Drawing the Bow

Ji Qingyi now realized that she, too, was fragile.

Like this moment—Su Cheng was blowing up a balloon for her, yet she couldn’t understand why she couldn’t meet his eyes, couldn’t even look at him as she normally would. Instead, her gaze fixated helplessly on that gradually inflating, expanding "balloon."

She simply couldn’t face those clear, earnest eyes of his.

Even though Liu Qingyue had repeatedly coached her on what to do, at the critical moment, she still couldn’t control her thoughts or actions—even her gaze refused to hold steady.

But then she remembered Liu Qingyue’s words: this might be her last chance…

The thought alone made her chest tighten unbearably, her breath turning shallow.

Why was this happening?

What was she afraid of?

Since when had she become so weak?

Her heart was filled with confusion and doubt.

She already had every reason and motivation to act. If this truly was her final opportunity, why was it so agonizingly difficult to follow through?

By now, the balloon had taken shape.

The time for hesitation had slipped away.

"President, what do you wish for this time?"

Su Cheng tied off the balloon, then cradled it in both hands, his bright eyes fixed expectantly on Ji Qingyi.

"A wish…"

Ji Qingyi froze for a moment before shifting her gaze to the nightscape ahead. Though her expression remained neutral, a trace of hesitation flickered in her eyes. She softly repeated his question, but inwardly, her restlessness only grew.

A wish…

Right, a wish.

"What about you?"

Ji Qingyi suddenly turned the question back on him, her face now eerily calm. "World peace again?"

She had reflexively deflected, tossing the question to Su Cheng instead.

She knew—knew all too well—that this was the perfect moment to confess her feelings, to voice her desires under the guise of a wish.

Yet once again, she had chosen evasion.

"World peace?"

Hearing the phrase, Su Cheng blinked in surprise before chuckling. "That’s too childish for a wish."

The response sent a jolt through Ji Qingyi, though she forced herself to remain composed. "Wasn’t that your wish before?"

"Yeah."

Su Cheng nodded. "Which is why I was an idiot back then—wasting a perfectly good wish."

"……"

Ji Qingyi fell silent.

A nervous flutter rose in her chest, but she steeled herself, unwilling to let Su Cheng see the turmoil inside.

"Wishing for something impossible when the person I truly wanted was right beside me—how stupid is that?"

Su Cheng stared down at the balloon, his voice low with regret, as if speaking more to himself.

Ji Qingyi said nothing, but her heartbeat quickened, pounding so fiercely it threatened to escape her ribs.

"Then… why did you make that wish back then?"

After a pause, Ji Qingyi lifted her head. Beneath her placid gaze lay a flicker of something probing—part question, part demand.

Had Su Cheng, like her, lied out of shyness?

"Insecurity…"

Su Cheng hesitated before finally uttering the word.

Ji Qingyi’s breath hitched, her eyes snapping to him. "Insecurity?"

"Yeah."

Su Cheng sighed, his face shadowed with something bitter. "Whether it’s intellect or background…"

He paused, his gaze drifting to the distant stars. "I even remember exactly how she looked at me the first time we met, the first words she said. Every time I think about it, it’s like being drenched in ice water from head to toe."

Ji Qingyi’s composure fractured, panic flashing across her face. She knew exactly who "she" referred to.

But Su Cheng didn’t notice. He continued quietly, "Later, the first time I managed to help her…"

Ji Qingyi held her breath, waiting.

"When it worked, I was overjoyed—ecstatic, really. Because she finally acknowledged me. Recognized my worth. Accepted what I could give."

His voice softened. "But..."

"But…?"

Ji Qingyi’s reply trembled, betraying her unease.

She dreaded what might come next, yet a desperate curiosity gnawed at her—what else would he say?

"Once I got what I wanted, she started treating me warmly, giving me so much attention. It felt… overwhelming. I was happy, but also terrified."

Su Cheng’s voice grew heavier, laced with conflict. "I didn’t know what it meant. I tried to change how we interacted, but in the end, I failed. I convinced myself it was just… an elder doting on a junior. So I stopped daring to ask for more. I was afraid of overstepping. Afraid that if I did, she’d grow to resent me."

Ji Qingyi’s face paled.

"That’s why I wished for world peace."

With that, he gave Ji Qingyi a long, searching look before producing a sky lantern. He carefully placed the balloon inside its frame, the lantern swaying gently in the night breeze.

"You still haven’t told me your wish this time…"

Ji Qingyi could no longer contain her curiosity.

"I wish."

Su Cheng paused, lifting the lantern toward the vast, starry sky. His voice was feather-light, almost as if speaking to himself. "To stay forever with the person I long for."

Ji Qingyi’s heart stuttered, her body swaying slightly.

"That’s my wish."

Then he turned back to her, his tone still gentle but now tinged with curiosity. "So, President… what’s yours?"

"……"

Ji Qingyi remained silent.

She lowered her head, struggling to speak, but no sound came. Her breath grew labored, as if an invisible hand gripped her throat. Her face turned even paler.

"President, no wish this time?"

When she still didn’t respond, Su Cheng pressed again.

Ji Qingyi bit her lip, willing herself to say something—anything—but it was futile. In the end, she shut her eyes, sealing away her emotions.

"President?"

Frowning, Su Cheng tried to rouse her, but Ji Qingyi kept her eyes tightly closed, motionless.

"I see…"

Su Cheng released the lantern, letting it ascend. It traced a graceful arc through the darkness, drifting further into the night…

Hearing the dejection in his voice, Ji Qingyi’s eyes flew open, her pupils contracting sharply. She watched the lantern fade into the distance, a sharp pang piercing her chest.

Her gaze lifted to the sky, sorrow glimmering in her eyes as they reflected the lantern’s distant glow.

In that instant, countless memories flashed through her mind.

Her dark, still eyes shimmered under the lantern’s light—remembering, contemplating, chasing after some fleeting, cherished moment.

"I’m going back to rest."

With those words, Su Cheng left.

Ji Qingyi stood frozen in place, only snapping back to reality once he had completely vanished from sight. Slowly, her lashes lowered.

Because that lantern—that beacon of hope—had already disappeared into the night, just like the thing she most desired, slipping further and further away.

"Hmm?"

But the next second, she suddenly noticed with shock that a bow had appeared on the spot where Su Cheng had been standing—the very one she had gifted him.

—Chen Yue.

Ji Qingyi’s pupils constricted, her body stiffening abruptly as realization struck. Without hesitation, she bent down to pick it up, gripping it tightly before nocking an arrow and drawing the string to its full length, aiming at the solitary Kongming lantern fading into the night sky.

Bathed in the lantern’s glow, the Chen Yue bow emitted a soft, pulsating radiance, as if alive. The woman holding it stood in flowing white robes, breathtakingly beautiful, her resolute gaze brimming with determination.

Her fingers settled on the bowstring. But then her brows furrowed slightly, her face paling as beads of sweat dotted her forehead.

Her calculations told her the truth.

The distance was too great.

Her strength—insufficient!

She couldn’t shoot an arrow powerful enough to pierce the lantern.

Her complexion turned ashen, her body trembling faintly despite herself.

“Never mind. It must be fate.”

Ji Qingyi sighed. Just as she was about to lay the Chen Yue bow back down, she froze.

Familiar footsteps and a presence she knew too well approached from behind. Before she could react, a large hand enveloped hers where it held the drawn string. Then, someone rested their chin atop her head, their warm breath brushing against her ear—sending a shiver through her entire being.

“An arrow once shot cannot be taken back.”