After Breaking Off the Engagement, The Young Lady Deeply Regretted It - Chapter 7

Jing Xiao hated indecisive feelings. She deliberately pulled away from Fan Qingyu; her sweaty palms had turned cold. Luckily, her feelings for Fan Qingyu hadn’t yet reached the point of being uncontrollable, otherwise she would definitely have lost composure at that moment.

After patiently enduring the barrage of marriage questions from the older relatives out of respect, the topic finally passed. Jing Xiao gave Fan Qingyu a look, and Fan Qingyu excused them, leading her out to the balcony.

The balcony doors were sliding with good soundproofing, blocking out the noise from inside. Out of habit, Jing Xiao reached into her pocket for a cigarette, but after searching she only found a sticky piece of candy.

It must have been something she had prepared in case Fan Qingyu skipped meals and had a low blood sugar episode. Jing Xiao frowned slightly, the sticky feeling on her fingertips making her even more irritable. She wanted to throw the candy away, but not seeing a trash bin around, she tore off the wrapper and ate the softened hard candy instead.

Fan Qingyu spoke lightly, “It seems my family really likes you.”

“Is that so.” Jing Xiao chewed the candy, the cloying pineapple sweetness spreading in her mouth, making her even more restless. She asked the question that had been gnawing at her heart, “And you? Do you like me?”

Fan Qingyu didn’t answer directly. The corners of her lips lifted in a smile as she wiped the sweat off her nose with the back of her hand. “Jing Xiao, I wouldn’t stay tangled up with someone I don’t like for so many years.”

The answer was too vague. She had only said she wouldn’t be entangled with someone she didn’t like, without ever clearly saying how she felt about her. Jing Xiao grew more frustrated, anger bubbling up in her chest. She pressed on, “Xiaoyu, in just a few months it will be the fourth year since our engagement. Do you remember?”

“I remember.” Facing someone she lived with every day, Fan Qingyu couldn’t summon the same patience she had for elders. Rubbing her temples, she sounded slightly annoyed. “Jing Xiao, I told you already, please give me some time. Right now isn’t the right moment to get married.”

Jing Xiao lowered her head, looking down at the view below for a long while before speaking again: “Tell me, how many four-year periods does a person have in their life?”

“There are many, many four years.” Fan Qingyu leaned on her hand, answering nonchalantly.

Jing Xiao lifted her gaze, her black eyes calm and steady. “And how many four years do I have, where I love you so much I’d give up everything for you?”

Jing Xiao never said things she couldn’t keep. She had once promised she would love Fan Qingyu for a lifetime, and Fan Qingyu had believed her. So now, Fan Qingyu was certain Jing Xiao would never leave. She frowned. “Today, you seem a little—”

Jing Xiao cut in with a bitter smile, “A little unreasonable today?”

Fan Qingyu didn’t answer, which was as good as admitting it.

Jing Xiao gave a self-deprecating laugh, brushed her hair back, and asked the final question of the day: “You always say the time isn’t right yet. I want to know, when exactly do you plan to marry me?”

Fan Qingyu still didn’t give a precise answer. Forcing herself, she said, “Before I turn thirty.”

Jing Xiao couldn’t help but laugh out loud. Her fists clenched so tight her nails went pale against her skin. With a bitter smile, she said, “Fan Qingyu, you really don’t treat my time as time at all.”

Without another glance, she walked away. Her heart ached in waves, her breath caught as though clogged with cotton.

“Xiaojing, you don’t look well.” Right before mealtime, she ran into Grandpa Fan. The old man placed a palm on her forehead. “What’s wrong? Are you feeling unwell?”

Jing Xiao nodded, seizing the excuse to leave. “Yes, Grandpa. I think I should head home first.”

A flash of disappointment crossed the old man’s face, but it was quickly replaced by a kindly smile. “Go on, your health comes first. I’ll ask Xiaoyu to accompany you.”

“No need, thank you, Grandpa.” With that, Jing Xiao went down the stairs. She knew Fan Qingyu cared too much about manners to leave early, so she walked slowly.

The courtyard air was filled with the fresh scent of grass. Though humid, it was soothing. Jing Xiao opened her ride-hailing app and set the destination to her suburban villa. The old house was in a rather remote area, and no drivers accepted her order at first.

Still, she glanced back with a sliver of hope. The little garden path was empty—Fan Qingyu hadn’t come down. Just then, a driver finally took her order. After waiting more than twenty minutes, the taxi pulled up. The driver, speaking fluent dialect, called out when she lingered: “Miss, are you getting in or not?”

“Yes, yes, yes.” Jing Xiao came back to her senses, apologetically smiling as she climbed in.

On the way, she had the driver stop by a convenience store to buy cigarettes. While in line to pay, she unlocked her phone and immediately saw her wallpaper—Fan Qingyu’s radiant smile.

She didn’t even make a phone call.

Clicking her tongue irritably, she paid, then decisively changed the wallpaper.

Her breathing grew heavy. The driver thought she was carsick and kindly rolled the window down.

The suburban property was an ordinary villa, two floors plus a basement garage. Jing Xiao had held it in the whole ride, but the moment she got home she lit a cigarette. The villa was kept clean by regular staff, but it was obvious no one had lived there for a long time. She opened the windows, letting in hot air. After a couple coughs, she collapsed on the sofa, taking another drag.

Clear smoke billowed from her nose. As expected, nicotine soothed her restlessness. She smoked three in a row before sitting upright again, ready to shower and sleep early.

At that moment, Fan Qingyu finally called. But instead of the soft words Jing Xiao imagined, her tone was calm: “Where did you go?”

Jing Xiao flicked her ash without answering. Silence stretched until her cigarette burned down to the filter. She stubbed it out in the ashtray and lit another.

Hearing the lighter click, Fan Qingyu asked anxiously, “What are you doing?”

Jing Xiao inhaled deeply and exhaled, replying coolly, “Doesn’t seem to have anything to do with you.”

Her voice cracked: “How does it not? I’m your…”

Even she couldn’t finish. Jing Xiao sneered, smoke stinging her eyes, making them ache and blur. Rubbing them, cigarette pinched between her fingers, she finished for her: “You’re my fiancée, right?”

Fan Qingyu sounded both lost and restrained. In the end, her voice softened: “Xiaoxiao, where are you? Come home with me, okay?”

“No. I don’t like living together before marriage.” With that, Jing Xiao hung up, heading toward the bathroom. She remembered the photos she had last seen on her phone and had the hallway decorated in a rush.

Now, every frame along the hallway held a picture of Fan Qingyu—from her youthful innocence to her present-day success. At the end, the largest frame displayed their photo together: Fan Qingyu kissing her at the corner of her lips, Jing Xiao beaming as though she’d received the world’s most precious treasure.

On the vanity sat matching toiletries. The sight made Jing Xiao even more irritable. She didn’t even wait for the water to heat up, rushing through a half-cold, half-hot shower. Wrapping herself in a towel, she stepped out, only to catch a familiar scent.

It was Fan Qingyu’s fragrance. Searching around, she discovered it came from a bottle of hair oil. Out of spite, she left it tossed carelessly on the floor after rearranging everything else neatly.

Right now, Jing Xiao didn’t want to see anything related to Fan Qingyu. She just wanted a good night’s sleep, to wake up tomorrow and sigh at her messed-up life, then have a drink with friends and think about what to do next.

But when she opened the master bedroom door, she found more photos of Fan Qingyu hanging on the wall. Unable to hold back, she cursed, then stubbornly went to sleep in the guest room instead.

Fan Qingyu kept calling. Jing Xiao’s eyelids drooped with exhaustion until she finally shut her phone off. Her mind was muddled, filled with dreams of the past, and she barely slept through the night. She didn’t wake until noon the next day.

The air conditioner still blew cold air tirelessly. Having skipped two meals, her stomach hurt from hunger. Too lazy to cook, she boiled water, turned her phone back on, and ordered delivery. Almost immediately, Fan Qingyu’s calls flooded in again.

Annoyed, she hung up and ordered food. While she waited, a video call came through. Not wanting to see Fan Qingyu’s face, she switched it to voice.

Her voice was hoarse with fatigue: “You’re at your suburban villa, aren’t you?”

Jing Xiao knew she’d eventually find out and didn’t deny it. Instead, she asked politely, “What is it, Miss Fan?”

Fan Qingyu sighed. “Xiaoxiao, yesterday was my fault. But I’m serious about us. I’ve never toyed with you. Please come home with me.”

Hearing her take the initiative to soften made Jing Xiao’s anger fade, though she still wasn’t ready to return. She pulled out a chair at the dining table. “No. I want a few days to myself.”

“Why? You don’t want to see me?” Fan Qingyu’s voice trembled with the sound of suppressed tears.

“I think I’m allowed to stay in my own house for a few days,” Jing Xiao answered flatly.

Fan Qingyu’s voice turned cautious, almost pleading. “Then I’ll come to you.”

“What, nothing going on at work anymore?” Jing Xiao found it ironic. Fan Qingyu used to schedule even their dates around her busy work hours, yet now she was offering to come.

“I’ve handed things over to Secretary Hu for now. I want to see you.”

Hearing those words from Fan Qingyu was rare. Jing Xiao, who had ordered hotel food delivery, messaged the seller not to rush. She smirked playfully and replied, “Alright. I want you to cook for me.”

Fan Qingyu had never so much as lifted a kitchen knife in her life. The chances of her cooking were slimmer than summer hail. After a pause, she forced a casual laugh. “Xiaoxiao, you’re joking, right?”

“Who’s joking with you?” The kettle finally boiled. Jing Xiao poured herself half a cup, cooled it with mineral water, and downed it in big gulps, her churning stomach easing at last. “I’m starving. My stomach hurts. Are you coming or not?”

Fan Qingyu hesitated, clearly conflicted, then tried to negotiate. “How about this: I’ll bring my housekeeper. She can cook for you these next few days.”

“I don’t want the housekeeper’s food.” Jing Xiao pretended to hang up. “If you’re not coming, forget it. I’ll order takeout.”

Fan Qingyu knew this was her only chance to make amends. After a long sigh, she finally gave in. “What do you want to eat? I’ll try to make it.”

In all these years, Jing Xiao had never thrown a real tantrum. But even she had her moments of frustration. Fan Qingyu told herself that lowering her head once in a while wasn’t so bad—at least it could ease the “when will we marry” argument for now.

So, carrying two bags of groceries packed by the housekeeper, Fan Qingyu set out for Jing Xiao’s villa.

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