Chapter 75

Outside the window, the rain battered down with mounting fury. Driven by violent gusts of wind, torrents of water whipped against the glass panes, creating a relentless, chaotic din that resonated throughout the quiet house. Yet the noise filtering through the glass into the dead silent room failed to coax the slightest reaction from the woman within.

Lu Youqing sat frozen on the floor. Soft carpeting covered the bedroom, ensuring she wouldn’t catch a chill despite sitting on the floor—and with the interior heating running at full force, her thin bathrobe offered plenty of warmth.

Yet she shivered uncontrollably, curled into a tight ball in the corner by the bed as choked sobs wracked her body. Her long eyelashes trembled, glistening with tears. The sash around her waist had loosened during her frantic movements earlier, parting the bathrobe to expose fair, smooth skin beneath the dim, warm light—a sight that lent her a fragile, pitiable air. She had deliberately worn the robe this way with nothing underneath, intending to lure her lover, but now the disheveled fabric felt like nothing more than a cruel joke.

Her clumsy attempts at seduction and pleasing had crumbled instantaneously under Yan He’s icy words. Yan He hadn’t spared her a single glance of pity or affection; she was nothing more than a lunatic trapped inside her own obsessive, twisted emotions.

A selfish, wretched lunatic.

Yan He’s accusations echoed endlessly in her head, every single word lingering like a curse that tore through her mind and sliced her broken heart like a blade. She simply couldn’t bring herself to face or accept the fact that Yan He had broken up with her again. She didn’t even dare to recall the bitter dialogue they had exchanged or the desperate things she had done in this very room just moments ago.

It was her own fault again. Her own paranoia and sick, suffocating love had terrified Yan He, driving her to run away. And now, even her body could no longer entice Yan He to stay for even a second. She had completely forfeited the right to hold Yan He in her arms.

Even if Yan He was likely resting in the adjacent room right now, even if they were still under the same roof, and even if there were still several hours before Yan He would leave, Lu Youqing had no idea how to face her again.

All her physical strength seemed to have drained away during her desperate pleas to keep Yan He beside her. Looking out through blurry, tear-filled eyes, the dim bedroom was completely silent save for her own choked gasps and the roaring storm outside. The rain hammered against the window like mockingly loud applause—deriding her powerlessness and scoffing at her self-inflicted misery.

A bone-chilling cold radiated from the depths of bailiantales.comLu Youqing’s soul, making her tremble violently. The cozy warmth filling the heated room could do nothing to thaw her frozen heart.

Her heart had plunged straight into an icy, bottomless abyss the moment Yan He closed that door and walked away.

I don’t want to leave. You can’t leave. I won’t let you leave. How could A-He mention breaking up? Didn’t we promise each other that we would get married and stay together forever? Why break up? We can’t break up—I will literally die without her!

Dark, obsessive thoughts surged relentlessly through her mind, battering her dazed consciousness over and over. The urge to trap Yan He by her side boiled in her blood, and the mere thought of keeping her locked away made her body quiver with frantic excitement.

Cold despair and fiery obsession waged a war in her heart while reason and emotion tangled violently in her brain. Lu Youqing felt as though her soul were being sliced right down the middle. One half urged her to trap Yan He just as she had before—keep her close first, and then obediently go see a therapist, take her medication, and follow the treatment plan. She would recover eventually, and once she was cured, A-He would surely forgive her. But the other half screamed in her head, warning her never again to act against Yan He’s wishes or provoke her anger.

Her threadbare sanity hung by a thread. She could distinctly feel her rapid, shallow breathing, her heart pounding so violently against her ribs it felt on the verge of bursting out of her chest. Clutching the fabric over her chest with a white-knuckled grip, she gasped heavily for air, her head completely consumed by thoughts of Yan He—desperately craving her presence.

On the bed nearby, a faint, clean fragrance still lingered where Yan He had slept earlier. It was the only tangible trace left to comfort Lu Youqing that Yan He was still near. Unable to restrain herself, she reached out and dragged the blanket into her arms, hugging it tightly so that Yan He’s scent enveloped her, allowing her to catch a fleeting sliver of warmth.

It wasn’t enough—it was nowhere near enough. She craved so much more. She wanted Yan He’s embrace, Yan He’s kisses, the feel of Yan He holding her to sleep while whispering sweet endearments in her ear, and Yan He’s promise that she would never leave.

Yet that faint, lingering scent was merely a fragile mist; a single forward shift broken right through it, exposing the utter decay and ruin hidden within her soul.

Lu Youqing felt as if she were suffocating to death. Without Yan He, she truly couldn’t endure this existence.

Gathering every ounce of strength left in her body, she struggled to stand up from the floor, enduring a sharp wave of dizziness and physical pain as she forced her legs to move toward the door to find Yan He. But the moment she took a step, the room spun [bailiantales.com]violently before her eyes. Collapsing heavily against the bed frame, she slid down onto the rug as physical exhaustion finally claimed her nerves, dragging her into unconsciousness.

The darkness of her faint brought forth a long, vivid dream.

In the dream, she saw her older sister again, alongside her sister’s lover. Sister Shixu hadn’t died, her sister was alive and well, and she herself was still a little girl.

Once more, she felt the comforting presence of a family, bringing a gentle warmth to her heart.

Yet the bliss was short-lived. One morning, Lu Youqing overheard her sister and Shixu arguing. Sister Shixu was determined to climb a distant, treacherous snow-capped mountain. Long-buried memories flooded Lu Youqing’s mind, filling her with absolute horror as she tried frantically to stop Shixu from going.

Sister Shixu merely bent down, affectionately stroking her head before turning to walk away without a second thought—even when Lu Youqing cried out that she would perish on that frozen peak.

Afterward, events snapped back onto their tragic trajectory. Sister Shixu died on that snow-covered mountain, driving her sister into madness. On the seventh day after finding Shixu’s body, her sister remained on that sacred, icy peak forever.

Once again, Lu Youqing lost her family—losing the only blood relatives she had left in the world. Everything unfolded before her eyes like a fast-forwarded film, forcing her to witness the exact source of her trauma while bottling up an overwhelming tide of grief. And then, she met Yan He.

On a bridge wrapped in pitch-black night, a young girl had gripped her hand tightly, pulling her back from the razor’s edge between life and death. In the blink of an eye, the girl’s youthful face matured, whispering tender sweet nothings, promising that they would attend the same university, and painting a beautiful vision of their shared future.

Yet at that moment, Lu Youqing thought of Lu Ningyun—she thought of her sister who had gone mad. Her sister hadn’t protected her lover, leading to a cruel separation by death and six agonizing years of torment. She vowed never to repeat her sister’s mistake. She would protect her lover at all costs; they would stay together forever, keeping Yan He safely by her side, vibrant and alive for eternity.

Clasping Yan He’s hand tightly, she intertwined her fingers with the smiling [stolen content]girl, making a quiet, unbreakable vow in her heart.

Yan He lowered her gaze to their joined hands and let out a cold, mocking laugh. When she raised her eyes again, every trace of love had vanished, replaced by a hauntingly familiar, icy voice:

“Let’s break up. You’re a lunatic. Is this what you call love? Trapping me by your side forever just so nothing happens to me… is that what you consider protection? You are far too selfish.”

“No!” Lu Youqing snapped her eyes open, a desperate wail tearing from her throat as she gasped frantically for air like a drowning victim, her entire frame trembling in violent resistance.

The mocking laugh from her dream sliced through her heart like a razor-sharp blade, making every breath an agonizing ordeal. Before her eyes could even focus, her instincts drove her body to scramble up and search for Yan He—only to be tripped by the trailing blanket and tumble hard onto the soft carpet.

Her mind gradually cleared. It had been a dream.

Realizing she was still in the bedroom from earlier, she glanced at the wall clock; only half an hour had passed. Yet that brief thirty minutes had dragged her through a lifetime of excruciating agony. As her memories flooded back, the unbearable tension in her heart tightened again as she recalled Yan He’s words.

They had already broken up.

What difference did it make whether it was a dream or reality? Yan He had delivered the exact same verdict in real life. Just as Yan He had said, a breakup never required both parties to agree. Yan He had nothing left for her except deep disappointment and hatred; what right did she have to shout “I won’t allow it”?

Trapping Yan He by her side was merely her own self-righteous delusion of protection. Her paranoid, toxic love had shattered Yan He’s heart, twisting what was once love into deep resentment. They should have had a brilliant future together, and every sweet dream she envisioned should have come true—it was all her fault.

She would rather the entire past be nothing more than a bad dream, or that she had never met Yan He in the first place—anything would be better than being shown the bright sun only to be cast down into a pit of darkness.

Yet the moment the thought crossed her mind, Lu Youqing felt a visceral wave of refusal. She could never truly wish to have missed meeting Yan He; her soul instinctively rebelled against such a reality.

Curling into a ball in the corner near the bed, she hugged her knees tightly, trying desperately to cling to whatever faint scent of Yan He remained on her body. But even that last thread of comfort had dissipated during her fall. Whether in the room or on her skin, she could no longer feel Yan He’s presence anywhere.

A sudden boom of thunder rumbled outside, the flash of white light illuminating the dark bedroom for a fleeting second. Lu Youqing’s face appeared ghastly pale in the stark illumination, her lips as colorless as paper, looking so frail she seemed ready to pass out again at any moment.

The agonizing realization that Yan He might truly never forgive her caused something vital inside Lu Youqing to snap. She clutched her head tightly in her hands, sinking into an endless abyss of despair.

Even though the warm room lights were on, her vision felt completely dark—as if an endless void stretched out before her, where a single misstep would send her plunging into total ruin. She had cried so much that her bloodshot eyes burned, accompanied by waves of nausea and severe stress tremors that left her limbs entirely weak.

Yet right at that moment, her eyes caught sight of a bowl sitting quietly on the corner of the nightstand.

A bowl of hot ginger soup, steaming gently into the cool air before drifting away.

Lu Youqing froze. Her red-rimmed eyes stared blankly at the bowl that had somehow appeared out of nowhere. Supporting herself against the nightstand, she stumbled toward it.

Her fingertips touched the warm porcelain. The soothing heat traveled from the bowl through her skin, following her bloodstream to sear straight into her heart. Her heart gave a familiar, painful throb as an unthinkable truth surfaced in her mind, sending a jolt through her shattered psyche.

Yan He had been in this room. During the half-hour she was [bailiantales.com]unconscious, Yan He had quietly brought her a warm bowl of ginger soup.