Chapter 71: Gratitude

On the first day, he did not take the initiative to contact her.

He felt he had not yet sorted out his thoughts; he needed a little time.

But he still followed her updates; he watched the news from Xia Country, which reported she had gone to Wuming City, where there was an A-level threat.

In fact, countless people around the world were following her movements; the moment any news about her actions was released, it was translated into countless languages and broadcast to countless nations and various groups.

His Xia Country language skills were quite good; aside from some difficulty with the tone, ordinary conversation no longer posed a challenge for him.

To avoid himself from being unable to resist contacting her, he began practicing Chinese characters.

Damn, it's too hard! This is basically drawing! Why are there so many Chinese characters, and why does every single one look different!

On the second day, he still did not take the initiative to contact her, and she surprisingly did not contact him either, not even a single text message!

Was this a cold war? Fine, now it was no longer a question of who contacted whom first, but rather who would take the initiative to break this inexplicable cold war between the two.

As if pouting at someone, he looked at that memorized phone number countless times, pressing the power button to turn it off countless times.

For the Nth time, he looked at her personal blog and the pictures of him she had saved in her album. Her personal blog had been registered three years ago; almost nothing had been posted on it, just a few forwarded news items, a collection of landscape photos from around the world, and a dedicated album specifically created to save pictures of him collected from various corners of the internet.

He imagined what kind of mood she was in when doing these things.

What exactly did he mean to her? Why did she seem so infatuated with him, yet when he approached her, she resisted him and avoided him so much?

One night passed; on the third day, he was about to surrender.

Were they about to break up, just like he had done before...

He remembered a former girlfriend, Deborah. At that time, she loved him deeply—it was obvious, in her eyes, in her casual gestures, in the silly things she sometimes said, in her fantasies about an illusory future (although she had never explicitly told him). He was not a fool; on the contrary, he could easily discover what others were thinking, otherwise he would never have become a good actor.

Deborah had fallen too deep back then, and at that time—back then, love was merely a pastime for him during leisure, like cigarettes, like cocktails, like a pleasant piece of music, but certainly not air and water.

He was willing to enjoy love, just as one enjoys a cigarette or a intoxicating alcoholic drink during leisure. However, she became increasingly dissatisfied with this; she began to demand more, more precious things—his time, his promises, even his expectations for the rest of his life.

Back then, how little he understood! Why was she so greedy? Between them, things could have been much more relaxed; after all, they were very happy together. Couldn't they just continue like this, relaxed and comfortable?

Now he understood. Back then, she was the one who fell in love first, carelessly revealing her hand too early, while he was still at the gambling table enjoying the thrill of the confrontation the game brought, even enjoying watching the other party step into his trap with panic, joy, timidity, unease, and passion, willingly offering him her love and loyalty, while he, as the winner, collected all the chips and treated them as his own medals.

How much did he hurt her heart back then? At first, he enjoyed that unreserved, enthusiastic love, but gradually he felt tired because she not only gave, but also began to demand returns from him, asking him to return the same love and enthusiasm. And he could not do it, because he truly had no way to do it.

The two began to argue; her tears, anger, and despair exhausted him completely. This relationship lost the initial relaxation and comfort. He used the excuse that his new film required closed-door training to cut off contact with her for a period, wanting both sides to calm down.

And then, she seemed to understand something. During his training, he received a text message from her; she took the initiative to propose a breakup. Good heavens, recalling the feelings of that moment, he even felt it was a perfect irony directed at his present self. He breathed a sigh of relief, then naturally and logically blessed her to find new happiness, even though he knew clearly that the breakup was merely her final desperate probe.

Was this a punishment? he asked himself with a bitter smile.

In the news, Yang Yi had resolved the crisis in Wuming City. The entire Xia Country internet was celebrating; he saw a candid photo of her. She seemed to be at an airport, preparing to head to a new city to resolve a new crisis.

The photo was somewhat blurry; it was a distant side profile. Her expression was indifferent; she seemed to be looking at somewhere, or perhaps thinking about something.

What was she thinking?

The fourth day.

The agent brought several new scripts for him to choose from. He flipped through a few pages but found his mind was not on them at all.

He couldn't help but search for news about her in Xia Country again. Oh, while a night had passed in Xia Country, only half a day had passed here in Ark Country; she had resolved another A-level threat.

The entire Xia Country internet was boiling; he saw countless netizens expressing their awe, praise, reverence, and—admiration...

Enough, it's enough, surrender completely!

He threw down the script, picked up his phone regardless of the consequences, and dialed: "Alright, you won!"

Yang Yi realized that this time she had truly won.

She had completely obtained this heart, this proud, lofty, and intelligent heart.

This long-desired sapphire had jumped into her display case on its own, willingly becoming her collection.

This gave her a sense of security. Thinking that this heart now belonged entirely to her, that it would be excited by her smile and desolate by her aloofness, she felt a sincere, heartfelt joy.

She had never felt so rich, like a destitute pauper who suddenly obtained a treasure, and this treasure could belong only to her.

She was even grateful that he called so eagerly, so flustered in saying she had won. She was grateful for his unmasked emotions, which made her truly understand that someone had completely submitted to her, and she could safely entrust some of her own unease and unsettled feelings to him for the time being.

The dandelion seeds had flown until they were tired; the duckweed had drifted for too long. She wanted to dock for a while, to rest and rest.

She stood by the window. The crowds on the streets of Mist City were growing larger; people were running into the streets, cheering, shouting, venting, celebrating, and there were even people setting off firecrackers.

How happy they were!

I should be happy too, she thought.

"Chris," she called out this name affectionately, "I'm sorry, it won't happen again, I promise you. Do you have time now? I want to see you right now..."