After the divorce, he went on a motorcycle trip, and his ex-wife and daughter were filled with regre

Meanwhile, a "silent concert" is being performed in the square on the north side of the town.

There were no deafening speakers in the square; the entire area was so quiet that only the sounds of people breathing and footsteps could be heard. However, everyone standing in the square was wearing a pair of top-of-the-line noise-canceling headphones that emitted a faint blue glow.

At the center of the stage, Zhao Changjiang, one of China's top independent folk singers, was holding a broken wooden guitar, his eyes closed, singing hoarsely into the microphone.

His singing voice was precisely transmitted to everyone's headphones via radio waves.

It's a kind of poignant melancholy that strikes straight to the soul; the lyrics fully express the loneliness, confusion, and struggles of modern urban dwellers.

Thousands of masked people swayed gently to the rhythm in their headphones in the dark square. Many listened, and tears streamed down their faces. In this absolutely private yet absolutely resonant world of music, they freely released their long-suppressed stress.

Jiang Ye and Han Qingru were also mixed in with the crowd.

They had no bodyguards, nor were they wearing expensive haute couture gowns. Jiang Ye wore a simple black jacket, while Han Qingru wore a soft beige cardigan.

The two of them wore matching black and white fox masks.

Jiang Ye held Han Qingru's hand tightly, their fingers intertwined, as they weaved through the bustling yet incredibly pure crowd.

Looking at these urbanites around him who had shed their pretenses and were seeking resonance with their souls, watching them cry, laugh, and embrace, Jiang Ye felt a great sense of accomplishment.

This is the world he wants to create.

Jiang Ye stopped and turned to look at Han Qingru, who was wearing a white fox mask beside him. Beneath the mask, her beautiful peach blossom eyes shone with a gentle light.

Jiang Ye gently pulled Han Qingru into his arms.

Amidst the noisy crowd, he lowered his head, leaned close to Han Qingru's ear, and whispered tenderly in a voice only the two of them could hear:

"Big sister, look."

"Everyone has their own Cloud Wilderness in their heart, and they are all searching for that place where their soul can find peace."

"And you are the one for me."

Hearing Jiang Ye's direct and passionate words of love, Han Qingru trembled slightly. A blush instantly rose to her cheeks beneath the mask. She didn't speak, but instead gripped Jiang Ye's hand even tighter and gently rested her head on his shoulder.

It was late at night.

The arts festival reached its most exciting climax.

In the town's central square, a massive bonfire, over ten meters tall, was instantly ignited. The soaring crimson flames illuminated half the night sky, as if to dispel all the gloom and cold.

There's none of that deafening, heart-pounding electronic music you hear in nightclubs here.

Instead, a dozen musicians sat around the campfire, playing melodious and wild African drums with their hands, along with the ethereal, mysterious, and soul-piercing sound of handpans.

The drums beat rhythmically, carrying a primal vitality.

Thousands of masked people spontaneously gathered around the huge bonfire, holding hands and forming one huge circle after another.

Everyone danced to the rhythm of the drums, performing the most primitive, free, and unstructured dance.

Jiang Ye, pulling Han Qingru along, joined the grand celebration without hesitation.

Bathed in the flickering firelight, Han Qingru completely shed all the poise, restraint, and coldness she usually displayed as the chairwoman of a multi-billion dollar conglomerate.

She was like a carefree, love-struck young girl.

Han Qingru, holding Jiang Ye's hand, twirled and jumped joyfully around the fire. Her long hair danced in the wind, and her eyes, hidden behind her mask, curved into two beautiful crescent moons as she let out bursts of clear, unrestrained laughter.

Looking at the woman in front of him, whose smile was so bright and genuine, Jiang Ye's eyes became incredibly dreamy and intoxicated.

Just then, a small commotion suddenly arose in the crowd.

Jiang Ye subconsciously turned his head, his gaze passing through the leaping flames and landing on a figure not far away.

That was summer rain.

She also came to the party.

Xia Yu wasn't wearing her usual sharp business suits today; instead, she wore a fiery red halter-neck dress, the hem billowing like flames in the night breeze. She wore an exquisite gold butterfly mask, revealing her fiery red lips and slender, white neck.

Bathed in the firelight, Xia Yu exuded a deadly allure, a flamboyant beauty that was impossible to look away from. She was like a thorny rose blooming in the night, dangerous yet captivating.

Xia Yu stood on the periphery of the crowd, watching Jiang Ye quietly across the campfire. In his eyes, hidden beneath the butterfly mask, lay an undisguised fervor and a barely perceptible hint of melancholy.

Jiang Ye looked at Xia Yu, and his heart skipped a beat.

To be fair, Xia Yu is very beautiful, and in a way that is aggressive and arouses a man's desire to conquer. In business, she is Jiang Ye's most indispensable right-hand woman, and the two have a tacit understanding that allows them to work side by side countless times.

At that moment, Jiang Ye did indeed feel a moment of inner turmoil, a difficult decision to make.

Two women, two completely different kinds of beauty, two completely different kinds of companionship.

However, this dilemma lasted for less than two seconds.

Jiang Ye suddenly felt a soft touch on his arm. Han Qingru was a little tired from jumping, and leaned against his chest, panting. She looked up at him with her eyes full of dependence and love.

Looking into Han Qingru's gentle, watery eyes, the ripple in Jiang Ye's heart instantly subsided.

He knew in his heart that Xia Yu was a sharp sword that could accompany him in his conquests; but Han Qingru was the only harbor he wanted to rest in when he was tired, the place his soul longed for most.

Jiang Ye withdrew his gaze from Xia Yu, turned his head, cupped Han Qingru's cheeks in his hands, and planted a deep kiss on her forehead through the mask.

Xia Yu, watching from afar, stiffened slightly upon seeing this scene. Then, a bittersweet smile of relief appeared on her lips as she turned and disappeared into the revelry.

……

The festival's revelry continued until the early hours of the morning.

When the noise subsided, Jiang Ye and Han Qingru left Cloudtop Town and returned to their penthouse apartment in the East Lake Apartments in downtown Hanzhou in a Rolls-Royce Phantom.

The moment I closed the apartment door, all my weariness and pretense were completely shed.

There were no extra words, only two wildly beating hearts.

Jiang Ye scooped Han Qingru up in his arms and strode into the spacious bedroom.

That night, the moonlight outside the window was exceptionally bright. In the bedroom, their breaths mingled, their love intense and passionate. All their love, dependence, and possessiveness were released without reservation in the ultimate tenderness of that night.

The next morning.

Golden sunlight streamed through the huge floor-to-ceiling windows, spilling onto the messy bed.

Jiang Ye woke up from a deep sleep and habitually reached out to touch the empty seat next to him.

He rubbed his eyes, threw back the covers, and got out of bed. As soon as he stepped out of the bedroom, he smelled an enticing aroma of food.

In the open kitchen.

Han Qingru was busy at the stove. She wasn't wearing her own clothes, but rather a large white shirt belonging to Jiang Ye. The hem of the shirt just covered her thighs, revealing a pair of straight and slender legs.

The sunlight shone on her profile, bathing her in a gentle glow.

A pot of congee with preserved egg and lean pork was simmering, its rich aroma filling the entire apartment.

Jiang Ye tiptoed behind Han Qingru, stretched out his arms, and tightly wrapped them around her slender waist. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, greedily inhaling the scent of her body, a mixture of shower gel and scallion fragrance.

"You're awake? Go wash up quickly, the porridge will be ready soon." Han Qingru didn't turn around, but gently patted the back of Jiang Ye's hand that was wrapped around her waist.

Jiang Ye didn't move; instead, he tightened his grip on his arm.

The two of them whispered sweet nothings in the kitchen, which was filled with the aroma of cooking.

Jiang Ye closed his eyes, feeling the warmth of the woman in his arms. He realized that his dependence on Han Qingru was growing deeper and deeper, reaching his very bones.

He could no longer live without his older sister, who gave him an absolute sense of security. As long as she was by his side, even if there was a raging storm outside, his heart would be at peace.

……