Chapter 119: Fireworks Fade Easily An Extra Chapter for Those Urging Bixie to Update Faster

Then came the crackling sounds, the footsteps of someone putting on shoes, the slam of a door, footsteps descending the stairs, the rumble of a car engine, and a voice saying, “Lanshan, don’t hang up. Please keep talking to me, okay? I’m coming to find you right now. Don’t be afraid. Don’t be afraid. With me here, you’ll be alright.”

I whispered a faint “okay,” and then everything slipped away.

In my dream, I floated on an endless ocean, pitch black all around, strewn with corpses. I screamed hoarse, but no one came to save me.

I felt cold. I wanted to sleep…

But even this humble wish was denied. The wind rose, turning into a fierce storm. I sank beneath the waves, chased by many sharks.

I swam desperately, and suddenly one shark transformed into Luo Ange. With his gaping, blood-red mouth, he lunged at me and bit through both my legs.

I shouted something, then suddenly someone embraced me. I lost all defenses and burst into tears.

I dozed for who knows how long. When I awoke, rain drizzled outside the curtain. The scene of raindrops falling on banana leaves was exquisitely beautiful, yet seeing the figure beside me—so worn, so exhausted, sleeping without awareness—I felt only a deep ache in my heart.

Perhaps all the emotions in this world are born from love unfulfilled.

Xia Qi entered carrying a bowl of verdant medicine. Seeing me awake, she burst into tears. “Lanshan, must you always scare me like this? Why can’t you ever be at peace?”

Her tears roused Shu Congxuan as well. Seeing me awake, he rubbed his eyes to make sure it wasn’t a dream, then pulled me into a tight embrace.

I sat still, letting him hold me, silently whispering my thanks.

I was awake. The villagers came to see me, bringing many wild fruits from the mountains—tart and sweet, delicious beyond words. But the doctor said I still had a fever and must not eat too much.

Old Zhou shambled in, eyes glistening with tears, grabbing my hand fiercely. “Girl, you’ve finally woken up. You nearly gave this old man a fright. You’re my lifesaver. You mustn’t have anything happen to you.”

I smiled weakly, teasing him, “Master, you promised me something—you can’t go back on it.”

He nodded solemnly, sealing the promise with a pinky swear.

After the villagers left, Xia Qi recounted everything that had happened these past days.

It turned out Old Zhou had planned to send me to the provincial hospital, but the heavens were unkind. A torrential downpour blocked the mountain roads, and everyone had to resort to traditional methods to purge the poison.

“You don’t know—Shu Congxuan braved the storm with me, climbing the mountain paths. More than once, I thought massive boulders were about to crush us. It was the first time I saw a grown man cry so bitterly. He defied everyone’s objections and forcibly drew out your poison. Lanshan, if any man treated me like that, I’d give myself to him without hesitation. Who is that Luo Ange, to be so deeply fixed in your heart, calling his name even in unconsciousness? He’s no match for Shu Congxuan.”

I was stunned beyond words. Shu Congxuan had gone to such lengths for me. I didn’t want to owe him anything—yet I owed him so much.

I owed him at least half my life.

The rain never ceased. With little to do, we taught the mountain children to read and write.

Shu Congxuan was especially popular. Every day, children invited him home for meals, but of course, he always saved the best food to bring back to me.

Unable to move, I lay in bed, enjoying Xia Qi’s care and helping Old Zhou write his paper.

Signal in the mountains was poor; the computer often lost connection. The paper was fragmented and seemed unpresentable.

A week later, the skies cleared. We prepared to leave the mountain and bid farewell to the villagers.

The children chased after our car, and Shu Congxuan suddenly said, “Once your leg’s healed, let’s donate some supplies here. The villagers’ help was crucial to your safe recovery.”

I nodded. “Let’s donate some money too. You have so much, you won’t miss it.”

He agreed readily.

Because of my injured leg, Old Zhou specially allowed me to intern from my hospital bed, with only one condition: I must finish that paper.

But back in Kang City, visitors came every day, leaving me no chance to open my computer.

Even Rong Luozheng and Yi Huayang came, bringing many delicious treats. I teased them, saying direct cash would be more practical—too much food for me to finish.

Unexpectedly, Rong Luozheng pulled out a large envelope, saying it was a talisman to ward off misfortune since I had survived such hardship.

I estimated there were at least twenty thousand yuan inside, and glanced at Yi Huayang.

Today, the sun rose in the west—my dear sister actually said, “Just take it, why be so pretentious?”

A week later, I hobbled on crutches to hand the research paper to Old Zhou.

After reading it, he was amazed, thumping the table in admiration and declaring he would help me get it published.

When I heard the journal’s name, I was ecstatic—it was the ultimate dream for anyone who dealt with language and literature.

“Does it need revision?”

Old Zhou typed on DingTalk: “No, it’s perfect.”

Discharged from the hospital just in time for the Mid-Autumn and National Day holidays, everyone was joyful—except Yi Huayang, who wore a sullen face.

It turned out that he and Mu Ying’s daughter had returned from Canada. As the nominal father, he had to play the part of a happy family reunion.

I didn’t know how to comfort her. After all, this was the path she had chosen; whether roses or thorns, she had to bear it.

As we ate mooncakes and watched the evening show, I received a call from Shu Congxuan. The first thing he asked was, “Guess where I am?”

Suddenly, I felt a tacit understanding. “You can’t be downstairs at our place, can you?”

He laughed. “Half right—I’m outside your door. Surprise! Hurry and open up.”

The moment the door swung open, something furry leapt at me, nearly causing me to fall.

Shu Congxuan held a huge bouquet of flowers and carried two bottles of national liquor, bowing to our family. “Happy Mid-Autumn.”

I pinned down the dog, Ah Jiu, who was biting and clawing at me, and asked, “Shu Congxuan, what on earth are you up to?”

He handed the liquor to my mother, then whispered in my ear, “I’m celebrating the festival at Luo’s house. Fearing you might be bored, I brought Ah Jiu back for you and planned to take you out to see fireworks.”

My heart was struck as if hammered by a thousand blows. This so-called fear of boredom was nonsense—it was definitely Luo Ange who wanted him to bring Ah Jiu back for me.

He truly wanted to sever all ties with me.

Ah Jiu was the last bond between us—like a token of faithfulness: as long as the dog lived, so did the connection.

Now, Luo Ange had severed that final tether with his own hands.

I settled Ah Jiu and followed Shu Congxuan to watch the fireworks. For some reason, the song “Fireworks Fade” came to mind.

Fireworks fade, life and death await in vain.

When the holidays ended, I suddenly became especially harsh with myself. Having already completed the required credits, I secluded myself in the courtyard, focusing solely on preparing for graduate school exams.

Shu Congxuan occasionally came by, removing expired items from my fridge, replacing them with fresh fruits and vegetables, squeezing me fresh juice, and finally taking out the trash.

His company was flourishing; just last week, he had appeared on television in a financial interview.

Though I never left the courtyard gates, I still learned much about Luo Ange from TV, magazines, and the internet. Whether I wanted to or not, he constantly appeared in financial and entertainment news.

His new film premiered, his fanbase rented out theaters to support it—a rare case where fans flocked not for the lead actors but for the behind-the-scenes boss.

He acquired a venerable French skincare brand, rebranded it as “Erya,” and announced plans to enter the mainland skincare market.

His development of Worry-Free Island earned a five-star rating from an American magazine. He gave an interview entirely in English, fluent and unimpeded.

With such success came inevitable gossip.

I learned that the woman I saw with him at the airport was the eldest daughter of the Jingnan Yuan family.

The Yuan family, rumored descendants of the Tuoba clan from the Wei, Jin, and Northern and Southern Dynasties, had for nearly thirty years controlled two-thirds of Jingnan’s economic lifeblood—a true aristocracy.

Rumor had it that the Luo and Yuan families were planning a business alliance through marriage: Luo Ange would enter Jingnan’s real estate and tourism markets, while the Yuan family aimed to expand into Kang City’s catering and mining industries.

I suddenly recalled that Shu Congxuan had once asked if I had ever heard of the Yuan family when I was in Jingnan—had there been subtle clues then that I missed?

A month without leaving the house left my bangs completely covering my eyes, hair grown long behind, and a pale complexion. Xia Qi said I looked perfect to play a ghost.

She insisted on dragging me out shopping, and I relented, deciding it would be good to get some fresh air.

She looked radiant, cheeks flushed like a rosy apple—I almost wanted to bite into her.

Perhaps after so many upheavals, only the two of us remained from our group. We shared a silent understanding, cherishing every moment together.

Especially Xia Qi, who bluntly believed that being good to me meant two things: first, no one but her could ever bully me; second, she must buy me the most expensive, outrageous clothes, shoes, and bags.

This time, she even bought matching rose-gold bracelets and anklets for us—one pair each—looking utterly silly.

While resting over coffee, I finally gathered courage to ask if she knew about Jiang Chenghuan and Li Wanqiu’s move to Germany.

She stirred her coffee and nodded. “I know. My dad told me.”

I was surprised, but she smiled. “Actually, my dad knew long ago, so he was eager to help them with the paperwork. And the university they’re attending? My dad arranged that too.”

That puzzled me.

“That night before they left, my dad talked with me all night. He analyzed so much—his career, my marriage… I can’t be so selfish. I can’t sacrifice my dad’s future for a tainted love. Lanshan, if it were you, would you be willing to sacrifice your father?”