Great Power Reclamation

Chapter 3014 Anxiety Has Nothing to Do with Age

Zhao Ling'er's deep bow and apology were like a heavy stone thrown into a lake, creating ripples that lingered for a long time.

Song Qingyun closed the door, leaning against the cold door panel, her mind a jumble of emotions. Resentment, relief, wariness, confusion… a complex mix of feelings swirled within her.

She never expected that the woman she had imagined to be strong, even ferocious, would appear in this way and say those words. It wasn't just an "I'm sorry," but more like a declaration to sever ties with the past and reclaim the right to choose.

Yang Geyong's undisguised worry and his straightforward and fervent desire pushed her to the brink of a decision.

She could no longer pretend nothing had happened, no longer cower in her own little world, waiting for the storm to subside on its own.

She needs time, she needs space, and even more so... she needs to see her own heart clearly.

A few days later, Song Qingyun took the initiative to send Yang Geyong a message with a very simple content:
"Mr. Yang, thank you for taking care of me during this time. I'm all better now. The studio is a bit messy, and I'd like to tidy it up in peace for a while. I also need to deal with some research work that I had put on hold. Please don't come over anytime soon; let me have some time to think things through. I'll contact you once I've sorted things out."

Upon receiving the message, Yang Geyong felt a mix of emotions. Disappointment was certain; he was used to seeing her every day, even if it was just from afar.

But he also understood that Song Qingyun was not the kind of person who could be blinded by enthusiasm. She needed time and space to process everything that had suddenly happened and to examine the complicated and awkward relationship between them.

He forced himself to suppress the urge to rush over immediately and replied with only two words: "Okay, I'll wait for you."

Then, he truly never set foot in the cultural and creative park again. He simply continued to send a short greeting or share every day without fail, without asking questions or urging him, like a silent and stubborn companionship.

He also began to seriously deal with his own mess. He didn't mention divorce again, but he also didn't go back to his and Zhao Ling'er's home.

He moved to a long-stay suite at a hotel owned by the Brothers Group and began to handle his work and life truly independently. He took the initiative to meet with Zhao Ling'er, not at home, but in a quiet tea room.

When they met Zhao Ling'er again, a strange and complicated atmosphere filled the air between them.

The past confrontations and taken-for-granted intimacy have vanished, leaving only exhaustion, scrutiny, and a faint effort to rebuild communication.

“Ling’er,” Yang Geyong spoke first, his tone unusually calm and serious, “I thank you for your apology on behalf of Qingyun. And also… on behalf of myself, thank you for not making things worse.”

Zhao Ling'er looked at him with a complicated expression: "I'm not apologizing for you, but for the mistakes I made."

“I know.” Yang Geyong nodded. “There are too many problems between us. I was a jerk before, and I’m sorry to you. Later, you were also… too tired. Yuze is right, our marriage is like a crooked tree. If we don’t take care of it, it will really die.”

Zhao Ling'er's eyes were slightly red, and she turned her face away: "How do you plan to handle this? I've already had the lawyer prepare the divorce agreement. Don't worry, I won't take more than what's rightfully yours."

"I'm not here to pressure you about the divorce papers."

Yang Geyong shook his head, looking at the woman who had been entangled with him for most of his life, and felt a surge of immense guilt and a sense of relief mixed with sorrow:

"Ling'er, let's separate for a while. Not divorce, but living apart for a period of time. Let's both think carefully about how we can live without each other and what we really want."

"The children are all grown up and don't need our concern. As for company matters, let's keep things clearly defined, and continue cooperating where necessary. Can we give each other... some time and space?"

Zhao Ling'er was stunned. She had anticipated that Yang Geyong would be determined to divorce her, or that he would make a big scene with her for Song Qingyun's sake, but she never expected him to suggest "living separately and thinking it over."

This was more alarming to her than a direct divorce, because it meant that Yang Geyong was no longer resisting because she had cornered him, but was truly beginning to rationally examine their relationship and future.

She remained silent for a long time, the incense in the tea room rising gently. Finally, she slowly nodded, her voice dry: "Fine. Separation... is for the best."

Without arguments or tears, a marriage that had lasted for decades, filled with control and resistance, dependence and alienation, was put on pause in a relatively dignified manner on this peaceful afternoon.

After learning of their decision, Ye Yuze neither commented nor agreed, but simply said to Yang Geyong:

"Separation is not the goal; thinking things through is. Don't waste this opportunity, and don't let anyone down, including yourself."

He simply patted Zhao Ling'er on the shoulder and said, "Ling'er, sometimes letting go takes more courage than holding on. Go find something you enjoy doing, and stop revolving around one person or one family all the time."

Time slipped away quietly, winter passed and spring arrived. The willows in the capital city sprouted tender buds.

Song Qingyun completely immersed herself in old books and the strings of the zither. She completed the restoration score of an important chapter in the Silk Road Ancient Music project and began preparing for a small, private academic concert, inviting only the most core colleagues and true connoisseurs.

She blocked out most of the outside interference, including Yang Geyong's daily messages (although she read every single one), and also declined some social invitations that tried to reconnect or find out more about him.

She is rebuilding her inner order and self-confidence in the way she knows and loves best.

Occasionally, when she is tired from organizing materials late at night, or when she is moved by a sad tune, she will think of Yang Geyong, his honest smile, his anxious eyes, his stiff back when he is on night watch, and his words, "I want to live seriously for myself, and for you."

Your heart will involuntarily soften for a moment, but then reason will pull you back.

She admitted that this person barged into her life in a domineering way, bringing trouble but also an unprecedented feeling of being cherished.

But she still couldn't be sure if this relationship was enough to give her the courage to face the inevitable storms and criticisms that would follow.

During the time they were apart, Yang Geyong underwent a tremendous change. He no longer indulged in a life of extravagance and socializing with friends; instead, he became more low-key and fulfilled.

He meticulously reviewed the cultural industry-related businesses under the Brothers Group, and even began to quietly fund some truly promising but overlooked young artists and niche research projects in his personal capacity, with strict standards and absolutely no personal relationships involved.

He seemed to be clumsily learning the rules of Song Qingyun's world, trying to approach her in a way she could understand and accept. He also began to see a psychologist regularly (at Ye Yuze's strong suggestion), trying to sort out the chaotic emotional patterns of his first half of life and the crux of his relationship with Zhao Ling'er.

The process was painful and slow, but he persevered. He regularly "reported" his progress to Ye Yuze, like a student seeking advice.

"Old Ye, the doctor said that my previous flirting was a manifestation of inner emptiness and a need for recognition, and it was also related to Zhao Ling'er being too controlling... Damn it, he makes me sound like a pervert." Yang Geyong scratched his head, feeling both annoyed and relieved.

“Recognizing the problem is the first step to change.” Ye Yuze slowly sipped his tea. “How do you feel about Song Qingyun now?”

Yang Geyong was silent for a moment, then his eyes became serious:
“It’s different. It’s different from everyone before. It’s not for novelty, not to show off, and not to fight against anyone. It’s just… I’m happy when I see her doing well; I want to kill someone when I see her being wronged; I want her to be able to play the piano in peace and do what she wants to do. Even if… even if she doesn’t choose me in the end, I’ll accept it. But I have to get myself together properly. I can’t get close to her like before, without thinking. That would hurt her.”

A hint of approval flashed in Ye Yuze's eyes. This old guy has finally started using his brain instead of just using his lower body and wallet to think about relationships.

After the initial disappointment and emptiness, Zhao Ling'er gradually found a new rhythm in her life. She reinvested most of her energy back into the operation of the Liu Qinghua Foundation, but no longer did everything herself or acted aggressively as before. Instead, she began to learn to let go and trust her team.

She enrolled in an art appreciation course at a high-end gallery and began to explore things she had previously been impatient with as "superficial" or "trivial."

She even traveled to Jiangnan alone, staying in a water town, listening to Pingtan (a traditional storytelling and ballad singing art form), and watching the small bridges and flowing water.

Standing on the covered boat, looking at the white walls and black tiles on both sides of the river, she suddenly remembered that many years ago, Yang Geyong seemed to have mentioned that he wanted to take her to see Jiangnan, but she refused on the grounds that she was "busy and it's not interesting".

She felt a sense of loss, but also a growing sense of openness. She began to understand that marriage is not everything in life, and love is not the same as control and possession.

She provided Song Qingyun's research project with a substantial, unconditional grant through a completely neutral third-party foundation. This was a further attempt to make amends for her previous actions and also a way to completely sever her lingering resentment over the matter.

One spring evening, Song Qingyun's long-awaited internal academic concert was held in the elegant hall of a highly respected senior's private residence.

There were only about twenty people present, all true connoisseurs. Song Qingyun, dressed in an elegant blue dress and without makeup, sat before a replica of a Tang dynasty harp. As her fingertips plucked the strings, the ancient, desolate yet vibrant music flowed out, and the entire small hall fell silent, everyone immersed in the echoes that transcended a thousand years.

She didn't invite Yang Geyong, but Yang Geyong somehow got wind of it. He didn't try to go in; instead, he parked his car on the tree-lined path not far from the mansion, rolled down the window, and listened quietly to the faint, intermittent music drifting out from afar.

Moonlight streamed onto the car hood, and his gaze was peaceful and focused. He knew this was how she should be—shining in her own world, not being dragged into the mire by him.

The concert was a great success. After it ended, Song Qingyun saw off the last guest and stood alone in the courtyard, looking at the sparse stars in the sky, her heart filled with a clear and peaceful feeling.

After this period of reflection, she regained her rhythm and sense of value. She also had a clearer answer regarding Yang Geyong.

She took out her phone and replied to the number that used to send her messages every day but had been silent for a long time:
"Tomorrow at 3 PM, at the studio. If you're free, let's talk."

The message was sent successfully. She gripped her phone tightly and took a deep breath of the spring night air, fragrant with the scent of flowers. The future remained uncertain, but this time, she would make a proactive choice, for her own heart, and for the real and challenging life that might come.

In his hotel suite, upon receiving the message, Yang Geyong jumped up from the sofa, his heart pounding. He stared at the words for a full minute, then, like a restless young boy, excitedly paced around the room twice before forcing himself to sit down and take a deep breath. He knew the moment of decision had finally arrived. Whatever the outcome, he would face it with equanimity.

In the courtyard, Ye Yuze received a rambling "report" from Yang Geyong. He simply smiled faintly and looked at the magnolia tree that was quietly blooming in the courtyard.

The spring chill lingers, but the flowers have finally bloomed. Everyone's spring may come early or late, and the road may be winding or straight, but as long as you dare to break the ice and be brave enough to prune, you will always wait for your own blooming season.

The road ahead is theirs to walk. The old man can finally relax and continue enjoying his tea and watching his chess games. The story continues, but it's no longer the eye of the storm; it's the prelude to a new chapter in their lives.

The following afternoon, the spring sunshine was just right. The old locust tree in the cultural and creative park sprouted tender green buds, and sunlight filtered through the sparse leaves, casting dappled, shimmering spots of light on the stone path.

Yang Geyong arrived a full hour early.

He didn't dare to knock on the door directly, but instead paced back and forth in the small garden not far from the studio, like a prisoner awaiting sentencing.

Today he specially changed into a casual outfit that didn't look so "nouveau riche": a dark blue cotton-linen shirt, khaki trousers, and unusually, his hair wasn't styled with hair gel, just simply combed.

The more he tried to be careful, the more nervous and uneasy he appeared, with beads of sweat even forming on his forehead. He repeatedly examined the small, simply packaged brocade box in his hand—

Inside wasn't any jewelry or luxury watches, but a facsimile of an early research note on the Tang Dynasty pipa score "Fan Jia Chong," which he had painstakingly obtained through a connection with an elderly scholar at the Dunhuang Academy. It was said to be of reference value for Song Qingyun's current research. The gift wasn't expensive, but it required expertise and dedication to acquire.

At exactly three o'clock, he took a deep breath, as if going to a life-or-death appointment, and walked up the stairs with slightly stiff steps.

The door to Song Qingyun's studio was ajar. He knocked gently.

"Please come in." Song Qingyun's calm voice came from inside.

Pushing open the door, he found the studio much cleaner and brighter than when he last visited. The windows were open, and a gentle breeze carrying the scent of flowers softly stirred the plain-colored curtains.

Song Qingyun sat at the tea table by the window, warming the teacups. She wore a simple white sweater and a light gray long skirt, her long hair loosely tied back, revealing her delicate neck and profile.

The sunlight cast a soft glow on her, making her appear serene and focused, as if the previous storm had never disturbed her.

"Mr. Yang, please have a seat." Song Qingyun looked up at him, her gaze calm and unwavering, and gestured to the chair opposite her.

Yang Geyong sat down as instructed, placing his hands on his knees and sitting up straight like an obedient schoolboy. He gently placed the small brocade box on the corner of the table, his Adam's apple bobbing as he suddenly forgot all the opening remarks he had prepared.

Song Qingyun didn't look at what he brought; she simply skillfully brewed tea, the emerald green tea liquor poured into the white porcelain cup, its fragrance filling the air. She pushed a cup of tea in front of him, then picked up a cup herself and gently blew on it.

For a moment, no one spoke. Only the soft bubbling of boiling water in the kettle and the occasional chirping of birds from outside the window could be heard.