Chapter 120 — Each to Their Own Horizon

“Nan Zhi, will you forgive me?” Cheng Shuguang asked from behind her.

What a foolish, laughable question.

Who could forgive someone who wasted her youth?

Youth slips away like flowing water—three parts water, two parts dust, one part tears. The fairy tales of love fade as youth departs, drifting farther from her. Perhaps they never truly left, only that they no longer concern her. It seems all changes are natural; if one ignores the passage of time, she almost forgets the thirty-plus years she has lived. Thus, when memories suddenly arise, she cannot help but sigh—life between heaven and earth is like a fleeting white colt racing past a crack in time, vanishing in an instant.

Love came too late, and romance was not sweet enough.

Li Nan Zhi stood with her back to him, turning around no longer mattered.

“I cannot forgive you because I cannot betray the part of me that once loved you deeply,” she said softly, her voice trembling. “I also cannot hate you because I cannot go against the part of me that still loves you.”

Those final two sentences before parting would probably become the most agonizing scars in their memories.

Words are sharper than knives, inflicting wounds far harder to heal.

And that is fine—if forgetting is impossible, then let it be etched deeply.

Life’s three great regrets: loving but unable to have, loving but unable to be, loving but unwilling to let go.

Fate, wielding a sharp blade, carves their scarred and weathered faces.

Following that secluded path, she could not find where time rested on the branch of a withered tree. Having lingered in the shadows for so long, she was momentarily unable to adjust to the dazzling light of dawn.

Yet, in the end, they worried about living. They had to open their eyes under the sun, spread their arms, accept baptism and torment; accept praise and judgment; accept warmth and cold.

Accept the destiny arranged for each of them.

Cheng Shuguang watched her retreating figure vanish from his world. For both, it was a release, but the pain and regrets built upon the relief were a sorrow in themselves.

Words to express apology would have to wait for another life to be counted.

The next day, Li Nan Zhi’s family set off to return to Guangzhou. To avoid the awkwardness of travel, Cheng’s parents chose to leave a day later. Moreover, the aftermath of the Zhishu Tea Restaurant required urgent resolution. The investment, almost equivalent to dowry and betrothal gifts, had shattered completely and needed to be divided to both parties’ satisfaction.

Initially, Cheng’s father planned to transfer full ownership of the tea restaurant to Li Nan Zhi as the greatest material compensation. But Li’s proud father refused to accept what felt like charity.

“They decided to be together; they decided to part ways. You need not feel indebted to Nan Zhi. Since she willingly played the fool in love for several years, knowing the truth, I cannot stand on moral high ground to judge you,” Li’s father said, his bitterness unspoken. He left room for sentiment to preserve decades of friendship with Cheng’s father. Once a rift appears in any relationship, repairing it is nearly impossible.

The transfer proceeded surprisingly smoothly. Months earlier, a businessman from Guangzhou had expressed interest in buying the tea restaurant. But when the train was running on a proper track, it would not easily switch rails. Now that the track ahead was severed, to avoid disaster, it had no choice but to change direction.

Cheng’s father wired two-thirds of the money to Li’s father, guessing he would refuse more. When calling, he lied that only half was sent. Li’s father trusted Cheng’s integrity and did not ask for any transfer receipts.

Cheng Shuguang gave up his rented room, packed his belongings, and moved into Su Yihui’s bachelor apartment. He did not take a cent from the sale of the tea restaurant. After paying staff salaries, the remaining funds barely covered six months of expenses.

Currently, both he and Su Yihui were unemployed. At their age, starting anew was difficult; working for others was hindered by lack of experience. Unable to see the path ahead, could they walk steadily with eyes closed?

When Cheng Shuguang went to Fuyuan to find Su Yihui, he happened to run into Yan Lu and Lu Xugao, who came to announce their engagement.

Their wedding was set for the first lunar month, a rare rest period in the logistics industry.

Lu Xugao planned to hold ceremonies in both Yun City and Guangzhou. Their parents had met days ago, and most details were settled.

Today, they came to Fuyuan to invite Yishu to be a bridesmaid and to help select the wedding dress.

Yishu was surprised that their relationship, less than a year old, had already reached the point of marriage.

She had only witnessed the beginning of their love; the rest she learned months later through conversations at the dining table. She had thought years of companionship would follow—never expecting such an abrupt ending.

She ought to offer her blessings. Yet, a vague worry stirred within her.

Perhaps it was the tangled affairs among Su Yihui, Cheng Shuguang, and Li Nan Zhi that had inexplicably instilled a fear of love.

Yan Lu and Cheng Shuguang remained unaware of this same-sex relationship. Were they coming at the right time or the wrong one? They no longer knew.

“Brother-in-law, I don’t even know if I should still call you that,” Lu Xugao said with a sullen face. “You shouldn’t have treated my cousin that way. She’s truly kind-hearted. Though I haven’t known her long, I’ve never seen her lose her temper or sulk. She’s always been so good to others but so hard on herself,” his voice choking with emotion.

“I’m sorry—” Cheng Shuguang pinched his nose and swallowed back a runny nose.

He had apologized more than once, more than several days. Perhaps before revealing the truth, his heart was always filled with guilt.

“Forget it,” Lu Xugao sighed, shaking his head. “My cousin has forgiven you—what else can I say?”

The originally tense atmosphere grew heavier.

Su Yihui leaned against the wall, keeping his distance, unwilling to get involved in the dispute. Yet, he was powerless to avoid it.

Yishu spoke a few words of blessing to Yan Lu and, when the conversation turned to Yihui, fell silent.

“Yihui, why do you like men?” Yan Lu approached him, lowering her head to read his downcast expression. “What’s wrong with liking women?”

Su Yihui bit his lip, unwilling to answer. In truth, he wanted to ask her, “If women are so great, why do you like men?”

Both questions were equally absurd. Yet, in most people’s eyes, what Su Yihui really pondered was the most ridiculous of all.

“Yan Lu, stop,” Yishu interrupted, fearing that if left unchecked, Yan Lu would say something even harder to accept. “Yihui made his choice. You know as well as I do that homosexuality is not a disease. You don’t need to view it through a doctor’s lens.”

“I know,” Yan Lu said, looking at her, eager to clarify. “But society doesn’t accept it. I’m worried about him, really.”

“Whether his life is good or bad is none of your concern,” Tang Chao said, appearing at the door, having overheard the conversation.

“Who are you?” Yan Lu asked, meeting Tang Chao for the first time.

“Tang Chao.”

“I don’t care if you’re from the Tang or Song dynasty. This isn’t your place to speak,” Yan Lu said fiercely. “Oh—wait, I remember now. Tang Chao? Don’t you have a sister named Tang Dai?”

“Oh, so I’m famous now?” Tang Chao smirked with pride.

“You’re deluded if you think fame makes you a star. Even mistresses get famous,” Yan Lu retorted, still harboring resentment over Tang Dai’s interference in her and Xu Shixi’s relationship, a grievance that lingered.

“Are you talking about him?” Tang Chao deliberately pointed at Su Yihui.

“Enough!” Cheng Shuguang snapped, unable to bear it any longer. He stepped forward and pulled Su Yihui into his arms. “You can say what you want about me, but not about Xiaohui. He’s endured enough. If even his friends mock him, then there truly is no one in this world to accept or understand him.”

“We didn’t mean that,” Yan Lu apologized for her careless words.

“Xiaohui, come with me,” Cheng Shuguang said, wrapping his arm around his back. “From now on, no matter what others say, I’ll take good care of you.”

Su Yihui raised his head, tears glistening in his eyes. Reaching this point, he could lose no more. There was nothing left to lose but each other.

Under the watchful eyes of all, they slowly withdrew.

No closing words, no flowers, no applause. Most importantly, no respect.

Yishu chased after them, shouting to their retreating backs, “Yihui, have you thought it through?”

He did not turn around. Facing away, he nodded twice.

He and Cheng Shuguang disappeared around the corner of the corridor, vanishing from their sight.