?"
“Who are you hoping for?” came the reply.
Almost in tears, she pressed her forehead against the door. After a moment of hesitation, she managed to turn the handle and let him in.
"Are you opening the door, or your heart?" His voice, warm and intimate, whispered close to her ear. Wrapped in his embrace, she could feel the heat and masculine scent of him. “Don’t make me wait forever next time.”
A deep sigh of relief washed over her, mingling with the realization that things had irrevocably changed. He let go of her, breathing heavily as he tried to calm himself.
His clothes were drenched from the workout. She asked, “Have you been exercising?”
“The guests in VIP seats often compete with the players after the game. I just played against Federer.” Zhan Nanxian retrieved his phone, dialed a number, and handed it to her. “Have them send me some clothes.”
He removed his sports shirt with a practiced ease and walked toward her bathroom.
“Hello? Wait!” she called out, chasing after him. “What kind of clothes?”
He glanced back with a playful smile, leaning in to take the phone from her hand. “Formal clothes—shirts, underwear, socks, belts, and ties. Just pick out what you think I need. No pajamas.” He returned the phone to her. “Give them the address.”
His grin was dazzling, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he disappeared behind the bathroom door.
She stared at the phone, confused. “What did he just say? Is he planning to stay the night? Did I hear that correctly?” She confirmed with the caller, feeling helpless. “Please write down the address and send the clothes here.”
Twenty minutes later, the clothes still hadn’t arrived, but Zhan Nanxian emerged from the bathroom wrapped in a bath towel. She instinctively retreated to a corner of the living room, her gaze locked on him.
Water droplets dripped from his damp hair, trailing down his chest. His black eyes, clearer and more intense after his bath, sparkled with a seductive charm. “Hey, I didn’t expect you to come running, but your reaction is quite touching.”
She quickly retorted, “My classmate, I haven’t asked you to respect yourself in someone else’s home.”
She did appreciate a handsome man and had shared intimate moments with him before, but had she ever experienced spending a night with a man wrapped only in a bath towel? God, her weak heart was really pounding and couldn't bear it.
He glanced at the TV. “Are you watching them?”
Years ago, in June, after the Irish national team had lost to Spain on penalties, the four boys had sung a song to welcome the returning team. Their favorite song, "World Of Our Own," had been a symbol of their shared memories.
He turned his gaze back to her, and their eyes met, holding a silent conversation. It was as if the past and present had converged in this moment.
Just as he was about to approach, a knock on the door startled her. She rushed over, relieved to see the clothes had arrived in time. If they hadn’t, her heart would have been shattered. She opened the door, only to be stunned by the sight of Zhu Linlu. “Lin-Linlu?!”
Zhu Linlu, visibly agitated, grabbed her by the neck. “Do you want to drive me mad? I told you not to look for me, and you really didn’t?!” He barged in, kicking the door open.
“I—” She decided silence was the best response.
In the hallway, Zhan Nanxian, arms crossed, watched the exchange with a smirk. His bath-soaked look and easy demeanor contrasted sharply with Zhu Linlu’s bewildered expression. “Mr. Zhu, just passing by?”
She covered her face with her hands in despair. Was the universe playing a cruel joke on her?
With a heavy sigh, she gently pushed Zhu Linlu out the door, directing him to the person coming out of the elevator. “Send the clothes to that gentleman.” She ignored Zhu Linlu’s changing expressions as she pushed him into the elevator and pressed the button for the first floor. “I’ll explain everything another day.”
Returning to the room, she found Zhan Nanxian had already signed for the delivery. She shut the door with a slam.
“Hey! Hey!” he protested, raising his hands innocently. “Even if I were a deity, I wouldn’t have known he was coming tonight.”
She glared at him through gritted teeth. “Get dressed and go!”
He laughed, advancing towards her. “Dream on.” His gaze turned intense as he saw her try to evade him. “If you hide again, I promise you won’t see the sun tomorrow.”
“Get lost!” she shouted, leaping onto the sofa to avoid his reach.
Startled, he chuckled. “My pleasure, honey. Come here.”
Fuming, she jumped off the sofa armrest. “I forgive you for not understanding English properly. Let me translate: Get out of here!” She fled to her room, locked the door, and panted heavily.
“Baby,” his soft voice called from the other side of the door, “Tell me, did you smile like a cat stealing fish?”
She touched her cheeks, trying to smooth out the unintended smile. “No!”
Despite her denial, laughter bubbled up, and she heard his joyful laughter from outside. It seemed he hadn’t been this happy in years, just like her.
“Remember when you refused to take your medicine because it was so bitter?” he asked.
“That medicine was awful.”
“No matter how much I tried, even when my saliva dried up, you refused to take it.”
“Hmph! You even threatened to hit me!”
“I just wanted to give your little backside a pat, to show my respect.”
She laughed, “But you didn’t hit me, you didn’t!”
“Just like now, you’re hiding in the room,” he said, his tone affectionate.
She held her face in her hands, feeling it burn. “Hello, goodbye.”
“Baby, I didn’t get a chance to tell you earlier, but I learned a new skill.”
“What’s that?”
“How to find the spare key.”
Her laughter turned into a violent cough. She heard a click and saw the door begin to open. Desperately, she jumped onto the bed and climbed to the windowsill. “Don’t come in!” she shouted.
When the door opened, his expression shifted to one of stern seriousness. “Come down.”
He slowly backed away, giving her space. Relieved, she cautiously stepped down, feeling a pang of regret for her impulsiveness. “Don’t hit me,” she declared.
His eyes sparkled with the starlight she loved, and his lips curved in a half-smile. “You haven’t changed at all over the years. Still so impulsive and willful.” His playful tone was both endearing and frustrating.
She exhaled deeply, then climbed back to the bed. “I don’t know what’s happening today,” she admitted, feeling out of character.
He approached her, “You know exactly what’s happening.”
She averted her gaze, feeling confused. After all these years, was she just reverting to her younger self whenever he was around?
Suddenly, she felt his arms around her waist, holding her tightly. “You promised—” she began.
He silenced her with a kiss, gently laying her back on the bed. “How could I bear to hit you, baby? I just want to spoil you.”
“Wu Nuan, Wen Nuan,” someone called softly. “Wake up.”
She opened her eyes through a veil of tears to see someone standing by the bed. Rubbing her eyes in disbelief, she threw herself into his arms. “Dad! Dad! You’re finally back! I missed you so much!”
He smiled warmly. “Silly child.”
She cried uncontrollably. “I’m so sorry, Dad! Please forgive me. I didn’t mean it!”
“I don’t blame you,” he said gently, stroking her head. “Don’t cry, dear. It’s alright.”
Her tears flowed like a broken dam. “Dad, please don’t leave again. Please, Dad... Don’t go…”
“Shh, dear, don’t cry,” he soothed. “What’s wrong? What’s the matter?”
Wen Nuan opened her tearful eyes with difficulty. She didn't know where she was in the darkness. She just felt an unbearable pain in her heart. She broke free from the arms of the person next to her. She leaned against the bed and gasped, "It hurts, it hurts so much..."
The orange bedside lamp cast a soft glow as Zhan Nanxian wrapped his arms around her, his voice laced with concern. "Why are you so upset? What's wrong? Are you feeling unwell?"
She shook her head vigorously, tears streaming down her cheeks, her hands pressed over her heart.
At a loss, he gently covered her hands and began massaging her chest in soothing, clockwise circles.
Gradually, her breathing steadied and her tears subsided.
"Did you have a nightmare?" he asked softly.
Her tear-streaked face was a portrait of sorrow. "Sometimes, I wish I could just stay asleep forever."
Zhan Nanxian fell silent, struggling to find the right words.
Her eyes, filled with endless tears, stared into his dark eyes and choked, "I'm sorry, I didn't know it would implicate Daddy Zhan... Nan Xian, I'm really sorry, I'm sorry, I didn't know it would be like this... I thought, I thought it was just a matter between the two of us..."
Her stubbornness and impulsiveness had led to a mistake she couldn't undo, leaving her feeling unworthy of love and trapped in a cycle of seeking comfort. How could she even hope to discuss love with him?
He lowered his lashes and placed a gentle kiss on her hair. "It wasn't your fault. It was an accident." Turning off the lights, he drew her closer to his chest. "Don't think about trying to fall asleep before dawn."
His voice held a mix of emotions—cold, solemn, weary, and anxious—like an inner turmoil that left him exhausted and frustrated. Despite his slow movements, he was fierce, almost ignoring her pleas. The intensity of their connection was overwhelming, leaving her body and mind imprinted with the experience.
As dawn's first light crept through the curtains, he gave one final spasm before releasing her. Exhausted and sore, she fell into a deep, peaceful sleep.
In her dreams, a distant melody played:
I stand under the starry sky of Bressanone,
And the stars are also shining on Bressanone on the other side of the sky.
Please let go gently, because I must go far away.
Although the train will take my people away, my heart will not leave for a moment.
Oh, my heart will not leave for a moment.
The song brought back memories of a love story. A man who had met a girl briefly on his way back from Yosemite and later reunited with her in Bressanone, only to part ways again at the train station, each carrying the weight of their separation.
Awaking to the sound of someone calling her name, she squinted through the haze of sleep. "What's going on? Who are you talking to?"
The voice was familiar and comforting, though fleeting. She managed to focus and saw a face that made her heart leap with joy.
"Wenrou is looking for you," he said softly.
She closed her eyes tightly, shaking her head, then reopened them as the sunlight began to fill the room. Her memory came rushing back, and she panicked, realizing she was caught in bed. "Sister?" she called hesitantly.
Wenrou’s furious voice boomed from the other end, but Zhan Nanxian took the phone away from her. "What’s the matter?" he asked, his tone casual as if it were a regular conversation.
In that moment, she realized they were both naked and without any cover. Her embarrassment drove her to scramble out of bed, hastily dress, and splash cold water on her face to wake up fully.
Zhan Nanxian entered the room as she finished, and they exchanged a smile through the mirror. He kissed her lightly.
A thought crossed her mind, and she mouthed four words silently.
"What?" he asked.
She whispered, "Warm strings."
He smiled, burying his face in her hair. The "Warm strings" seal he had carved for her had become a symbol of their bond, marking every one of her paintings.
Amidst their shared smiles and memories, she asked, "Do you need to talk to Wenrou?"
He replied, "I'll explain later."
She went to prepare lunch, and as they ate, Zhan Nanxian's gaze remained intense. "Wenrou told you not to go out today."
"Why?" she asked, puzzled.
"Because you made headlines this morning."
Shock flashed across her face. "What? How is that possible?"
As Zhu Linlu’s least publicized foil, she hadn't been in the news for a long time. How had she suddenly become the center of attention?
Zhan Nanxian looked up, and she immediately sensed something off about the smile on his face, a warning flashing in her mind. With growing suspicion, she walked over to the laptop, typed in the address of the entertainment news website, and within seconds, saw two lines of glaring red text:
"Bo Yixin has not returned from a foreign filming trip, and Zhan Nanxian and his secretary were seen kissing in public at a game."
She was frozen in shock.
The next page was filled with sensational photos and texts. There were numerous images of them whispering and kissing in the stadium, accompanied by highly dramatic captions. Old news about her and Zhu Linlu was resurfaced, and even her sister Wenrou, a prominent socialite, was dragged into the coverage. She found herself in an unexpected, glamorous photo with Wenrou.
A prominent link caught her eye: "Three Years of Fate Comes to an End." She clicked on it.
The article began with a statement about her and Zhan Nanxian's public kiss. Zhu Linlu had commented in an interview that he had broken up with her peacefully half a month ago, stressing that it had nothing to do with Zhan Nanxian.
She clamped her hand over her mouth, overwhelmed.
Another link detailed that when reporters reached Bo Yixin in Switzerland, her agent claimed she had no information and thus had no comment.
The page was awash with articles and images about the scandal. It felt as though the entire city had been thrown into turmoil overnight, while she had been isolated, completely unaware of the chaos unfolding outside.
She grabbed the remote control and turned on the TV. The entertainment news anchor was saying: "Our reporters have been unable to reach Zhan Nanxian for a comment. It remains to be seen how he, known for his low profile, will address this situation. Meanwhile, an insider reported seeing him entering Yazhuyuan, where Wen Nuan lives, last night. There are currently around 40 to 50 reporters waiting outside."
Wen Nuan buried her face in her hands, bewildered by how everything had spiraled out of control.
Zhan Nanxian placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "It will blow over soon. Gao Fang will be here shortly, and I'll have him take you to stay with Wen Rou for a few days."
She pulled away from his touch, her mind racing. "No, something doesn’t add up. I need to think this through."
After a moment, she looked up at him and asked slowly, "Did you read my resignation letter?"
He gave a slight smile. "It's hard to miss such a conspicuous white envelope."
She nodded, understanding dawning on her. "You asked me to break up with Linlu, but I resigned instead."
The situation was clear: Even if Zhu Linlu hadn’t shown up last night, with the newspaper headlines, he would have had to publicly confirm the end of their relationship to avoid appearing unfaithful. Despite this, his reputation and dignity had suffered.
"Don’t you think your actions were a bit extreme?" she asked. "My resignation was between us—why involve Zhu Linlu?"
He smirked slightly. "Are you questioning me now?"
"I just want to know the truth."
"Oh? What else is there to prove? Have you already decided that I did this intentionally?"
"If you didn’t, then explain—"
"Of course I did," he interrupted sharply, his eyes cold. "You were dragging your feet about breaking up with him, so I took matters into my own hands. Isn't that what you thought?"
She was left speechless.
Confusion and frustration bubbled inside her. Whether she had misunderstood him or not, his refusal to explain left her feeling uncertain. The doorbell rang, breaking the stalemate.
She stood up abruptly. "Go away. I’m not going anywhere."
He grasped her arm and led her to the door.
Opening it, he spoke calmly in front of Gao Fang. "You have two choices: come with him now, or come downstairs with me to face the reporters."
She voiced the question, tormenting her. "What did last night mean to you? Was it about love, about filling a void, or was it just part of your plan?"
He smiled, though the warmth didn’t reach his eyes. "I don't have an answer for you, but I can offer you a week off. No work next week, so you have time to ponder such deep questions."
The underlying message was clear: He didn’t want to see her for the next seven days.
Without another word, she left with Gao Fang.
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