The door closed behind him with a soft click.
Xie Zihan stood still for a moment inside the narrow rented house, one hand resting on the doorframe, as if the silence itself had weight.
Why did I say that?
The words replayed in his head, merciless.
Don't meet me again.
He took off his jacket, hung it on the back of the wooden chair, then went to wash his face. Cold water splashed against his skin, dripping down his jaw, but the heaviness in his chest didn't fade.
In the cracked mirror above the sink, he saw his own eyes.
Tired. Guarded. Familiar with loss.
"You're bad luck to her," he muttered to his reflection.
He had seen it happen too many times.
Anyone who got close to him got dragged into danger. Debt collectors. Syndicates. Violence that arrived without warning.
And tonight—
She got hurt.
Again.
His fingers curled slowly.
She had been standing there, looking at him, as if she hadn't expected him to push her away so coldly. As if she had trusted him.
That trust…He had crushed it with his own hands.
Why did I tell her not to meet me?
Because letting her stay felt selfish.Because wanting her near felt dangerous.Because for the first time, losing someone hurt enough to scare him.
Zihan lowered his head, water dripping from his hair onto the sink.
"…Idiot."
He changed into clean clothes and walked into the small room that served as both bedroom and workspace. The place was barely big enough for the desk, the bed, and the chair—but it was his world.
On the desk sat his laptop.
Waiting.
He sat down.
If his heart was in chaos, then he would anchor himself in the only place that still obeyed him.
The screen lit up.
Game Project Title:"Mythfall"
A world of ambition, survival, and fate.
He had named it late one night, half-asleep, half-dreaming.
A fight between mortals and immortals
Xu Feng would handle operations, pitching, investor talks.
Zihan only had to build the world.
Tonight, the remaining thirty percent.
He typed.
The sound of keys filled the room, steady and rhythmic, like breathing.
Time slipped by.
Between lines, her face surfaced again.
The way she smiled even when hurt.The way she looked at him as if he mattered.
His fingers hesitated.
I lost something tonight, he thought.
Something warm.Something rare.
Something he might never get back.
He swallowed and forced his hands to move again.
Work.Focus.Finish it.
The night deepened.
The old clock on the wall ticked past midnight. One a.m. Two.
Outside, the city slept.
Inside, Zihan kept coding, eyes burning, shoulders tense, as if stopping would let the regret swallow him whole.
Finally, just before dawn, he leaned back.
The screen showed it—complete.
Not perfect.
But done.
He closed his eyes.
Morning light crept through the thin curtains, pale and quiet.
Zihan didn't smile.
He only thought—
If I hadn't pushed her away… would i have felt less empty right now?
Sleep came slowly, dragging regret with it into the breaking day.
""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""
The car slowed to a stop at the Tang residence.
Tang Meilin stepped out, the night air brushing against her skin, cool and still. The grandeur of the estate stood unchanged—bright lights, orderly paths, quiet security—but for the first time, it felt… distant.
Her steps were slow as she walked in.
Before she could reach the steps—
"Zimei!"
A small blur of fur came charging toward her.
Zimei ran too fast, paws skidding slightly on the stone path before crashing lightly into her legs. Meilin stumbled a little, then laughed despite herself.
"Careful," she murmured, crouching instinctively.
Zimei circled her once, tail wagging furiously, then jumped up, paws on her knees, licking her fingers as if checking whether she was truly back.
Meilin's chest tightened.
"…You waited for me, didn't you?"
She picked the puppy up, pressing her cheek briefly against its warm fur. The restlessness in her heart softened, just a little.
Inside the east wing, her room was quiet, dimly lit by the bedside lamp. Meilin kicked off her shoes, sat on the bed, and placed Zimei beside her.
The puppy immediately curled closer, head resting against her thigh.
Meilin lay back slowly, staring at the ceiling.
"Zimei," she said softly, voice low, "do you know… I messed up today."
Zimei tilted its head.
She let out a small breath, almost a laugh, almost a sigh.
"I didn't mean to pressure him. I just wanted to stay close."Her fingers stroked the puppy's fur absentmindedly. "But he told me not to meet him again."
The words still hurt when spoken aloud.
"He thinks he's bad luck," she whispered. "He doesn't know… he's the reason I keep going."
Zimei gave a small sound, nudging her hand insistently.
Meilin smiled faintly.
"See? At least you understand."
Her mind drifted, uninvited, back to the street near Capital University earlier that day.
Did you hear? The startup summit is tomorrow.Ten in the morning. Investors from everywhere will be there.Even students can pitch if they get a slot…
Her eyes slowly sharpened.
Tomorrow.
The summit.
Her heart skipped—not from excitement, but certainty.
She reached for her phone.
The call connected quickly.
"Assistant He."
"Yes, Young Madam."
Meilin's voice was calm now, steady. "There's a startup summit tomorrow at Capital University. If Xie Zihan appears—under any name, any project—you are to ensure his pitch proceeds smoothly."
A pause.
"…Investment?"
"Yes." Her fingers tightened slightly around the phone. "If his project is viable, Lin Capital will back him. No obstacles. No delays."
"Understood."
She ended the call.
The room fell quiet again.
Meilin turned to Zimei, lifting the puppy gently and setting it against her chest.
"See?" she murmured. "Even if he pushes me away… I'll still make sure he doesn't fall."
Zimei wagged its tail once, satisfied.
Meilin closed her eyes.
Tonight, she would let herself feel low.
But tomorrow—
Tomorrow, she would stand behind him, even if he never knew