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The funds for Song Jiakai’s two upscale residential complexes and a commercial building had finally come through, allowing construction to resume according to plan. When this news reached them, it was over a dinner table; Song Jiakai’s tone was subdued, and somehow, a topic that should have brought relief was laced with a note of dejection.

“This is wonderful news!” Zhang Momo’s eyes sparkled with excitement at the announcement. Could it be that Fan Tingting, moved by a sudden pang of conscience, had decided to forgive her magnanimously, even though the penitent project had yet to be completed? As she speculated, she caught sight of the conflicted expression on Song Jiakai’s face, as if his blood no longer flowed freely, and her fanciful hopes came crashing to the ground.

“As for the matter with the bank, it was thanks to…”

“That’s enough! Don’t say it!” The results were satisfactory, and that was all that mattered; to recount that humiliating process of apology again would be unbearable for anyone. With a quick tongue, Zhang Momo cut off Song Jiakai’s sticky, awkward account. “Why not give our company a share of the property advertising?”

She smiled brightly, feigning ease, but Song Jiakai only looked at her with steady brows. He stared for so long that Zhang Momo began to wonder if her request had been too presumptuous, and she blurted out in embarrassment, “Just kidding!” Only then did Song Jiakai withdraw his gaze, staring pensively at the table for another long stretch. At last, he moved—pulling a red velvet box from his pocket. With a soft snap, he opened it and set it on the tablecloth with its pale coffee-colored lace.

“Momo, will you marry me?”

His eyes were like water, not the sparkling current of a stream, but the deep, still darkness of a pond—lacking the lively motion they once held. But at that moment, Zhang Momo had no attention to spare for such details; her gaze darted between the shimmering diamond ring and Song Jiakai’s handsome face, her mouth open in speechless astonishment.

“Song Jiakai, are you…”

“Crazy?” He didn’t let her finish, almost petulant as he diagnosed himself first. For a moment, his expression grew serene; leaning back against the chair, his lips curved in an elusive, indefinable line. “That’s right. Just crazy.”

Song Jiakai sighed, no longer looking at her, idly fiddling with the dark red velvet box—opening and closing it, again and again, with careless ease. “Why is that? I’ve been asking myself this for days. Honestly, I’ve thought more than once about breaking up, but the more I dwell on it, the more uncomfortable I feel wherever I am.” He shook his head. “Utterly uncomfortable.”

“So, why not get married? Let’s not think about staying together or breaking up—I’m tired of the question. Let’s just get over this obstacle first and adapt as we go. So, what do you say?”

That night, Zhang Momo lay on her bed staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep.

Was this a proposal? Why did it feel more like a march to the gallows? Unwilling, almost forced, as though he were bestowing a reluctant favor—and the reason, incredibly, was that he was “tired of thinking about breaking up”! When one truly loves another, shouldn’t a proposal come ablaze with passion, eyes burning with warmth amid a sea of crimson maple leaves, the promise ringing out with unshakable conviction: “Let’s get married. I’ll take care of everything—don’t worry”?

All at once, clarity struck Zhang Momo. She sat up and switched on the bedside lamp; the faint glow illuminated her profile, blank and dazed. Hadn’t she promised herself not to think about this? Hadn’t she resolved never to think of him again? What was happening to her? Her eyes darted anxiously, unable to fix on a single point, until they landed on the tiny velvet box lying quietly on her nightstand, finally anchoring her mind.

Even though this proposal was so helpless and bitter, he had still prepared a wedding ring… Was that romantic, or simply pragmatic? How could she ever hope to untangle the answer? Unlike him—on that day, when she had agreed to marry him, he hadn’t even brought a single flower, let alone a ring! That man was truly…

At this thought, Zhang Momo’s face turned pale. Why did she always gravitate toward his shadow? She mustn’t think of him anymore—there was no meaning in it, not the slightest bit!

Once again, Song Jiakai’s face, full of self-mockery and disappointment, flickered before her eyes, refusing to fade.

“Momo, don’t reject me so quickly. At least think it over.”

“There’s nothing to consider, Song Jiakai. There’s really nothing to consider! If I say I’ll think about it, it’ll only waste both our time and feelings.”

She had managed to say that with composure, each word justified and firm. Until Song Jiakai’s brows tightened with sorrow and frustration. “Still thinking of Xiang Zuo? There’s no future there. Do you really not see it, or do you just refuse to admit it?”