The rooftop restaurant shimmered beneath the soft lights of Country C's skyline, a far quieter contrast to the roaring storms Lu Jingyan had weathered in the past months. The November chill clung to the breeze, but inside the glass-paneled terrace, warmth spilled from golden chandeliers and quiet jazz hummed through the air.
She sat alone at a reserved table, posture composed, eyes fixed on the skyline rather than the man approaching.
Leng Xuanmo's footsteps were measured, but every step carried weight — of choices made, bridges burned, and now, perhaps, rebuilt. He hadn't seen her in two months. Two months since her eyes turned cold, her voice vanished from his world, and her name became a silent ache beneath every breath he took.
"Jingyan," he said as he stopped before her.
She didn't stand. Her gaze met his — unreadable, sharp, composed.
"Have a seat," she said finally.
He sat, across from her, tension wound tightly across his shoulders, even if his expression remained collected. A waiter approached, and they both declined menus.
There was a pause. Neither moved.
Then: "You look different," he murmured, watching her carefully. "More... powerful."
Lu Jingyan tilted her head slightly. "That's what survival does."
He gave a small nod, his throat tightening. "I heard about your contract with Raye Luxe. And with the Southline Campaign." A faint smile touched his lips. "You've always known how to rise."
"And you've always known how to push people off ledges," she said, the words calm, yet they landed like a blade between them.
Leng Xuanmo didn't flinch. He looked down briefly, then back up. "I won't defend what I did," he said. "But I'll say this once—I regret it. Every second. Every order. Every silence I gave instead of stopping things before they collapsed."
She didn't respond. Her fingers lightly tapped the edge of the wine glass, but she hadn't taken a sip.
"I didn't come to ask for your forgiveness," he continued, voice lower now, almost raw. "I came because I couldn't stay away anymore. Because no matter how far you go, you were never out of my reach… only out of my grasp. Because I let go."
Still, she said nothing.
"I thought avenging Yumo was the right thing. I didn't even ask questions. I reacted." He shook his head, eyes clouded. "I chose blood over truth. Family over justice. And in doing that, I lost the one person who made me want to be better."
There it was. A flicker in her expression.
"I don't need your pity," Lu Jingyan finally said.
"I don't pity you," he answered softly. "I admire you. More now than I ever did."
Across the terrace, Mei Xiaotong and Hua Shu sat quietly at a far-off table. Mei sipped her tea, expression unreadable, while Hua's arms were crossed, brows slightly furrowed.
"Should we intervene?" Mei Xiaotong asked under her breath.
Hua shu shook her head. "No. Let her handle it. She's stronger now."
Back at the table, silence sat between them like a third presence.
"What do you want, Xuanmo?" she asked, finally.
He looked straight at her. "To start again. No excuses. No lies. No names. Just you and me. Like it could've been, before I ruined it."
She inhaled slowly, eyes narrowing slightly. "You think you can undo what's been done?"
"No," he said. "But I can try to rebuild what you let me break. If you'll let me."
A long pause. Then Lu Jingyan stood.
Leng Xuanmo rose with her instinctively.
Her voice was soft, yet firm. "This dinner doesn't change anything."
"I know."
She stepped past him—then paused at his side.
"But it might be a beginning," she whispered, and walked away.
He stood still, heart thundering, not knowing whether it was relief or heartbreak—only that for the first time in months, he had hope.
From afar, Hua Shu leaned forward and muttered, "He still loves her."
Mei Xiaotong nodded. "And for once, maybe he's willing to fight for her the right way.