Chapter Eighty-Four

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Huang Feifan had tried many times to pry free the right arm wrapped tightly around her, but she couldn’t fathom how Zhang Yi could be so strong even in his sleep. Every muscle in his body seemed taut, leaving her without the strength to break away. In her heart, she truly wanted to pin Zhang Yi to the floor and land a few punches—how could even his hands be so unruly in his sleep? Yet after anger came hesitation; perhaps Zhang Yi would simply try to distract her with some excuse.

Huang Feifan could only resign herself to her fate. She’d have to let Zhang Yi hold her all night. She refused to believe he would keep it up till morning; as soon as he let go, she’d escape to the sofa in the living room. She never wanted to sleep in his arms again—this embrace had left her whole body numb.

But reality was seldom so kind. There was no sign of him letting go. Two hours passed, and Zhang Yi only seemed to be enjoying this pleasant moment more. As for Huang Feifan, she was completely numb, both physically and mentally exhausted from maintaining the same position for so long. She gave up and drifted off to sleep, deciding that if Zhang Yi hadn’t let go by morning, she would make sure he regretted it.

…

When morning came and Huang Feifan woke, she glanced at her waist—Zhang Yi had finally released her. Relieved that he hadn’t taken further liberties, she got up and went to make breakfast, determined not to wake Zhang Yi himself after how much he had taken advantage of her the previous night.

The noise from the kitchen woke Zhang Yi. Still groggy, he grudgingly got up and shuffled into the kitchen. “Come on, Feifan, can’t you be quieter? You woke me up.”

Huang Feifan shot him a glare. “You should be grateful I didn’t wake you last night. You spent the whole night holding me. I was so afraid of waking you that I didn’t dare move. Now I realize you have this habit of hugging men in your sleep.”

Zhang Yi looked baffled. “I held you all night? Don’t be ridiculous, Feifan. You must have dreamed that. I think you just wish a man would hold you in your sleep. Why would I ever do such a thing?”

“You—” Huang Feifan didn’t want to keep arguing and focused on making breakfast. Zhang Yi, noticing her sulk, tried to tease her out of it. “Are you mad, cutie? Want me to hug you from behind and fulfill your wish?”

Huang Feifan turned and spat out a single word: “Get lost.”

She was genuinely angry, though she hid it well. That curt “Get lost” was her effort to control her temper. She decided to ignore Zhang Yi for the rest of the day—maybe once he realized his mistake, she’d speak to him again. Childish perhaps, but it was very much like a couple in a cold war.

Sensing the shift in her mood, Zhang Yi didn’t push further. It was best not to provoke him anymore; he didn’t want a joke to break their years of friendship. True friends understood and forgave each other, after all.

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That morning was especially awkward; neither of them spoke, each quietly eating their own breakfast. Huang Feifan, still out of kindness, had made Zhang Yi his share: soy milk and three fried dough cakes—her standard breakfast. If he dared say a word against it, she would really cut him off.

But the breakfast was delicious, and Zhang Yi was the first to break the silence. “I have to say, Feifan, you really have a knack for this. You could be a five-star chef.”

Huang Feifan was pleased to hear it, though her expression barely changed. “You don’t have to flatter me so much just for breakfast. At least choose your words more carefully when you compliment someone,” she said, taking a sip of milk.

Breakfast eased their tension a bit, though it didn’t entirely lift Huang Feifan’s mood. Still, seeing Zhang Yi polish off everything, she decided to forgive him for now. After eating, she went to wash the dishes.

Zhang Yi lounged on the sofa, watching Huang Feifan bustling about. Whoever was lucky enough to fall for Huang Feifan would be blessed indeed—having such a perfect homemaker, that person would be pampered to the skies.

As he stroked the fur of his pet cat, David, which had leapt into his lap, Zhang Yi couldn’t help but wonder when he could return to campus life. He was thoroughly bored of staying at home.

According to the news (unrelated to real events), the epidemic was under control and things would soon return to normal. Yet, four months had passed and people still wore masks on the street—perhaps just to be safe.

…

The story shifted to the previous day. After Rain Xingyue had dinner with Sun Ying, Sun Yao, and Yang Shuting, everyone went their separate ways. Yang Shuting and Sun Yao had finished their work, so Sun Yao took Sun Ying home to their villa. Sun Ying was reluctant to part with Rain Xingyue, but Rain Xingyue promised they would meet again in the future.

Reassured by this promise, Sun Ying left with her father, Sun Yao. Rain Xingyue and Yang Shuting returned home and began to take off their shoes. While doing so, Rain Xingyue spotted a slip of paper on the floor and picked it up.

The note read: “Dear Hugo, this is the first and last time I’ll ever write to you. I promise never to appear before you and your mother again. I am deeply sorry for everything. Years ago, to escape my debts, I abandoned you both and made you suffer. I don’t know how to face you. After seeing you again, I realized I no longer have the courage I once did. Now that you’ve grown up and your life with your mother has improved, my persistence in trying to win her back is nothing but a fool’s dream. With Sun Yao as your father, there’s nothing wrong with that. I only wish to write this letter as a formal farewell—you’ll never see me again. Signed, Rain Chun.”

Rain Xingyue wasn’t sure how to feel. Her heart was a tangled mess. What was the point of Rain Chun writing this—was he seeking forgiveness? Still, the promise never to appear again was something Rain Xingyue could accept. Nevertheless, just to be sure, she wanted to call Rain Chun. As much as she disliked him, he was still her father.

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“Rain Xingyue, why are you just standing there in a daze?” Yang Shuting came over and asked when she saw her at the door. Rain Xingyue handed her the note. Yang Shuting, recognizing Rain Chun’s handwriting, felt a swirl of emotions as she took the paper to her room to read it more closely.

After removing her shoes, Rain Xingyue sat on the sofa and dialed Rain Chun’s number. Strangely, no matter how many times she tried, the call wouldn’t go through—the number was always unreachable. It seemed Rain Chun truly didn’t want to hear her voice, lacking even the courage to answer.

She decided to try again tomorrow, perhaps arranging a meeting if Yang Shuting changed her mind after reading the note. Rain Xingyue picked up the remote and turned on the television. As soon as she did, a news report flashed on the screen.

“At around 4 p.m. today, a man crossing the street was struck by a Mercedes and killed instantly. Authorities identified the man as Rain [surname], aged 56, with only an ID card as proof of identity.” The news anchor continued, and a sense of foreboding crept over Rain Xingyue. Yang Shuting, hearing the report, came out to watch. When the camera showed the ID card, Rain Xingyue pressed pause and stared at the screen.

Although the name was obscured, the date of birth and address were clear. After a careful look, Rain Xingyue resumed playback and slumped on the sofa, her eyes vacant as tears began to fall.

Yang Shuting was equally shocked. The deceased man was Rain Xingyue’s father, Rain Chun. He may not have been responsible in the past, but now that he was truly gone, her heart inexplicably ached.

Rain Xingyue asked herself, did she really hate Rain Chun? Reflecting on her attitude toward him, she thought his death was well-deserved, that justice had been served—yet her tears wouldn’t stop.

“Heh! Why am I crying? He deserved to die—now no one will ever bother us again,” Rain Xingyue laughed, her voice unhinged. Yang Shuting sat beside her, pulling her into an embrace. “He was your father. However he lived, he was still your father. If you could go back, would you forgive him?”