Willing to Be for Her - Chapter 34

The heavy rain cascaded down, washing away the ghostly outlines of passersby before drumming against the black-and-gold embroidered umbrella with muffled thuds.

Ning Yiqing stared silently at her phone screen. The slanting rain blurred the words “Eternal Slumber,” and the raindrops chilling her fingertips. It took her ten seconds to type a single word: “Okay.”

Qin Shiyi exclaimed in surprise, “This seems to be Luo Xuan’s friend? When did you get in touch with her?”

But Ning Yiqing answered a different question entirely: “Xiao Xuan didn’t have a funeral. She must still be alive. Meeting Chi Li will definitely give us a clue.”

“But… it sounds like she’s taking you to see a tombstone. You…” Qin Shiyi trailed off as Ning Yiqing abruptly dialed the number. She and Lan Leren exchanged bewildered glances.

*Is this person completely lost in her own world now? Is she even listening to us anymore?*

“President Ning, there’s no need to call so urgently,” Chi Li said softly, sitting by the attic skylight and gazing at the Kongming lanterns floating in the sky, released for blessings.

“Chi Li, is Xiao Xuan with you?” The woman’s voice feigned composure.

“President Ning, accept reality. Xuanxuan is gone.”

“I haven’t seen her. Xiao Xuan must be alive and well, right?”

“Because Xuanxuan doesn’t want to see you. Is such a simple concept beyond your understanding?”

Ning Yiqing fell into a long silence until the other party said they would call again tomorrow and hung up.

The streets were almost deserted, and the streetlights flickered dimly under the heavy rain, plunging the world into silence. Magnolia petals cascaded down in layers, blanketing the ground like soundless snow.

“Let’s go back. No matter what, you’ll know the answer tomorrow.”

Though Qin Shiyi said this, she still felt that convincing Ning Yiqing to accept Luo Xuan’s death might only be possible through the so-called “magic of time.”

Following the address provided by Chi Li, Lan Leren and Qin Shiyi accompanied Ning Yiqing to a cemetery on the outskirts of Capital City on the afternoon of the following day.

The security guard at the gate stood ramrod straight, his black uniform as crisp as a pine tree.

Riding in the electric cart, they gazed across an endless expanse of green lawn, which transitioned into broad-leafed palm trees higher up. The place felt more like a beach resort than a cemetery.

Upon reaching the designated area, they dismounted and continued on foot. Maple trees lined both sides of the path, their sparse yet artful arrangement creating a refreshing and elegant atmosphere on this May afternoon.

Ahead lay a low white marble wall, pockmarked with shallow niches of varying sizes. A soot-stained iron table stood before it, apparently a temporary spot for burning paper offerings.

Chi Li, dressed in a white cotton dress and a black ribbon on her arm, seemed poised to take flight, reminding Ning Yiqing of the pale blue butterfly-shaped scar on the back of Luo Xuan’s neck.

Chi Li had already undergone a medical examination. Her permanent marker retained only 84% of its pheromone reserve, and the rate of dissipation would only accelerate. It was estimated to vanish completely within a year.

There was no way to preserve it.

“President Ning, hello,” Chi Li greeted her coolly, her eyes devoid of the admiration and reverence they once held. She seemed warmer toward Lan Leren and Qin Shiyi.

“Chi Li, hello. Xiao Xuan, she…”

“No need to say much. Just follow me,” Chi Li said, her legs feeling slightly unsteady as she struggled up the slope.

Though dusk was approaching, the sunlight still blazed like molten gold, and a gentle spring breeze stirred the flowers and trees lining the path, causing the grass to ripple in emerald waves.

Chi Li gazed at the woman’s slender, graceful figure. Her face was gaunt but still captivatingly beautiful. *So even she can feel sadness?* Chi Li wondered.

Perhaps this haggard appearance was merely from working late.

Or perhaps, now that Luo Xuan was “dead,” the woman’s unease stemmed from guilt.

After all, they had once walked down the aisle, exchanged vows, and tied their hair together in a marriage ritual. A flicker of emotion was only natural.

But what heart could Ning Yiqing possibly possess?

Before the marble tombstone lay pale blue and light pink hydrangeas, the surrounding dust and foliage meticulously cleared.

Chi Li pulled out a variety of washed fruits and snacks from her bag: cherries, green dates, strawberries, pineapple buns, and cheese tarts.

“Chi Li, Xiao Xuan didn’t like strawberries,” the woman said, her brow furrowed but her voice soft and low.

Chi Li scoffed. Whether true or not, it was astonishing that Ning Yiqing would remember such a trivial detail.

“So President Ning still remembers Xuanxuan’s preferences? How rare! I’m almost overwhelmed with gratitude on Xuanxuan’s behalf.”

Standing two meters away, Qin Shiyi heard the clearly barbed words and helplessly met Lan Leren’s gaze.

“This is the karma for your president toying with others.”

Lan Leren rolled his eyes. “……”

*Only this man could make such flippant remarks at a time like this. He’s truly incorrigible.*

Chi Li took back the strawberries and retreated to the other side, whispering, “See? This is her grave. You can’t possibly think she’s still alive and demand to see her, dead or alive. Can’t you let the deceased rest in peace?”

The tombstone was pure black, radiating a chilling aura. Luo Xuan’s photograph was affixed to it.

Golden sunlight streamed down, illuminating Luo Xuan’s pale face in the photo, revealing a translucent, obsidian-like texture.

The woman’s clean, pale fingertips gently traced the image. For a long moment, no one spoke.

“Xiao Xuan is gone?”

“Yes, she’s dead,” Chi Li replied, standing her ground.

The light, airy words and the cold, hard truth shattered the illusions Ning Yiqing had clung to.

An overwhelming pain pierced through her, like a spear or a hook tearing through flesh and bone, reaching deep into her marrow.

“Impossible,” Ning Yiqing murmured to herself, as if speaking to no one in particular.

“How could it not be possible? Death is like a lamp extinguishing—the most natural thing in the world.”

“No, it can’t be,” Ning Yiqing said, clutching the white sandalwood box in her hand. Her body felt icy, yet the box burned like a scorching flame. “It can’t be.”

Her star had gone out.

The person who had given her the star and her freedom—was she truly gone?

Seeing the woman’s dazed expression and the pain in her chest, Chi Li took a deep breath and continued, her voice and gaze cold:

“Actually, Xuanxuan left a message for you.”

Ning Yiqing’s fingertips froze. A faint light flickered in her long, dark eyes, which were filled with confusion.

“She said, ‘Please live well, get married, and have children.'”

“Xiao Xuan wanted me to marry someone else and have children?”

“Isn’t that right? Xuanxuan generously forgave you, blessed you, and set you free,” Chi Li said with a soft, mocking laugh. “Besides, hasn’t President Ning always planned to do just that? Marry another high-ranking Alpha, have children, further solidify your position as Executive Director, and elevate the Ning Group to even greater heights?”

This was how top-tier aristocratic families passed down their legacy, generation after generation. What talk of true love? Finding it in such circles would be like searching for a needle in the ocean.

Chi Li turned away, gazing at the endless stretch of green mountains in the distance, oblivious to the woman’s knuckles turning pale white.

A sharp pain pierced Ning Yiqing’s heart, utterly irrational.

Looking back now, her past actions seemed like a distant dream, yet utterly absurd.

She had prided herself on having read countless books and grasped profound truths, yet remained fundamentally ignorant.

She had failed to understand the true meaning of marriage and childbirth.

For marriage and childbirth are about sharing life with the one you love.

The woman’s lips parted, as if she wanted to speak, but she felt utterly powerless, her breath coming in rapid, icy gasps.

Qin Shiyi approached Luo Xuan’s tombstone, carrying a vibrant bouquet of orange flame orchids. She gently placed them down, careful not to bruise a single petal.

This young woman, who had lived only 21 years, had a life as fleeting as fireworks, yet far more dazzling. Her spirit burned with a fiery intensity, a vibrant, life-affirming flame.

Qin Shiyi admired Luo Xuan’s decisiveness and unwavering resolve. Yet as Ning Yiqing’s friend, she couldn’t help but feel a pang of regret. If they hadn’t divorced, would things have turned out differently?

Life offers no “what ifs.”

Glancing sideways at Ning Yiqing, Qin Shiyi sighed inwardly. A bond severed by one’s own hand can never be restored, even with belated remorse.

Only regret remains—a regret so profound it can never be undone.

“Thank you,” Chi Li said, her genuine smile radiating warmth. “Xuanxuan would have loved these vibrant colors.”

As dusk deepened, Chi Li looked up at the sky and said bluntly, “President Ning, your wish has been fulfilled. It’s time to let go.”

Ning Yiqing slowly raised his gaze and shook his head almost imperceptibly.

“You know Xuanxuan always wanted to experience all the beauty life had to offer within her limited time,” Chi Li said coldly. “But why did she believe her most cherished marriage was nothing but a cruel deception?”

“President Ning, please stop dwelling on her or clinging to her memory. You’ll only destroy the fleeting moments of joy she had left.”

“Not even remembering her is allowed?”

Perhaps it was the rare vulnerability in the voice of this usually aloof and pampered woman that caused a flicker of pity to cross Chi Li’s eyes. But she quickly regained her composure.

“Yes. If Xuanxuan could know from beyond the grave, she would consider it an unnecessary disturbance.”

*An unnecessary disturbance?*

Qin Shiyi, standing nearby, felt a chill run down her spine.

*Even your memories are a disturbance, whether the person is alive or dead.*

There was resentment, disgust, and above all, indifference.

The most painful truth was that you had lost even the right to be her enemy. Until death, you would remain strangers.

“This ends here.”

In the void, Ning Yiqing seemed to hear Luo Xuan’s cold, indifferent voice: *This ends here. Today. On this path.*

They had held hands, embraced, shared tender moments, exchanged body warmth.

And then, she had lost her completely.

Ning Yiqing had believed she could withdraw at any time.

But she was terribly wrong. Only she remained behind.

*Guard your heart, understand your nature, cling not to fleeting waters, harbor no anger or delusion, covet not ephemeral fruits.* What kind of nonsensical, grand principles were these?

What kind of fool would believe such nonsense, so stubbornly ignorant as to be utterly foolish?

Why hadn’t she cherished Luo Xuan sooner?

The orange sunset was gradually obscured by dark clouds, and the evening breeze brushed against her face. The woman’s long, flowing hair was beautiful, and the jade hairpin securing it seemed to frame and reflect the poignant beauty of the moment.

“President Ning’s future is too precious,” Chi Li sighed, as if summarizing everything. “Xuanxuan couldn’t afford to keep it. You’ll have a life even more wonderful than this.”

Ning Yiqing remained silent for a long time.

“Let’s wait for Yi Qing in the car,” Qin Shiyi said, helping Chi Li down the stairs. “She probably needs some quiet time to process everything.”

As they descended, Lan Leren kept turning back, looking up with concern. “Is President Ning going to be okay up there alone?”

“Don’t worry,” Lan Leren said. “Someone as cold as her can process her emotions alone.”

“Maybe,” Chi Li agreed with a reluctant nod. Ning Yiqing had always been remarkably composed; perhaps a little time alone would indeed help. “Chi Li, should I drive you home? Where do you live?”

“No need, I’m meeting a friend,” Chi Li replied with a polite smile, adding, “Just don’t let President Ning stay too long. There’s no need for that.”

Lan Leren and Qin Shiyi exchanged a silent, breathless glance.

The three parted ways at the intersection of Maple Tree Road.

Night had fallen, shrouding the trees in shadow as a cold mist swirled through the drizzle. Hydrangeas, unable to bear the accumulating rain, shed their delicate petals before the tombstone.

The mahogany tree’s dense foliage shielded Ning Yiqing from half the wind and rain. She reached out, unwilling to let raindrops dampen Luo Xuan’s photograph.

“Xiao Xuan, were you ever happy with me? I made so many mistakes. In the future…”

The woman’s voice trailed off, and the mountains and rain fell silent.

There would be no future.

No future for her and Luo Xuan, because Luo Xuan had despised her.

She had made so many mistakes, yet Luo Xuan never grew angry, never blamed her, only drifted further and further away.

In the lower left corner of the tombstone, a line of small characters was etched. Ning Yiqing had to squint to read them.

Here she lies in eternal slumber, surrounded by bones. Yet wherever she walked, flowers bloomed in abundance.

Was Star truly resting here?

The world continued to function normally, as if nothing had changed.

Suspended in a dreamlike state, Ning Yiqing felt numb, unable to grasp the meaning of sorrow or grief. She couldn’t distinguish between reality and illusion, as if the entire world were a phantom.

Everything—all of it—seemed nonexistent.

There was no pain, no joy, no greed, no hatred, no delusion.

What was death? So many questions left unasked, so many things left undone, so many goodbyes left unsaid.

She never got to take Star to see the ocean, never got to show her the stars in the north, never got to nurture the dandelions and baby’s breath they had planted together, never got to say “I’m sorry.”

She would never again see Luo Xuan’s eyes or speak even a single word to her.

Death was irreversible, and so was oblivion.

Luo Xuan was someone Ning Yiqing could never reclaim.

Ning Yiqing was someone Luo Xuan was destined to forget.

In that moment, Ning Yiqing felt as if she too had been dragged into the dream called death. Everything shattered, the faint light in her pupils extinguished, and she could see nothing.

She realized that some things she had once considered unimportant—things she had never truly experienced or lost—were now precious.

Like love itself. Like Luo Xuan.

Now, she had finally lost her completely, irrevocably.

Tears, or perhaps bl00d, streamed down her face, tracing the path of her beauty mark and gliding over her pale, refined cheeks before vanishing silently into the rain.

In the deserted place, a frail, slender figure stood beneath the dripping green eaves, gazing down at the solitary woman before the tombstone.

Chi Li murmured softly to the person beside her, “She seems to be crying.”

Having only ever witnessed the woman’s disdain for the world, Chi Li had never imagined she could shed tears.

“It’s just the rain,” the figure replied.

So even women were just like ordinary people. No matter how high your position, how great your power, how radiant your glory, how dignified your status, how lofty your perch—when you wept hysterically, no one would listen.

*I’ll never see her again,* Chi Li thought.

“Oh, by the way, you don’t like strawberries, do you?” Chi Li asked, as if suddenly remembering something.

“No, I don’t.”

“Should we stay the night and leave tomorrow?”

“Let’s leave now. There’s nothing more to see here.”

Back in the car, they waited for a long time, but Lan Leren and Qin Shiyi couldn’t find Ning Yiqing anywhere.

“Do you think Yi Qing might have gotten lost?”

“I doubt it,” Lan Leren said, though her voice lacked conviction. “But it’s been over two hours now.”

Panic surged through Qin Shiyi. “I’ll go look for her,” she said. “She might be sheltering from the rain somewhere. You go get more people to help.”

The cemetery slope was treacherous, especially on a rainy evening nearing nightfall. Qin Shiyi cursed under her breath as she climbed, wondering why spring had to bring so much rain.

One stretch of the path was particularly dark, and she quickened her pace, her heart pounding with fear.

“Yi Qing, what are you doing? Don’t scare me!” Qin Shiyi shouted, running through the downpour. When she reached the tombstone, she saw the woman kneeling before it, her body trembling like withered leaves.

“I’m looking for her. I’m almost there. Xiao Xuan said she’s cold, and I can’t let her be cold.”

“How are you going to find her? Are you… are you really insane?” Qin Shiyi asked in disbelief.

As she moved closer, she froze in horror. The woman’s once-manicured fingers were covered in mud and bl00d, some wounds so deep they revealed bone. Yet she continued to claw at the cemetery’s blue-gray paving stones, one after another.

From a distance, she looked like a madwoman, her fingers digging into the stones. Anyone could see it was futile, but her bl00d seeped so deeply into the cracks, as if she truly believed she could move the heavy stones.

“Yi Qing, stop. You can’t do this,” Qin Shiyi said, suddenly feeling exhausted and overwhelmed. “Let’s go. The rain is too heavy…”

She reached out to pull the woman away, but froze as she got closer, unable to speak. The woman’s fingertips were mangled and bloody, yet they left white streaks across the stone with each desperate scratch.

She didn’t have time to wonder how an Omega could possess such immense strength, instinctively sensing the suppressed, tidal wave of grief within that frail body.

“Don’t… speak. I’ll be with her soon. I’m so close to finding her, to being with her. I… I’m almost there…”

Her voice was hoarse and broken, choked with sobs that prevented her from completing a single sentence. Tears mixed with rainwater and bl00d streamed down her fingers. Yet the woman remained oblivious to fatigue and pain, her silent weeping swallowed by the torrential rain, her heart shattering without a sound.

With each movement, the string of snow-blue prayer beads dug deeper into her flesh, staining crimson and cracking into fragments. Their once pristine luster was gone, now resembling the shattered altar of a bl00d sacrifice.

“Stop this madness! Stop! Do you want to lose your hands and eyes?” Qin Shiyi realized she couldn’t stop Ning Yiqing with her own strength alone.

“Xiao Xuan said she still needs me. I can’t let her be alone again. It’ll be quick, you see… it’ll be so quick.”

Qin Shiyi followed the woman’s gaze, but the blue stone brick remained unmoved, beyond human reach—especially when life and death hung in the balance.

The rain was too heavy, and the distance between life and death too vast.

Finally, Lan Leren arrived with his bodyguards. Qin Shiyi, as if seeing her rescuers, cried out in a slightly shrill voice:

“Hurry, come here! Take Yi Qing back! She’s gone mad, she’s gone mad! Her eyes, her hands—call a doctor! Call a doctor!”

Whether it was the darkness or something else, Ning Yiqing suddenly realized her vision was blurring, and a wave of terror washed over her. She was so close to finding Xiao Xuan—she couldn’t lose sight of Xiao Xuan’s face now.

“Shiyi, help me! Help me! I need to see Xiao Xuan soon! I can’t see where she is anymore. Please, help me!”

“President Ning, Miss Luo Xuan has… has passed away. Please accept my condolences,” Lan Leren said softly, approaching cautiously, afraid of startling the kneeling figure before the tombstone into doing something irrational.

“Keep your voice down. Don’t disturb Xiao Xuan. She’ll be angry with me.”

Lan Leren gripped Ning Yiqing’s arm, feeling the almost complete absence of warmth in her body.

If the heavy rain hadn’t failed to wash away the bloody tears streaming down the woman’s face, Lan Leren would have realized she was holding onto a cold, stiff corpse.

“President Ning, don’t scare me like that,” Lan Leren said, visibly shaken.

“I need to be with her,” Ning Yiqing gasped, struggling to breathe. “Xiao Xuan is all alone… I can’t bear to leave her there.”

“President Ning, don’t do anything foolish. You still have Yixin, the company, your grandfather, your parents… so much more. Think of the people who are still alive.”

“Really?” Ning Yiqing tilted his head back, staring into the pitch-black sky. Bloody tears stained the corners of his pale lips crimson. “So many people?”

Seeing a glimmer of hope, Lan Leren nodded urgently. “Yes, they’re all waiting for you. So many people are waiting for you.”

Qin Shiyi stood nearby, wiping away tears. She wanted to hold an umbrella over Ning Yiqing, but she wasn’t sure if it even mattered anymore.

Finally, desire triumphed over necessity. Ning Yiqing smiled faintly.

“But she’s all alone,” he said, his voice barely a whisper.

In Yilan, a foreign city, the night was filled with swirling snow. New Year’s Eve fireworks blazed brightly, almost shattering the snow high above, causing finer flakes to flutter down like scattered white petals.

Inside an Italian-style building, hundreds of people bustled about, carrying ready-to-wear garments, haute couture pieces, and jewelry, their movements frantic and purposeful.

“Secretary Lan, the lounge is ready. The tea, snacks, and water have all been prepared according to Chairman Ning’s preferences. You must be exhausted from your long journey,” said Metemo’s regional president, a middle-aged man. He bowed slightly, his smile perfectly measured as he addressed Lan Leren, his tone as warm and comforting as a spring breeze.

Metemo, a century-old blue-blooded brand, hosts annual fashion shows and maintains exceptionally strict standards for model selection.

The selection of fabrics, silhouettes, and materials for this season’s collection had undergone no fewer than ten rounds of review, shuttling back and forth between regional branches and headquarters.

“Thank you for your meticulous preparations,” Lan Leren replied with a warm smile, glancing at her watch. “President Ning’s car will arrive in one minute.”

Upon hearing this, the staff following Metemo’s regional president automatically straightened into two neat rows, a gesture of respect and welcome.

A silver Ferrari glided to a stop before the grand entrance. The chauffeur, impeccably dressed, stepped out and opened the car door with practiced precision.

Ning Yiqing, clad in a custom-made ensemble, emerged. Her black satin gown, cinched at the waist, subtly revealed her collarbones. The trailing hem exuded regal splendor and an imposing aura, making her a figure to be admired from afar.

Crystal chandeliers blazed with brilliant light, illuminating the pristine expanse of the long carpet, which carried the subtle fragrance of high-end perfume.

The woman wore oversized sunglasses that concealed half her face, leaving only her exquisitely sculpted jawline visible. Her ethereal beauty captivated all who beheld her.

Her slender, graceful figure, with its delicate shoulders and refined bone structure, radiated a natural elegance and purity that was both pleasing to the eye and deeply alluring.

Despite her aristocratic bearing, she projected an approachable warmth rather than an icy aloofness or overbearing arrogance.

It was a gentle demeanor that maintained a sense of distance—not contrived, but rather the innate refinement cultivated by her noble lineage and upbringing.

As the group entered, the staff outside couldn’t help but whisper among themselves.

“This entire show was specially arranged for this VIP. They said her eyes are sensitive to bright light, so they switched to a dark theme and even chose matte lipstick. They’ve truly gone to the extreme to accommodate every detail.”

“Who is this person? For the world’s top three brands to go to such lengths to put on a show for them—it’s unbelievable.”

“Heh, you think they’re just anyone? This VIP’s younger brother didn’t like our brand’s seasonal jewelry and clothing exhibition. Half an hour later, the entire display was changed, and the director personally served tea while listening to his feedback.”

“Good heavens! With this kind of extravagance, even if we just let a little slip through the cracks, our annual haute couture sales would surpass our target.”

After Ning Yiqing entered the show venue, Lan Leren went to the prepared lounge to pack up.

But when she walked in, she found someone sprawled out on the sofa, completely disheveled.

“What are you doing here?”

“It’s New Year’s Eve. Can’t I come here to relax and take a vacation? You guys really need to learn to pace yourselves,” Qin Shiyi yawned. “Even Yi Qing, who’s always busy, made an exception and took over a month off.”

“You can’t compare your work hours to President Ning’s.”

“Yeah, yeah, I can’t. But she’s been much better these past two years. She’s been completely focused on work and hasn’t gone crazy like before. I guess it’s all in the past now. I never want to experience that kind of scene again.”

The woman, once known for her refined grace, had gone mad, desperately trying to pry open the stone bricks with her bare hands. To restrain Ning Yiqing, Lan Leren had been forced to crouch down beside her.

But Ning Yiqing’s bl00d- and tear-streaked eyes turned toward her, revealing a hauntingly beautiful, almost surreal intensity—the kind of stubbornness that clings to the impossible, knowing full well the chasm between life and death.

Like a withered flower blooming in a land of illusions, she clung to a fleeting dream, fighting to the death for a mirage.

Lan Leren lowered her head, considering Qin Shiyi’s words. They seemed to ring true. Grieving fully before the tombstone, accepting the loss, and finding clarity—that should be enough.

No one can remain forever immersed in sorrow; it defies biological instinct.

Besides, responsibility remained President Ning’s paramount concern.

“After that day, President Ning slept continuously in her room for seventy-two hours. Afterward, it was as if nothing had happened,” Lan Leren said. She shared a close bond with her husband and had previously experienced a peaceful end with a former partner. “Maybe grief is like labor pains—sleeping it off gradually eases the pain. It’s slow, but healing is inevitable.”

Qin Shiyi nodded in deep agreement. Such a prolonged period should have been ample time for Ning Yiqing to heal.

The image of Ning Yiqing’s bloodied hands, clawing at the tombstone, filled her with lingering dread.

Back then, Ning Yiqing had truly seemed like a madwoman.

“Hey, I heard Old Master Ning is arranging a matchmaking session for Yi Qing?”

“Yeah, he’s personally handling it. Last month, he even tricked President Ning into attending a family banquet under the guise of a holiday gathering, but it ended in a bitter quarrel.”

“How surprising! I thought Yi Qing would at least save face for the Old Master,” Qin Shiyi remarked, clicking her tongue in disbelief. “Tsk tsk tsk, I never imagined she’d be so utterly indifferent now.”

“I’m going to find her now. You rest up,” Lan Leren said, pushing open the door and leaving.

Inside the fashion show venue, the runways were paved with frosted materials, bathed in soft candlelight that was gentle on the eyes while perfectly highlighting the garments on the models.

*Metemo* magazine’s flagship edition was considered one of the world’s leading fashion trendsetters, and the editor-in-chief responsible for this prestigious status sat beside Ning Yiqing.

Prioritizing comfort, the seating consisted of plush, velvet armchairs in a deep emerald green, with thoughtfully placed warm tea and refreshments on side tables.

Apart from the celebrities and models attending the show, there were no photographers or media reporters present, emphasizing a sense of serene tranquility rather than cold isolation.

The regional president and magazine editor occasionally provided Ning Yiqing with professional yet witty commentary. The runway itself was simple and straight, exuding a minimalist and understated elegance.

Ning Yiqing tilted her head slightly, nodded gently, and listened to their explanations with a smile. The soft light and shadows played across her profile, creating a perfect balance of delicacy and refinement, her ethereal beauty radiating a sense of purity and extraordinary grace.

Caught up in the conversation, the Editor-in-Chief mentioned that he would have the post-New Year edition of Metemo’s flagship issue sent to Ning Yiqing for her review.

In addition to haute couture and ready-to-wear collections, this issue would feature an expanded showcase of jewelry and gemstones.

“Chairman Ning, my decision to include jewelry and gemstones in the flagship issue was inspired by a truly exceptional model. She embodies a blend of childlike innocence, artistic temperament, and even a touch of madness—a decadent allure reminiscent of the serpent tempting Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden.”

“Is that so?” Ning Yiqing responded with just the right amount of curiosity. “Ziqi tells me you rarely praise anyone. To earn such high praise from you, she must be truly remarkable.”

“If Chairman Ning is so interested, I’ll have my assistant bring the samples from the office right away. Shall we go to the reception room to take a look?”

Ning Yiqing nodded eagerly and rose to leave the fashion show, but her expression suddenly changed.

The White Sandalwood box she had kept in her pocket was gone.

When Lan Leren first entered the fashion show, she saw Ning Yiqing’s face pale and her brow furrowed, her usual composure and calm completely vanished.

After hearing the full story, Lan Leren’s back was instantly drenched in a cold sweat. “You’ve been carrying it on you the whole time. It couldn’t have been lost.”

Having specifically changed into a high-end gown suitable for the show, there was no way the box could have fallen out during the brief change of clothes.

“What’s wrong?” The Editor-in-Chief hurried over, noticing their unusual expressions and immediately asking if anything was amiss.

Not wanting to alert others, Ning Yiqing forced a polite, formulaic smile. “Nothing,” she said casually. “Just feeling a bit stuffy. I thought I’d go for a walk.”

Lan Leren retreated to a corner to make a call, instructing others to help search for the box.

Nothing had been dropped inside the fashion show. Ning Yiqing removed her sunglasses, hurried outside, switched on her phone’s flashlight, and began meticulously searching through the snow-covered ground, inch by inch.

They searched for a long time—nine o’clock, ten o’clock, eleven o’clock—as the lights in the nearby office buildings gradually went out, floor by floor.

Melted snow refroze into icy patches on the ground, in corners, and under eaves.

The blinding white of the snow made Ning Yiqing’s eyes ache so badly that tears streamed down her face. Her vision flickered between bright and dark, and scattered light and shadows danced around her.

She had to close her eyes to avoid temporary blindness.

Finally, a black van pulled up ahead. Lan Leren ran over and searched the vehicle, finding the White Sandalwood box under one of the seats.

It must have been left behind during the car change. She was immensely relieved it hadn’t been lost.

The wind blew parallel through the shadows of the trees, and fine snowflakes settled in the women’s damp hair.

Lan Leren handed the White Sandalwood box to Ning Yiqing without a word.

After a long moment, Ning Yiqing managed to open her eyes. She lowered her gaze and stared fixedly at the box, her knuckles pressing against its surface, turning bl00d-red.

“Things can be lost and found, but… what about people?” The woman gasped, her voice ragged with relief. “Xiao Xuan… I can’t find her anymore.”