My girlfriend is from the future!

(BGM: Depressing)
"Ding--"

The elevator doors slid open silently in the lobby of the Bulgari Hotel, revealing a warm yellow but empty marble floor.

He Tianran didn't even give the door a full opening time; he squeezed through the gap just wide enough for him.

Like a trapped beast, he strode through the lobby. At midnight, the only sound was the cold, rapid "tap, tap" of his leather shoes striking the ground.

That shout of "Get out!" was still reverberating in his own ears.

Did he regret it?
Did he regret yelling at Wen Liang?

No, what this man regretted was that he had so skillfully used Wenliang as a tool and excuse to get rid of Yu Naoqiu.

What he regretted was that he had become that person again, someone who would stop at nothing for profit, someone he even despised.

Rotten person.

This is the truest version of He Tianran, the person known as the "writer," deep down.

The reality that the "young man" is escaping...

Isn't it also a hell where "writers" refuse to put pen to paper?
He Tianran abruptly pushed open the hotel's heavy revolving door, and a gust of cold wind mixed with moisture instantly rushed into his shirt collar.

On a winter night in Shanghai, the continuous drizzle became more intense.

He didn't head towards the parking lot, nor did he pay attention to the umbrellas held up by the waiters at the entrance. Instead, he walked straight down the steps and stepped into the damp, dark area.

He had no purpose and no direction.

The revolving door turned again behind him.

Wen Liang followed her out.

The woman was still wearing his half-wet suit jacket, and the hem of her striking red dress had been stained a shade darker by the rain, clinging awkwardly to her calves.

He Tianran didn't turn around, but he could hear him.

The sound of high heels clicking on the wet sidewalk, "tap, tap, tap," was like precise drumbeats striking the nerve called "irritability" in his heart.

He wandered aimlessly along the waterfront platform of the Suzhou River. It was midnight, the weather was damp, and there was almost no one there except for a row of retro European-style streetlights, casting a blurry halo in the rain.

The river was black, reflecting the still-lit silhouettes of skyscrapers representing "profit" and "success" in Lujiazui on the opposite bank. However, the light was distorted and broken by the rain, just like his heart at that moment.

What exactly did I do?
The relationship with her mother, which had been so hard to improve, was shattered by a single sentence from Yu Naoqiu; and with Cao Aiqing, things were already a mess, and now that the "breakup" had been brought to the forefront, there was no room for maneuver.

These were all part of the plan, and he thought he could accept them...

After all, the "writer" himself is like He Tianran, who has nothing...

He wasn't afraid of losing, because he had nothing to lose...

But now?

Because of the changes in reality, he began to struggle, soften his heart, and become infatuated with this successful and loved "self".

He could easily and effortlessly deal with Yu Naoqiu's every scheme, because they were both dark. But after he tasted the warmth of Cao Aiqing's meal and soup, and witnessed Wen Liang's refusal to be enslaved by capital, his stubborn determination to grow and burn himself out...

He suddenly felt like he was living like a ghost...

Perhaps from the very beginning, when the ghost of the "writer" took over He Tianran's body, he didn't know how to live in this brand new world...

“Tick…tick…tick…”

The sound is still there.

He Tianran abruptly stopped in his tracks. He stood before a small arched bridge, not turning around, but instead letting out a low growl into the air behind him:
"Don't follow me!"

Amidst the sound of rain, this suppressed roar seemed somewhat abrupt.

The footsteps behind me stopped.

A few seconds of deathly silence.

A cool voice came through the rain, slightly hoarse from the cold wind and the word "get lost," but...

That indomitable spirit is still there.

"What's gotten into you again? In the middle of the night, you're planning to walk all the way back to the port city?"

"I told you not to follow me—!"

He Tianran turned around abruptly, rain soaking his hair, a few strands clinging to his forehead, making him appear gloomy and irritable.
"Aren't you annoying me?! Don't you understand? I've hated you from the very beginning! Get out of here!!"

Wen Liang stood there, wearing a red dress and a black suit jacket, looking like a flower experiencing a storm under the dim streetlights.

She shrank back at the shout, but didn't back down.

"You think I want to follow you? He Tianran, look at yourself now!" She raised her voice, "Are you planning to jump into the river?!"

"Whether I jump into the river or not is none of your business! Go away!"

"..."

Wen Liang remained silent.

She simply looked at him; those eyes, which had learned shrewdness and how to deal with Bai Wenyu at the banquet, had now reverted to their most primitive, stubborn, and unyielding nature.

Instead of leaving, she took a step forward.

"Don't you hate me? I'm right here, what can you do to me? I'm not dead, He Tianran, what are you wailing about?!"

The nameless fire in He Tianran's chest, the chaos he felt towards Yu Naoqiu, the resentment he felt towards his mother, the guilt he felt towards Cao Aiqing, and the self-loathing he felt for his own powerlessness, all found an outlet at this moment.

The disheveled man looked at the stubborn woman and suddenly laughed, a laugh more painful than tears.

"Why are you following me? Huh?" He approached her step by step. "Didn't you just learn how to climb the social ladder at the banquet? Didn't you realize your self-respect is worthless? Why are you still following a worthless person like me?!"

"you……"

"Or," He Tianran lowered his voice, laced with biting malice, mimicking Yu Naoqiu's smug expression, "you went to the rooftop tonight specifically to save me, just for Yu Naoqiu's benefit? Huh? Aren't you quite scheming yourself, Wen Liang?"

"Snapped--!"

A crisp slap sounded.

He Tianran's face was slapped to one side.

He didn't move, and he couldn't even feel any pain; he only felt a sense of absurdity.

Go ahead and hit me, I'd rather you kill me...

Hate me, stay away from me...

That's the distance we should maintain.

A cold wind blew by, and Wenliang's lips trembled slightly, her red skirt fluttering in the wind.

"You fucking bastard, He Tianran—!!"

She cursed and turned to leave.

But her high heels had already worn out her feet during the chase, and now she was limping. After taking only two steps, she bent down in frustration, took off her two expensive shoes, and carried them in her hand, stepping barefoot onto the cold stone pavement.

He Tianran touched his burning cheeks and looked at her bare feet on the ground mixed with rain and mud. Those feet that had once stepped on the red carpet were now filthy.

He finally remembered the woman he harbored deep hatred for...

He ended up in the same sorry state as himself.

But the ecstatic joy that should have been the result of a long-planned wish fulfillment did not arise in his heart...

The man simply stared at the barefoot, limping, and incredibly frail red figure in the cold rain...

His heart was completely empty...

This should have been a victory for the "writer" and the "young man".

That "hatred" was a poisonous seed planted in his "teenager" personality during high school, and nourishment for his "writer" personality to flourish. He hated her arrogance, her wanton teasing, and the world she represented that crushed him.

So tonight, he used the most vicious words and the methods he was most skilled at to hurt her...

The man succeeded.

Wen Liang cried; she was disheveled, her bare feet sinking into the mud.

But... what about hatred?

Instead of turning into the joy of victory, it was like a punctured balloon, only bringing the "writer" back to that familiar, destitute state once again...

At the same time, there was that inexplicable "feeling," that feeling that belonged to the "lead singer," that feeling that he would awkwardly test the waters on variety shows, that he would draw a line in the park yet couldn't help feeling sorry for her, that he would unhesitatingly wrap that woman in his suit on the rooftop...

This makes the "hatred" that I have long wished to have come true seem utterly absurd and laughable.

Thus, the famous saying, "Love arises without knowing its origin, and hatred vanishes without knowing its destination," has resonated with the same person in a rare way...

These two extreme emotions intertwined, filling He Tianran's earlier shout of "Get out!" in the elevator with self-loathing; this love and hate meant that as he looked at Wen Liang's disheveled figure, he felt no pleasure, only...

A kind of panic called "regret" that even he dared not admit. The two clashed simultaneously within the body of "He Tianran," and in the end, neither hatred nor love prevailed.

They simply canceled each other out, tore each other apart, leaving him with nothing.

until--

"He Tianran—!"

In the distance, Wen Liang stopped in her tracks; she chose not to leave.

"If you don't come here soon, I'm really leaving!"

The sound trembled, broken by the rain, yet it penetrated He Tianran's eardrums with unparalleled clarity.

The man looked up, and whether it was because of the rain or tears, he couldn't tell. The red eye makeup that Bai Wenyu had filled in at the corner of Wen Liang's eyes, mixed with black eyeliner, was constantly being washed away by the water droplets, dripping down like a tear of blood.

Are you leaving?

"..."

Just as he had envisioned, this "writer" persona was destined for an ending of "having nothing."

Wasn't everything he did tonight just to push everyone away and return to that familiar, safest, and "empty" starting point?
Can……

When this "origin" is truly to materialize in the form of "a cool and indifferent departure"...

The panic called "regret" instantly overwhelmed all his hatred, all his scheming, and even all his self-loathing...

The writer's cold heart finally pounded violently because of this primal fear of regret.

He finally took a step and walked over.

Now it's the man following the woman.

The two walked silently, one in front of the other, along the quieter path along the Suzhou Creek, where even the streetlights were far apart.

The trail is not far from the main road. A taxi with its "For hire" light on slowly drove by. The driver probably mistook them for a young couple who had committed suicide together. He slowed down, looked at them curiously, and was about to take out his phone to take a picture...

A black Mercedes-Benz G-Class silently drove up from some side road and smoothly cut between the taxi and the two people, blocking the driver's view.

Wu Xiao didn't even get out of the car; he just lowered the window.

Upon seeing the man's warning and fierce gaze, the taxi driver immediately stepped on the gas and drove away.

On the other side, Wen Liang had stopped and was leaning against the railing with her back to He Tianran.

"He Tianran," her voice was carried by the wind, "don't you feel particularly hateful right now? Particularly annoying?"

He Tianran didn't say anything, but walked to her side and leaned against the cold iron railing, rain dripping down their chins.

"You've angered your mother and she's gone. When you return to Hong Kong, you'll most likely hurt Ai Qing again..."

She paused, turned her head, and her tear-streaked face looked somewhat ferocious in the dim light, yet also somewhat... indescribable pity.

"...And all of this is your own doing. This kind of behavior... feels very familiar to me."

"What?" He Tianran was suddenly shocked.

She took a deep breath of the cold air mixed with rain, her voice suddenly becoming very soft, as if recalling something not too long ago:
"I remember... we played a... 'familiarity game' where we pretended to have known each other for a long time, filling in the gaps in each other's memories. Heh~ it would be really interesting if the 'lead singer' played this game..."

But that He Tianran that day was the 'original' you. We went to the beach together, and when I confessed my feelings, do you think he accepted?

He Tianran stared at Wen Liang; the "writer" had no memory of this.

"How did he do it?" he asked.

He said he didn't deny having feelings for me, and that's why he played that game with us, but...

As he told me this, he stuffed himself into a black garbage bag, saying that he himself was—

Rubbish."

The writer's pupils suddenly contracted.

You didn't know, did you?

Wen Liang seemed to see through his momentary confusion, but she didn't stop. Instead, she laughed, her laughter carrying a hint of smug satisfaction.

"You don't know... but I really remember it all, I remember it all..."

She let go of the high heels she was holding, letting the expensive shoes fall with a "plop" onto the puddle.

With her free hand, her fingertips icy cold, she gently touched He Tianran's heart, which was still frozen by scheming and self-loathing.

"The mess you made tonight...you've made yourself look like a worthless, abandoned person...do you think this is how you're supposed to be?"

He Tianran felt as if his heart had been scalded by her icy fingers, and he couldn't refute it.

“Look,” Wen Liang’s tears mingled with the rain, “you and him, you two, are exactly the same.”

"..."

"One of you stuffs himself into a garbage bag, and the other portrays himself as a despicable person that everyone hates... The way you two torture yourselves is exactly the same!"

Wen Liang suddenly stopped being angry. She just looked at the man, as if she had finally seen through a deeply hidden secret, a smile tinged with sadness:

"Don't think that I can't tell you apart from the 'young man' who intimidates me in meetings one minute, the 'lead singer' who loves me to death on variety shows the next, or the 'writer' who is calculating everything but feels that he will lose everything now, right?"

I'm telling you, He Tianran, I can tell the difference, and..."

Wen Liang took a step back, and the man's suit jacket draped over her slipped halfway down, revealing the still dazzling red dress.

“I’m so glad… I can see you as you are now, because I can finally match you all together… the you who was hiding in the garbage bag, and the you who is now like this rotten person…”

She met the other person's eyes, which were filled with shock and confusion...

"He Tianran..."

Wen Liang lowered his head, looked at his mud-covered feet, then at the equally disheveled suit jacket he was wearing, and suddenly asked a question that seemed to come out of nowhere:
"Was I particularly stupid on stage tonight?"

The writer was taken aback by her sudden question.

"For that laughable pride, they asked for ten million... Ha..."

Wen Liang raised her hand and casually wiped her face, which was covered in splattered water, with the back of her hand.

This left an even more grotesque, clown-like red "bloodstain" on her already damp makeup.

She slowly, step by step, extended her hand, covered in mud and makeup, towards the man.

She neither grabbed him nor hit him.

The woman simply used her filthy, icy fingertips to gently wipe away the mark of the slap on his face.

"look……"

Wenliang's voice was as soft as a ghost's.
"Now, do I look pretty 'awful'?"

He Tianran stopped breathing completely.

He looked at her face streaked with "blood and tears," and felt the cold, dirty touch on his own face.

This is not the revenge he wants.

This is not the victory he wanted.

This woman...

They were "accompanying" him in a way that only the two of them could understand.

"He Tianran put himself in a garbage bag, portrayed himself as a despicable person that everyone hates..."

The gentle smile vanished, replaced by a compassionate pity, almost as if they shared the same fate. She gently cupped his cheek with the dirty hand that had just wiped his face.

"You're not 'acting' as a bad person."

He Tianran's pupils contracted sharply because of her words and the coldness of her palm.

Wen Liang uttered the cruelest, yet most truthful, verdict, word by word:
"You are."

"..."

"You are not a 'writer'! You are not a 'teenager'! You are not a 'lead singer' either!"
You're the He Tianran who would stuff herself into a trash bag! You're the He Tianran who would hurt everyone who loves you, who would make a complete mess of herself!

With all her might, Wen Liang, her eyes utterly washed clean by tears and rain, fixed her gaze on the man's trembling soul and uttered the name that could drag him out of every hell:

"You are the only one I know—"

He Tianran!!!

In the Suzhou Creek, the constantly fragmenting and re-emerging silhouettes of two people on the bank are reflected...

It's like a reflection of two ghosts willingly going to the underworld together. (End of Chapter)