Chapter 2: Gu Cheng
Gu Cheng had an exceptionally handsome appearance, with sharp eyebrows and bright eyes. His unique aura carried a hint of casual elegance and nonchalance, which always drew the attention of passersby when he was out.
Gu Cheng arrived at an inconvenient time, as Yun Xinyu was about to leave for work. She invited him in to sit while continuing with her tasks.
When Gu Cheng entered, he brought a cool breeze with him. He sat silently on the sofa, lips tightly pressed, watching Yun Xinyu busy herself, his face showing slight irritation.
To lighten the heavy atmosphere, Yun Xinyu spoke first:
"Why are you here at this hour? Is something wrong?"
Hearing her words, Gu Cheng's expression finally shifted slightly, though a trace of annoyance lingered. He said, "We're getting married soon."
"I know that. So what?"
Yun Xinyu looked at him with confusion, but his impatience only seemed to grow. Unable to decipher his meaning, she returned to her tasks.
After a prolonged silence, Gu Cheng suddenly spoke as if delivering a carefully weighed verdict:
"Let's break up."
Yun Xinyu stared at him in shock, but his eyes held only steely resolve. Finding no hint of hesitation, she faltered:
"Why? We’re about to get married—what are you saying?"
Gu Cheng’s face shed its usual tenderness, replaced entirely by frosty detachment:
"Yun Xinyu, I don’t think you’ve ever loved me. You’re in love with that figment from your dreams."
"Let’s end this here. I can’t warm a heart that was never mine to begin with."
With these words, he rose and left, slamming the door violently behind him.
Still reeling from his words, she lacked the energy to resent his dramatic exit—he’d gotten off lightly.
Did she not love him?
Hmm...
Perhaps not.
Did she love the phantom from her dreams?
Maybe...
Not exactly.
How could she still love someone from so many years past?
She simply couldn’t let go.
Through years of heartbreak and desperate longing, she’d eventually grown numb.
She told herself she’d moved on, yet knew deep down: unless that person stood before her and denied their love, she’d never truly be free.
During her two-year relationship with Gu Cheng, they’d never shared intimacy—not even a kiss. Their nominal romance resembled friendship more than passion.
Noticing she was running late, Yun Xinyu hastily touched up her makeup and changed clothes, burying the breakup’s shock beneath urgent practicality.
————————————
That evening at a bar in the city’s east district.
After a day’s work, the morning’s events resurfaced—Gu Cheng’s words, the abrupt dissolution. The injustice stung: left at the altar of marriage by a capricious breakup.
Between fragmented memories of Gu Cheng, she drained glass after glass of red wine.
Hours later, her consciousness frayed at the edges. In the haze between sobriety and drunkenness, she fumbled with her phone. After endless tones, Feng Zihao’s clear voice flowed through:
"Hello? What’s wrong?"
"F-Feng... Zihao, I... I..."
Her voice shattered into helpless weeping. All pretenses crumbled before this gentle confidant who’d always seen through her. She wanted to say she was exhausted.
"Where are you? I’ll come." Anxiety threaded his words.
"West... no, east... east district bar. Come... drink with me."
She giggled muddle-headedly before collapsing onto the bar counter, asleep.
Much later, a hand pinched her cheek. Half-conscious, she assumed a predator and slapped hard. A pained yelp followed.
"Yun Xinyu! This is how you greet your rescuer?" Feng Zihao complained, nursing his hand.
"Oh... Zihao? Sit! Drinks... bottoms up!"
Sober enough to recognize her longtime friend, she gestured grandly.
Feng Zihao sighed, pressing slender fingers to her forehead:
"No fever. Why the tears? I thought disaster struck."
He settled beside her, awaiting explanation.
"Disaster?
Your big sister got dumped! Isn’t that catastrophic?"
Mustering coherence, she glared challengingly.
His strikingly beautiful face cycled through emotions before settling on resignation:
"Good riddance. You never cared for him anyway—why the act?"
"......"
He’d pierced her core, as always. Two years with Gu Cheng, yet no grief—only fresh anguish over resurfaced memories.
Luo Fan.
This renewed onslaught of longing—how long would it torment her? Pathetic, after all these years. He’d likely married, become a father, while she remained shackled to ghosts.
Trembling, she drained another glass. Consciousness fled, leaving her slumped against Feng Zihao, babbling:
"Luo... Luo Fan, y’know?
I miss you... Why... why won’t you return? Come back... can’t forget... really can’t..."
Sobs wracked her body, defenses demolished. She didn’t see Feng Zihao’s bitter expression—nor comprehend why he’d stayed companionless by her side through the years.
As friend, confidant, devoted shadow, he’d accompanied her through darkest times.
Once she’d asked why he never dated.
"I’m waiting," he’d said. "If she turns around, I’ll give her my life."
"She must be remarkable," she’d mused, "to earn such loyalty."
He’d smiled. "Yes. Remarkable."
When her drunken stupor deepened, Feng Zihao gathered her carefully. Watching her sleep, he murmured:
"All these years... why cling to his shadow while ignoring me?"
Anguish etched his handsome features, vulnerability laid bare.
(End of Chapter)
