Chen Nan left as well.
For a moment, the long corridor was empty except for the two of them.
The dim overhead light cast shadows on their faces, obscuring their emotions.
The silence was suffocating, oppressive.
Lu Jingran stepped closer, and Zhou Le instinctively took a step back. Lu Jingran stopped.
“If you say I shouldn’t go, I won’t.”
In the darkness, the Alpha’s deep voice broke the stillness.
Zhou Le didn’t answer.
His mind was a chaotic mess.
One moment, everything had been sweet and wonderful; the next, he was told they’d be separated for a long time.
Who could handle that?
Zhou Le felt as if he’d been plunged into icy water, the freezing cold creeping into every corner of his consciousness.
“I-I need some air. Sorry,” he stammered, then ran off.
Lu Jingran moved to follow, but stopped after a few steps. Then he turned and slammed his fist into the wall.
Zhou Le wandered aimlessly around the manor gardens, circling over and over. Lin Xiaoxiao and Xia Linchuan eventually came to offer advice, but ultimately, the decision was his to make. Lu Jingran was his Alpha, after all.
Zhou Le couldn’t figure it out. When he returned, Lu Jingran was still waiting at the door.
Zhou Le couldn’t give an answer, and Lu Jingran accepted that.
“Tonight, you… you should sleep on your own,” Zhou Le said before closing the door.
The tall Alpha was left standing outside, shut out by his own Omega.
The sound of the door closing echoed loudly, leaving the Alpha looking utterly dejected.
Neither Zhou Le nor Lu Jingran slept that night.
The next morning, Zhou Le knew he couldn’t avoid it any longer.
He opened the door to let Lu Jingran in.
Maybe it was his imagination, but Lu Jingran seemed visibly more haggard after just one night.
Of course, Zhou Le looked no better. The first thing Lu Jingran asked was, “Didn’t sleep, did you?”
“No. And you didn’t either, did you?”
On the couch, Zhou Le rubbed his hands together nervously. “You said if I told you not to go, you wouldn’t.”
Lu Jingran’s voice was hoarse. “That’s right.”
Zhou Le looked at him. “But you’d regret it later.”
“I chose to ask you, to hear your opinion. That’s my choice. If there are consequences, I’ll bear them,” Lu Jingran said, pouring a glass of water for Zhou Le. “Here, drink this. Your lower lip is peeling.”
Zhou Le didn’t drink, so Lu Jingran dipped his finger in the water and dabbed it on Zhou Le’s lip.
He was always like this—never drinking water unless someone kept an eye on him.
Feeling Lu Jingran’s attentive care, Zhou Le’s heart felt like it was sinking into a quagmire of guilt and sorrow.
If Lu Jingran wasn’t around in the future, who would take care of him like this?
Fear, helplessness, reluctance—just the thought of losing his Alpha in a few days was unbearable.
He never realized how much he’d come to depend on someone until now.
“Are you crying?” Lu Jingran leaned closer, noticing the redness around Zhou Le’s eyes and the swelling of his eyelids, glistening with unshed tears.
“Don’t cry, please,” Lu Jingran pleaded softly, unable to bear seeing Zhou Le upset because of him.
He reached out, gently brushing away the tears under Zhou Le’s eyes with his thumb.
It was only then that Zhou Le realized he was crying.
He hurriedly wiped his face. “I’m fine…”
After suppressing his emotions, Zhou Le asked, “If it were me going abroad instead, what would you do?”
Without hesitation, Lu Jingran replied, “I’d wait for you.”
Zhou Le stared at him. “…You’re not afraid I’d fall for someone else?”
A year of senior high, followed by three years of university—that was four years of long-distance. Who could guarantee they’d stay faithful?
What if he met someone even better then?
What if, with not seeing each other every day, their feelings faded?
What if, in the end, he really fell out of love?
He would lose Lu Jingran.
He had lived nearly twenty years, and it had taken so much to meet this person—someone so good to him, someone he might never encounter again. Could he bear the risk of losing him?
“I’m scared,” Lu Jingran said. “But if you want to go, I’ll support you.”
“If one day you really stop loving me…” Lu Jingran hesitated, “…I’ll wish you happiness.”
Zhou Le stared at him, noticing the suppressed emotions in Lu Jingran’s eyes.
“You’re telling me this, which means this really is a good opportunity, and you want to go, right?”
If not, Lu Jingran wouldn’t have told him.
“Yes.”
He admitted it honestly—it was indeed a rare opportunity, one that could benefit his family and himself greatly.
He was conflicted but knew he couldn’t decide alone. Zhou Le was his lover, his future family; his opinion mattered.
“My family isn’t pressuring me; they’ll respect my decision. If you don’t want me to go, I won’t.” Lu Jingran said.
“But…it’s a really good opportunity,” Zhou Le muttered, lowering his head.
“And you’re a really good lover—my Omega.”
“…”
About a minute later, Zhou Le looked up. “Go ahead. I’ll wait for you.”
In his shattered gaze lay unwavering faith.
He let Lu Jingran go.
But Lu Jingran’s face showed no joy—only visible worry.
Zhou Le added, “Don’t feel guilty. Letting you go is my choice, and I’ll take responsibility for it.”
“In love, there’s no rule about who should give more. You’ve done so much for me—giving me money, tutoring me, giving me time to study. It’s only right that I wait for you.”
After saying that, a wave of sourness surged in his heart, and his eyes reddened again.
Zhou Le: “But…come back quickly. I’m scared I’ll miss you too much.”
That night, Lu Jingran held Zhou Le for a long time.
—
Time flew by so quickly that it caught them off guard—it was soon the day for school to start and for Lu Jingran and Sheng Qian to leave.
At the airport, Zhou Le, Lin Xiaoxiao, and Xia Linchuan all came to see them off.
The Lu and Sheng families had arranged special transportation. Lu Jingran’s mother, Xu Zhen, was accompanying Lu Jingran, while Sheng’s parents were already waiting abroad.
After all, it was a long stay, and family would naturally accompany them.
Xu Zhen looked at Zhou Le, reluctant to part. “Little Le, why don’t you come with us? I can arrange for someone to bring your mother too. There will be someone to take care of her.”
Over the days they had spent together, Xu Zhen had grown fond of Zhou Le. She had never met such an obedient child. The moment she allowed him to stay at the house with Lu Jingran, she had tacitly accepted him as her daughter-in-law. And family shouldn’t be separated.
“Mom, you go ahead. I’ll come in a bit,” Lu Jingran interrupted.
Xu Zhen gave Zhou Le another look, sighed, and left.
Zhou Le bid her farewell properly.
But it was impossible for him to go with the Lu family.
Not to mention his grades wouldn’t get him into any schools, he wouldn’t understand classes taught entirely in a foreign language. Lu Jingran would be too busy to tutor him—it wouldn’t be worth it.
The reason Lu Jingran was going abroad was to focus on studying.
And if he brought his mother along, they’d know no one there. Even grocery shopping would require learning the language. How could his mom adapt?
He couldn’t go.
“I’ll come back as soon as I can,” Lu Jingran whispered, holding Zhou Le close. “You have to study hard…”
“It’s okay if you don’t study well. Just be happy. I’ve got you.”
Those last words hit Zhou Le’s heart like a heavy blow.
He hugged Lu Jingran tightly, burying his face in his neck. “Don’t push yourself too hard. Don’t ruin your health.
“I’ll earn a lot of money too, and I’ll work hard to take care of you. Don’t feel pressured.”
Lu Jingran smiled.
“Okay, I’ll wait for you to take care of me.”
“Mm.” Zhou Le nodded, his voice hoarse, still nestled in his embrace.
Meanwhile, Sheng Qian was saying his goodbyes to Lin Xiaoxiao and Xia Linchuan.
“Um…so, Chen Nan…he couldn’t come. Family stuff, you know. Hope you understand.” Seeing Sheng Qian looking around, Xia Linchuan knew who he was looking for.
Lin Xiaoxiao chimed in, “Yeah, Chen Nan definitely had something come up. Otherwise, he’d be the first one here!”
“Young master, it’s time to go.” Someone from the Sheng family approached with his luggage.
Sheng Qian nodded and, passing by Lu Jingran, said, “I’ll head in first.”
Just as he turned, a voice called out behind him, “Sheng Qian!”
He froze.
He didn’t need to look back to know who it was.
His heart jolted.
For a moment, he didn’t know if he should turn around.
Chen Nan ran over, panting heavily.
“Here, this is for you.”
He handed Sheng Qian a bracelet—a red cord with a cinnabar bead.
Sheng Qian took it.
Chen Nan said, “It’s for protection. Brother Lu told me about it—said the temple’s blessings are real.”
“It’s not safe abroad. Guns are legal. There was even something on the news the other day. I got this for you. Keep it on at all times, okay?”
“I’m talking to you! Sheng Qian, are you even listening? Don’t just stare at me! I said—”
Before Chen Nan could finish, Sheng Qian pulled him into a deep kiss.
Chen Nan initially resisted fiercely. Their last meeting had ended on a sour note, and now the other party had the audacity to embrace and kiss him—how shameless!
But when he met Sheng Qian’s reddened eyes, his body softened, and he stopped struggling.
Sheng Qian’s gaze was filled with deep emotion and complexity. Chen Nan had never been good at reading people, let alone interpreting emotions, but this time, with just one look, he understood Sheng Qian completely.
It had always been this way. No matter how angry he made Sheng Qian, a single word from him would lead to immediate forgiveness.
Sheng Qian had no boundaries when it came to him.
From a forceful kiss to a gentle one, Chen Nan felt as if he was melting under Sheng Qian’s touch.
When they finally parted, Chen Nan’s face was flushed, and his words came out unsteady. “Y-you better come back quickly. If you don’t come back soon, I… I…”
He couldn’t bring himself to finish the sentence with “I’ll find another Alpha.” Instead, he puffed his cheeks and declared, “I’ll go abroad to find you. Then you won’t be able to focus on your studies!”
“How will that stop me from studying?” Sheng Qian asked.
“I’ll seduce you and keep you from studying!” Chen Nan blurted out in a panic, saying whatever came to mind.
Sheng Qian looked at him and replied, “…Well, you certainly have the ability to do that.”
…
The group lingered for a while longer, indulging in bittersweet goodbyes until the airport staff began urging them along.
Finally, Lu Jingran and Sheng Qian walked inside.
Zhou Le watched Lu Jingran disappear into the distance, his eyes filled with longing.
As Lu Jingran’s figure vanished at the terminal’s end, Zhou Le stood rooted in place, overcome by a wave of delayed sorrow. His eyes burned, and when he couldn’t hold it in anymore, he crouched down, his face flushed from crying.