A Chan – CH 145

Chapter 145: Ending (2)

Li Weiyi wondered, “With so many classmates, why did you choose her as your partner? Was it because you admired her? Or because you got along well?”

Zhang Jingchan didn’t think that far ahead. He chose this classmate purely because he thought she was intelligent, and some of her views coincided with his. Working on this part of the data together wouldn’t hold him back. Now that Zhang Jingchan was the small boss of Huicui, he almost had the mindset of a business manager. He focused more on how to use people than on romantic relationships.

“You’re really overthinking it.” He patted her head again and continued typing on the computer. “I’ve been really busy lately, my dear; don’t overthink things.”

Li Weiyi remained silent. A few minutes later, Zhang Jingchan also grew annoyed. He was usually an extremely focused and efficient person, but these past few years, if Li Weiyi was unhappy or sad, he simply couldn’t concentrate on anything.

He was only in his early twenties, and he said, “What exactly do you want from me? Can’t you trust me a little more? What am I working so hard for? Isn’t it all for our future?”

Li Weiyi had always been a carefree person, but for the first time, she felt so wronged in front of her boyfriend that she couldn’t say anything. What could she say? She understood the affection in that girl’s eyes at a glance; she was afraid that he might be attracted to someone more outstanding if they spent so much time together; she knew she had a long, long road ahead, and she was only 18, unable to see or control the future.

“I’m going back now; I’ll talk to you when you’re done,” she said, turning to leave.

“Come back!” Zhang Jingchan stood up.

She walked even faster.

Zhang Jingchan chased after her, genuinely exasperated. He’d never coaxed a girl before. Coupled with his recent exhaustion and busy schedule, he was too tired to argue. Grabbing her hand, his temper flared: “Can’t you be reasonable? How could you be so unreasonable?”

Zhang Jingchan swore he’d only blurted that out.

Li Weiyi gave him a cold look: “What if I’m being unreasonable?”

Zhang Jingchan muttered, “Damn it,” pressing his temples, throbbing from lack of sleep, and raised his hand to stop her: “I’m not arguing with you now. Let’s calm down in a couple of days and deal with this.”

Li Weiyi hailed a taxi. Zhang Jingchan instinctively followed, but she yelled, “Don’t follow!” Zhang Jingchan stopped, watching her get into the car and drive away.

Arguments were something that, once they happened, would happen again, and the silent treatment, whether long or short, didn’t help to heal grudges. Instead, it allowed the more insecure one to repeatedly trace the cracks in their heart, making them clearer and deeper.

In reality, most couples didn’t really have any truly irreconcilable conflicts. Many relationships were worn down by small disagreements and conflicts. Most people wanted to fight for control and attention in the relationship without realizing it. This was especially true for couples in their early twenties. After the initial passionate phase of love, people had to face the realities of life. People tended to cool down, perhaps because they’d exhausted much of their emotional energy during the most intense period of love. When the passion faded and the pressures of reality hit, they were often more composed because they were blindly confident that they wouldn’t lose the relationship.

From beginning to end, from birth to death, the one whose love remained as intense as ever wasn’t human but divine.

Zhang Jingchan and Li Weiyi only broke up once.

It was four months after their first argument. Although they argued that day, they later talked things out and made up. But Li Weiyi still harbored resentment; she hadn’t truly eliminated her sense of crisis and felt ashamed of herself. Zhang Jingchan, on the other hand, felt slightly annoyed by the misunderstanding. Although he would deliberately avoid that female classmate whenever he saw her, further distancing himself, he almost never spoke to her except about his thesis.

But Zhang Jingchan didn’t take it too seriously. He never thought anything could affect their relationship because they were destined to be partners for each other.

During that time, he became increasingly busy, often going out with his father to discuss projects and socialize, unable to bring Li Weiyi along, and their time together dwindled. Sometimes he wouldn’t get home until late at night, and when he remembered to text her, he worried it was too late, and he might wake her. Gradually, sometimes they wouldn’t even exchange a single text message for a whole week.

Zhang Jingchan knew this wasn’t right, but he was simply too exhausted, his mind filled with too many thoughts. The father and son needed to turn their lives around as soon as possible, and there were too many people around with ulterior motives; they had to be extremely vigilant. It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say they were walking on thin ice.

Often, in front of many people, Zhang Jingchan appeared as mature as a young entrepreneur. Only in front of Li Weiyi did he occasionally reveal his youthful spirit, teasing her, acting cheekily, arguing, and being shameless. But these moments were fleeting. As soon as he was away from her, he had to don that veneer of maturity, composure, and worldly wisdom. Gradually, that became the real Zhang Jingchan. In her presence, he no longer possessed that carefree arrogance; his voice was low, his gaze sharp, and his actions decisive—the charisma he had developed over the years was finally beginning to emerge. And many times, Li Weiyi, still a sophomore in college, gazing at his pensive face, no longer knew the depth and breadth of his heart.

That year, near the end of winter break, Li Weiyi participated in a school sketching and field trip, a 10-day trip to another city. Zhang Jingchan personally drove her to the train station, but along the way, he was constantly on the phone, consulting with work partners… They barely exchanged a few words. Only when she was getting into the train did he put down his phone, hug her tightly, ignoring the stares of those around them, and give her a deep kiss, telling her to be careful and to call him if anything happened. He would pick her up again on her return day.

For the next ten days, Li Weiyi thought of him more than once while sketching. But she didn’t want to call during the day and disturb his work. They usually only texted each other goodnight before bed. He always worked very late, and she couldn’t wait for him.

On the day Li Weiyi returned to Chen City, her train was at 10 p.m. She waited at the train station until 11:30 p.m., until all her classmates had left, but no one came to pick her up. She didn’t call him and took a taxi home alone. She finally broke down in tears on the way.

Zhang Jingchan and his team had been working late for several nights in a row, preparing for an important bid. That was the last day. He was busy until after 7 p.m., only managing to eat a quick bite before collapsing from exhaustion. He fell asleep in his study at home, setting his alarm for 9 p.m. to pick up Li Weiyi.

The alarm rang for a long time, but he didn’t wake up. His mother, Wu Xinhui, entered the study, turned off the alarm with concern, thinking her son still wanted to work late, and she couldn’t let him get up again.

Zhang Jingchan slept until 8 a.m.; thankfully, the bid documents had been prepared the day before. He took a shower, woke up, and remembered Li Weiyi, immediately calling her, but no one answered.