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Chapter 710 - 710 But She Can’t Be Soft-Hearted
Chapter 710 - 710 But She Can’t Be Soft-Hearted
Chapter 710: Chapter 710 But She Can’t Be Soft-Hearted
Yi Qian dared not ask any further and seriously reported on the work.
Wen Yanqing seemed lost in thought several times, a state Yi Qian rarely witnessed in him, which inevitably caused him concern.
He halted mid-sentence, and the other party apparently noticed nothing. Yi Qian slowly closed the folder, “CEO, I think you might need to rest a bit. Your mental state doesn’t seem too good.”
After Yi Qian left, Lin Gantang came out of the guest room.
She watched Wen Yanqing who was still on the terrace and sat down along the wall, with her cat Ximi crawling onto her lap.
She absent-mindedly scratched Ximi’s chin, glancing at the person on the terrace from time to time.
Ximi purred contentedly, and Wen Yanqing seemed to hear it, hoarsely calling out, “Ximi?”
Lin Gantang lowered her eyes and patted Ximi, coaxing it to go over.
Ximi meowed a few times by Wen Yanqing’s feet, and Wen Yanqing bent down to pick it up, staring into the distance for a long time, “She… doesn’t want you anymore?”
His voice was low, but Lin Gantang heard it.
One day.
Two days.
Lin Gantang watched him sit alone in a daze, alone in sorrow.
He sat on the terrace all day, his phone set in front of him, unknowing of whose call he was waiting for.
His bloodshot eyes reddened, caressing the ring she had returned to him.
Lin Gantang watched with a heavy heart and turned her head away.
She wanted to hug him, but she couldn’t afford to be soft-hearted.
In the solitary room at night, Wen Yanqing didn’t turn on the lights. The silent, cold, and pitch-black space was filled with a desolate and dejected atmosphere. After several sleepless nights, he finally couldn’t stay awake any longer and dozed off leaning against the bed.
Lin Gantang gently opened the bedroom door, and—guided by the moonlight streaming through the window—gazed at his closed eyes and shallow breathing.
She carefully reached out, gently touching his slightly curled hair, leaned down to kiss his parched lips, and then lightly withdrew.
A gust of night wind blew in through the window, startling Wen Yanqing awake.
No one was there, all he heard was the sound of the wind lifting the curtains, sweeping away her faint scent.
“Tangtang,” he uttered her name with deep longing.
Wen Yanqing, propping himself up, slowly clenched the bedsheets, protruding veins revealing his inner struggle and pain.
Wen Yanqing sat still on the terrace every day.
Lin Gantang realized he had forgotten to take his medicine again and reminded Aunt Zhong to bring it to him.
Wen Yanqing held several sheets of letters in his hand, with her cat lying at his feet.
Rolling dark clouds moved in the distance, the sky changed in an instant, and the wind blew fiercely, shaking the green plants on the terrace.
A sheet of paper from his hand blew away, grazing his wrist. He quickly reached out but caught nothing, abruptly got up, knocked over the chair, almost stumbled.
Yet he saw nothing but darkness before him, powerless as the wind took the letter away.
His unfocused eyes followed the direction of the wind, the corners tinged with red.
Lin Gantang, seeing his flustered state, felt as if her throat were stuffed with cotton, severely clogged.
It was just a love letter after all. He didn’t even want her anymore, so what use did he have for a love letter?
Lin Gantang’s nose tingled with sourness, and she turned to go down the stairs.
The wind scattered the letter who knows where, Lin Gantang searched around on the ground floor. A sudden downpour soaked her through, and she finally found the letter, already damp, in the grass and crevices between the stones.
The handwriting was almost completely blurred by the rain, unreadable.
But Lin Gantang remembered the content:
“We could do many things together, or we could do nothing at all. There’s no need to try so hard to please, no need to rack our brains, just quietly watching you is wonderful enough. Time would gently flow over our skin, and we could have a hundred years.”
Lin Gantang’s face was wet, unsure if it was from the rain or her tears.