I Don't Feel Sorry for You

Returning to that inner path covered with fallen leaves,

Long Aotian scanned the area, but the figure in the hat, curled up on the bench, was nowhere to be seen.

He quickened his pace, only to find a few empty beer cans left on the bench.

Long Aotian exhaled sharply, his gaze darting around, searching desperately for the person he wanted to see more than anything at that moment.

"Shen Mengjie?"

"Shen Mengjie, are you still here?"

For the first time, Long Aotian felt a pang of genuine urgency.

Regret gnawed at him—he had noticed Shen Mengjie's unusual mood earlier. If only he had set aside his momentary prejudice and listened to what she had to say, maybe he could have pulled her out of the whirlpool of rumors. At the very least, he might have stopped her from making a rash decision...

The truth was, Long Aotian didn’t really know what kind of person Shen Mengjie was.

Suddenly, an idea struck him.

He pulled out his phone, opened QQ, and checked his friend requests. The first one was from Shen Mengjie.

The verification message read: "Is it you?"

Seeing those three words, Long Aotian ruffled his hair in frustration.

His mind replayed Shen Mengjie’s words: "I’ve been waiting for you for so long."

Had she been waiting for him, hoping for an explanation? Or just wanting to hear from him whether he had anything to do with the situation?

And what had he done in return?

Her final cry—"Why? How could you?"—was it directed at him, or at herself?

He didn’t know. All Long Aotian knew now was that he had to find Shen Mengjie and make it clear that none of this was his doing...

After accepting the friend request, he immediately called her via video chat.

The call rang until it disconnected on its own. No answer.

Long Aotian took a deep breath and tried to put himself in Shen Mengjie’s shoes. If he were in her position, where would he go?

In an instant, a place came to mind.

If he were overwhelmed and had no one to turn to, he might go there.

But at the same time, he desperately hoped Shen Mengjie hadn’t gone there.

With that thought, he sprinted down the adjacent path.

Under the moonlight, he suddenly stopped, spotting empty beer cans scattered along the roadside.

His emotions churned—an indescribable feeling clouding his mind.

Part of him didn’t want her to be here, yet another part was relieved he’d come.

Not far ahead lay an artificial lake, surrounded by a small grove—a popular spot for couples.

Normally, the place would be lively, but as the weather turned colder, few were foolish enough to brave the chilly winds for a romantic rendezvous.

The moon hung bright, its reflection shimmering on the lake’s surface like scattered silver dust.

The wind rippled the water, distorting the moonlight before it settled again.

The scenery was beautiful, but Long Aotian’s attention didn’t linger.

His gaze locked onto the slender figure sitting on a rock not far away.

Before arriving, he had rehearsed countless explanations.

Now, standing here, words seemed meaningless.

"You came."

"Let me guess—are you psychic or something?" Long Aotian tried to lighten the heavy silence with a joke.

A soft chuckle escaped Shen Mengjie, catching even Long Aotian off guard. Had his words really been that funny?

Still, if she could still laugh, maybe things weren’t as bad as he’d feared.

"I’m not psychic. I just thought you’d come."

Hearing her response, Long Aotian dropped his cautious tone and walked straight over, sitting beside her on the rock where she’d placed her beer cans.

"Want a drink?"

Long Aotian picked one up, popped it open, and said, "Sure, why not?"

Shen Mengjie turned slightly, smiling as she clinked her can against his.

"You don’t think I’m fragile, do you?"

"Not at all."

"Liar."

"Someone once told me the same thing—'I’m not as fragile as I look.'"

"The moment you picked up that beer and laughed, I knew you weren’t weak. It might sound like hindsight, but I never saw you as someone who’d break easily."

Shen Mengjie let out another quiet laugh but said nothing, tilting her head back as if determined to down the entire can in one go.

And she did. When she reached for another, Long Aotian sighed and snatched it from her.

"What are you doing? Give it back. I don’t need anyone’s pity."

"Honestly, I don’t pity you. At least, not when I think about some of the things you’ve done—they weren’t exactly fair."

Just the way Shen Mengjie had led Huang Fei on, only to turn around and go out with other guys, partying and dining with them—Long Aotian couldn’t overlook how unkind that was.

Shen Mengjie smirked, opening another can and taking a small sip. "Fair or not, I couldn’t care less."

"And those garbage posts on the campus forum? I don’t care about those either."

"You seem to care a lot to me."

"I don’t!" Shen Mengjie’s voice cracked, her eyes reddening as she raised her volume, as if sheer force could convince the world—and herself—that she truly didn’t care.

Long Aotian simply watched her. Gone was her usual sharp edge; in its place was something raw and wounded.

Like a leopard in the wild, licking its injuries alone.

Meeting his gaze, Shen Mengjie softened slightly, her tone quieter now. "You don’t understand anything. If we switched lives, you wouldn’t care either."

Some people wear their pride like armor, walking a tightrope of tension, always on guard. Over time, that unrelenting defensiveness hardens into a shell—outwardly unbreakable, but inside, it’s nothing but anxiety, insecurity, and helplessness.

Shen Mengjie was one of those people.

She always said, "I don’t care at all."

But her face, her actions—they screamed otherwise. Maybe she didn’t care as much as others thought, but she definitely cared.

Long Aotian knew. He also knew there was no way to talk her out of it.

Words could be violence—invisible blades, unseen but cutting deep...

[Looking back today, I can’t believe I’ve updated for 111 days straight. The vulture is just too damn good...]