Overdo

Xiaofan remained as boisterous as ever. "Susu, you're the most heartless one, always the least in touch with old friends. We only occasionally catch glimpses of your lovely face in the newspapers." Mulan chuckled, "Susu, don't mind her. She's been saying all along that she'd make you treat us today." Xiaofan cheerfully pulled a newspaper from her handbag. "Look, I saved this specially. The photo is really well taken."

Susu reached out and took it—it was the family portrait taken during Weiyi's wedding. She stood behind Madam Murong, a faint smile on her face, with Murong Qingyi beside her. Rarely dressed in Western formal wear, his familiar face appeared above the bow tie, yet his smile seemed unfamiliar. Standing side by side like this, they must have appeared perfectly happy in others' eyes.

Mulan took the newspaper and asked with a laugh, "Xiaofan, are you really going to ask Susu for an autograph?" She then called out, "The hot pot is about to dry up, let's eat quickly," and raised her glass. "Birthday girl, you have to drink this one."

Susu finally smiled. "You know me—how could I possibly handle alcohol?" Xiaofan said, "This plum wine is just like soda, it can't make anyone drunk." Mulan also laughed, "None of us are drinkers anyway. This is just for celebrating your birthday." Others chimed in with encouragement, and seeing their earnest insistence, Susu could only take a small sip. Xiaofan raised her glass and said, "Well, I wish you many more happy returns of the day." Susu replied, "I really can't drink anymore." Xiaofan exclaimed in surprise, "What? Do I not have as much face as Mulan?"

Hearing this, Susu had no choice but to drink half a glass. Once this precedent was set, others naturally came forward to toast her. Helpless, Susu ended up drinking several glasses in bits and pieces. Being unaccustomed to alcohol, she soon felt her ears burning, her face flushed, and her heart pounding violently. Amid the chatter and laughter while eating, she drank half a bowl of sweet soup, which finally made her feel somewhat better.

When she returned by car, the moment she stepped out and was hit by the cold wind, she felt dizzy and lightheaded. Xinjie came out to greet her, taking her handbag with a beaming smile. "Third Young Master is here."

She froze for a moment and looked toward the living room. His figure stood out clearly against the dim outlines of the furniture. Her heart felt as if set ablaze, her stomach burning with a twisting pain, as if what she had drunk earlier was not wine but poison that corroded bones and pierced the heart. The expression on his face made her lower her head. His voice was cold and hard as stone. "Ren Susu, you finally decided to come back?"

The effects of the alcohol hammered relentlessly against her temples. The blood vessels there throbbed faintly, as if sharp needles were pricking her. He grabbed her wrist, the pain making her gasp softly. With a jerk, he flung her hand away. "It seems you've forgotten your place. Where did you go to get drunk like this?"

She lifted her face silently, gazing at him with calm indifference. This composure infuriated him completely. She was always like this with him—no matter what he did, he could never shake her. He swept the teacup from the coffee table onto the floor, the sound finally making her flinch slightly.

His anger stemmed solely from the possibility that his possession might be coveted by others. She lowered her head again, disheartened and weary. He alone could discard her; even if he no longer wanted her, he would not tolerate anyone else having any designs on her. She couldn't even muster the energy to explain, leaving only a cold despair.

He said, "I will never trust you again."A faint, sorrowful smile touched her lips. When had he ever trusted her? Or rather, why would he need to trust her? In his life, she was as insignificant as the tiniest speck of dust. What he couldn’t tolerate was merely that this speck had inadvertently flown into his eye, so he had to rub it out to feel at ease. If not for that, how could she have ever drawn his fleeting attention?

The weather grew even colder, and in the afternoon, it began to rain again. Alone, she listened to the sound of the rain, its steady patter like weeping and lament. When she was young, she disliked rainy days—damp and chilly, confined indoors. Now, living a life akin to seclusion, she had grown accustomed to the rain’s sound, rustling against the banana leaves, each drop shattering the heart, desolate like a soft whisper in the ear. Now, only the rain understood her. If heaven knew human sorrow, it would weep until dawn. Perhaps the heavens truly pitied her all her life, accompanying her with misty rain beyond the lonely towers.

She took out a sheet of plain stationery to write to Mulan, but after only three lines, she fell into a daze, her gaze fixed blankly. After a moment’s thought, she casually tucked it into a book. Inside the book was still the handwriting from last year: "Even with a thousand pieces of gold, could one buy Xiangru’s rhapsody? How could it bring a glance back?"

By now, she no longer even wanted that glance back.

The weather was cold, but the official residence had heating, and flowers were everywhere—vase arrangements, floral displays, narcissus blooming seasonally in crystal stone dishes... In the dining room, a cloisonné double-handled vase held a branch of plum blossoms, their fragrance intensified by the warmth, evoking the gentle breath of spring. Jin Rui and his wife, along with Weiyi and her husband, had brought their children. With over ten adults and children, it was naturally extremely lively. Weiyi’s son, still in swaddling clothes, was utterly adorable. Susu held him, and his dark, bright eyes stared intently at her. Weiyi laughed beside her, "As the saying goes, a nephew resembles his uncle—Mother says this child looks a bit like Third Brother did when he was little." Madam Murong smiled, "Isn’t that true? Look at his eyes and nose, the contours are quite similar." Susu lowered her head to gaze at the child’s delicate little face, and in that instant, the most untouchable part of her heart twisted with a sharp, indescribable pain.

Murong Feng, however, was in high spirits. Together with Murong Qingyi and Qi Xicheng, they finished a whole jar of Huadiao wine. Weiyi chuckled, "Father is really happy today. Third Brother, don’t encourage Xicheng to drink more—you know his capacity." Murong Qingyi, already somewhat drunk, merely smiled, "A daughter’s heart leans outward. Since you’re protecting him like this, I won’t listen." The two ended up drinking several more cups until Qi Xicheng was completely intoxicated, and only then did they stop.

Last year, Susu had left right after the New Year’s Eve dinner. But this time, Madam Murong said, "Third Son seems quite drunk. Go upstairs and check on him; don’t leave tonight." Her meaning was very clear. Because Madam Murong had always been kind to her, Susu couldn’t bear to go against her wishes on New Year’s Eve and had no choice but to go upstairs. Murong Qingyi was indeed rather drunk; he came out of the bathroom, collapsed onto the bed, and fell asleep. Susu sighed softly. Seeing him tangled haphazardly in the blankets, she had no choice but to lie down by the bed, still fully dressed.She had always been a light sleeper, but today, having stayed up late for the New Year's Eve vigil, she was utterly exhausted and fell into a deep, drowsy slumber. In her hazy dream, she seemed to be lying on the low, crude bed in her aunt's house, staring at the mottled water stains left by leaks on the ceiling. The weather was unbearably hot, the sun outside baking the room as if it were the Flaming Mountains, yet she alternated between chills and fever. She heard her aunt say, "It's not that I'm heartless, but today is the day I must send her away." The child cried incessantly, struggling fiercely in the swaddling clothes as if she understood the adults' words. The child wept with a desperate, heart-wrenching intensity, as if her very soul were being torn apart. Tears streamed down her face as she reached out pleadingly, sobbing uncontrollably, her whole body trembling... The child... her child... the child she was powerless to protect... She waited for him, finally saw him, watching her from afar below the stage, every dance step feeling as if it trampled upon her heart. The child... could he help her find the child... She wept and pleaded between sobs... San... San...

In their most intimate moments, she had once called him by his childhood name. He turned over, merely drunk, or perhaps dreaming again. Yet the heart-wrenching sobs still echoed in his ears. Her cries, she was weeping... He jolted awake, instinctively reaching out, "Susu!" It was truly her, curled up there, her body trembling softly. She called out to him again, "San..." Just that one word, and something inside him shattered with a crash. Two years—he had spent nearly two years building a dam, bit by bit, believing it to be impregnable and unyielding, only to find it utterly fragile, unable to withstand this single word from her. Just this one word, and he was as if bewitched. She was here, she was truly here. He held her tightly, "I'm here, Susu, I'm here..." She sobbed and opened her eyes, gazing at his face in the dim light. He had left her for two years, abandoned her for two years, yet now his eyes held a drowning softness. He was merely drunk, or perhaps she was only dreaming, that he would look at her like this, as if she were the most precious treasure in the world, as if he would lose her the moment he let go. She trembled uncontrollably; his scent was familiar to her, warm enough to make her want to throw herself into the flame like a moth. She was courting death, yet he looked at her like this, just as he had back then... back then... back then he had also gazed at her with such greed...

The faint scent of alcohol clung to him. Gradually, a sorrowful calm returned to her eyes, and she turned her face away. He eagerly sought her lips, but she refused, unwilling to accept this inexplicable comfort. Perhaps he mistook her for someone else. She raised her hand to block him, "No..." She knew he wouldn't stop just because she refused—it was a futile struggle. Yet he paused, slowly releasing her. A look she couldn't comprehend gradually surfaced in his eyes, one that seemed almost like sorrow... He was like a child whose beloved toy had been snatched away, or like a trapped beast watching the hunter approach with a gun, filled with such despair that it made her heart tremble. Then, as if in a dream, he murmured, "Susu, I love you."