A White Cloud (GL ABO) - Chapter 43

When Su Jue arrived, Zhiman had already come out of the bathroom.

She sat hugging her legs in front of the floor-to-ceiling window.

Behind her was the dim room, and in front of her were the mottled lights of the city.

The pale moonlight fell on her, making her look very lonely.

Su Jue blocked the curious gaze of the waiter.

She thanked the waiter and then turned to close the room’s door.

Alpha’s long dress had caught on something while running, and a long tear appeared at the hem.

Su Jue looked at her phone, where Shen Zhiqing had not yet replied to her message.

She braced herself and walked inside.

Could a Beta really eat her alive?

Zhiman certainly could not eat her, but her posture by the window made Su Jue instinctively cautious.

“You’re here,” the woman said, her back to Su Jue.

Water droplets still clung to her hair, her glistening shoulders showed redness and swelling, and her light nightgown pressed softly against her body.

Her white legs curled together, giving the appearance of fear.

Zhiman did not turn around.

She hugged her knees, sitting on the floor, watching Su Jue’s reflection in the glass.

Su Jue’s frown grew as she approached.

The Alpha’s attire and expression formed a stark contrast, almost comical.

Su Jue stopped five meters away and sat down on a sofa chair.

She grumbled inwardly about why Shen Zhiqing had not replied to her message.

“Ah,” Su Jue said.

The room held only the two of them, and the silence made Su Jue uncomfortable.

Who held consultations in a hotel?

Su Jue placed her glowing phone on the carpet and pushed it toward Zhiman.

The screen displayed a recording app, where a light tap on the red button in the center would record their conversation.

She gave Zhiman the choice.

Zhiman’s decision would determine whether their conversation was professional or personal.

For various reasons, Su Jue and Zhiman had met privately a few times.

Later, because of Shen Zhiqing, Zhiman became her patient.

Zhiman smiled but neither refused nor nodded.

Her eyes fixed intently on Su Jue.

Su Jue felt uneasy under her gaze.

She retrieved the phone and slipped it into her bag, muttering to herself, “This favor goes on Shen Zhiqing’s tab.

She’ll have to cover my shift to pay it back.”

Without recording, Zhiman relaxed slightly.

Su Jue did not ask questions as she would in the hospital.

She sat quietly, waiting for Zhiman to find the words to speak.

Zhiman told her about the years she had gradually broken down because she could not find Yuan Hua.

“My differentiation disorder was a turning point,” Zhiman said, her voice echoing through the room.

She gazed somberly at her toes and continued, “Before, adults never mentioned Xiao Hua’s disappearance.

Everyone held onto hope, waiting for Xiao Hua to successfully differentiate like Yuan Jin.

They believed advanced technology and vast connections could trace Xiao Hua’s existence through the family sequence in her pheromone genes.”

Pheromone genes of parents and children shared some sequences, but not as strongly as siblings.

Siblings had a deeper connection, having been nurtured in the same womb.

That year, when Zhiman failed to differentiate, the blow struck not only her and Yuan Jin but also Yuan Hua’s parents, who could not accept it.

“Auntie worried that Xiao Hua might resent them for ‘abandoning’ her and end up like me,” Zhiman said.

Yuan Hua went missing at three years old.

By the time she reached differentiation age, over a decade had passed, and they found no trace of her.

Yuan Hua seemed to have vanished from the world; no homeless child matched her description.

“More than failing differentiation, we feared…” Zhiman began, burying her face as she sobbed.

Tears soaked her nightgown, the cold fabric clinging to her skin.

In the quiet night, her cries broke hearts.

She had not finished speaking, but Su Jue could guess the rest.

Zhiman’s eyes reddened, and her voice broke as she spoke.

Su Jue wanted to tell her to stop, but she did not interrupt.

Some wounds never healed on their own.

They quietly tore open, pulling at the pain, forcing endless suffering in an infinite cycle.

Like a shotgun wound, even if the bullet was removed, the permanent damage remained.

The pellets embedded in the skin left countless holes, spreading the harm far and wide.

In the dead of night, those bloody wounds grew, causing unbearable pain.

Zhiman sobbed uncontrollably, “We feared Xiao Hua was already gone.”

When Yuan Hua first went missing, Yuan’s father, then a military district chief of staff, secretly deployed troops to search Huajing.

Every vehicle leaving the city was thoroughly checked.

They dug deep but found no trace of Yuan Hua.

Yuan Hua was only three and running a fever.

No one could imagine what a sick toddler might have faced.

After Zhiman’s differentiation failed, the Yuan family seemed shattered.

Yuan’s father and mother stopped talking about finding Yuan Hua.

When Yuan Hua reached the age of differentiation, they erected a tombstone for her in the cemetery.

Yuan’s father buried himself in military work, ignoring these matters.

Yuan’s mother often cried when looking at Yuan Jin.

Yuan Jin insisted on staying with her, diving into lab work despite her own health.

The family drifted apart, and holidays at the Yuan household grew cold and quiet.

When Zhiman visited to pay respects, she received only a distant, “Zhiman is thoughtful.”

They did not blame her, but they did not accept her either.

They neither approved nor condemned her relationship with Yuan Jin, existing in a state of indifference.

As a junior, Zhiman could not find words to ask for their forgiveness.

She didn’t even know how to forgive herself.

An unresolvable knot lay between them.

Zhiman cried until her voice grew hoarse.

Su Jue brought her a glass of water and placed it on the floor, saying, “Drink some.”

“Thank you,” Zhiman said, wiping tears from her face.

She picked up the glass but held it without moving.

Su Jue did not press her and sat back down.

Over the years she had treated Zhiman, she saw how she lived.

To others, Zhiman was a high-status noble, a glamorous diplomatic translator.

But beneath the prestigious exterior, Su Jue saw only a patient with uncontrollable schizophrenia, unable to let go.

Even powerful people could not find Yuan Hua.

Su Jue could not make irresponsible promises.

Zhiman persisted, facing rejection after rejection, dragging her scarred body forward alone.

Su Jue could not judge her mistakes, especially since Zhiman was only four years old at the time.

She listened as a confidante to Zhiman’s inner turmoil.

When speaking of her breakup with Yuan Jin, Zhiman exuded desolation, like a wilting flower.

Only when the petals left the stem did she seem able to breathe again.

“I couldn’t keep hypnotizing myself to love her peacefully,” Zhiman said, leaning against the bed, lifeless.

Her voice echoed in the quiet room.

Su Jue remained silent.

During their silence, the phone in the bag rang.

Su Jue glanced at Zhiman, who showed no reaction, and took out the phone.

When she answered, Shen Zhiqing’s cool voice came through.

“Where are you?” she asks.