Chapter 83: The Passing Years Disappoint Me Time and Again

Xiaoxiao looked at him, her eyes full of mixed emotions. “Is this really all you want?” She was afraid of such tangled interests, afraid to witness the bloody struggle for gain.

If she had to draw an analogy for the entanglement of their feelings, nothing fit better than the art of taming a hawk. The hawk, by nature fierce and proud, was one of the loftiest creatures in all of nature—so much like Lin Shuo. To tame a hawk, one had to slowly wear away its wildness, employing the crudest, most merciless method. The trainer would stay awake, forcing the hawk to stay awake as well. Under this relentless exhaustion, even the strongest will would eventually collapse. Yet the process was so draining that by the time the hawk submitted, the trainer was often left depleted, sometimes sick, sometimes bedridden. It was said that many could tame only a single hawk in their entire lifetime.

So it was with love—a single great passion in a lifetime.

But to capture a person’s heart was far harder than taming a hawk. Xiaoxiao once dreamed of growing old with Lin Shuo, holding on until the end. But now, after all she had endured, he had flown out of her life. He tried to build a cage to return to her, but she was left defeated, her spirit broken.

“Ni Xiaoxiao! Don’t you see you’re being used?” Lin Shuo was utterly enraged. He sprang to his feet, breath coming in harsh bursts, fury unmistakable. “Do you even know what kind of man Xi Mintang is? He is who he is, and you are yourself. Don’t project your naïve ideals onto everyone!”

“Yes, you’re right about everything!” She stood up as well, her focus now on grief. “He is who he is, I am myself—so then, who are you?”

Who was he?

The question was so sharp it cut to the bone. Lin Shuo’s jaw clenched, brows drawn low. Only then did he realize how the years had shifted his place in her life. Once, he had been her haven, her support—the man whose love could warm her through the coldest night. But that was only once.

Now, they were a freed hawk and a fallen hunter, two people who had worn each other down to ruin.

When it came to him specifically, perhaps the answer to what kind of person he was no longer mattered. What mattered was the role he played in her eyes.

He leaped lightly from the desk, one hand on the chair’s armrest, the other circling behind her, resting casually on the back of the chair. He leaned in so close that the slightest movement would bring them together. With a raised eyebrow, a mocking smile playing at his lips but a rare steadiness in his gaze, he asked, “Then what do you want me to be?”

She, in turn, grew calm, sitting upright and casting the previous question aside, speaking with tranquil clarity. “It’s the passing years that have brought me disappointment after disappointment. Who stands beside whom, and in what year or at what moment—does it really matter?”

For a moment, his back went rigid. The next instant, he donned an air of insouciance, straightened up, and strode toward the window, never glancing back at her.

Leaving the Maoyuan Building, she made a silent decision in her heart. Many shortcuts admired by the world were not so easily walked. Some said that any problem money could solve was not a real problem. But they didn’t realize that money not only had an exchange rate with other money, but also with human feelings and dignity. Not everyone could accept such so-called equivalent exchanges—she, at least, was an exception.

Perhaps sensing the unease in the air, Xi Mintang had no choice but to move up his plans. Zhou Yanting, upon receiving the order, was deeply astonished, questions swirling in his mind. He suggested, “Shouldn’t we consult headquarters first?”

Xi Mintang didn’t even bother to shake his head. “The enemy’s sword is already drawn—do you really think we have time to sharpen ours?”