Chapter 75: Stay

Qi Yu’s face appeared before her—thin, pale, almost sickly.
Jiang Ya looked up, soft watery eyes glazed with tears, staring blank. The sob stopped. Wind stopped. Everything stopped—as if time had frozen.
The complex streetlights weren’t bright. Light pooled here; on the ground a blurred line between bright and dark. Qi Yu stood in the middle, gray light on her cheek, lashes distinct under it—brows and eyes veiled in mist, emotions buried too deep to read.
Her gaze fell on Jiang Ya’s tearful eyes. Brow knit—barely. Long silence. Fingers stirred without her noticing.
She spoke sudden: “What are you doing here?”
The moment the words left her mouth, Qi Yu regretted them.
The heart she’d meant to seal whole—why did a crack appear in one instant?
Had the crack always been there?
She left tomorrow morning. Before going she’d told Tang Xuejun her plans, asked Qi Xuan and Qi Wenping to look after things, talked with Zhou He, handed the shop to the manager—even visited Qi Li in the hospital, a few homely words and peace.
Only Jiang Ya she hadn’t sought.
After all—this farewell might mean they truly left each other’s worlds.
She’d calculated everything. All according to plan… So why—why when she was leaving, when she’d finally given up—did this person always burst in without warning?
Jiang Ya didn’t look away. She rose from the ground bit by bit, dazed, still staring. A moment. She spoke—nose stung—voice shaking: “You… are you leaving?”
Qi Yu stiffened, brow locked. “Who told you?”
Even if she didn’t say, she could guess.
Besides Tang Xuejun—no one else. No wonder that night Tang had tried to talk her down. Already sold her out.
“That doesn’t matter…” Jiang Ya closed in, grabbed Qi Yu’s arm without thinking—none of her old composure—urgent: “You leave tomorrow? Where? How long?”
“Why… why leave so suddenly?”
Facing the barrage, Qi Yu was silent, looked away, breathed in, sighed out. “What does it have to do with you? I leave when I want.”
“Even if I didn’t, my lease is almost up. I’ll move out soon.”
“What—problem?” She looked back at Jiang Ya, cold.
Jiang Ya met her eyes. Tears still pooled. She opened her mouth—stopped.
On the edge of breaking she looked down fast, sniffed, forced a smile up. “No problem. I wish you… a safe trip.”
A tear slid from the corner of her eye. She looked down again, pressed her lips— the more she held back, the worse the flood.
Qi Yu watched a long time—the tremor under control, the fragility under the mask. For a moment her own eyes felt wet. Only a moment.
She didn’t answer. Passed Jiang Ya in silence.
One step—and her wrist was seized from behind.
Qi Yu’s figure stalled. Jiang Ya’s broken voice: “Can I ask… can I ask… why… why do you have to go?”
“Is it… because of me?” She gripped tight—afraid Qi Yu would vanish the next second.
Qi Yu’s back still faced her.
In the silence she almost said “you’re flattering yourself.” She turned—and the words died.
Cruel, straight: “Yeah. You guessed right. Because of you.”
“I want to hide from you. I don’t want to see you. Living in the same city as you makes me sick—so I’m leaving.”
“Happy? Done asking?”
Her eyes were red already. She didn’t look away—stared at Jiang Ya’s shocked face.
Jiang Ya thought she’d built walls thick enough these months. Thought she could bear the cold calmly.
In that instant the strength shattered—completely.
Qi Yu’s words were a needle in her heart. Pain spread from the chest to every limb, every organ—unbearable, irrational, nearly mad.
She stared blank, tears already streaming.
After a long while she frowned. Sorrow and grief poured out of her eyes. Disbelief: “You… hate me that much? Hate me so much you can’t stand to see me—one glance makes you sick—is that it?”
At “sick” Qi Yu’s expression flickered. She looked away, eyes darting. The hand Jiang Ya held—fingers twitched, then curled tight. She held her breath. Said nothing.
Jiang Ya stared at that stubborn profile, heart carved open, speechless. A long while to steady breath and voice. Calm again: “Fine. It’s okay. I know. I know… I won’t ask.”
“But at least let’s clear up the misunderstandings—okay? Even if you don’t want to hear it, even if you think it’s pointless—I have to say it.”
“Qi Yu, I swear I never meant to give up on you. I didn’t choose against you—it’s just… my father warned me. If I kept going he’d come for you. For your family. I know him. He’d do it. Any method—even hurting you.”
“I was scared when I heard that. Scared my persistence was wrong. Scared I’d hurt you. Scared your family would turn on you. Scared we’d break under pressure anyway—and the pain would be doubled for both sides…”
“So is dumping me without a word the right way? Less pain—is that it?” Qi Yu couldn’t hold back. Old grievance crawled up. Eyes angry. “Jiang Ya—who do you think you are? A relationship is two people, not one. Do you get that?”
“Oh—you thought you were doing me good. Worried I’d get hurt—so you refused to talk. Swallowed every word and let me go? What am I to you? Who asked for that kind of ‘good’? Did you ask me once? Did you respect what I thought?”
“Yes! Yes, I was wrong!” Jiang Ya grabbed her with both hands, face wet, no time to wipe—only explain fast: “I thought short pain beats long pain. I thought breaking up was a temporary way to spare us both… But these three months I’ve thought again and again—will I regret it, was I right, would we really be better apart…”
“But the truth is… I was wrong.” She moved closer, eyes on Qi Yu’s—soft, pleading. “Can we… stop hurting each other like this?”
“Believe me. One last time.” She looked at her, firm: “I’ll find a way to convince my family. Even if they threaten the same way—I’ll hold on till they try to accept. And I won’t walk away again. Whatever happens—we talk. No hiding, no lying, no repeating the same mistakes, no disrespect…”
“Anyway… whatever you say—I’ll change. Okay?”
Qi Yu watched her. That sincerity and earnestness stirred something inside—not strong. Faint. Like cooled tea—still bitter going down, no longer cutting bone-deep.
She felt like an outsider looking on—with regret and pity for what they’d had.
She thought—if only earlier. Even a week earlier. Before she decided to leave. If Jiang Ya had stayed her like this—maybe… just maybe—a flicker of wanting to take her back.
Too late.
Pity for them both.
The emotion in Qi Yu’s eyes closed off. Deep gaze turned flat. Under Jiang Ya’s eyes she pulled free—hand by hand—even when Jiang Ya tried to hold harder she didn’t stop.
Separated. Half a step back. Face lost in the dark. She arched a brow. Three words, soft:
“And then?”
“You explained. You apologized. So I have to accept—is that it?”
As she asked, thunder rolled—low but enough to shake.
Jiang Ya’s heart trembled with it. She froze. Throat choked. No words.
In their silent stare rain began—drops to drizzle in a blink.
Fine rain wrapped them in mist. Neither moved.
Qi Yu glanced at the strings of light in the rain. Remembered something she’d once said. Tugged her mouth. “See—sharing the rain has one result. We both get soaked. Even when it stops and everything dries—that doesn’t mean it never rained.”
She looked at Jiang Ya slowly. Pity: “Jiang Ya—you never understood me.”
“You don’t know what I actually wanted.”
“Understand—I’m a person too. Same as you. You hurt, I hurt. Neither owes the other.”
“I’m alive. Not a thing you can drop with one sentence and pick up again when you’ve ‘figured it out.’”
“Why did you come tonight? To keep me—isn’t that it? A few apologies, a honest explanation—and I’m supposed to forget being abandoned for no reason, erase three months of grievance and doubt and hating myself?”
“If that’s what you think—I’ll tell you clearly. We’re impossible. We’re not from the same world.”
“You want to keep me? With what? What right do you have?”
Rain fell. The drizzle like a prelude to parting—steady, soaking them through.
Qi Yu stared at Jiang Ya. The words of farewell were out—she still didn’t go. Jiang Ya’s ruined face, desperate eyes—a brief hope flashed—and died in Jiang Ya’s silence, washed into mud, gone.
One last long look. Black pupils holding Jiang Ya’s small figure. Light flickered. Qi Yu sighed inside, looked down, no attachment left, walked past her.
Rain soaked through cloth, clinging cold—every step heavy with the weight of it.
Step one—for the girl she was and the youth she’d had.
Step two—for the seven years and the obsession.
Step three—for the reunion and the flutter that still came.
Step four—for the self that still read too much into Jiang Ya and the moods that followed.
Step five—for the dreamer and the dream.
……
By step ten—for the her now, leaving Jiang Ya’s world…
Her foot paused. One step from the eaves—out of the rain.
She still stopped.
Three full seconds. Then the next step.
Before it landed something slammed her from behind—she staggered—but under the eaves.
Cold on her head stopped.
She stood stunned. Arms tight around her waist. Soaked bodies pressed together—through wet cloth, absurdly, a thread of warmth.
Gradually embrace replaced chill. Qi Yu heard Jiang Ya’s voice shaking with tears—each word on her heart.
“I understand. I’ve thought it through…”
“I’ll keep you with the umbrella you once held for me. Now I hold it for you—block this rain. I’ll keep you with the company you never tired of giving. Now I’ll stay at your side—solve what I can. I’ll keep you with the shoulder you lent me. Now lean on mine—I choose you, firmly.”
“Last—I’ll keep you with the heart you patched and stitched when it was broken. I can’t… lose you again. You’re what makes it whole.”
“Qi Yu… now let me love you—okay?”