At the Fu residence.

A tall, imposing figure sat on the edge of the bed, hunched over, elbows resting on his knees.

Fu Zhīyè pressed his hands to his forehead. The room lights were off; only moonlight streamed in, casting a sharp glow across his cold, chiseled face.

The diamond ring clenched in his palm had grown warm, its hard edges digging into his skin, almost to the point of pain.

He couldn’t quite name the feeling—whatever anger he'd felt at first had long since curdled into restless irritation.

Fu Zhīyè dialed He Zé, instructing him to check Ye Chíchí’s flight information.

He had never imagined Ye Chíchí would vanish so abruptly from his world. She had said her goodbyes to his grandparents—everyone except him.

So this is what she left behind for him? Something to use for the divorce?

His grip slackened slightly. In the darkness, his frigid gaze opened wider. He glanced at the ring in his palm by the pale moonlight, just about to put it back on the table, when he caught sight of something white poking from the trash can beneath the desk.

He paused, stood up to flick on the lights, and returned to lift out the crumpled paper—it was Ye Chíchí’s favorite sketching paper.

There was never any garbage here; it had to be something she tossed earlier that day.

He smoothed the wrinkled sheet. At the very top, she’d written his name.

This… was for him.

“Two hearts divided… part peacefully, walk free…”

He pressed his tongue to his back teeth in frustration, his knuckles taut. In one motion, he crushed the paper into a ball and shoved it into the drawer.

Fu Zhīyè headed to the bathroom for a shower, then threw himself onto the bed.

The next morning, Fu Zhīyè walked into the company with a stony face, crossing the lobby in silence and heading straight into the elevator.

The young receptionists in the lobby watched as the CEO’s back disappeared around the corner and instantly huddled together.

In the middle sat Xiaoyu, who had greeted Ye Chíchí before. “Weird, doesn’t the boss look especially grim today?”

“Isn’t he always like that? But yeah, today is… extra strange.”

The three of them whispered, assuming it was just their imagination.

But a few days later, they all understood. The CEO’s mood had truly hit rock bottom!

After Fu Zhīyè got to the top floor, He Zé followed him into the office.

“Boss, I found out about Madam’s flight yesterday—she went to Country Y.”

“Country Y? Alone?” Fu Zhīyè looked up, his eyes icy cold.

“Yes, she went by herself.”

When He Zé left, Fu Zhīyè lit a cigarette. Fine, let her go—wherever she wants. What did it have to do with him anymore? If she couldn't even bring herself to tell him, then she might as well never come back!

The pale smoke drifted, but he quickly grew irritated again, stubbing the cigarette out and calling He Zé to assemble all the executives for an emergency meeting.

It was supposed to be the holiday season, but nothing seemed to go right. What use was a team that couldn’t get the job done?

Executives were summoned out of nowhere—some on vacation, some even out of town—rushing back in a panic.

The meeting stretched through the entire morning, with each manager forced to present half-finished proposals. None had prepared, but faced with the boss’s miserable mood, nobody dared utter a word.

When it was finally over, every person who was late or absent had their entire month’s bonus docked. Nobody had any idea who had provoked the boss’s wrath this time.

For two days straight, the office was suffocating. Everyone avoided Fu Zhīyè, detouring at the mere sight of him for fear of igniting his unexplained fury.

People gossiped: What happened over New Year’s to make the boss like this? If you didn’t know better, you’d think he’d been dumped.

But no, thinking of that video at the annual party—though management tried to bury it, so many had witnessed it—well, maybe something really did happen at home.

On the third afternoon, after ending yet another meeting, Fu Zhīyè returned to his office.

He had started spending the night at the company. What did it matter if he went home or not anymore? Alone, anywhere was the same.

He Zé knocked and brought in the latest meeting notes. Noticing how exhausted Fu Zhīyè looked, he ventured, “Boss, if there’s nothing urgent today, maybe you should go home and rest early?”

Fu Zhīyè’s face remained severe, his eyes fixed on the documents. Without looking up, he replied, “No need.”

He Zé could only leave. Others might not know the reason behind this, but he had a good idea. Since finding out Madam had left for Country Y, the boss had hardly left the office, working through the day and pulling all-nighters at his desk.

Fu Zhīyè massaged his brow. The documents lay open for ages, unread.

He remembered—even if she’d already landed by now, he had waited two whole days before calling her this morning. Still no answer, just a shut-off phone.

That unfamiliar feeling—loss of control—gnawed at him.

Ever since Ye Chíchí first came to the Fu family, she’d been obedient and thoughtful, explaining herself for everything. Never—never before—had she left like this, without a word.

Yes, he’d been in the wrong this time.

He could apologize; he could make it up to her a hundredfold.

Clutching his phone, he frowned and flipped to WeChat, typing out a quick message:

“Where are you? What are you doing?”

No reply. His message disappeared into the ether. He sent another…

…

Ye Chíchí, for her part, hadn’t planned on changing her WeChat—her grandparents and so many friends were still there.

The message arrived as she was walking lakeside with Mia Moore. Even in the cold, plenty of people strolled the paths. Though the complex was outside the city center, it was lively enough.

They meandered in a loop, heading back toward the row of villas—a quieter, more peaceful area.

The streetlights flickered on, giving the pathway a soft, romantic glow.

Ye Chíchí’s phone pinged. She opened it and saw Fu Zhīyè’s message.

“What’s up?” Mia Moore noticed her pause, peeked over, and immediately bristled. “Seriously? Fu Zhīyè has the nerve to ask where you are? Chíchí, don’t answer him.”

Ye Chíchí exited WeChat and smiled. “I know.”

Her eyes curved in a gentle smile, but Mia Moore could tell she was still carrying something heavy in her heart—just nowhere anyone could see.

They ambled back to the house, Mia Moore heading off first to shower.

Then another message from Fu Zhīyè popped up:

[Don’t be mad anymore. I’ll come pick you up, Chíchí.]

Ye Chíchí stared at it for a long moment, then closed her eyes. When she opened them again, she calmly blocked Fu Zhīyè’s contact.

She’d waited so many times for Fu Zhīyè to pick her up, yet always saw nothing but his retreating back—waited, and waited, but he never came.

Her birthday at the amusement park…

That day at the annual party…

When Zhou Téngxīn dragged her into the van…

Too many times.

Each one had chipped away at her courage to believe.

Fu Zhīyè, do you understand?

Not everyone will wait for you forever…

I’ve learned how to let go now…

*

Author’s note: I’m changing the cover art!!

New cover incoming! I hope you all won’t lose track of me! You won’t, right?

(You won't, right?! Really?!)