Chapter 110: Regret, But It Was All Too Late

Ji Xian’s fingers began trembling violently, his breath growing erratic, his voice hoarse and bitter:

“Qiao Zhen, I regret it. I’ve always liked you in my heart…”

He almost abandoned all pride and pretense, revealing his most authentic and humble self to Qiao Zhen, desperate for her to accept him as he was.

Ji Xian’s throat felt parched, as if drowning in a pitch-black whirlpool, unable to speak, only yearning to grasp the sole light, reaching out his hand toward Qiao Zhen.

The next moment, a “thud”!

He was struck squarely in the face without any defense, his body collapsing backward like a kite with a broken string, splashing fiercely on the wet ground.

His umbrella was flung aside, his bag slammed heavily onto the ground, spilling out numerous precious pieces of jewelry.

Qin Yichi suddenly appeared before him, giving him no chance to catch his breath. With one hand, he grasped Ji Xian’s neck tightly, and with the other, he struck his abdomen sharply—fast, precise, and brutal, as if trying to beat him to death.

Ji Xian’s bones cracked painfully, his insides aching as if they might burst, his expression twisted in agony, both body and spirit brutally shattered.

Qin Yichi’s eyes burned with fury as he grabbed Ji Xian’s collar and slammed his head forcefully onto the ground, sneering coldly:

“Like her?”

If you truly liked Qiao Zhen, you wouldn’t have stood by and watched her be bullied; you wouldn’t have touched her against her will; you wouldn’t have chosen to interfere in her happiness; you wouldn’t have stalked and harassed her repeatedly, causing her fear and anxiety.

While Ji Xian’s eyes reddened, his defenses utterly broken, Qin Yichi remained calm, each word cutting open the bloody truth:

“The one you like has always been yourself. Who are you pretending to be so sentimental for?”

Selfish, callous, and hypocritical.

Qin Yichi stared coldly at Ji Xian’s disheveled face, his gaze ruthless and indifferent, looking down upon a clown unworthy of the stage.

The storm grew fiercer, rain pounding mercilessly on them both.

The rain’s roar was too loud for Qiao Zhen, standing nearby under her umbrella, to hear their conversation, her eyes full of anxiety and sorrow.

Suddenly, a deafening crack of thunder split the sky, shattering the oppressive silence.

Ji Xian’s eyes widened in pain, a salty, bloody taste rising in his throat, his mind momentarily dizzy.

He hadn’t slept for days; his body was utterly exhausted, and the streetlights around him seemed to blur endlessly...

Since birth, he had been like a programmed machine, required to follow instructions strictly.

What was his goal? His faith? His passion?

None.

A blank void, nothing at all.

He only knew that everything had to be perfect, that as long as he obeyed orders and did his work diligently, it would be enough.

But then what? After completing all that, then what? Continuing the Ji family line, then what? What was he supposed to do?

He didn’t even have friends.

He was lonely and desolate, desperately needing a group of people to hold him up, so that he could feel alive. Yet he knew that none of those people genuinely cared for him.

They were hypocritical, two-faced—one thing to his face, another behind his back. He knew it all, but what did it matter?

Until Qiao Zhen appeared...

How could he not like her?

Ji Xian couldn’t bear it any longer. Lying on the ground, he summoned all his remaining strength to grab Qin Yichi’s neck.

But Qin Yichi seemed unaffected, his thin lips pressed tightly, coldly lifting Ji Xian and mercilessly smashing his head against the ground again and again, splashing water tinged faintly red with blood...

After an unknown length of time, Ji Xian lay utterly powerless on the ground.

Rainwater washed over his face as he watched Qiao Zhen holding an umbrella for Qin Yichi.

This scene stabbed his eyes like a sharp blade, cutting him to pieces.

“Qiao Zhen...” Ji Xian croaked painfully, his whole soul writhing in agony, begging her to pity and care for him.

Qiao Zhen merely lowered her head slightly, gazing at him for a few seconds with detached, indifferent eyes, as if looking at a stranger, her voice calm:

“Don’t come looking for me anymore.”

“From now on, I don’t know you.”

Her voice was as light as a feather, but every word struck like a thousand-pound weight, piercing his heart.

The girl’s once beautiful, clear eyes no longer held affection or hope—not even mockery or disgust.

Ji Xian’s face stiffened, his pupils suddenly contracting.

His heart felt as if gripped tightly by a giant hand, dripping with sour, aching liquid that slowly devoured him mercilessly.

He was on the verge of madness. Blood surged up his throat as he struggled to his knees, his voice hoarse as he shouted:

“No, don’t... Qiao Zhen, even if you hate me, just don’t forget me!”

Don’t be so expressionless, don’t treat him like this...

Kneeling on the ground, Ji Xian watched Qiao Zhen turn away, saw her take Qin Yichi’s hand and walk inside, their figures under the streetlight perfectly harmonious.

With a heavy thud—

He seemed to lose all strength, collapsing onto the ground, soaked by the filthy puddles.

The pouring rain blurred Ji Xian’s eyes completely; broken and desperate, he murmured repeatedly:

“Don’t forget me.”

His mind overflowed with bittersweet memories: Qiao Zhen’s smile directed only at him; her shy, blushing face when caught secretly looking at him; the gifts she gave him, saying she only liked him...

These memories were like brilliant fireworks, dazzling and radiant yet fleeting.

A stark contrast to the cold, bone-chilling stormy night.

The raindrops hammered his face like merciless mockery.

The water on the street grew deeper, slowly engulfing Ji Xian as he painfully closed his eyes.

It was as if he had always been hiding in a dark, closed room, hoping someone would truly come inside.

Many had tried to open the door, but they only wanted the treasures inside; soon, their true nature was revealed and they drifted away.

Then Qiao Zhen appeared, bravely knocking on his door again and again.

But he never opened it, repeatedly testing her sincerity, trying to confirm with coldness whether she truly wanted to come in.

He was arrogant and fearless.

Eventually, the one knocking lost hope and turned away.

When he realized his mistake and rushed out to stop her—

It was too late.

He had driven her away with his own hands...

Suddenly, footsteps approached steadily. The driver, holding an umbrella, looked surprised and hurried over to help him up:

“Hey, Young Master, we finally found you! Where have you been? Madam’s been waiting!”

Ji Xian’s ears buzzed; he heard nothing. His heart was completely cold.

Rain, tears, or blood—he could no longer tell—mixed into a chaotic mess on his face.

His eyes hollowed and faded, and at last, he lowered his head, helplessly covering his face.

Tears of regret slowly slipped through his fingers; Ji Xian choked back sobs, crying uncontrollably in the pouring rain...