The harassment from Yang Wei and others, the repeated onslaughts from the industrial, commercial, tax, and fire departments, her constant worry about herself, and even facing life-threatening situations twice—it was little wonder she was on the brink of collapse.

How could she suddenly burst into a smile overnight?

Just as she’d stated in her last message to him, from that moment on, she had decided to stop relying on him. Indeed, she would no longer depend on anyone.

When she turned over, she moved out of his embrace, lying on her side. It had been like this lately, always apart—no longer as clingy as before.

It wasn’t that she didn’t love him—rather, she didn’t dare. Somehow, she felt embarrassed, as if too much intimacy was unbearably shameful.

Even when he tried to hold her again, she turned aside, subconsciously avoiding his embrace. It was as if her heart had frozen.

Xixi, this is my fault. I’m the one who destroyed all of this with my own hands. I spoiled you before you had a chance to grow, and then I cruelly cast you down.

He sighed ten thousand times in his heart.

In the middle of the night, Yan Xixi woke up feeling cold. She groggily got up to turn off the air conditioning. The curtains were drawn, making the room dim. She stood in the dimness, feeling how empty the room was. Suddenly, she remembered something and lunged toward the bed, her voice trembling slightly.

There was someone on the bed. She reached out and touched him. He was real. He was *actually* still there, as if he would never leave again.

It felt as if none of this was real.

Lately, she had grown used to his absence. Every time she woke up and reached out, her hands would find only emptiness. In the vast room, there was only herself. Always just herself.

There had been times she was so desperate she thought he would never return.

Now, at midnight, stirring from a dream, she had finally grasped his hand again. She held it tightly, tears suddenly streaming down her face.

Wan Donglin was startled awake. He sat up and reached out, his hand finding her tear-soaked face. He froze for a moment, then swiftly pulled her into a tight embrace. "Xixi, what’s wrong?"

She finally let out a cry. For so many days, she had been suppressing her emotions. Even crying felt like a symbol of weakness, and she hadn’t wanted to burden him with it. But on a night like this, she finally couldn’t hold back any longer.

He didn’t offer her any consolation, just held her tightly, gently patting her back.

At this moment, she didn’t need any comforting words—this was enough.

He was overcome with an exceptional pang of heartache, and an equally exceptional wave of tenderness. He waited until her sobs subsided before saying softly, "Xixi, don’t be afraid anymore..."

She finally spoke, her voice dazed and distant, "It was like this when my mother first passed away... I always thought she was still with me, but every time I woke up, she’d be gone... Later, I slowly came to understand that she would never appear again... I’m scared..."

His heart jolted.

So, she was afraid that if he disappeared, he would never reappear. It was because of this fear that she didn’t dare to love deeply. One only experiences the pain of being torn apart when one becomes too attached. When you are constantly together, never apart, it takes a very long time to adjust to someone’s departure. This is because you simply cannot bear the cost of their absence.

He held her tightly, unable to say a word.

That night, he held her very, very tightly, all through the night. She faintly felt a slight ache deep in her bones from his grip, yet somehow, she slept very soundly, never once waking up in the middle of it.