Chapter 77: Chance

The words landed. Zhou Lin’s eyes widened—shock and disappointment. Jiang Sheng was beyond rage. He stood, walked to Jiang Ya, hand raised for a slap.
But her unflinching face—head high, eyes closed—waiting for punishment without fear, without care—cut him deep.
He gritted his teeth. The hand stopped. It never fell.
What happened next stunned them both.
A thud—Jiang Ya dropped straight to her knees.
Jiang Sheng froze, emotions tangled. After a long beat he pointed, furious: “What are you doing! Get up! Do you hear me!”
Zhou Lin forgot everything, tried to lift her, sobbing: “What’s this for! Get up! Can’t we talk properly!”
“Mom just doesn’t understand! Everything was fine—why do you have to love a woman! If you just didn’t want to marry early—you could have told us! Why hurt us like this!”
Jiang Ya lowered her eyes—another sigh inside, tired and helpless. “Mom, I said—I never did things out of spite against you.”
“I only want the right to choose my own life. My own path—even if it’s hard, even if it isn’t smooth—at least it’s mine. I’ll bear it willingly—not live in the boxes you force me into.”
“Hah.” Jiang Sheng laughed cold. Brow sharp, eyes cold. “So what’s today about? Blaming us for no freedom? Here to accuse us—is that it?”
“No.” Even on her knees Jiang Ya’s back was straight.
She shuffled back two steps on her knees, faced them both, resolute, solemn: “Dad, Mom. You’re parents and teachers. All these years you paved the road, guided me, pushed me… Without you my path might not have been this smooth. I never blamed you. I only… always hoped for your understanding and acceptance.”
Under their silent stare she bowed—forehead to floor—a dull sound.
Zhou Lin was already sobbing. She tried to rise—Jiang Sheng pulled her back, voice heavy: “Let her talk. Let’s see how far she’ll go.”
Jiang Ya ignored him. Breathed deep. Paused. Then: “First—thanks for raising me, for years of care. That grace—I’ll never forget.”
She knocked her head again, hard.
“Second—I know I can’t be the daughter you hoped for. I can’t fulfill your wishes. I’m sorry. I beg your forgiveness.”
When she lifted her head the third time a red mark sat on her brow—shocking in their eyes.
“Third—even so I don’t think I did wrong. I only chose my life. We only walk this world once. Let me be selfish this once. This bow—I hope you’ll accept and let go. Stop pushing.”
Done, she looked down, face tight, swallowing the sour rush. She raised her head square to them and laid what was in her pockets before them.
Zhou Lin stared blank at the bank card and car keys, pointed, stunned: “Jiang Ya… you…”
Jiang Ya: “The keys—Dad bought that car for me. I’m returning them. The card—savings from two years of work. I’ll keep transferring every month—not much, but it’s what I can do.”
She stood slowly—knees numb, frowning, needing the sofa to steady herself. She looked at the two silent on the couch. “Dad, Mom. Maybe you’ll think me unfilial. Maybe you won’t accept. But I won’t abandon who I really am for the sake of filial piety.”
“So—from today, whether you accept or not, I won’t change my mind. Still—I wish you health. Whether you acknowledge it or not—I’m your daughter.”
Zhou Lin watched her, dazed—the gentlest person, now tears streaming, almost witless, as Jiang Ya walked away.
At the door Zhou Lin seemed to wake, cried toward her back: “Xiao Ya…”
“Don’t call her! Let her go!” Jiang Sheng’s fist crushed the sofa cushion, face red, breath ragged, roared at Jiang Ya: “Go as far as you can! Don’t come back when trouble hits!”
Jiang Ya’s step paused.
One instant—but countless memories of this house flooded in.
The clearest—childhood. Her in the center, birthday hat, blowing candles. Zhou Lin on the left singing soft. Jiang Sheng on the right—silent, eyes gentle.
Once, happiness had been that close.
She didn’t hesitate again. Walked out the Jiang family door for good.
.
Early June Qi Yu booked the return ticket. Next morning she reached Nanliu high-speed rail station.
Weekend—crowds thicker than usual. She dragged her suitcase through, quickened at the exit, looked left and right.
“Here.”
A familiar voice. Qi Yu turned—Tang Xuejun’s usual smiling brows. She was about to answer—then saw who stepped out from behind her.
Qi Yu froze. Looked down, pressed her lips, swallowed the words.
Through the gate she walked to them, wondering how to speak—Tang Xuejun hugged her first. “Spacing out? Come on—we’ve been waiting forever.”
“Told you to leave later.” Qi Yu muttered back.
She glanced at the person on her other side. Four eyes met—both stiff.
This month they hadn’t talked much—enough that Qi Yu almost believed they’d circled back to friends… But face to face, memory rose—and awkwardness clung.
“Long time no see.” Jiang Ya in a simple white dress—quiet as a lily, like before—smiled light at Qi Yu.
“Long time no see.” Qi Yu smiled back, cool.
She kept distance on purpose, turned to Tang Xuejun—face changed.
“Wasn’t it just you?” She ground the words out low.
Tang Xuejun arched a brow, clicked her tongue, pulled her closer, whispered: “That was days ago. She only said yesterday she’d come… You didn’t say she couldn’t…”
Innocent blink.
Qi Yu speechless. Could only swallow it.
Three walked to parking. Qi Yu behind Tang—saw the bright convertible 911, was about to ask if the trunk fit—Tang said: “Hey hey—not with me.”
Qi Yu stopped. “You’re picking me up. Who else?”
“Forgot to tell you—I’ve got a dinner, leaving now, no time. Take Jiang Ya’s car.” Door slammed before Qi Yu could argue.
Qi Yu glared through the front window. She’d better really have forgotten.
Tang’s car was gone. No choice—Qi Yu got in Jiang Ya’s car.
She’d expected silence. The ride was easier than she thought.
Jiang Ya started topics—how was the trip, Jiangzhou scenery and food—wouldn’t let the conversation drop. Qi Yu answered one by one.
Along the way Qi Yu watched Jiang Ya quietly. Maybe illusion—but a month apart, a lot had changed.
Most obvious—more open and direct. Not the old smile with distance underneath. Now the laugh in her eyes was real. The whole person had shifted inside out.
Once like cold moonlight. Now like warm sun.
“What? Something on my face?” Jiang Ya noticed her stare, brow knit.
Qi Yu snapped back, a little embarrassed at her own staring. Looked away—saw the logo on the wheel. “Nothing… New car?”
She remembered black Audi before—now a Volkswagen.
Jiang Ya eyes on the road: “Mm. Gave the old one back to family. This one—two weeks ago.”
Qi Yu looked again. “Why give it back?”
“Because…” Red light ahead. Car slowed. Jiang Ya glanced back, calm smile: “I told them straight—I’m living my life. They not accepting was expected. So I shouldn’t keep taking their support.”
“That car was Dad’s coming-of-age gift. A gift—but also extra support. I didn’t want to hurt them and still stand in the beneficiary’s place, enjoying what they gave like it was owed.”
“Besides—I can support myself now. New car feels good too.”
Light tone—as if it were nothing.
Qi Yu studied her a long while. Faint smile on her lips. Finally turned forward. Sudden: “Do you regret it?”
“Regret what?”
“What you did… That’s basically a break with them, isn’t it?”
“Not really. I don’t see it that way.” Jiang Ya: “And I never regret my choices.”
Qi Yu: “That’s good.”
Qi Yu tugged her mouth—but a moment later Jiang Ya added: “Though… there is one.”
She looked at Qi Yu, meaningful: “Only one.”
In the brief stare Qi Yu lost first.
Jiang Ya’s half-smile wasn’t sharp—but hard to meet.
The car went quiet. Too quiet.
Qi Yu coughed twice, smoothed her bangs, stole two glances sideways.
Caught.
Jiang Ya laughed pleased. Qi Yu sucked in a breath, shifted in the seat—suddenly on pins and needles…
Nowhere for her eyes to go. She stared out the window a long time—then Jiang Ya’s voice:
“So now… can I have a chance?”
Qi Yu blank. Didn’t catch up. “What chance?”
Jiang Ya’s eyes burned on her, bright smile, vivid and lovely.
“Let me pursue you—okay? Writer Qi.”