Days without quarrels were like boiled water—plain, mild, and quietly wholesome.
A Jin thought that if life could remain this peaceful, it wouldn't be so bad.
But he knew it was impossible. Life was an ocean—tides rose and fell, and beneath every deceptively calm surface lurked a deep-sea mine waiting to detonate.
Before he realized it, the end of the year arrived.
When he asked Lin Wan about her plans, she said she would spend the New Year at the Wang household.
He simply replied, "Alright."
Though he felt that returning there would only reopen her wounds—and perhaps undo months of progress—he knew he had no right to interfere.
Quietly, he prepared several practical, understated supplements.
On the night of the 29th, he handed them to her.
Lin Wan froze, then refused them outright.
"Wanwan," he said earnestly, "don't decline. They're getting old. They need this."
A flicker of mockery flashed in her eyes.
She gave a cold, brittle laugh.
"That's not what they need."
The words stabbed him—small, but sharp enough that he couldn't ignore the pain.
Peace built on pretense was never true peace.
This topic was a minefield. Cross it, and everything he had carefully balanced would explode.
He sighed.
"Wanwan, listen. I didn't mean anything else. It's just… a bit of goodwill on your behalf—"
She lifted her head, gaze icy.
So you want me to honor them with something I paid for with my body?
Forget whether they could stomach it—I don't even have the face to take it out.
Her sudden sharpness stunned him.
He weighed his earlier actions rapidly in his mind, then hurried to repair the damage.
"You're right, I didn't think it through. We won't take it. Consider it unsaid."
But Lin Wan suddenly let out a quiet laugh.
"No… I'm the one being theatrical."
She lowered her head and whispered to herself, voice faint and bleak:
"A whore dreaming of virtue. How could the world ever be that kind?"
The irritation in A Jin spiked.
He grabbed her thin shoulders, anger lacing his voice.
What nonsense are you saying? Why talk about yourself like that?
Lin Wan, you can curse me all you want—but don't degrade yourself.
Tears shimmered in her eyes as she lifted them to him.
Her voice trembled with bitterness.
"You're the one who degraded me."
A Jin froze, as though stripped of half his defenses.
He swallowed, voice dry.
You're right.
That's why I want to make it right—
"You can't."
He exhaled heavily.
He cupped her face, speaking with deliberate solemnity.
"I know. What's lost can't be restored. Maybe only if Chen Zui and I dropped dead right now would you feel relieved. But dying doesn't solve everything. Only the living have possibilities.
And at the very least, I still have one use—helping you heal.
His voice deepened, steady and resolute.
I won't claim to be extraordinary.
But if there's something I decide to do, not even the sky falling can stop me.
I swear I'll drive that damn depression out of you.
He brushed away the tears tracing down her cheeks, pulled her into his arms, and whispered softly:
"Wanwan, the new year's coming. Let the past rest for now. You can revisit it later—revenge is never too late. And when that time comes, whatever you want to do for me… I'll accept."
"I won't get better," she choked.
"Don't say that. People are always stronger than they think."
Because her situation wasn't much better than an orphan's, she had spent every New Year at Wang Xiao's home since they started dating. Even after his death, his parents still invited her. She wanted to accompany the elderly couple—too much quiet would only sadden them.
On New Year's Eve afternoon, Lin Wan carried two bags of supplements she bought herself to the Wang residence. She hadn't visited in months—only called occasionally.
Wang Mama grew emotional at the sight.
"You brought so much! We have everything here."
Then she took Lin Wan's hands, looking her over carefully.
"You seem a little fuller than last time. It's almost half a year—look how long it's been since we saw you."
Wang Papa interjected,
"The child is busy working. Not like you, always running from one neighbor's house to another."
"It's because staying home makes me restless—"
She stopped immediately when he shot her a glare.
Quickly changing topics, she said,
"I'll go chop the dumpling filling. Wanwan, watch some TV. Did you eat lunch? Should I fix something?"
"I've eaten. I'll help you instead."
She hung her coat and followed her into the kitchen.
Inside, Wang Mama chopped vegetables while Lin Wan kneaded dough.
After some idle chatter, Wang Mama sighed.
Wanwan, don't blame me for nagging. It's been almost two years since Xiao'er passed.
You're still young—you should think for yourself, start planning your future.
If you meet a good man, date him. Girls shouldn't wait too long to marry.
She continued with motherly sincerity.
"Looks don't matter. Family background—just make sure it's decent. What matters most is character.
Aunt Zhang upstairs asked about you the other day. Said she has a nephew, a civil servant, twenty-seven. She even showed me his photo—nice, proper-looking young man.
Your uncle told me not to meddle… but your family can't help you, and you're not taking the initiative, so I ought to put in a word for you.
Wang Mama called her name twice before Lin Wan snapped out of her daze.
She hurried to say, "No need, I… right now…"
Wang Mama blinked in realization.
"Do you already have someone?"
Lin Wan bit her lip unconsciously—unsure whether to lie or deflect.
Wang Mama only smiled.
"Silly child, don't worry. We're very open-minded. As long as you have someone reliable, we'll feel relieved. Even Xiao'er would be comforted."
Lin Wan said nothing.
Her fingers kneaded the dough restlessly; her heart was a tangled mess.
She suddenly couldn't bear staying there—wanted to flee with the terrible secret she carried.
They ate dumplings around eight, then watched the New Year gala.
During a break, Lin Wan slipped onto the balcony and dialed a number she knew by heart yet seldom called.
It connected quickly.
A middle-aged woman with a thick accent answered.
"Who are you looking for?"
Lin Wan hesitated.
"Is Mr. Lin home?"
"And are you?"
"I'm Lin Wan."
An indifferent "Oh" sounded.
"Mr. Lin isn't home."
The words slammed into her like a blow to the back of the head.
Her mind buzzed before pain spread through her chest.
She blinked hard.
"How has he been recently? Is his health alright?"
"He's fine."
"And… the others?"
"All well. Your younger brother took first place in his grade this term…"
Only then did the woman's tone warm slightly.
But Lin Wan had no interest in the subject.
She forced a frail smile.
"I see. That's good. Please tell Mr. Lin… I wish him a happy New Year and good health."
The woman said something else, but Lin Wan hung up before catching it fully.
A sharp, aching numbness spread across the bridge of her nose.
Cold wind swept her face—only then did she realize she was crying.
Her legs felt weak.
She gripped the railing to steady herself.
How laughable.
On New Year's Eve… not at home.
Who was she fooling?
So he truly didn't want to see her.
Not even hear her voice.
The mention of "her younger brother" made her want to laugh even more.
Younger brother—such an intimate term.
Yet she had never seen him even once.
She felt nothing for him. Nothing at all.
Tears streamed faster.
She wiped them clumsily with her coat sleeve.
Her phone suddenly rang, startling her.
She answered instinctively—without checking the ringtone.
Disappointment washed over her when she heard the voice.
"Wanwan."
Night and distance deepened his voice, making two simple syllables feel strangely laden.
He said nothing more.
After waiting in silence, she sniffed and asked,
"What is it?"
Wishing you an early New Year.
… You've been crying?
"No."
"I can hear it. What happened?"
At that moment—when the entire country rejoiced while she stood alone in the cold—Lin Wan suddenly felt the urge to spill everything, or perhaps simply break.
Her tone laced with mocking self-derision.
"A Jin, I finally figured out why you treat me the way you do."
Without waiting for his reply, she laughed bitterly:
"Even my own parents don't want me. Being bullied by others is perfectly normal."
His voice tightened in urgency.
"Wanwan, don't say that. Your father actually—"
"Don't speak for him!"
Her voice cracked into a low, trembling snarl.
I don't want to hear it. I'll just pretend I'm an orphan.
No father, no mother—and I can still live just fine.
"… If you can think that way, it might be easier."
"I don't have a choice."
"Wanwan, everything will get better. Believe me."
"..."
"Alright. Go back inside—it's cold out there. Don't catch a chill."