After Letting Go, Her Regret Remains - Chapter 10

A cold wind swept through the empty living room, where the ticking clock counted down the moments until parting.

Shang Li swallowed the lump in her throat, silently questioning the person before her: Why must you be so cruel?

The next moment, Meng Yuan lifted her gaze, her red lips parting slightly. “I never thought about leaving you.”

“Really?” Shang Li blinked hesitantly, her murmur barely audible, the fragile trust between them as thin as a cicada’s wing.

“Mhm.” Meng Yuan nodded, meeting her gaze without flinching. “Really. Don’t overthink it.”

Though reassured by Meng Yuan’s affirmation, Shang Li still felt uneasy. Something wasn’t right, though she couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

Just then, the doorbell rang.

“How is it? Is the bleeding heavy? Besides the glass shards, were there any other sharp objects.”

Dr. Qiu, around forty years old with her hair neatly tied back, strode in carrying a professional medical kit, firing off questions as she entered.

Meng Yuan followed behind, answering each one calmly.

“It’s not too bad. The wound isn’t very deep, and most of the glass shards have been removed. I’ll just rinse it with saline solution.” Without another word, Dr. Qiu approached Shang Li, disinfected her hands, put on gloves, and began working. “This might sting a little. Try to bear with it.”

No sooner had she spoken than a cold liquid poured over the wound. Unprepared, Shang Li’s vision went dark for a moment as she gasped sharply from the pain.

As the pain subsided, she suddenly felt warmth spreading over her cold, sweaty hand. Looking down, she saw Meng Yuan’s hand covering hers.

Shang Li’s breath hitched slightly. She remained still, savoring the warmth from Meng Yuan’s palm.

Once finished, Dr. Qiu efficiently packed up her medical kit. Before leaving, she advised, “Try not to get the wound wet. Since you’ve been drinking, don’t take a shower tonight, just wipe yourself down with warm water.”

“Okay.” Meng Yuan acknowledged and stood to see Dr. Qiu out.

The alcohol was beginning to take its toll, making Shang Li’s mind sluggish and drowsy. Yet, as she watched the figure drawing closer to her, she couldn’t bring herself to close her eyes.

Noticing her exhaustion, Meng Yuan leaned down, picked her up, and carried her toward the second floor.

Shang Li nestled softly in her arms, her eyes fixed unwaveringly on Meng Yuan’s profile.

In this moment, she felt so close enough to sense the warmth of her skin without even touching her. It felt alive, vibrant.

“Sleep,” Meng Yuan murmured, glancing down at her.

A soft smile curved Shang Li’s lips. “I don’t want to.”

Soon, they reached the bedroom. As her body sank into the soft mattress, Meng Yuan’s face began to pull away. Panicked, Shang Li quickly wrapped her arms around Meng Yuan’s neck, pouting slightly and letting out a soft, pleading whimper.

She had expected Meng Yuan to pull away immediately, but instead, Meng Yuan simply said, “I’m going to get some water to wipe you down.”

Instantly soothed, Shang Li relaxed, her brows and eyes softening as she let out a gentle “Mhm.”

Watching Meng Yuan’s retreating figure and then welcoming her return, Shang Li leaned against the bed, forcing her heavy eyelids to stay open, determined to remain alert.

“If you’re tired, just sleep,” Meng Yuan said, wringing out the towel. She first wiped away the half-dried tear stains on Shang Li’s face, then reached to unbutton her shirt. But as she undid the first button, her hand was caught.

“Meng Yuan,” Shang Li called her name softly, her consciousness drifting, blurring the lines between reality and dreams. Thankfully, the touch of Meng Yuan’s hand lent a sense of reality to the moment.

“What’s wrong?”

Meng Yuan’s immediate response opened a floodgate for the surging emotions, allowing them to spill out freely. “I heard it, you were laughing with her.”

“I was just…” Meng Yuan began with a hint of helplessness, but before she could finish, Shang Li interjected, “And you gave her the soup I made for you.”

Meng Yuan looked over intently. Shang Li was clearly drunk, her cheeks flushed with two patches of red, her brows furrowed, and the corners of her mouth downturned. Her eyes were bright yet misty, shimmering with unshed tears as if a storm were about to break. It was rare to see her like this or rather, Meng Yuan hadn’t truly looked at Shang Li in a long time. Sometimes, when she thought of her, only a vague outline came to mind.

Meng Yuan closed her lips, suddenly at a loss for words.

Shang Li hadn’t yet poured out all her grievances. Soft sobs escaped her as she murmured, “You knew that was specially for you. I almost burned my hand making it. It really hurt.”

Perhaps it was the gentle breeze and soft rain of the evening that had soothed Meng Yuan’s heart. Shang Li’s complaints sounded to her like the clear, melodious chime of a mountain spring.

Her gaze drifted to Shang Li’s hands, and seeing no signs of injury, Meng Yuan breathed an almost imperceptible sigh of relief.

But when their eyes met again, her throat tightened. Unsure how to respond, she could only murmur after a long pause, “I’m sorry.”

The woman on the bed blinked slowly, her lashes trembling as a single tear traced its way down her cheek. Her hazy gaze softened, like spring water thawing after a long winter. “Then promise me you won’t do this again.”

“Okay.”

The gloom on Shang Li’s face instantly lifted. Tonight, Meng Yuan was being unusually accommodating, as if they had returned to the past or stepped into a dream. Whichever it was, the radiant, vibrant Meng Yuan made her cling with longing. In her current state of diminished rationality, she couldn’t help but crave more from Meng Yuan.

Yet a thread of caution held her back, a fear that pushing too hard might break the fragile moment. Not daring to be too bold, she slowly opened her arms to Meng Yuan. “Meng Yuan, could you hold me?”

After nearly a decade together, the slightest touch that once sent shivers of excitement now barely stirred her heart. Even the most intimate acts between them had become routine, their emotions placid as still water.

Time had carved them into familiar shapes, stripping away the mystery that once enveloped them. It was like walking through a maze ten thousand times: at first, every turn offered new sights to linger over, but gradually, even blindfolded, she could reach the end without hesitation.

The scenery at each corner remained unchanged, worn and mundane, no longer worth admiring much like the natural cycle of growth and decay. Even if a hint of brightness appeared, it was too faint to make her pause. She could only walk past, numb and unseeing, time and again.

Just like now.

Seeing Shang Li’s outstretched arms, Meng Yuan hesitated. Her first instinct was to find an excuse to refuse. But then, inexplicably, an image of Shang Li’s tear-streaked face flashed in her mind, the small mole beneath her eye burning vividly.

You haven’t smiled at me in so long.
If you really don’t love me anymore, I’ll leave.

Meng Yuan bit her lip, a sudden turmoil rising within her. As she watched the light in Shang Li’s eyes dim, she set down the towel, leaned in, and drew her into an embrace.

Thankfully, that fragile thread hadn’t snapped.

Nestled in Meng Yuan’s warm, dry embrace, breathing in her familiar scent, Shang Li closed her eyes, her heart finally at peace.

But the greedy imp within her, not yet satisfied, pressed for more. “Meng Yuan,” she whispered, “could you kiss me too?”

Warm, moist breath brushed down, and moments later, a soft kiss landed on her lips. Meng Yuan’s voice sounded from above, “Alright, time for you to sleep.”

“Kiss me again, and I’ll sleep,” Shang Li insisted, clutching the fabric of Meng Yuan’s collar, unwilling to let go.

“Fine, lie down first.”

Shang Li firmly believed that Meng Yuan wouldn’t lie to her. Without much hesitation, she did as she was told.

As soon as her head touched the soft pillow, drowsiness washed over her. But she still remembered the kiss, her eyes open, silently asking for it.

Meng Yuan was wringing out a towel when she turned and saw this scene: black hair spread across the pillow, framing a small, snow-white face with a dazed expression, like a little kitten.

A soft chuckle suddenly escaped. Meng Yuan froze, unable to believe it had come from her own lips. She swallowed dryly, leaned down, and quickly kissed Shang Li. “Sleep now.”

The kiss was as light as a dragonfly skimming water there and gone in an instant. Yet Shang Li closed her eyes contentedly, a satisfied expression on her face.

She had been right Meng Yuan wouldn’t lie to her.

But just before her consciousness slipped completely into darkness, an inexplicable sadness washed over her. Clutching Meng Yuan’s hand tightly, she spoke with a hint of sorrow, “Meng Yuan, could you be a little nicer to me?”

Meng Yuan froze, a faint ache flashing in her chest.

“I don’t want to leave you.”

The last words were almost inaudible.

At the same time, a tear slid from the corner of her eye, dampening her lashes before silently disappearing into the pillowcase.

Shang Li could hold on no longer and sank into darkness. The faint “Okay” whispered near her ear felt illusory, its truth uncertain.

–

She slept dreamlessly through the night.

When she woke, her head throbbed with pain, and a sharp, piercing ache radiated from the soles of her feet. Under the thin blanket, she was drenched in cold sweat.

Shang Li struggled to open her eyes, her mind sluggish as it slowly pieced together memories from the night before.

Meng Yuan.

The name lingered in her heart, leaving a faint bitterness. Shang Li lowered her eyelids and glanced to the side, sure enough, Meng Yuan was gone.

Apart from the newly added wounds, everything else felt like a fleeting illusion.

Frowning through the lingering, sharp pain, Shang Li habitually picked up her phone and paused in surprise.

Little Bird: Your foot is injured, don’t walk around. I’ve asked Aunt Zhang to come over, she’ll stay at the apartment for the next few days. If you need anything, just call her.

Little Bird: I’ve fed Jin Jin. Someone will take him for a walk this afternoon.

Little Bird: I ordered a wheelchair online. It should be delivered soon. Use it if you need to go anywhere.

The messages nearly filled the left side of the screen. Shang Li scrolled through them several times, tilted her head back, blinked rapidly, and then replied with a simple “Okay.”

Her phone screen lit up and dimmed, dimmed and lit up again. After hesitating for a while, she typed into the message box: Where did you go?

She sent it after a moment’s hesitation, then suddenly deflated, closing her phone without expecting a reply.

Ding-dong!

Little Bird: Shooting an ad, for skincare products.

Shang Li thought “oh” to herself, but another message popped up: Is the injury feeling any better?

She didn’t reply immediately. Watching the green message bubble get pushed up and disappear into a sea of white, a surge of bitterness instantly welled up in her eyes.

If this had happened last night, she might have been overjoyed.

But in her waking state, joy was scarce. Instead, unease and bitterness forcefully invaded her heart.

Meng Yuan was always like this slapping you, then giving you a piece of candy; letting you gasp for breath when you were on the verge of collapse, barely keeping you hanging on.

Sometimes, she truly wished Meng Yuan could be even crueler, even more heartless.

It would be best if he would just strike her dead.

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