Fortunately, they didn't press her further. After all, a new relationship was supposed to be a good thing. Out of concern, they asked a few basic questions about this so-called "new man." Milan even suggested she bring him out one day so they could appraise him properly.
Lin Wan brushed it all off with vague answers, letting the topic drift away.
Sisi, meanwhile, was delighted. Smiling with crescent-shaped eyes, she said, "Wanwan, when I get married, you'll be my bridesmaid, okay?"
"Sure," Lin Wan replied.
But just before they parted, Milan leaned close and whispered in her ear, "Your Mr. Morning isn't… too good in bed, is he? Look how much weight you've lost. Enjoying life is good, but don't overdo it."
Heat rushed up Lin Wan's cheeks. She shot Milan a glare. Milan only slung an arm around her shoulders and sighed dramatically.
"No matter what's going on, I'm glad you've figured things out. Life's only a few decades long. What's past can't be recovered—we all have to keep moving forward. Take me, for example. Qian Jiawei did something stupid, and I really shouldn't have forgiven him. But he truly changed, and I couldn't keep pulling that little tail of his forever. When you think it through, it's just… whatever. Finding someone new might not even be as good."
She shook her head, then spoke with surprising gravity.
"Wanwan, listen to me. Don't love too hard next time. If a man lets you down, you won't be crushed beyond recovery. Our youth is limited. We can't afford to be broken over and over again."
Lin Wan watched the stream of pedestrians drifting past them.
A faint, muted thought welled up in her chest:
Next time? My next relationship might have to wait for my next life.
She wasn't merely "bruised."
She wasn't "heartbroken."
She wasn't just "hurt."
She had been crushed into powder, scattered into ash.
Not only could she no longer love—
Even the strength to hate was draining from her.
All she wanted was for this grotesque life she was living to end.
Then she, too, could be like the people outside—
Some idle, some busy—
Quietly living out the rest of their ordinary days.
That night, Chen Jin got up to use the bathroom. When he came back, he froze.
Lin Wan wasn't in bed.
The sheets were cold—she had been gone for quite a while.
Suspicious, he pushed open the bedroom door. In the living room, a faint bluish glow flickered across the couch, illuminating a small figure curled up like a cat.
Yawning, he walked over and frowned. "Middle of the night—what are you doing awake?"
Lin Wan didn't hear him; her headphones were on.
He leaned in—she was watching a movie.
He dropped onto the couch beside her and plucked off her headset, drawling, "What, you're sneaking in some porn? Need me to give commentary?"
Instinctively, she reached for her headphones, but he dodged left and right like teasing a child.
She snapped back, "Your porn comes with clothes on?"
"Well, well," he teased, "sounds like you've seen a bit. You know porn doesn't involve clothes. Haven't you watched any of those 'uniform temptation' ones? They wear it first—then strip—"
"Idiot," Lin Wan muttered, giving up on reclaiming her headphones. She simply switched to speaker mode.
Chen Jin leaned closer, watching the screen. "Uniforms look pretty good. Tulle skirts. Nice pose too."
Lin Wan was speechless. She turned up the volume, ignoring him entirely.
He pulled her into his arms anyway, glanced twice, and said, "I know this actress. Natalie Portman. Harvard honor student. Refused to shoot nude scenes when she was young. Later, they still took it off. No idea what principle she was holding onto at the start."
Lin Wan almost said he seemed well-read—
Until the second half of his sentence ruined it.
Of course, he circled back to nudity. He always did.
She pulled away and sat properly. "She refused when she was sixteen. She only did nude scenes after she became an adult. That makes a difference."
"You sure know your stuff," he said with a smirk. "Yeah, I like her. Clean habits. Doesn't smoke, doesn't drink, doesn't do drugs. A rare lotus in muddy water. I've watched almost all her films. Léon: The Professional is my favorite."
He nudged her. "You've seen it, right?"
"With how famous is it? Who hasn't? Can you stop bothering me?" Lin Wan muttered. He had ruined the mood entirely. Why wasn't he in bed? Why was he here, ruining her peace?
Chen Jin ignored her annoyance and tugged her back against his chest. "I'm watching it with you, aren't I? Is this movie new? What's it called?"
She didn't respond.
He reached toward the screen as if to restart it. "Let's watch from the beginning. I missed the front."
Lin Wan slapped his hand away. "Black Swan."
"Oh, so this is Black Swan. Haven't had the time to watch it."
Without waiting for permission, he pulled her onto his lap. His breath warmed her ear. "This film's too dark. Not good to watch alone."
Lin Wan tried to struggle, but he pinned her easily. "Shh. It's almost the climax."
The word climax made her face burn. Thankfully, he didn't press the joke—he was absorbed in the film now. As he said, the movie had reached its peak.
The familiar music of Swan Lake began.
On stage, clothed in white, the heroine danced with delicate grace—pure, dreamy, ethereal.
Then the scene shifted.
The same woman appeared, now in black—makeup heavy, movements predatory, sensual, fierce.
Desire incarnate.
In the end, the girl in white fell, smiling faintly.
"I felt it. Perfect."
Chen Jin snorted. "Insane," he muttered, then reached over and switched off the TV.
He scooped her up and carried her back to the bedroom.
When he pressed her into the mattress, Lin Wan was still tangled in the film's symbolism. She murmured, "I… don't think I understood it."
Chen Jin smirked. "With your IQ? I'd be shocked if you did."
"Did she die?"
"Yeah. Sacrificed for art. Artists are all lunatics."
He kissed her lazily, then turned off the light, pulled her into his arms, and murmured, "Sleep. Or you won't get out of bed again tomorrow."
In the darkness, Lin Wan blinked.
She could still hear Swan Lake in her mind.
She had understood at least one thing—
The heroine's mind wasn't right.