In the fiery red era of the heavens, refrigerators are refreshed daily.

Chapter 86, Section 85: Shen Meiyu After Her Evolution

“The location is good.” Yang Guangming nodded, his tone still maintaining that businesslike detachment, as if he were commenting on an objective fact. “It’s in the suburbs, so there might be more opportunities in the future.”

Shen Meiyu's lips twitched slightly, revealing a bitter smile mixed with helplessness and resignation. The smile was faint and fleeting.
"Whether there will be many opportunities depends on fate. I've heard that it's very difficult to get leave, and the rules are strict. If I leave now, I'm afraid I won't be able to come back until the Spring Festival."

She paused, her gaze falling on the walls deep in the alley, weathered by time, covered in water stains and moss. Her voice unconsciously lowered, like a feather gently falling, "I don't know when we'll meet again."

In the last break at the small park, Yang Guangming made it clear that there was absolutely no room for negotiation, severing all possibility of lingering ties.

This time, he had neither the need nor the inclination to use gentle words.

A moment of silence flowed between the two, the air seemingly frozen.

He finally spoke, his voice carrying a businesslike, routine indifference, as if reading a notice:

"Now that we've made the decision, let's do our best. There's a vast world out there where we can make a difference."

He paused, then added the last two sentences, his tone dry and detached like withered grass baked by the autumn sun: "Take care of yourself, and have a safe journey."

These few words of blessing are brief, empty, and lack any real warmth; they are more like a polite farewell.

Shen Meiyu turned her head back and refocused her gaze on Yang Guangming's face.

Her eyes were extremely complex, like an overturned palette: there was the relief of finally letting go of a heavy burden, a faint sadness of uncertainty about the future, and perhaps a lingering spark of resentment flickering deep within. But in the end, what prevailed was a calm acceptance of reality, a calmness that was powerless and unwilling to struggle any longer.

This period of time was clearly enough for this once proud and calculating girl to digest the earth-shattering and completely different changes in Yang Guangming—the “Mingming” who was obedient to her and gave her whatever she wanted had truly disappeared.

“Mingming,” she spoke again, her voice much clearer and more stable than before, even carrying a deliberate, almost theatrical nonchalance, attempting to conceal the barely perceptible tremor:

"I've thought about it. Before... I was young and didn't know any better."

Her gaze met his directly, without flinching. "Some of my thoughts were too naive and impulsive. I guess... it was just a momentary lapse of judgment, and I was blinded by vanity."

She tilted her head slightly, letting the cool evening breeze brush against her pale cheeks. Her short, ear-length hair was gently tossed by the wind, revealing a hint of stubbornness.

Immediately, her gaze locked firmly onto Yang Guangming's face again, where the pretense had faded, replaced by an unprecedented seriousness, even carrying a hint of almost cruel self-analysis:

"Actually... looking back now, I think it was probably just a habit."

Her voice lowered, carrying a genuine sense of regret, as if peeling away layers of sugar coating that concealed the ugly truth:
"I'm used to you always being considerate and going along with my wishes. From childhood to adulthood, you've been like a wall that will never fall, always standing in front of me."

It makes me feel... like no matter what I do, how much trouble I cause, or how hurtful I say, you'll always be there, always forgive me, always indulge me. This feeling..." She gave a bitter smile and shook her head, "makes me feel reckless, increasingly willful, increasingly ungrateful, and increasingly... unaware of your sincerity."

Her voice was lower and deeper, carrying a belated pain:

"After these days, when I've calmed down and looked back like unraveling a loose thread, I've slowly come to understand what I've lost and what I've missed."

Her gaze was fixed on Yang Guangming, as if trying to pierce through his calm facade to see the soul she had hurt. "It's my fault. I lost the most important thing. This... it's all my fault. I don't blame you, really! Not at all!"

This proactive, profound, and almost self-destructive self-examination was completely beyond Yang Guangming's expectations.

The Shen Meiyu before him not only quickly adjusted her mindset and redefined their relationship, but also began to confront and ruthlessly dissect her past mistakes, selfishness, and scheming.

This sudden increase in clarity and self-awareness surprised Yang Guangming far more than her securing that enviable spot for working in the suburbs, and made her...alarmed.

At this moment, the once intense, almost pungent "green tea" aura emanating from her seemed to have been washed away by this storm of reflection, leaving only a kind of honesty tinged with sadness and weariness after a painful transformation.

If it weren't for the deep-seated, painful memories of the original owner, shrouded in sweet lies, imprinted in Yang Guangming's soul, and if he weren't so aware of Shen Meiyu's past cunning and opportunistic nature...

Faced with such a young woman who is genuinely remorseful, willing to let go, and appears reasonable and self-reflective, he might actually lower his guard a bit, and even develop a sense of admiration for her—after all, admitting one's own shortcomings requires immense courage.

Unfortunately, there are no "what ifs." Yang Guangming was perfectly lucid.

He clearly recognized that Shen Meiyu's "evolution" and profound "self-reflection" were precisely proof that she had become smarter, better at assessing situations, and better at finding the optimal solution in adversity.

She abandoned those unrealistic fantasies and relentless pursuit, choosing instead a more realistic and likely long-lasting "friend" relationship. She even went so far as to expose her own scars and most vulnerable side in order to lower his guard, gain a bit of understanding and sympathy, and lay the groundwork for possible future contact.

She is like a plant that has evolved in a harsh environment, knowing when to hide her sharp thorns and even to deliberately expose her wounds in exchange for space and sunlight to survive.

Those fragments of "beautiful memories" that belonged to the original owner of the body still couldn't stir up the slightest warm ripple in Yang Guangming's sea of ​​consciousness, only cold analysis and evaluation.

He calmly assessed the situation: ending the relationship was a good thing, a necessary first step; maintaining distance was the core principle and a guarantee of safety.

As for her weighty self-criticism? We can accept its superficial value and acknowledge her change, but the string of "vigilance" deep in our hearts will never be relaxed in the slightest.

"What's past is past," Yang Guangming said, his voice as calm as a still well, carrying a perfectly measured distance and politeness.

He showed no sign of being moved, nor did he hypocritically deny the unpleasant past she had dissected. It was as if he were simply dealing with a dusty old object. "It's good that you can understand. We were all young before, and we were immature and had a shallow understanding of people and things."

(End of this chapter)