After they returned from S City, Chen Jin plunged immediately back into work. His company was facing a grave trial. A financial storm, rising quietly from across the ocean, had swept its way into the country, shaking nearly every industry. Real estate—being capital-intensive—bore the brunt. The soaring housing prices of previous years had driven every half-capable developer into a frenzy of land acquisition, pushing their cash flow to the edge. Zhicheng, too, was holding three parcels of land worth over a billion each, all swallowing capital like quicksand. At such a critical juncture, even the slightest misstep could alter their fate.
So when Chen Jin learned that Lin Wan's workplace was organizing a group trip—and that she had signed up—he sabotaged it in secret. Lin Wan didn't realize she'd been "set up" until the very last minute before departure. She hung up the phone and immediately confronted Chen Jin, who was calmly eating breakfast across from her.
"Who gave you the right to stop me from going?"
Chen Jin lifted a napkin, wiped his lips, and replied unhurriedly, "Use your brain. You went up a mountain and managed to get bitten by a snake. This time I don't have the ability to fly across the country to rescue you. And even if I did, Lugu Lake is so big, I might die before I even find you."
His words dragged her back to the events at West Mountain. Her tone softened a little as she explained, "That was a special case. This time I'm not going alone. There won't be any danger."
But Chen Jin didn't buy it. He stood, his voice cold and unyielding. "No means no."
Then he strode toward the door. In that instant, his tone and posture had reverted entirely to the man he used to be—cold, ruthless, untouchable. Lin Wan was stunned for a moment, then laughed bitterly at herself. How foolish she had been, to think he had changed, to allow herself a flicker of expectation.
On that thought, she hardened her expression and shot back, "Fine. I'll go on my own. If you have the guts, tie me up."
Chen Jin had just touched the doorknob. At her words, he slowly turned back, looking at her with a faint, sardonic smile.
"You're saying that because you know I won't tie you up, aren't you?"
Lin Wan froze. Chen Jin exhaled silently, then switched to a gentler tone.
"Wanwan, I'm really busy right now. Give me a little time and I'll take you. Okay?"
"No need. By then we won't have anything to do with each other anymore."
Her voice was cool and exacting. She looked straight at him as she continued, "The doctor said my condition is stable now. When do you plan to keep your promise?"
"Wanwan…"
"Or are you planning to go back on your word again?"
Chen Jin looked at her, his expression taut, as though he were speaking to himself.
"Wanwan… isn't this—how we are now—good enough?"
She averted her gaze. "It's just an illusion," she said quietly. "It doesn't change the nature of things."
Chen Jin was silent for a long moment, as though weighing something deep in his mind. Then he pulled out his phone, dialed a number, and—while watching her face—said to the receiver:
"Book two tickets to Xichang. For tomorrow."
When he hung up, he faced the stunned woman and said calmly:
"Maybe it's an illusion to you. But to me, it's real."
Lin Wan's lips moved, wanting to refute him, but no sound emerged.
"No matter how many people go, I won't feel at ease. Tomorrow I'm going with you. Rest at home today—traveling takes energy. I'm heading to the office."
When the door closed behind him, she felt something inside her quietly closing as well. She leaned weakly against the wall, eyes drifting shut as she whispered to herself:
"Even if it's real… so what?"
If she knew it was wrong, she should end it early. She had paid too steep a price to forget that truth. No pain in this world cuts deeper than losing a piece of one's own flesh and blood. A man might forget—but a woman could not.
From their arrival in Xichang all the way onto the bus heading toward Lugu Lake, they barely exchanged a handful of words. Every sentence that came from Chen Jin was a directive; everything from Lin Wan was a perfunctory syllable. Even she couldn't understand why she had cooperated enough to come—though truthfully, with his temperament, even if she didn't, she knew he would have dragged her here by force.
She gazed at the unfamiliar scenery flashing past the window and sighed. This was not the kind of journey she longed for. She glanced at Chen Jin, who sat beside her with his eyes closed, and grew even more irritated. This wasn't a trip. It was a sentence.
The driver was a young local man, warm and chatty, with passable Mandarin. From time to time he shared local stories, customs, and travel tips. Chen Jin ignored him completely. Not a word. Lin Wan felt bad for the guy and forced herself to respond now and then—every time she did, the man beside her would let out a pointed snort through his nose.
Watching the two passengers—clearly mismatched and worlds apart—the driver couldn't help asking:
"Are you two here for sightseeing?"
For the first time, Chen Jin responded. A cold chuckle.
"If we're not sightseeing, what do you think we're here for a walking wedding?"
The driver wisely shut his mouth after that. For the next several hours, only the sound of three people breathing filled the bus.
By the time they reached the Lige Peninsula, the sky had darkened. Chen Jin had booked a lake-view room. Outside the window stretched glass-clear waters, and beyond them the ink-blue silhouettes of distant mountains. But neither of them cared to look. Lin Wan, exhausted, sank onto the nearest seat the moment she entered the room. Chen Jin, shedding clothing like discarded skin along the way, disappeared straight into the bathroom.
Ten minutes later, wrapped in a bathrobe and damp with steam, he approached her, placing a hand on her head.
"Still giving me that face?" he asked with a half-laugh. "You're something else. From last night till now you haven't said a single full sentence to me. But you were chatting just fine with that little brat."
She slapped his hand away. "I don't see the point of this trip."
Chen Jin sat beside her. "Of course it has a point," he said. "It's a breakup trip."
"A breakup?" She turned her head slowly to look at him. "You sure you're using the right word?"
His eyes fixed deeply onto hers. "I'm sure. But Wanwan… are you?"
He spoke vaguely, yet she seemed to understand. Her gaze lowered; she bit her lip unconsciously.
"Fine," she said at last. "When we go back, we'll settle everything."
Chen Jin only smiled—neither confirming nor denying. He stood and said, "Go get ready. We'll head out for dinner."
Dinner was barbecue—roast suckling pig, grilled lamb. Despite her turmoil, Lin Wan found herself eating with an unexpected appetite. She even drank a little of the local Malisu wine. Knowing her well, Chen Jin, once she finished eating, immediately dragged her out for a walk to help digest her.
Because of the high altitude and pure air, the night sky here was breathtaking. Stars spilled across the heavens, dazzling and near, as if leaning down to examine the humans below. Under this canopy of light, Lin Wan felt her troubles loosen, dissolving like mist. Perhaps it was the sweet wine, or perhaps it was simply too beautiful to feel burdened—either way, for the first time in a long while, she felt free.
Maybe that was why people loved Lugu Lake.
After walking in silence for a while, Chen Jin suddenly asked, "Beautiful, isn't it?"
She nodded sincerely.
He asked again, "Wanwan, do you know why I changed my mind and brought you here?"
Before she could answer, he said, eyes fixed ahead:
"Because I want you to have at least one good memory of us."
Then he lowered his gaze to her, speaking with rare seriousness:
"That's what this trip means to me."
Lin Wan looked into his eyes, and found them glimmering like the stars above. Her heart thudded gently—an unwelcome, familiar tremor. It unsettled her. Irritated her. She wanted to tell him it wasn't necessary. She truly did. But the words circled her tongue and would not cross her lips.
If there is anything in this world that is hardest to reject,
It is sincerity.
And at that moment, she knew one thing for certain:
This man was sincere.
And she—was weak.