Chapter 71: Gratitude

On the first day, he did not reach out to her.

He felt he hadn’t yet sorted out his thoughts; he needed some time.

But he still followed her updates—he watched Xia’s news, which said she had gone to Wuming City, where an A-class threat existed.

In fact, countless people worldwide followed her movements; her every action and news update was translated into countless languages and broadcast to countless nations and ethnic groups the moment it was released.

His Mandarin was quite good—aside from a slight mismatch in tone, everyday conversation no longer posed a challenge.

To avoid himself impulsively contacting her, he began practicing Chinese characters.

Damn, it’s too hard! This is just drawing! Why are there so many Chinese characters, and why do they all look different?

On the second day, he still did not reach out to her, and neither did she—not even a single text message!

Was this a cold war? Fine, now it wasn’t about who reached out first—it was about who would break this absurd silence first.

Like he was sulking with someone, he stared at that phone number he had memorized countless times, and countless times pressed it to end the call.

He scrolled through her personal blog and the photos she had saved in her album about him. Her blog was registered three years ago and contained almost nothing—just a few reposted news articles, some collected landscape photos from around the world, and a dedicated album filled with images of him gathered from across the internet.

He imagined what she must have felt while doing all this.

What did she mean to him? Why did she seem so obsessed with him, yet when he drew near, she resisted and avoided him so fiercely?

A night passed; on the third day, he was nearly ready to surrender.

Were they breaking up? Just like he had done before…

He remembered an ex-girlfriend, Deborah—back then, she had loved him deeply—it was obvious in her gaze, her unconscious gestures, the silly things she sometimes said, her fantasies about a future she never voiced to him—he wasn’t a fool; on the contrary, he easily sensed what others were thinking, or he never would have become a good actor.

Deborah had fallen too deeply, and back then—back then, love for him was merely a pastime, like cigarettes, cocktails, or a pleasant melody, but never air or water.

He enjoyed love, like enjoying a cigarette or an intoxicating drink in his free time. But she grew unsatisfied with this; she began demanding more, something more precious—his time, his promises, even his future.

Back then, how little he understood—why was she so greedy? Couldn’t they just stay relaxed? After all, they were happy together—why couldn’t they just keep things light and easy?

Now he understood: she had been the first to fall, revealing her hand too soon, while he remained at the gambling table, savoring the thrill of their exchange, even watching as she stepped slowly—frightened, delighted, timid, uneasy, passionate—into his trap, willingly offering him her love and loyalty, while he, as the winner, collected all the chips and wore them as medals.

How had he wounded her heart back then? At first, he relished her boundless, fervent love, but gradually grew tired—because she didn’t just give; she began demanding return: the same love, the same passion. And he couldn’t give it—he truly couldn’t.

They began arguing; her tears, her anger, her despair exhausted him. The relationship lost its initial ease. He broke off contact under the excuse that his new film required intensive training, hoping both of them could cool down.

Then, she seemed to understand. During his training, he received her text—she initiated the breakup. Oh God, recalling how he felt then, he now saw it as a perfect irony—he sighed in relief, then naturally wished her happiness, even though he knew the breakup was merely her final, desperate test.

Was this punishment? He smiled bitterly, asking himself.

In the news, Yang Yi resolved the crisis in Wuming City; the entire Xia internet celebrated. He saw a candid photo of her—at the airport, preparing to fly to another city to handle a new threat.

The photo was blurry, just a distant side profile—her expression blank, as if gazing at something, or lost in thought.

What was she thinking?

The fourth day.

His agent sent him several new scripts to choose from; he flipped through a few and realized his mind wasn’t on them at all.

He couldn’t help searching for news about her in Xia—oh, while a night had passed in Xia, only half a day had passed here in Akka—she had already resolved another A-class threat.

The entire Xia internet was in an uproar; he saw countless netizens marveling at her, praising her, revering her—and admiring her…

Enough. It’s enough. I give up.

He tossed the scripts aside, grabbed his phone without hesitation, and dialed: “Fine, you won!”

…

Yang Yi realized: this time, she had truly won.

She had completely won this heart—the proud, aloof, brilliant heart.

This long-coveted sapphire had jumped of its own accord into her display case, willingly becoming her possession.

It gave her security—knowing this heart belonged entirely to her, that it thrilled at her smile and grew melancholy at her distance, filled her with genuine, heartfelt joy.

She had never felt so rich—like a destitute beggar who suddenly found a treasure, and one that belonged to her alone.

She even thanked him for calling so urgently, for angrily declaring she had won. She was grateful for his unmasked emotions, for finally making her understand that someone had surrendered completely to her—someone she could safely entrust her restless, uncertain feelings to, if only temporarily.

The dandelion seeds had grown weary of drifting; the duckweed had floated too long. She wanted to anchor, to rest.

She stood by the window; the streets of Wucheng grew crowded with people, cheering, running out, shouting, celebrating—some even setting off firecrackers.

How happy they were!

I should be happy too, she thought.

“Chris,” she murmured his name, “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again—I promise. Do you have time now? I want to see you… right now.”