Chapter 68: Lost And Found
This translation is originally posted on https://love4baihe.blogspot.com please read it there. and check out other stories too.
The last of the sunset disappeared over the horizon.
Light fell on Wen Ruoxian's face, warm and soft like mist, and the sincerity mixed with a hint of unease in her eyes almost overflowed.
She was like a child who had done something wrong, awkwardly and cautiously reaching out her hand to pull Song Qingluo.
Her hand or her wrist?
After hesitating, she chose the latter.
Song Qingluo's arm trembled.
The noisy surroundings seemed to have been sucked into a vacuum, instantly quieting down. She stared at Wen Ruoxian, listening to her own increasingly intense heartbeat, feeling as if she was stepping on a cloud, light-headed, unable to stand steadily.
"Kaylee!" Her friend called her.
The silence was broken by the blinding lights and the deafening music, rushing in from all directions like flowing water.
Song Qingluo suddenly snapped back to reality. She looked at the stage, then glanced at Wen Ruoxian. Without much thought, she said, “Wait a minute...”
After speaking, she pulled her hand away and turned to run off.
The warmth disappeared abruptly. Wen Ruoxian grasped at the air, and took two steps forward, her palm empty, feeling as if she had lost something.
She stood still.
Watching as Song Qingluo picked up the violin, gracefully and calmly walked onto the stage, facing the audience, a bright, enthusiastic smile graced her lips.
Every movement was practiced and natural. She was born to be on stage, to be the center of attention, surrounded by flowers and applause, to be the favored child of destiny, bursting with vibrant life.
Knowing that she was about to perform, Wen Ruoxian felt slightly relieved and found a spot closer to the stage to stand.
She recalled the first time she had seen Qingluo on stage.
She was like a distant star in the sky, a sacred and pure white rose in her heart. Perhaps from that moment on, the seed of Qingluo had taken root and begun to grow in her heart...
After the fourth round of performances ended, the remaining time was for free socializing, lasting until 8 p.m. when the gathering officially concluded. Song Qingluo and her fellow alumni were surrounded by enthusiastic passersby, taking thirty or forty group photos.
It was even livelier now that it was dark.
Remembering that someone was waiting for her, she only wanted to leave. In the bustling crowd, she looked up and saw Wen Ruoxian standing quietly on the edge of the back row.
She declined her friends' invitations, quickly packed her things, and jogged over.
Wen Ruoxian stood quietly, like a well-behaved child waiting for their parents to pick them up after kindergarten. When Song Qingluo reached her, she instinctively wanted to take her hand, but then remembered something and took the necklace hanging from her violin case:
“Were you looking for this just now?”
“You found it?” Wen Ruoxian touched her coat pocket, showing an expression of disbelief.
“Mm.”
“But I remember, I... I took it back.”
As she spoke, Song Qingluo felt a bit guilty, her eyes avoiding Wen Ruoxian's, and her voice grew softer.
Wen Ruoxian took the necklace with both hands, holding it in her palms like a treasure, her eyes filled with the joy of finding something lost: “I had another one custom-made.”
Such an ordinary sentence, yet it felt like a soft but sharp thorn, piercing Song Qingluo's heart.
“Oh.”
She turned around sullenly.
Wen Ruoxian walked beside her, carefully putting the necklace into her bag. As they walked, they gradually moved away from the event site and the noisy crowd.
"Qingluo..." Wen Ruoxian wanted to say something, but the words she had prepared surged to her lips, yet she was still too shy to say them.
Song Qingluo had her head down, fiddling with her phone, chatting with someone. The cold wind carried her familiar fragrance, drifting to Wen Ruoxian's nose, mingling with her own scent.
Suddenly, Song Qingluo stopped: "When did you get here?"
"The day before yesterday."
Wen Ruoxian also stopped, facing her.
The day before yesterday...
The thirtieth.
Song Qingluo suddenly remembered last night: "Did you come looking for me yesterday afternoon?"
"Mm."
So the "guest came to visit" that the Auntie mentioned was Wen Ruoxian.
She suddenly understood, annoyed at herself for not paying attention at the time. Biting her lip, she asked, "How did you know where I live?"
Wen Ruoxian hesitated before saying, "Auntie Song told me."
She couldn’t quite grasp Qingluo's attitude, whether she was happy or displeased with her showing up like this. By saying this, she was betraying Auntie Song, but she didn’t lie to Qingluo.
Maybe Ms. Song wouldn’t mind?
After thinking for a moment, she simply confessed, "I called Auntie Song, hoping to get in touch with you through her, and that was when I found out you had come to England. I... I originally just wanted us to meet and talk. I always thought you were still in Jiangcheng, I never expected you to have gone so far..."
At this point, her voice trembled slightly, and she did not continue.
Instead, she shifted the topic back, "Besides your address, I also know the times and locations of the events you've attended recently, and the places you often go."
Song Qingluo was stunned.
The cold wind messed up her hair, brushing against her cheeks and making them itch.
The face in front of her suddenly seemed unfamiliar, not like the "old-fashioned" person she knew. She even suspected that there might be a different person under that skin.
But this was clearly Wen Ruoxian.
Over and over again, using all kinds of ways to find her, crossing half the world to come and see her.
Song Qingluo felt a sweet sensation in her heart, silently whistling a cheerful tune, but she refused to show it on her face. She restrained the slight curve of her mouth and turned her head away, "Ha, I knew it. Lately, my mom has been asking me about my schedule every few days... She really can't keep a secret."
Wen Ruoxian listened with her heart pounding, thinking Song Qingluo was angry. She hurriedly explained, "Don't blame Auntie, I begged her to tell me. Blame me, I disturbed her, and I disturbed you..."
Song Qingluo immediately denied, "I didn't feel disturbed."
"Really?"
"Mm."
Wen Ruoxian let out a long breath of relief.
A brief silence followed as they faced each other. The laughter and noise of the crowd in the distance, the rhythm of the music, all seemed to come from another world.
"Then what about your work? Are you working remotely?" Song Qingluo realized she was getting ahead of herself, turned her head to continue walking, and looked around at the night scenery.
After speaking, she hesitated for a moment, "Or are you going back in a few days?"
Wen Ruoxian answered truthfully, "I can handle online manuscripts remotely, and I've completed all the offline meetings. I've arranged my work so that I won't return earlier than a week. So, I don't have anything else to do. I'm considering this as taking a long vacation. With Ms. Cheng at the company, I feel very assured."
Hearing her say this, Song Qingluo's heart finally settled down, but when she heard Cheng Suran's name, her expression stiffened immediately, "Oh."
She quickened her pace.
Wen Ruoxian was momentarily stunned, keenly sensing that it was because of Ranran. As she matched Song Qingluo's pace, she wanted to explain, "Qingluo..."
A sense of danger made alarm bells ring in her head.
At times like this, she shouldn't explain, or things would only get worse. So, she swallowed her words back.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"You definitely have something to say."
"I... wanted to ask why you suddenly walked faster."
"..."
Song Qingluo looked at her gloomily. She felt uncomfortable but couldn’t openly say why. She also felt a bit irrational and extremely awkward, so she just said dismissively, "I'll have the driver pick me up."
She turned away to pull out her phone.
"Are you going home?"
"Mm."
Wen Ruoxian hesitated, as if wanting to say something but held back.
Going home would mean parting ways again. After more than two months apart, she had finally managed to see Qingluo but hadn't had the chance to take a good look at her face. If they could be together...
Since she had come all this way shamelessly, she might as well try being shameless.
Just as she was about to speak, Song Qingluo had already finished her call. She turned around and asked casually, "Where are you staying?"
"The Rembrandt Hotel, very close to your home."
"Is over a kilometer away considered close?"
Wen Ruoxian wasn't sure what she meant by this, whether it was that she found it too close or not close enough. But instinctively, she leaned toward the latter interpretation. "There was another hotel that was closer, just over six hundred meters away, but it was fully booked."
"It's on the way anyway, I'll have the driver take you," Song Qingluo steered the conversation back.
"..."
Was this a rejection?
There didn't seem to be any hint of wanting her to go home together.
If she pushed further, would Qingluo resent it? Thinking it over, Wen Ruoxian decided to be tactful and cautious, replying softly, "Okay."
….
The Rembrandt Hotel was closer to Hyde Park.
The ride was short, and when the car stopped at the hotel entrance, Wen Ruoxian still wanted to make one last attempt. Instead of getting out immediately, she looked at Song Qingluo and gently said, "I want to take you home first and watch you walk through your door."
Then the driver could turn around and take her back.
This would cause some inconvenience, which she didn't intend to, but she found it hard to restrain herself.
Might as well try.
Song Qingluo turned her head to look at her.
Their gazes met, and the light swept across Wen Ruoxian's face. Her eyes were filled with deep affection and cautious probing, which pricked at Song Qingluo's heart for a moment.
She nodded stiffly, "Alright."
They stared at each other for a moment, then simultaneously and tacitly looked away, saying nothing more.
The car continued onward, and in less than two minutes, they arrived at the detached villa where Song Qingluo lived. Time had passed too quickly. Wen Ruoxian didn't have a chance to steal more glances at her and followed her out of the car.
"Qingluo—"
She felt her bag and pulled out a thick, large envelope. "This is for you."
Song Qingluo took it and asked, "What is it?"
"A gift," Wen Ruoxian said reluctantly, "I made it myself. Open it when you get home."
"Oh, okay."
Song Qingluo's lips curled into a smile, a mix of surprise and anticipation. She was eager to get inside and see what it was, but as she stepped into the yard, she realized Wen Ruoxian hadn’t followed her.
Wen Ruoxian stood at the doorway, her face illuminated by the light, casting a pale glow. Her tall figure remained still, only the wisps of hair at her temples fluttered in the wind, giving off a sense of unspoken solitude.
She had come all the way here; was she really not going to come in?
Did she have to go back to the hotel?
Song Qingluo's joy cooled, and she frowned, asking, "What are you doing standing there?"
"I…" Seeing her displeasure, Wen Ruoxian took a step back. "Then I'll head back now and come again tomorrow."
Song Qingluo ignored her, turned on her heel, and walked away angrily.
She hurried up the steps, opened the front door, and looked back one last time, shouting at Wen Ruoxian’s retreating figure, "Happy Birthday!"
Wen Ruoxian froze.
—Bang
This translation is originally posted on https://love4baihe.blogspot.com please read it there. and check out other stories too.
Song Qingluo closed the door.
The envelope felt heavy in her hand, quite substantial. She placed it on her vanity as if it were a precious item, unwilling to open it right away—cherished things deserved a sense of ceremony.
Delaying gratification could bring more joy.
Song Qingluo patiently changed out of her gown, removed all her jewelry, then took off her makeup, enjoyed a soothing and relaxing essential oil bath, and leisurely ate a delicious dinner prepared by the chef.
Face mask, hand mask, foot mask…
After completing her entire skincare routine, she finally returned to her bedroom and began to open the envelope.
The thick kraft paper felt high-quality to the touch, with a red wax seal at the closure. The seal featured a large letter “W” in a perfectly round shape. Song Qingluo hesitated to destroy it and used a small blade to carefully scrape it off, removing the complete seal.
The seal was opened.
She held her breath and reached inside.
Inside was a notebook, with a hard cover featuring two cartoon girls. They sat side by side, watching the sunrise in warm, gentle colors. A delicate card was attached beside it with familiar handwriting:
"My Her"
"?"
Song Qingluo opened the notebook. The first page had a few lines written:
[On November 1, 2026, on my 30th birthday, I met her.]
[She rode a bright red motorcycle, with rare silver-gray hair and dressed in cool riding gear, like a burning meteor falling into my world.]
[I thought this was our first meeting.]
In the bottom right corner was still the capital letter "W."
The second page contained a simple sketch:
In the sketch, a small Song Qingluo was riding a motorcycle with a fox tail flying behind her, while a small Wen Ruoxian stood beside a car, with golden fur ears growing on either side of her head—she was the little fox, and Ruoxian was the big golden retriever.
Below were the words:
[Our first meeting wasn’t pleasant. There was a scratch, and she seemed arrogant and unapproachable. I don’t like having too much to do with strangers or having my boundaries invaded, but strangely, I didn’t dislike her.]
[We met again and learned each other's identities.]
On the second page, the golden retriever encountered the little fox at the company.
On the third page, the golden retriever saw the little fox standing on the stage.
[She is the client’s daughter, and this identity makes it impossible for me to view her as an ordinary employee. To me, she is “the ancestor.” I’ve questioned whether she has any ulterior motives and considered not neglecting her to gain resources for work. I’m dark and unseeing.]
[But she is such a bright person. It seems I was unknowingly drawn to her. She is spoiled but not domineering, lively and quirky, like a little sun full of energy. As long as she is around, there will be fresh and surprising events. I often lament that I am so dull-witted, and I wish I could be like her.]
[She looked beautiful standing on the stage, a beauty with a divine quality, only to be admired from afar.]
[She said she lied to me and that she liked me. It turned out that night wasn’t our first meeting. We have a deeper and longer connection, as fate turned the gears of time, bringing us back to the starting point, back to each other’s side.]
[This fiery affection took me by surprise. Since I wasn’t ready, even though I wasn’t really angry with her, I still acted cold towards her. I knew I was struggling with myself.]
In the sketch, the big golden retriever looked indifferent while the little fox, with tears in her eyes, walked away sadly.
[Since when did I start caring about her emotions, paying attention to her every move, remembering all her preferences? I felt sad whenever I heard her call others “Jiejie.” I wanted to do many things with her.]
[Her kiss is sweet and passionate, her embrace warm and sincere. I can’t control my desire for her, yet I’m also bound by guilt. I began to worry whether I truly liked her or…]
[She deserves the most beautiful and pure things in the world, but I, with my darkness and confusion, seem unworthy of her. I hate this side of myself.]
[When my heart and mind were filled with her, the white moonlight vanished. But I realized too late, unable to tell her I liked her in person.]
….
Each page features a simple drawing. Under each drawing, there are words recording emotions.
The smooth and flowing lines, paired with the sturdy and upright font, depict their journey from meeting to affection and then to separation, one story after another.
It's like a diary, presenting Wen Ruoxian's inner world without reservation—her patience, hesitation, and guilt, those unknown emotions, laid bare and dissected for her to see.
Beneath the solemn exterior, Wen Ruoxian is such a sensitive, delicate, and gentle person. Her love for her is deep and restrained.
Song Qingluo continued to flip through the pages with trembling hands. Her vision became blurry, and hot tears poured out uncontrollably, soaking the paper and smudging the ink…
In the last few pages, the little fox was gone, leaving only the solitary big golden retriever.
[I lost her.]
Two photos fell out from between the pages.
One is of a yacht with sparkling lights on the river at night, and the other is of a 26th birthday chocolate cake in candlelight.
It was her birthday...
The cake she wanted, the person she wanted to see, were right by her side.
Song Qingluo covered her mouth, her chest convulsing with sharp pain. Tears streamed down uncontrollably. She released her hand, leaning on the table, gasping for air.
She grabbed her phone, frantically searched her contact list, and realized she had blocked Wen Ruoxian.
In a panic, she removed Wen Ruoxian from the blacklist and hurriedly dialed the number. The phone rang once, twice, three times… finally, it connected. She heard Wen Ruoxian’s voice, filled with restrained joy:
“Qingluo?”
Song Qingluo sobbed, unable to say a word. All that came from her throat were muffled cries.
“Qingluo? What’s wrong?”
“Are you crying? What happened? Are you still at home? Please speak to me,” Wen Ruoxian’s voice turned anxious and strained.
Song Qingluo hung up the phone.
She collapsed onto the bed, crying uncontrollably.
Not long after, the phone rang again. She shakily reached for it, not looking at the screen, and choked out, "Hello?"
“Qingluo, I’m at your door. Can you open it?” Wen Ruoxian's voice sounded panicked and a bit breathless.
Song Qingluo froze, got up, and looked out the window.
Under the tall iron fence, Wen Ruoxian’s slender shadow was broken into pieces by the light, sparse and almost merging with the night, as if it might disappear at any moment.
Song Qingluo didn’t have time to respond. Disheveled and frantic, she ran downstairs, pressed the touch screen by the wall to open the door and the gate, and dashed outside in her slippers, racing towards Wen Ruoxian.
A warm, fragrant breeze met her.
It also touched Wen Ruoxian’s heart, silently telling her that there was still hope.
“Qingluo…” Wen Ruoxian hugged her, rubbing her chin against her hair, wanting to say something. But then, her shoulder was hit hard by a punch.
Song Qingluo buried her face, crying as she said, “Why did it take you so long to come, Wen Ruoxian? Why did it take you so long…”
On this early winter night, the outdoors was cold. She wore only a thin nightgown, shivering as the cold wind blew, her voice trembling.
Wen Ruoxian held her tight and comforted her, “It’s cold outside. Let’s talk inside.”
Song Qingluo clung to her unwilling to let go, but was pulled into the house while being both held and guided.
Her fluffy slippers were discarded, one at a time, as she walked barefoot on the warm floor, feeling extremely comfortable. She clung to Wen Ruoxian like a koala, “I saw the gift. You owe me an explanation.”
After saying this, she tilted her head back and scrutinized her.
Wen Ruoxian looked into her eyes and said, “I’m sorry.”
“There are many things I don’t know how to say with words, but I can choose to express them in other ways. Whatever it is, it’s my most genuine and sincere feeling.”
“I was too concerned about everything, always trying to be thorough, getting caught up in my own dilemmas, and it hurt you. Over the past few days, I’ve thought a lot. Without you by my side, I’ve realized that all the things I used to struggle with—principles, right and wrong—are not as important as you.”
“Love doesn’t have standards. Whether it’s fast or slow, long or short, it doesn’t matter.”
What matters is just one's own feelings.
As Wen Ruoxian spoke, the corners of her eyes reddened slightly. She recalled what Cheng Suran had said that day: one’s feelings are always more important than right or wrong.
“I don’t expect to change anything with this trip. No matter the outcome, this is something I owe you and should have told you earlier.” She blinked and managed to hold back her tears.
Song Qingluo looked at her, her eyes filled with mist. Her lips were bitten red and swollen, leaving faint marks of her teeth.
Emotions surged through her, blocking her ability to speak.
She owed Wen Ruoxian as well.
It was she who took the initiative, her advances fierce. Despite knowing Wen Ruoxian’s temperament, she stubbornly pressed on.
On countless sleepless nights, she had wondered whether to go back to find Wen Ruoxian, to put aside her pride and arrogance, willing to be humble again.
The person thousands of miles away also suffered, just like her.
Why must they torment each other like this…
“I want to show you my utmost sincerity, standing right in front of you,” Wen Ruoxian said, holding her hand.
“Qingluo, will you give me another chance?”
“What if I don’t?” Song Qingluo took a step back.
“…”
Wen Ruoxian’s face turned pale, her gaze dimmed. Her usually calm expression showed some vulnerability, like a fragile crystal doll, shattered and broken.
“Then I…”
Wen Ruoxian slowly released her hand. Before she could finish her sentence, Song Qingluo lunged at her and covered her lips.
The warm, moist breath lingered at her nose, as if it was her sedative, soothing her frantic heartbeat and revealing her hidden panic. She felt the familiar scent, Qingluo’s warmth exclusively given to her, and her heart settled down.
She instinctively responded, wrapping her arms around Song Qingluo’s waist.
But Song Qingluo pulled away, breathing heavily. One hand touched her face. “If I don’t give this chance, I won’t be able to forgive myself. You’re so stupid, so old-fashioned.”
“I am indeed stupid…” Wen Ruoxian held that hand, pressing it against her face. Her lips, reddened from the kiss, looked like ripe fruit, tempting one to take a bite.
“Otherwise, we wouldn’t be where we are today.”
Song Qingluo stared at her lips, feeling unsatisfied. Like a hungry wolf, she pounced again.
“Mm…”
Wen Ruoxian’s face turned bright red. Pressed against the cabinet door and unable to move, her heart felt like it was being gnawed by countless insects, unbearably itchy. She let Song Qingluo’s fiery passion burn down her lips.
She remembered their first intimate encounter.
Haste, desolate, and painful.
[Every second I look at you makes me sick!]
That sentence suddenly echoed in her mind. She trembled with fear, at a loss, instinctively pushing against Song Qingluo’s head. “Qingluo… do you still find me sickening?”
Song Qingluo stopped.
Author's Note:
Xiao Qingluo: What a mouth I have TT
….
I haven’t given out red envelopes for a long time. Let’s do it today 233
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