Only Ji Yuqing could truly understand what Tang Huiyi meant in that moment. She had seen this coming—this day when the woman who held her deepest weakness would finally confront her.
Tang Yan was clearly anxious. “Where is she? Are you really going?”
Ji Yuqing looked at her, smiled gently, and as always, spoke with calm tenderness. “At this point, it’s not about whether I want to go. I have to.”
Tang Yan heard the resignation in her voice and quickly grabbed her hand. “Then I’m going too. I’ll go with you.”
Ji Yuqing shook her head. “You stay here. This is between me and her.”
“But I don’t want you to go. I don’t want you to go,” Tang Yan said stubbornly, refusing to let go.
“Be good,” Ji Yuqing said softly, soothing her.
“You’ll come back though, right? You will come back?” Tang Yan repeated firmly.
“I’ll do my best to talk to her,” Ji Yuqing promised.
This time, it wasn’t just about them—it was about Ji Yuqing facing her past, a past she could no longer run from. No matter how hard it was, she had to confront it.
Tang Yan reluctantly let go and walked her to the car. She stood outside, watching until the car disappeared from view, then slowly turned back inside. The waiting that followed was unbearable. She paced the spacious living room alone, restless and anxious, silently begging time to move faster.
Ji Yuqing drove toward the meeting place. Even though Tang Huiyi hadn’t named it, Ji Yuqing knew where to go—it was the place they had agreed to meet twenty-three years ago. But that day, Ji Yuqing had been late. Tang Huiyi had taken the punishment meant for her. A punishment that became a lifelong shame. And for Ji Yuqing, a shadow she could never erase.
Since then, she had never returned to that place. She always took a detour.
When she arrived, there were few students left on campus. Under the streetlights, Tang Huiyi’s figure looked thin, lonely.
Ji Yuqing parked nearby and walked over. Hearing the footsteps, Tang Huiyi turned around and said, as if casually, “More than twenty years have passed. This place has changed a lot.”
The little grove was now a neatly landscaped park.
Her words stirred memories. Ji Yuqing saw those past moments flicker through her mind like an old film. “What happened back then… I’ve never forgiven myself for it.”
If she hadn’t asked Tang Huiyi to meet her here that day, maybe Tang Huiyi’s life would’ve turned out differently. But there were no “what ifs.” Time didn’t rewind. No matter how bitter or painful it was, you had to swallow it and move on.
Tang Huiyi gave a bitter laugh. “Do you know why I asked you to meet me here?”
Ji Yuqing hesitated. “…I think I do.”
“No, you don’t,” Tang Huiyi said coldly. “Do you have any idea what I went through all those years? How I had to drop out, pregnant, and go back to the village? How everyone pointed fingers at me, whispered behind my back? You don’t know. If you did, you would never—never—treat me like this again.”
Her voice was choking up. Being back here, it was impossible not to relive those terrible memories.
“I’m sorry,” Ji Yuqing said, her voice tight with guilt. “I truly am. I know it should never have come to this. I tried to avoid it, I really did… but I couldn’t turn away from Yan Yan’s love. I couldn’t lie to myself.”
“So you chose to hurt me again?” Tang Huiyi cried, tears pouring freely now. “You knew what you meant to her! You knew how she came into this world! And you still crossed that line. Do you have any idea how much pain I’m in right now? I can barely breathe!”
Ji Yuqing had wanted to reason with her, to explain everything, but now the entire conversation was under Tang Huiyi’s control. And there was nothing she could say to defend herself.
She lowered her gaze, took a deep breath. “I tried… I really tried to maintain boundaries. But every time, I failed.”
Tang Huiyi collapsed to the ground, sobbing uncontrollably. “How do you expect me to face this? How do I accept you two? You’re pushing me to the edge…”
“We never meant—Senior, I—”
Tang Huiyi looked up sharply and cut her off. “Just this once, I’m begging you. Leave Yan Yan. If you do that, we’ll call it even. You won’t owe me anything anymore.”
Ji Yuqing couldn’t do it. She simply couldn’t. Yan Yan was still at home, waiting for her.
“If you two insist on being together,” Tang Huiyi said, standing and turning away, “then fine. I’ll end things myself. Then no one will stand in your way.”
The moment she started walking away, Ji Yuqing panicked. She knew Tang Huiyi meant what she said.
“Senior!” she shouted, rushing forward. Tang Huiyi paused, her back still turned.
“…I know what I have to do.”
God knew how much it tore her apart to say those words. It was harder than death. But if their love caused a tragedy, Ji Yuqing would never forgive herself.
Tang Huiyi, exhausted from crying, didn’t look back. Her voice was weak: “Then I hope you mean it.”
As she walked away, Ji Yuqing’s composure shattered. She collapsed to the ground, clutching her hair, trying to hold herself together.
A student passing by asked if she needed help.
“I’m fine,” she said, waving them off.
Staggering to her feet, she let the tears fall silently. She forgot she had driven. She just walked—aimlessly, soullessly—along the streets like a ghost. She ignored the stares, the whispers. The road ahead felt endless.
Two hours had passed since she left. Tang Yan couldn’t sit still anymore. Whatever the conversation was, it should’ve ended by now. She picked up her phone and called Ji Yuqing.
It rang, but no one answered.
She called again. Still no answer.
In the next second, Tang Yan threw on a coat, grabbed her keys, and ran out the door. She called again and again as she drove, scouring the streets, searching every place they might have gone.
Ji Yuqing didn’t know how far she’d walked. Her phone wouldn’t stop ringing. It had to be Yan Yan.
But what was she supposed to do? How could she avoid hurting someone?
Exhausted, not watching her step, she stumbled and nearly fell. That’s when she realized—she had somehow wandered to the edge of a bridge. The wind whipped around her, tossing her hair in every direction, blinding her eyes.
Her mind filled with memories of Yan Yan—their laughter, their kisses, the quiet moments they shared. How was she supposed to give that up?
She crouched beside the railing, pulled out her phone, and saw all the missed calls—every single one from Yan Yan.
She stared at her contact photo, smiling on the screen. It felt like someone was cutting her heart out, and she had to pretend it didn’t hurt.
Sniffling, she steadied her hands and opened their chat.
She typed five words: “Let’s break up.”
Just typing them broke her. She was shaking, crying silently as she hit send. She covered her mouth, trying not to sob aloud, staring at the message she just sent.
In her car, Tang Yan’s phone lit up. She pulled over immediately and opened the message.
The moment she saw those five words, her heart stopped. She thought her eyes were playing tricks on her. Her pulse went wild. And then—her tears came all at once.