Dusk settled over the rooftop terrace of the ZhiXu studio.
The skyline of Jiangcheng was bathed in a soft golden-orange light, the city buzzing with life, but not noise.
Xu Zhiyi had kicked off her heels and now stood barefoot on the wooden deck, facing a large sketchboard. She was adjusting the composition for the upcoming season's key visuals.
Lin Xuzhi stood behind her, holding two glasses of lemon water.
He handed one to her and said gently,
"You haven't taken a break all day."
"Just a bit more." She frowned, pencil in hand."This section still feels off. The lines aren't strong enough."
Lin Xuzhi didn't rush her. He simply stood there quietly, watching over her as she completed the last few strokes.
When she finally stopped, she turned toward him, her voice carrying a trace of fatigue:
"Thank you."
He smiled faintly.
"I'm happy to."
He hesitated for a second, his gaze falling on her delicate yet determined profile, as though weighing his words.
Noticing his expression, she tilted her head.
"What is it? You want to say something?"
He paused a moment longer, then finally asked:
"If... he gave up everything to come after you now—would you go back to him?"
The air suddenly turned still.
In the distance, city lights flickered on one by one, and the world slowly transitioned into night.
She didn't answer right away.
Instead, she took a sip of lemon water, her eyes fixed on the golden-red clouds painted across the horizon.
After a long pause, she smiled softly, her gaze clear and calm.
"I don't wait for the wind anymore," she said."And I no longer wish for the boat to return."
Her voice was quiet, yet carried an unshakable certainty:
"This path—I chose it myself."
"I stitched myself back together, thread by thread."
"So even if he crawled back to me on his knees, I would never let myself fall into that darkness again."
Lin Xuzhi looked at her, eyes filled with a quiet ache. But more than anything, he felt a deep admiration for her composure in this moment.
"Then..." he asked softly,"Is there someone—who can walk the rest of the road with you?"
She turned toward him, gaze steady.
"Maybe someday."
"But that person won't be someone waiting for me to turn around—"
"It'll be someone who walks beside me, and watches me move forward."
Lin Xuzhi's fingers tightened ever so slightly, but he said nothing more. He simply set the empty glass down gently on the railing.
He knew—she wasn't someone who didn't need love.
She had simply learned not to trade herself for it anymore.
This farewell didn't need applause, nor witnesses.
She was simply—rewriting her life, in her own way.