The cold night air bit into Lu Sheng's skin as he staggered down the street. His vision blurred from the tears and swelling, blood still trickling from the corner of his mouth. Every step sent waves of pain through his battered body, but none of it compared to the ache in his chest.
He had thought—even hoped—that Chen Xiao calling him meant a chance to fix things. But now he realized he had been nothing more than a fool clinging to a fantasy.
He didn't even let me explain...
Lu Sheng sank onto a bench at a quiet bus stop, wiping at his face with the sleeve of his hoodie. He stared blankly ahead, his mind replaying every word, every strike, every ounce of disbelief in Chen's eyes.
And behind it all... Jiayi's smug smile.
"She's won," he whispered, voice cracking. "She's really turned him against me."
His phone buzzed weakly in his pocket, and for a moment, hope flickered in his heart. He fumbled it out with trembling fingers—only to find a text from an unknown number.
> Stay away from Chen. You've already caused enough damage.
His chest tightened. He didn't need to guess who it was from.
Lu Sheng let the phone fall into his lap, curling his fingers into fists. Why does it always end like this?
---
Meanwhile…
Chen Xiao sat on the edge of his bed, breathing heavily, fists still clenched. His knuckles were scraped raw, his emotions a storm he couldn't calm.
But Jiayi sat next to him, her hand gently resting on his back.
"You did the right thing," she whispered. "He was poisoning everything between us."
Chen Xiao didn't respond. Deep down, a small voice questioned everything. Why didn't Lu Sheng fight back? Why did he look so heartbroken...?
But Jiayi's arms wrapped around him, her touch warm, her voice sweet.
"We can finally be happy now. No more interference."
He closed his eyes, forcing the doubts down. He had chosen his side.
---
Days passed.
Lu Sheng didn't return to class. His phone remained silent, no calls, no messages from Chen. He stayed holed up in his room, eyes puffy and red from sleepless nights.
But he wasn't crying anymore.
He was healing—slowly, painfully—but healing.
One day, he stood in front of the mirror and stared at himself. The bruises were fading. The cuts had scabbed over. But the pain in his eyes still lingered.
He touched his reflection gently. "I won't chase after people who push me away anymore."
And with that, Lu Sheng turned and walked toward something he hadn't embraced in a long time—his future.