After Letting Go, Her Regret Remains - Chapter 6 

Was the person before her really the one she had loved for ten years?

“Meng Yuan, do you remember what day July 25th is?”

At two in the morning, these words abruptly broke the silence in the pitch-black, still bedroom.

Her cold had worsened, and Shang Li’s voice was thick with nasal congestion, making it sound rough and hoarse.

Meng Yuan was just about to take off her shoes and get into bed. Hearing this, she froze for a moment before lying down as if nothing had happened, casually asking without much thought, “What day?”

“Cough, cough! Never mind. It’s fine if you don’t remember.” After a fit of violent coughing, Shang Li let out a soft sigh, clenched her fists, and tried her best to keep her voice steady and calm. Yet her words still betrayed her gloom and resentment. “After all, you’re too important to remember trivial things now. What could you possibly keep in mind?”

“What are you being so sarcastic about now?” Meng Yuan’s voice suddenly deepened, laced with deliberately suppressed irritation. “Can’t you just say what you mean directly? Do you always have to beat around the bush?”

The previously mundane atmosphere instantly turned sharp.

Shang Li immediately retorted, “Is it really me beating around the bush, or is it that you simply have no patience to listen to me?”

“Do we have to talk about this now?” Meng Yuan sat up abruptly, turning on her phone screen and shoving it in front of Shang Li. “Look at what time it is. Am I some kind of immortal? I’ve been busy all day, and now I have to spend energy guessing what’s on your mind.”

The harsh light stung Shang Li’s eyes, and she reflexively closed them. In the darkness, Meng Yuan’s words pierced her ears, each syllable clearer and sharper.

“Busy all day? Guessing my thoughts?” Shang Li repeated her words, laughing bitterly in her anger. “Who’s really the one guessing here? Have you ever considered talking to me properly? Meng Yuan, I’m realizing more and more that I just can’t understand you anymore.”

“Sigh! What exactly are you trying to say?” Meng Yuan let out a long, weary sigh. “I’m tired. I don’t want to argue with you.”

“…” Shang Li was momentarily speechless. The mocking curve of her lips stretched further in the darkness, trembling faintly. Struggling to keep her tone normal, she restrained herself and said slowly, “At noon, you said you’d take Jin Jin for a walk when you got back tonight, right?”

Meng Yuan remained silent.

Tears welled up in Shang Li’s eyes as she asked, word by word, “So, I’d like to ask, where were you?”

The silence stretched on. After a long while, Meng Yuan’s faint voice drifted through the air, “I forgot. I was busy.”

Those three light, dismissive words were like a fine needle, grazing the tip of Shang Li’s heart. The wound was small, but the pain was sharp and all too familiar.

Meng Yuan was hidden in the darkness. Shang Li strained her eyes to see, but all she could make out was a blurry shadow, like a wisp of smoke that would dissipate at sunrise.

Click!

The ceiling light switch was suddenly flipped on, and the entire bedroom was instantly illuminated as bright as day.

Shang Li sat up, her gaze fixed directly on Meng Yuan. The gentle light fell on Meng Yuan’s face, revealing every feature clearly. Yet, the more Shang Li looked, the more unfamiliar and glaring Meng Yuan seemed.

Was the person before her really the one she had loved for ten years? Was she really the same person who had once promised to take her home and never leave her?

She would rather believe that Meng Yuan had been possessed by someone else.

But she had seen it all too clearly, how Meng Yuan had gradually, bit by bit, grown cold.

“What do you want now?”

Meng Yuan dragged out her words, and the emphasis on “now” conveyed all her impatience and weariness.

“Meng Yuan, is it because you’re busy, or because you simply never took my words to heart?” Shang Li’s words unconsciously quickened, her chest rising and falling irregularly. “Or perhaps, I don’t even exist in your heart, so anything related to me.”

“I already told you, I was busy and forgot. Do you really have to make such a big deal out of something so trivial.”

“Trivial? If this is trivial, then what counts as important in your eyes?” The anger she had been suppressing suddenly ignited, rushing to her head, and Shang Li’s rationality vanished in an instant. “For example, having meals and gatherings with your friends, what you call being busy is that important?”

Meng Yuan froze for a second, then returned to her usual unruffled demeanor. Her dark, well-like eyes were dull, with faint traces of displeasure and weariness floating in them.

“Why didn’t you reply to my calls and messages? Oh, right, you were busy. You didn’t see them, you didn’t hear them. I understand.”

“…”

“Then I even asked Kou Jia to pass the message to you. Couldn’t you have replied just once? If—”

“…”

Shang Li suddenly found she couldn’t continue questioning. Why? What was the point? Didn’t she already know the answer?

Meng Yuan hadn’t forgotten. She hadn’t overlooked it. She simply never cared.

Even now, faced with Shang Li’s near-suffocating, desperate questioning, she could remain completely unmoved.

“What’s the use of bringing this up now? It’s all in the past.” Meng Yuan raised a hand to her forehead, covering her eyes.

Cutting off the visual connection between them unilaterally.

“Is it in the past? Maybe for you, but for me, it’s not over.” Shang Li paused, her throat choked with unspeakable emotion. A cold, damp feeling seeped from her bones. “If you couldn’t do it, why did you promise in the first place?”

“What do you want me to do?” Meng Yuan’s lips parted, her smooth jawline tightening, exuding a sharp, unwelcoming coldness.

It felt even more biting and piercing than the evening downpour.

A sudden sense of powerlessness washed over Shang Li’s limbs. She fell silent, staring blankly at Meng Yuan. “I don’t want anything.”

“In that case, let’s sleep. I have to get up early for work tomorrow.”

“Meng Yuan, tell me, do you still want to be with me?”

Their voices overlapped almost simultaneously, Meng Yuan’s tone firm and dominant, while Shang Li’s words faded toward the end, failing to form a complete question.

As soon as she finished speaking, Meng Yuan turned over, her back facing Shang Li as she lay on her side.

Shang Li remained motionless, watching her like a lifeless statue.

The air conditioner vent blew directly at her, chilling her to the bone and flattening her turbulent emotions into a barren wasteland.

Shang Li quietly turned off the light, and the pitch-black night returned as if nothing had ever happened.

In the impenetrable darkness, no matter how hard she tried, it was futile.

Like a drop of ink sinking into a black vortex no echo, no trace, and when she leaned in to look, all she could see was her own distorted reflection, pitiful and terrifying.

The sound of steady, even breathing drifted over, quietly merging into what should have been a peaceful, gentle night.

Yet, for Shang Li, this overly serene atmosphere stirred another wave of turmoil.

The same space was split in two, one half serene and softly asleep, the other silently choking, turbulent and overwhelming.

Shang Li leaned against the headboard, knees drawn to her chest, biting her lip tightly as tears streamed down uncontrollably.

Amidst the throbbing pain in her head, a voice both familiar and distant echoed faintly, pulling her into another time and space.

“Sis, get up. You’re not allowed to sleep until you tell me what’s going on.”

It was the same night, but their roles were reversed.

Buried under the blankets with her face pressed into the soft pillow, she felt Meng Yuan sitting beside her, persistently tugging at her arm to keep her from dozing off, all to uncover the reason behind her melancholy.

Muffled, she replied, feigning normalcy, “I’m fine.”

“When you say you’re fine, it means something’s wrong. Don’t I know you?”

Pouting, she denied it again, but Meng Yuan’s concern wouldn’t waver. Stubbornly, again and again, Meng Yuan tried to pry the truth from her.

Suddenly, the heaviness in her heart vanished. She said earnestly, “I’m really okay now. Let’s sleep. You have to, tomorrow.”

“No! If you don’t tell me, I’ll keep asking. Even if the sky falls tomorrow, I won’t care!” Meng Yuan lifted her chin, her small face taut with stubborn resolve.

“It’s really nothing serious. Can we talk about it tomorrow?” The trivial reason made her too ashamed to speak, but Meng Yuan’s solemn expression only deepened her guilt.

“I knew it, something is wrong.” Meng Yuan’s brows furrowed, her bright eyes fixed intently on her. In an instant, mist clouded her gaze, and her voice trembled with tears. “Sis, didn’t we promise not to let arguments last through the night?”

Her heart clenched at the sight, guilt washing over her even more strongly. “Xiao Yuan, don’t cry. We’re not arguing.”

“But you won’t tell me anything.”

“Really, it’s such a small, insignificant thing. I’ll be fine after a good night’s sleep.”

“Even the smallest things matter.” Meng Yuan retorted immediately. “Do you know how many couples drift apart because they let little issues pile up, unresolved? Besides, I can feel that you’re upset, how could I just ignore it and let you sleep with all that weighing on you? You’re not allowed to do this again, understand?”

Listening intently, she nodded like a child being scolded by a teacher. “Mm, I understand.”

“Sis, I really want us to be together, always. That’s why I don’t want any misunderstandings or resentment between us.”

Gazing into Meng Yuan’s eyes, she saw a vibrant, beating heart within them.

Hearts racing, love echoing endlessly.

“Xiao Yuan, I only want.I only want to be with you too.”

Unable to resist, she echoed the sentiment. Then, facing Meng Yuan’s questioning again, though embarrassed, she softly began to explain, if only to ease her worries.

“Mm-hmm and then?”

Their voices intertwined like a gentle, sweet lullaby.

“Back then. I remember now. I’m sorry, sis. I really didn’t notice at the time. You should’ve told me sooner.”

On that cold winter night, nestled in Meng Yuan’s embrace, her soul felt full and tender.

Before drifting into a sweet dream, she thought to herself, she ought to be more open, to let her guard down a little more.

Because this was Meng Yuan, her beloved.

Even if she had once scoffed at the idea of eternity and scorned undying vows.

Now, she had met Meng Yuan.

She was willing to trust her, to believe that ancient promises of unyielding love would endure in their story.

She wanted to follow Meng Yuan, to walk with her forever and ever.

But Meng Yuan, I have always remembered the words you said, and I have always abided by them.

What about you?

How much do you still remember?

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