Chapter 64: She Was Gone

Source: https://www.jjwxc.net/onebook.php?novelid=5881048

This translation is originally posted on https://love4baihe.blogspot.com please read it there. and check out other stories too.

Song Qingluo clicked on Weibo, and a video from a marketing account popped up on the screen and automatically started to play.

The video content was a montage of the Jiangcheng Symphony Orchestra's performances. In every frame, she stood in the center, each shot was a high-definition close-up. She wore one sexy and fiery dress after another, some with open backs, some with very low V-necks, or thigh-high slits, all very eye-catching.

Her silver hair was even more striking amidst the dull black suits.

No one knew who edited the video, but it was clear they knew how to emphasize key points, deliberately selecting and enlarging her solo segments, giving close-ups, with a strong focus. Those unaware might even think it was her personal concert.

Who was it? Randomly posting about her online.

Song Qingluo immediately got angry and was about to send a private message to this marketing account. She accidentally opened the comments section, only to find it filled with toxic remarks—

Some criticized her for dressing inappropriately, others accused her of deliberately flaunting herself. There were even some pretending to be rational, explaining the difference between "sexy" and "vulgar," and morally condemning her. A swarm of sleazy men also appeared.

"They're just a bunch of poor, uncultured old zombies who've never seen the world." Song Qingluo cursed under her breath quickly took screenshots, recorded the screen for evidence, and immediately sent it to her personal lawyer.

[Handle this.]

The lawyer quickly replied: [Okay, I'll take a look.]

She put down her phone, and another message popped up. It was a voice message from Sun Yiren: "The hot search ranking is still rising, and the number of discussions seems to be increasing. The title looks fine, but the content... the public opinion is also horribly skewed. Ai, Qingluo, what should we do?"

"Don't worry, I've already asked the lawyer to handle it," Song Qingluo said casually.

Sun Yiren didn't say anything else. After a few minutes, she replied with a "thumbs up" emoji: Well done.

The Auntie had prepared lunch, and Song Qingluo reluctantly got up to eat. Not long after, the lawyer called her, saying they had preliminarily figured out the situation.

The video on Weibo was just a repost by a marketing account. The original video was posted on YouTube, as a personal fan promotion of Song Qingluo, and the views had surged to ten million in three days—it seemed like a fan who adored her had made it.

The comments section was full of praise for her.

It seemed... there wasn't any malicious intent? It was just the Weibo marketing accounts stirring up trouble, with low-quality sleazy men making a stink.

Song Qingluo thought for a moment. Perhaps the person who made the video had good intentions. The overseas audience wasn't as focused on whether her attire was appropriate; they simply appreciated and praised her. But she had been provoked and overreacted.

So she replied to the lawyer: [Have the Weibo marketing account delete the video, claiming it infringes on my image rights, or we’ll see them in court.]

She thought that would be the end of it.

A couple of days later, Sun Yiren brought bad news again: "Qingluo, the higher-ups found out about the video and got really angry. They came to see Director Yang today, slamming their hands on the desk, saying he needs to keep you in check, and they also want to have a face-to-face talk with you..."

Ever since she resigned, Song Qingluo had been in a state of depression. These days, she repeated the same four tasks: eating, drinking, practicing the violin, and sleeping—she was negative and dull with her heart filled with dark resentment.

She was like a powder keg ready to explode, hysterically ranting over the phone: "What is there to talk about? What if I just don’t go? Are they going to tie me up and drag me there? Those old zombies should all get into their coffins. If they die of anger, so be it!"

On the other end of the line, Sun Yiren was probably startled, staying quiet for a few seconds before speaking: "Mm... I also think it's a difficult situation, but Director Yang is under a lot of pressure trying to shield you. How about just going through the motions?"

"For me? How naive. I've long said this is a transaction of interest. A transaction of interests, understand? He thinks the orchestra needs me, so no matter what inappropriate things I do, he can turn a blind eye. It's not so much that he's shielding me under pressure, but rather that he's shielding this benefit under pressure. He's doing it willingly, so why should I be moved by it?" Song Qingluo's tone was filled with disdain.

Sun Yiren was silent for a moment, then sighed, "That's true... Ai, Qingluo, don't be angry. Just ignore them, then."

"Let's leave it at that for now."

Song Qingluo hung up the phone in frustration.

She stood there in a daze for a long time, the turbulent waves within her gradually subsiding. She turned and walked into the bathroom, turned on the faucet, cupped a handful of water, and splashed it on her face. She looked up at the mirror.

Her eyes were hollow and vacant, like those of a dead fish. Her skin was dull and lifeless, making her look extremely haggard.

Suddenly, Song Qingluo felt she was incredibly ugly.

How did it come to this?

She would explode at the slightest provocation, bristle at the smallest touch, and curse out anyone who said even two words she didn't like, indiscriminately venting and hurting innocent people around her.

She hated herself like this.

Her eyes began to fill with mist, and through the blurred tears, Wen Ruoxian's face faintly appeared—calm, composed, and gently smiling at her. She smiled too, tears welling up and streaming down her face. As her vision cleared, Wen Ruoxian's face vanished, and she was left staring at her own hideous and twisted reflection.

Song Qingluo calmed herself, wiped away her tears, and went out to call Director Yang.

"Director Yang, it's me."

"Oh, Xiao Song, I was just about to call you. Do you have time to come by this afternoon? Secretary Jiang has something to say..." The middle-aged man’s tone was kind, but before he could finish, Song Qingluo interrupted him:

"I'd like to take an extended leave."."

"I know about the video, and I understand the higher-ups’ concerns, but I won’t go to see them, nor will I change my habits. From today until the end of November, I will not participate in any orchestra performances. Consider it a way to lay low."

She said it briefly and quickly, waiting for a response.

The man hesitated clearly: "Well..."

Song Qingluo added, "Director Yang, I'm not asking for your opinion or approval. I'm just informing you. If you wish, you can convey my intentions to the leaders. Thank you for your hard work these days."

For a moment, a thought of goodwill flashed through her mind.

She spoke as if it were their own choice, but she still felt she should be polite.

Yet, she was not someone who would easily soften her stance.

Just a gesture, she thought, hoping this matter would end soon. Her mental and physical energy had been nearly depleted after these days, and she couldn’t spare even a bit for other matters.

"If you just want to lay low, we’re sending someone to Juilliard in the U.S. this month for an exchange. You could go along, which would allow you to avoid the situation here and also contribute to the success of the exchange event. After all, I initially intended for you to go," the man said tactfully as if trying to coax her.

"…"

She had many friends in the overseas classical music circle and received countless performance invitations each year. If she could represent the Jiangcheng Symphony Orchestra and use her connections to facilitate cooperation, it would be a significant addition to the orchestra's credentials.

This was Director Yang's goal, and Song Qingluo was well aware of it.

So, she had no need to be courteous or entertain the notion of goodwill; it was not required.

"No," Song Qingluo decisively refused.

"I believe Sun Yiren is more suitable in terms of experience and qualifications, and the final list has already been decided. Last-minute personnel changes would be inappropriate. Besides... Arthur's tour in the second half of the year has invited me to be his partner, and I have limited energy."

Even if she were to go, it should not be now. Taking someone else's spot at the last minute would only lead to resentment which is equivalent to putting herself on fire.

The old man was still shrewd.

Bringing up Arthur was very effective. After a moment of silence, Director Yang reluctantly agreed, “Okay... As long as you can come back before the end of the year.”

After hanging up the phone, Song Qingluo sighed in relief and collapsed onto her bed in her room. 

Just like she had been doing these days.

She knew what she needed or could do, but her body didn't want to move, as if it had lost interest and enthusiasm. She would rather stare at the ceiling, wasting time and letting the days go by.

Maybe a change of environment would be better.

The day before yesterday, Arthur sent her a text message, praising her personal video that he had seen online and mentioning the upcoming tour in the second half of the year, asking her to fulfill her promise to be his partner.

Of course, she would go.

After returning to the country for two years, what was once fresh was no longer new, and what she had once yearned for was no longer cherished.

[Are you really not returning to England?]

[The person I like is here.]

Now, that person is no longer around.

….

Source: https://www.jjwxc.net/onebook.php?novelid=5881048

This translation is originally posted on https://love4baihe.blogspot.com please read it there. and check out other stories too.

The entire July was filled with scorching heat amidst the cicada’s chirping.

Gossip about Secretary Song's disappearance circulated in the company. At first, there were various speculations, as Song Qingluo hadn’t followed the usual resignation procedures, leading people to think in all directions, making it more and more mysterious. Later, the President’s Office "leaked" the news that it was a resignation, and the gossip subsided.

The news was leaked by Xu Man on Wen Ruoxian's instructions.

While she couldn’t stop people from talking, she didn’t want Song Qingluo to be subjected to such speculation. During her hardest times, she wished she could slap herself—

No gossip was ever "harmless," only when it hadn’t hit close to home.

Qingluo was her lung.

In the afternoon, a flight landed in Jiangcheng. Wen Ruoxian came out of the airport with her suitcase and got into Xu Man's car.

Recently, she had been traveling for business, moving between cities every few days, starting a busy second half of the year. Accustomed to having Qingluo assist her, she now had to rearrange many things on her own. The frantic period had passed, and she would eventually adapt completely.

She hoped.

As the car drove on the highway, Wen Ruoxian closed her eyes to rest.

Suddenly, she felt the car slow down. Xu Man, who was driving, exclaimed, “The garbage truck ahead has overturned, and the ground is covered in... ugh, just looking at it makes me sick.”

As she spoke, she maneuvered around the mess.

The word “sick” drilled into Wen Ruoxian’s ears, making her heart shiver. The intense fear caused her to open her eyes, and she instinctively clutched the edge of her clothes.

[Every second I look at you makes me sick!]

The voice echoed in her mind.

Her chest suddenly felt sour. She hurriedly turned her face away, staring stiffly at the dull scenery outside the window.

She took a deep breath, trying to close her eyes again, but she couldn't calm down. Almost by an unconscious impulse, she reached into her bag, took out her phone, and opened the photo album to find the only two photos of Song Qingluo...

One was a picture from last year's business trip, and the other was a candid shot of Qingluo practicing the violin.

Under the morning sun, the woman's silver hair was dyed a light golden color, with the light and shadows outlining the soft contours of her profile. Immersed in music, she resembled a butterfly fairy gracefully dancing.

It was a morning in April this year, in early spring, with perfect sunlight. Wen Ruoxian followed the sound of the violin out of the bedroom and saw this scene. It was so beautiful that she feared she might not capture the atmosphere, so she took a photo with her phone.

She did not tell Qingluo.

Staring at the graceful figure in the photo, Wen Ruoxian unconsciously smiled and gently touched the face with her fingertips...

After they parted that day, Wen Ruoxian attended every performance until the end of the month but did not see Qingluo again. She was absent from both on and off the stage, vanishing as if she had evaporated.

Given Qingluo’s casual nature, it seemed plausible, but one day, upon accidentally meeting Sun Yiren and asking a few questions, she learned that Qingluo had taken a long leave.

"Aren’t you friends? Didn’t she tell you?" Sun Yiren asked.

“…”

She was left speechless and could only smile and brush it off.

Taking leave meant she wouldn’t see Qingluo for a long time. The concerts, her only opportunity to see Qingluo, had lost their purpose. It was less about taking a break and more about avoiding encounters. She understood this perfectly. One should be considerate.

If she didn’t go, Qingluo would have no pressure, wouldn’t need to worry about avoiding her, and could focus on and enjoy the music.

Don’t be a nuisance and add to her troubles...

Wen Ruoxian told herself.

The more she looked, the more she missed her. Not looking made it easier to forget.

She was about to put away her phone when a call came in. Seeing the contact name "Ranran," she paused before answering, "Ranran?"

"Ms. Wen, have you landed?" Cheng Suran said playfully, sounding in high spirits.

Wen Ruoxian replied calmly, "Yes, I'm on my way back to the office."

"I'm at the office too. I’m craving a cake from ‘Huajian.’ Can you pick one up for me on your way?"

"Sure."

She didn’t specify a flavor, so Wen Ruoxian assumed it would be her favorite matcha. Their years of mutual understanding.

Wen Ruoxian repeated it to herself and told Xu Man, "We’ll stop by ‘Huajian’ dessert shop first." She then put her phone back in her bag and continued to rest her eyes.

Twenty minutes later, they arrived at the store's entrance.

Wen Ruoxian got out of the car and looked at the dreamlike and exquisite door sign. Suddenly, she remembered that on this year’s Valentine’s Day, Song Qingluo had bought two cakes—chocolate flavor and white peach flavor—more like a pair.

Were they couple cakes?

Qingluo was expressing her love in her own way.

She walked into the dessert shop.

The display case was filled with a dazzling array of cakes, each in different shapes and colors, gleaming like jewels under the lights. The air was filled with the sweet aroma of cream.

She immediately spotted the chocolate cake.

Qingluo’s favorite.

Wen Ruoxian smiled, turned to the shop assistant, and ordered a Black Forest chocolate cake. After paying and happily carrying the paper box, she left.

Upon arriving at the company, she had just entered the office when she suddenly remembered that the cake was for Ranran. She immediately turned around and went back out.

Cheng Suran was in the office, just finishing a phone call.

“Ranran…” Wen Ruoxian knocked and entered, meeting her gaze with a smile as she placed the paper box on the desk.

“Here, the cake.”

Cheng Suran didn't try to be polite with her. She stretched lazily and, while rummaging through the paper box, said, “The new office building is nearly ready. We’ll move in next month—”

The cake wasn’t the expected matcha green. She paused in surprise for a moment, then continued nonchalantly to unwrap the spoon.

She finished her sentence, “When would be a good day to move?”

Wen Ruoxian was about to respond when her eyes fell on the chocolate cake and she suddenly realized, “Wait a minute, I… I bought the wrong flavor.”

She stopped Cheng Suran.

“Ah?” Cheng Suran pretended not to understand, “It’s okay, chocolate flavor is fine too.”

“But I remember you like matcha the most…”

“Desserts are all sweet, they’re pretty much the same. It’s not necessary to always have the same flavor. Sometimes changing it up can be nice.”

Wen Ruoxian felt frustrated and also could tell Cheng Suran was giving her a way out, so she didn’t press the matter further and withdrew her hand quietly. 

“Any day will work. Just decide.”

She was distracted, her mind filled with thoughts of cake. Matcha flavor, chocolate flavor, matcha flavor, chocolate flavor…

“I’ll get back to work now.”

Cheng Suran hesitated but nodded, “Mm, okay.”

Wen Ruoxian escaped back to her office.

The old teapot held freshly brewed red date and dried tangerine peel tea, still steaming. She poured herself half a cup, diluted it with cold water, and drank it all in one go.

The sweet and sour taste settled in her stomach, but her emotions remained unsettled.

The matcha flavor she had remembered for two or three years had faded from her heart to the point where she had mistakenly bought the wrong one today. Meanwhile, the half-bitter, half-sweet chocolate flavor left a deeper and deeper mark.

When did chocolate start to replace the shadow of matcha, and on which evening or morning did her entire heart come to be occupied by Song Qingluo?

[Would you buy it for me too? I like chocolate flavor.]

[Of course.]

She bought it.

She was gone.

With a hint of moisture in her eyes, Wen Ruoxian raised her hand and touched it, her fingertips coming into contact with the slightly warm liquid…