With his assistant accompanying him, Lin's father got into a taxi bound for his hotel. Even after the car vanished from sight, Lin Wan remained standing outside the restaurant, dazed and unmoving. Her entire body seemed to have slipped into a state of utter collapse, as if her strength had been drained clean away—like a small sapling left to wilt beneath relentless sunlight, pitiful in its fragility.
Chen Jin lifted a hand to her shoulder.
"Wanwan?"
She turned to look at him. Her eyes were hollow, empty of light.
A dull ache spread through his chest. In a low voice, he said,
"I'll explain everything to them."
Only then did a trace of emotion stir in her gaze, though her voice remained eerily calm.
"No. This is my problem to deal with."
Her unsettling composure left him unable to read her. He tightened his grip and turned her to face him, forcing her to meet his eyes.
"Wanwan, you need to remember this—you are not at fault. From beginning to end, you were the one who was hurt. You owe no one an apology."
She showed no reaction, as if his words hadn't reached her at all. His tone suddenly sharpened with bitter sarcasm.
"Besides, didn't they give up their right to pursue justice just to protect themselves? What right do they have to demand anything from you now?"
That finally pierced her silence. Her voice came out hoarse.
"Don't say that… They've suffered enough too."
"Yes. Everyone's suffering. And somehow, in the end, it's all my fault," Chen Jin snapped in frustration.
"But I didn't hurt anyone out of nowhere, did I? Things got forced to this point!"
She let out a soft, helpless laugh—laced with irony.
"Wanwan, you're allowed to be selfish," he said, his hand tightening on her narrow shoulder as if he wanted to press his conviction straight into her bones. The blank look on her face reminded him of the first time he'd met her—back then, that same expression had made his heart race. Now, it filled him with dread.
"How do you know I haven't been selfish?" she murmured.
Then she lifted her lashes and looked at him.
"Do you know how I feel right now?"
"Relieved," she said quietly.
He frowned.
"Wanwan, don't take on burdens that were never meant to be yours."
She sighed, weariness thick in her voice.
"I just want to be alone for a while."
—
She wandered aimlessly along the streets. The early summer breeze brushed her face with gentle warmth, yet she shivered. It reminded her of childhood—of those afternoons after school when she didn't want to go back to that empty house. She would drift just like this, buying snacks from street vendors, picking up little trinkets that caught her eye—because her pockets always held an allowance far too generous for a child.
Nearly twenty years had passed in the blink of an eye, and yet she was still the same—alone, drifting like duckweed with nowhere to anchor. Today, she had been struck by too much all at once. Her father. And her mother.
Her father was still alive—but weighed down by illness. Her mother was gone—but had left behind a single photograph that awakened the softest corners of her heart.
For her, forgiveness had long ceased to be an emotional struggle. After all these years, the confusion, sorrow, and bitterness of the past had faded into numbness, hardening into distance. To draw close again would take time.
A pair of students passed by her side, laughing, youth spilling from their every step. Watching their bright retreating figures, she thought of Wang Xiao—of the years they had walked together, scented with gardenia blossoms.
Reality was the cruelest of jokes. It had preserved him forever in those beautiful days, while grinding her down into someone unrecognizable.
And then she had to face that moment again—the one she desperately wished to forget.
Wang's mother had recognized at once the resemblance between her and her father, her gaze shifting back and forth between their faces. Lin Wan had no choice but to introduce him as her father, after which the two sides exchanged a few awkward pleasantries.
She could not ignore the look on Wang's father's face when he saw Chen Jin—a mixture of shock, fury, and confusion. When Wang's mother asked who the young man was, he frowned, said nothing, and turned straight inside. Wang's mother had no choice but to make a hurried farewell and follow with the others.
—
After walking for more than two hours, Lin Wan hailed a taxi and gave him an address. Twenty minutes later, the car stopped at the entrance to a residential compound. She followed the stone path between several buildings as if by instinct, entered one stairwell, climbed to the third floor—and stood before the door with her hand raised to ring the bell.
Her fingers hovered in the air for a long time, unable to fall.
Since the Spring Festival, she had not once returned here in person. All contact had been reduced to phone calls. She was afraid—afraid of the heart-rending pain that surged whenever she thought of Wang Xiao, afraid of the suffocating despair that could drown her whole, afraid that her hidden relationship with Chen Jin would be exposed.
But paper could never wrap fire forever. There was no escaping what was destined to be revealed.
The bell rang twice and the door opened.
Wang's mother stood there, surprise flickering across her face before soft understanding replaced it.
"Wanwan?" she said warmly. "Come in."
Lin Wan changed into slippers and stepped inside. Wang's father was sitting upright on the sofa. When he saw her, his expression turned complicated.
"Xiao Lin is here," he said heavily. "Have a seat."
She sat down obediently and drew a quiet breath. When Wang's mother joined them, Lin Wan looked at the two of them with solemn resolve.
"Uncle, Auntie… I came today to tell you the truth about something."
She paused, then said slowly,
"You have already seen that man just now. His name is Chen Jin. He is that man's older brother."
Her gaze dropped to the carpet beneath her feet. She took another slow, steady breath.
"For the past year… I have been with him."
Wang's mother cried out in shock.
"You… you're in a relationship with him?"
"No," Lin Wan answered after a brief pause.
It was as if Wang's father sensed something deeper. His brows knit tightly.
"Did he threaten you? Is he using that thing again—"
"No," she cut in firmly.
Her eyes darkened as she said evenly,
"I approached him on my own. Because I wanted revenge."
She forced the words out with all her strength.
Wang's parents froze, exchanging stunned glances, disbelief written all over their faces.
"I just wanted him to taste what it feels like to gain everything… and then lose it," she continued. At the thought of that child, her heart convulsed with pain so sharp her lips began to tremble. She followed through with a faint, chilly smile.
"But now, it's all over."
They were too shocked to respond at once, looking at her as if she were a stranger. Only when Lin Wan finally bowed her head, unable to endure it any longer, did Wang's mother speak again, voice trembling with heartache.
"Wanwan… you're far too foolish. How could you sacrifice yourself like this? You and him… you—"
She wanted to ask more, but the words themselves felt unspeakable. Wang's father exhaled deeply, his hands clenched into fists on his knees.
"It's the two of us who are useless," he said heavily.
"We couldn't even seek justice for our own son—and instead, we dragged you into this. Back then, we should have fought them. Even if it cost us our lives, we should have fought for Xiao's justice."
To this day, regret gnawed at him without mercy. One moment of hesitation had cost him everything. Every time he looked at his son's bright, smiling photograph, shame crushed him until he could hardly breathe.
He had been a civil servant all his life—cautious, restrained. Faced with disaster, his first instinct had been to smooth things over, to avoid waves.
But the one who died… was his own son.
They had preserved their own lives—but these lingering days of existence felt utterly meaningless. Whenever he saw those old neighbors taking their grandchildren to and from kindergarten, his heart was sliced open with grief, and in private, he wept like a child.
Wang's mother added through tears,
"Even if we gave up your life too, what would it change? They have power and influence. They cover the sky with one hand. How could we ever fight them?"
Her eyes reddened, and tears spilled over.
Lin Wan hurried to pull tissues from the box on the coffee table and passed them over. Wang's father wanted to argue further, but seeing his wife break down again, he swallowed his words and sighed. After a long pause, he looked at Lin Wan with solemn gravity.
"Xiao Lin, you're still young. You can't live inside the past forever. You deserve your own life. Whoever treats you well… you're allowed to accept it. You don't need to carry so many burdens."