After seeing Ji Shiyu off, Gu Ran felt that her life had gained yet another colorful and enriching experience.
She used to think the most humiliating moment of her life was in Ji Shiyu’s office, where she had desperately asked him if they could get married quickly—only for him to coldly reply, "I never proposed to you."
But looking back now, it wasn’t such a big deal. Trying to tie a man down with marriage was the least reliable tactic, especially when that man didn’t love her.
Deep down, the fear she once felt toward Qin Wenyi was matched only by her jealousy. She envied how, despite being an adopted daughter of the Qin family, Qin Wenyi was treated so well. During their school days, Qin Wenyi could openly walk beside Ji Shiyu, while Gu Ran could only watch from afar, listening to others gush about how perfect they were together.
Later, when Gu Ran finally stood by Ji Shiyu’s side, the whispers around her reduced to just one phrase: "It’s only because Qin Wenyi is gone."
But now, things were different. Gu Ran took a deep breath and reminded herself that Qin Wenyi’s presence—or absence—was no longer her concern. She wouldn’t lose her composure over Qin Wenyi’s sudden reappearance, nor would she be intimidated by her existence.
In high spirits, Gu Ran browsed through her social media feed and saw that Yuan Mengxuan’s friend had posted another nine-grid photo collage.
Most of the pictures were throwbacks from their school days, featuring the friend and her boyfriend. But the center photo stood out—a snapshot from a spring outing.
A group of classmates sat scattered on the grass, but the focus was unmistakably on Ji Shiyu and Qin Wenyi. Ji Shiyu held a water bottle, his sharp profile turned away from the camera as he gazed somewhere in the distance. Qin Wenyi leaned against him, smiling sweetly at the lens.
Gu Ran remembered that outing. While everyone else ran off in groups, laughing and playing, what had she been doing? Oh, right—she had found a quiet corner and sat alone, nibbling on a cold sandwich.
The post had an unusually high number of likes and comments.
Beneath it, a long string of mutual friends had left identical two-word replies: "Blessings~"
The post was loaded with subtext. On the surface, the "blessings" could be directed at the friend and her boyfriend in the other photos. But read differently, they could just as easily be meant for Ji Shiyu and Qin Wenyi in the center frame.
Gu Ran rested her chin on her hand.
Was this girl still trying to provoke her after failing as a livestreamer?
Such a sneaky tactic—clearly meant to embarrass her.
Too bad she and Ji Shiyu were already over. Why would this bother her?
So, Gu Ran clicked "like" on the post and joined the chorus in the comments:
"Blessings~"
After her reply, the flurry of activity from the friend’s circle suddenly stopped.
...
Beiyi Sanatorium.
Nestled by the lake in the most secluded corner of the city’s outskirts, the sanatorium resembled a luxury resort, hidden among lush greenery. Equipped with cutting-edge medical facilities and staffed by top-tier professionals, it boasted tight security and exorbitant fees.
Ji Heyuan sat by the lake in his wheelchair, a fishing rod loosely in hand, idly waiting for a bite.
That afternoon, he had a visitor.
Footsteps approached from behind.
"Where’s Ran Ran?" Ji Heyuan turned, spotting Ji Shiyu first—then the empty space beside him. His expression darkened.
Ji Shiyu set down the tea snacks he was carrying and gazed at the tranquil lake before signaling Xu Hui to fetch two more fishing rods.
Even seated in a wheelchair, Ji Heyuan’s imposing presence from his younger years remained intact. Raising his voice, he demanded, "I’m asking you—where is Gu Ran?"
"Don’t think just because I’m stuck here that I haven’t heard the rumors outside. What’s going on lately? Where have you taken her? Why didn’t she come with you today?"
Ji Shiyu fell silent for a moment before sitting down and meeting the old man’s furious gaze. "Dad," he said.
Sometimes, he couldn’t fathom why his father adored Gu Ran so much. In his prime, Ji Heyuan had been a formidable figure, but after a car accident left him physically broken in his later years, his temper had grown erratic, making him nearly impossible to approach. The younger generation of the Ji family feared him terribly—yet with Gu Ran, he softened into nothing more than a gentle, ordinary elder, far removed from his former identity as the esteemed chairman of Xinbo Group.
Ji Heyuan could already sense Ji Shiyu’s evasiveness. He threw down his fishing rod in frustration. "What nonsense are you up to?"
"If this is about you two fighting over the marriage, Ji Shiyu, listen well—as long as I’m alive, Gu Ran is the only daughter-in-law I’ll acknowledge."
"If you don’t bring her next time, don’t bother coming to see this old man at all."
Ji Shiyu parted his lips as if to speak, but in the end, he merely nodded. "Understood."
On the way back from the sanatorium, Xu Hui summarized the content of Gu Ran’s recent livestreams and handed the report to Ji Shiyu.
Ji Shiyu watched as Gu Ran went from fumbling through her early broadcasts—struggling with excessive beauty filters in a budget hotel, pausing mid-stream for two minutes to swat a cockroach—to eventually ditching the filters and stunning her audience. She moved into a new apartment, donned a JK uniform to perform a cute gesture dance, then switched to a red dress in her next stream, flipping expectations and going viral.
Only after confirming that her content remained simple and that she hadn’t worn anything inappropriate did the tension in Ji Shiyu’s demeanor ease slightly.
Xu Hui waited until Ji Shiyu finally looked up from the screen before hesitantly speaking. "Mr. Ji, Miss Qin’s flight arrives on Saturday. There’s also an invitation for a gathering on Sunday evening. Will you…?"
Ji Shiyu closed his eyes briefly and replied flatly, "No."
"Understood," Xu Hui responded immediately, as if he’d anticipated the answer.
Leaning back in his seat, Ji Shiyu only attempted to recall related memories when Xu Hui brought it up. He furrowed his brow, realizing that after all these years, he could no longer remember even the smallest details about that person.
When had it even begun? Perhaps with a bottle of water at the basketball court? Or maybe they’d been paired for a group project? Amidst the teasing of their peers, they’d gotten together, and afterward, they’d always been surrounded by eager, watchful eyes.
Qin Wenyi had loved leaning into his side under those gazes—until the day he ended things.
Their relationship had been public knowledge, but their breakup was quickly overshadowed by the news of Qin Wenyi’s "death."
At the time, he’d found it suspicious, but the Qin family’s affairs were none of his concern.
Rubbing his temples, Ji Shiyu suddenly pictured Gu Ran’s face.
He forced himself not to dwell on those memories, yet the images only grew sharper—the blush on Gu Ran’s cheeks when she first stood on tiptoe to kiss him, the smug little triumph in her eyes as she flaunted his support among her friends, the way she had screamed at him in the office before running off in tears, and finally, the moment in her current home when she pointed to the door and told him to leave.
Ji Shiyu picked up his phone, only to suddenly remember he was now blacklisted by Gu Ran. At some point, she had decisively blocked him without a second thought.
His expression darkened. "Xu Hui, give me your phone."
Xu Hui had no idea why Ji Shiyu wanted it but handed it over without question, unlocking it first.
Ji Shiyu opened WeChat. Xu Hui had Gu Ran saved as "Miss Gu Ran." He hovered over the call option for a long moment before ultimately backing out.
Then he noticed numerous "Related to You" notifications on Xu Hui’s Moments feed, the most recent one seemingly linked to Gu Ran’s profile picture. A sudden urge struck him—he wanted to see what she was up to.
"Mind if I check your Moments?" Ji Shiyu asked.
"Of course not," Xu Hui replied hastily.
Ji Shiyu tapped into the lively-looking post and saw a series of photos. His gaze swept across them before settling on the center image of the nine-grid collage.
It was a picture from a school spring outing years ago, featuring him and Qin Wenyi. He had no recollection of when it was even taken.
Ji Shiyu inhaled sharply—Xu Hui had liked this post.
Then, amid the sea of familiar profile icons in the comments section, he spotted one that stood out more than the rest.
The owner of that avatar had last messaged him: "Do you think this painting looks nice~?"
Scrolling further, he found her comment nestled at the end of a neat row of well-wishes, matching the others in tone and brevity—just two words and a symbol:
"Congrats~"
