“It’s cold out, which is good. The chocolate won’t melt.”
In recent years, a popular concept called “A-Beibei” had emerged. It referred to a long-term comfort object, not a psychological term but a viral internet interpretation of the psychology concept of a “transitional object.”
Lan Yan’s A-Beibei was a plush penguin.
When she was a little over one year old, she had gone to the aquarium with her parents and personally picked it out from the dazzling array of toys on the shelf.
She ate and slept with it, of course. In her first year of kindergarten, she had to bring it every day, or she would be restless and unable to eat or sleep.
Her mother, Qiu Xiangwei, had fallen ill not long after giving birth to her, so Lan Junwen had taken care of her at night. Perhaps because of this, she was far more sensitive and insecure than children her age.
Most kids gradually gave up their A-Beibei after entering elementary school, but her penguin had stayed with her until she was eight.
The year Qiu Xiangwei passed away.
After countless moves and washings, the plush penguin had become worn and faded, its plastic blue eyes glued back on multiple times and covered in scratches.
Once, Lan Junwen had asked her in a negotiating tone if she wanted to pick out a new plush toy, since this penguin was just too old.
“But it hasn’t broken yet. It can still be fixed.”
If something could still be fixed, wouldn’t it be sad to throw it away? Wouldn’t it feel like its remaining life had been artificially abandoned?
In the end, battling cancer, Qiu Xiangwei had given up. Chemotherapy had made her life unbearable.
That day, she had talked to Lan Yan for a long time, not caring if a seven-year-old could understand such profound truths. She told Yanyan that she needed to accept that most things in the world could not die a natural death.
After her mother passed away, as a kind of ritual, Lan Yan had forcibly given up her A-Beibei.
But deep in her subconscious, she still morbidly yearned for some kind of eternity.
In this era of rapid decay, pursuing eternity was like loving gold coin chocolate made with vegetable fat instead of cocoa butter—going against the tide, out of step with the times.
So she never mentioned it.
The song she loved was called Eternal Flame—eternal flame.
She had joined Mend Orchid Studio partly because she saw a possibility of eternity in Chu Lansun, who had remained a widower for thirty years—something Lan Junwen had failed to achieve.
Restoring paintings and calligraphy gave them over a hundred more years of life, which, relative to a human lifespan, was tantamount to eternity.
What a coincidence. Chen Boyu had once said to her: For some reason, watching you work makes me think of the word “eternal.”
In that instant, she had felt a shiver down her spine, as if a beam of light had shone into the depths of her soul.
But now she knew it was just her misconception, her longing to “be seen” making her mistake Chen Boyu’s casual glance for true understanding.
Acquaintances and strangers alike had commented more than once that she could be really cold sometimes.
She never responded: My life doesn’t need to boil for everyone.
Her romance with Chen Boyu was like water heated to 39 degrees—far from boiling. This temperature, only slightly above body heat, required careful discernment to even confirm its warmth.
She was sad now because Chen Boyu didn’t even deserve this sadness from her.
Tears welled up, soaking a whole patch of her shirt fabric. Her skin stung faintly where it clung too long.
Liang Jingchuan’s hand went around her back to her shoulder without applying pressure.
Perhaps sensing someone watching, Lan Yan felt him gently turn her body sideways.
The wind had died down a bit.
She realized he had turned his back to block it.
The intense emotions didn’t last long and soon ebbed away.
Lan Yan suddenly stepped back, turned her face away, and wiped the wetness from her cheeks, aware of how improper this was.
Her arms suddenly felt empty. Liang Jingchuan lowered his gaze, withdrew his arm, pocketed his hands, and said, “I’ll take you back.”
“No need…”
“Regardless of what you think, I have to get you to a warm, safe place first.”
Lan Yan lacked the energy to argue with anyone. She lowered her head and silently acquiesced.
The car was parked in the underground garage. Worried that if he went alone to fetch it, she wouldn’t obediently wait at the park entrance, Liang Jingchuan watched her for a moment, then reached out and grabbed her wrist.
Her attempt to pull away wasn’t strong enough to become real action, so she let him hold her hand like that.
She was clearly distracted, walking unsteadily, deep one step, shallow the next.
Liang Jingchuan kept looking back. Under the lights, her face was as pale as if bleached, her expression tinged with a hint of desolation.
Fortunately, Chen Boyu hadn’t seen this expression, or he wouldn’t have been able to ask that stupid question about whether she had ever really liked him.
Liang Jingchuan opened the passenger door, his palm waiting a moment until Lan Yan ducked her head and got in.
Once in the car, she mechanically fastened her seatbelt. The vehicle drove through the pallid underground lights for a stretch before heading into the thick night.
“…Should I contact Lu Ying for you?”
Lan Yan shook her head.
She felt him turn to look at her, but she ignored it.
He said nothing more. The car fell silent.
This silence was exactly what she wanted right now.
But the next instant, her phone vibrated in her pocket like a landmine exploding.
Lan Yan took it out, glanced at it expressionlessly, rejected the call, and blocked the number.
Then she opened WeChat, removed Chen Boyu from the top of her contacts, and deleted him.
The phone went quiet.
After driving for a while, the car stopped at the intersection of several main roads, the red light lasting over ninety seconds.
Liang Jingchuan suddenly leaned over.
Lan Yan blinked and saw him reach out to open the glove compartment in front of her seat.
The next moment, her hand was lifted, and something from the glove box was placed in her palm.
Liang Jingchuan leaned back and said flatly, “It’s cold out, which is good. The chocolate won’t melt.”
Lan Yan stared dazedly at the pack of gold coin chocolate lying in her hand.
Her eyelashes drooped, lifted, then drooped again. She silently tore open the packaging, peeled off the gold foil, and popped a chocolate into her mouth.
She chewed mechanically, sweetness filling her mouth.
Mist rose in her eyes again. She sniffed it back. “I need…”
Liang Jingchuan turned to her.
She cleared her throat. “I need a few empty cardboard boxes to pack things.”
Liang Jingchuan looked at her for a moment. “Okay.”
At the next few red lights, he sent several WeChat messages in bursts, then opened his phone navigation.
Lan Yan didn’t catch the destination announced and didn’t ask.
After about fifteen minutes, they stopped in front of a shop.
Liang Jingchuan told her to wait and got out.
Lan Yan glanced over. It seemed to be a small store selling camping gear.
Under the lights, his figure crossed the shelves and disappeared, then reappeared moments later with unassembled corrugated cardboard boxes in hand.
He opened the trunk, loaded them, closed it, got back in, and set a new navigation destination—her neighborhood.
They arrived at the end in silence.
Liang Jingchuan got out, took the boxes from the trunk, and handed them to her. “Need help?”
“No.” Lan Yan paused. “…In a couple days, I might need you to deliver these to Chen Boyu.”
“Okay.”
Lan Yan hugged the cardboard. Liang Jingchuan instinctively stepped forward half a pace, as if to carry them up for her.
But in the end, he said nothing, stepped back, and told her, “Call me if you need help.”
She murmured an “mm.”
Once home, Lan Yan ignored everything else and opened the wardrobe, drawers, cabinets—checking every spot for Chen Boyu’s things.
Gifts, clothes, shoes, toothbrush… The assembled boxes gradually filled up.
After a final check to ensure nothing was missed, she grabbed two trash bags and stuffed the bedsheets, duvet covers, and the spare ones from the cabinet into them.
Her mind blank, she checked the time and realized two hours had passed without her noticing.
The boxes lay on the living room floor. Even without seeing inside, they still stung her eyes.
She picked up her phone and messaged Liang Jingchuan.
【blublue: Are you free to come over? I’d like to trouble you to take the stuff away tonight.】
【ljc: Okay. Coming right now.】
Lan Yan wanted to shower but held off. She wanted to clear everything out first, then wash as the final step.
She got up to pour herself a glass of water. As she drank, she heard a knock.
She jumped, her first thought that Chen Boyu had shown up. “Who is it?”
“Me.”
Lan Yan relaxed, set down the glass, and went to open the door. She checked the time—it had been less than five minutes.
This speed meant Liang Jingchuan had never left.
She silently let him in and pointed to the boxes on the floor.
Liang Jingchuan rolled up his sleeves. “Just these two?”
” Mm. Two boxes.”
“And the bags…”
“Trash. I’ll take them down myself.”
The bags weren’t tied, so their contents were obvious at a glance.
Liang Jingchuan: “No bedsheets left. How will you sleep tonight?”
Lan Yan fell silent. She only now realized the problem.
“Take you to Lu Ying’s?”
“…Sorry to trouble you.”
Lan Yan gave Lu Ying a heads-up, packed some spare clothes, locked the door, and went downstairs with Liang Jingchuan.
Night had deepened, and the area was quiet.
Lan Yan’s hands were in her coat pockets, head down. Liang Jingchuan carried the two boxes stacked ahead of her. Passing the neighborhood recycling point, he casually tossed the trash bags into the bin.
“Liang Jingchuan.”
The man ahead paused slightly.
“I don’t want to see Chen Boyu again, so I used you. You should know that.”
“If that’s using me, your moral standards are too high.”
Lan Yan pressed her lips together.
“Yanyan, if not for me, you wouldn’t have met him. Strictly speaking, I bear some responsibility.”
“It has nothing to do with you. You didn’t force me to date him.”
Passing under a streetlamp, Liang Jingchuan’s expression turned particularly inscrutable for a moment. He opened his mouth but said nothing.
Bringing Chen Boyu home for her birthday the year before was the thing he regretted most in his life.
The car went to Lu Ying’s place first.
Before getting out, Lan Yan said, “Please tell him not to come looking for me anymore. Right now, his top priority in life should be gaining others’ approval. Both he and I know he doesn’t like me as much as he claims.”
Liang Jingchuan listened silently and nodded.
“Thanks.” Lan Yan closed her eyes wearily.
/
Chen Boyu was still at the office.
Radiant Chess had agreed to lead the investment, and they were about to negotiate initial terms on funding, equity distribution, and more. He couldn’t leave his post.
But he clearly couldn’t sit still. When Liang Jingchuan appeared, he rushed over like seeing a savior. “Jingchuan, Lan Yan, she…”
Liang Jingchuan said nothing, just set the two boxes down in his office.
Chen Boyu hurriedly opened them.
Liang Jingchuan glanced over and spotted a pair of black slippers.
He couldn’t care if feeling a secret thrill was immoral.
“Lan Yan said to check if anything’s missing.”
Chen Boyu had no mood to inventory. He stepped back and slumped into his seat.
Liang Jingchuan fulfilled his role as messenger and relayed Lan Yan’s words verbatim.
Chen Boyu pressed his palm to his forehead, head bowed. After a long pause, he said hoarsely, “I just called Tang Xiyue to explain and apologize…”
“You know it’s no use.”
“…Yeah.”
“Over the years, Lan Yan has had chances to connect with collectors more prominent than Tang Wangxiang. But she chose this line of work to deal only with objects. Her skills are her lifeline, not a shortcut to fame. You touched her bottom line.”
Chen Boyu hung his head in guilt, saying nothing.
Liang Jingchuan looked down at him. “In the end, you don’t like her that much, so her principles don’t matter to you. If she never found out, all would be well. Since she did, it’s over. You lose nothing.”
Chen Boyu sensed the edge in his words and broke into a cold sweat.
“Chen Boyu, would you do this to someone else?”
“Lan Yan said she found you a stranger, and today I felt somewhat the same. I was very disappointed, not just because Lan Yan is my sister and you let her down. Also because I thought you should have great confidence in our research results and disdain using some underhanded tactics.”
“You should know better than anyone the weight of Radiant Chess.”
“I understand, but I didn’t think it was necessary. The new material was about to be filed, cooperation with downstream brands established, and many things would fall into place naturally. I understood your determination to prove yourself, but I didn’t agree with using others as stepping stones. Today, your girlfriend could be your stepping stone; tomorrow, who would it be? Me?”
“You’re being unreasonable.”
Liang Jingchuan shrugged. “So only targeting Lan Yan? Revenge because she didn’t like you enough, or jealousy that she could ‘easily’ get Tang Wangxiang’s connection while you couldn’t?”
“…”
“Just joking.”
Chen Boyu’s expression turned very cold. “Then I have to ask you too, Jingchuan. What position are you standing in here saying this? Lan Yan’s brother, or…”
“Or what?”
Chen Boyu didn’t answer.
Liang Jingchuan smiled and turned to leave. “I’m off.”
“Let’s have a drink together.”
Liang Jingchuan’s steps paused slightly.
“What, because I broke up with your sister, we can’t even be friends anymore?”
Chen Boyu stood up, walked over, and clapped him on the shoulder. “Come on, let’s drink.”
Low spirits still lingered for quite a while, like a stubborn cold that refused to heal.
Lu Ying said it was normal. Raising a cabbage for two years only to have it poached would leave anyone heartbroken, let alone a relationship.
Lan Yan had already handled it much better than that, without crying hysterically or making an ugly scene.
Her low mood silently affected those around her too. Zhou Wenshu finally couldn’t hold back. He came over quietly and asked, “Senior Sister, did you break up?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh…” Zhou Wenshu’s tone brightened. “No wonder. Haven’t seen your boyfriend… Young Master Chen around in a long time.”
The brush hovered three centimeters from the heart of the painting. Lan Yan stopped her movement. “If you’re so idle, go check if the glue in the fridge has expired.”
“Okay.” Zhou Wenshu drifted away happily.
Undisturbed, Lan Yan continued with the mounting work for a while. The silk painting assigned to her had reached the final stages.
Moments later, Senior Sister Xue Mengqiu walked over. “Lan Yan, Master wants us to go to the office.”
Lan Yan acknowledged it, set down her brush, washed her hands, and followed Xue Mengqiu upstairs.
Chu Lansun saw them enter. He took off his reading glasses, rubbed his brow, and said, “A descendant of an overseas Chinese merchant in Malaysia donated a batch of artifacts to the Overseas Chinese Museum. Several pieces are supposedly from Huang Yizhu’s collection. They’re in poor condition. They’re afraid of damage if brought over, so they want two people to go help restore them. Willing?”
Xue Mengqiu said, “I’m fine either way.”
Lan Yan also said, “Sure.”
Chu Lansun smiled and patted Lan Yan’s shoulder. “Go out and clear your mind.”