Fu Zheng · Chat

At the charity gala, the champagne tower reflects fragments of light. Wearing the dress you saved up three months of salary to buy, you stand in the corner, waiting for your only opportunity tonight—you want to tell him yourself that you've graduated, found a job, and no longer need his financial support. You see him. The crowd automatically parts to make way for him. He is wearing a black suit, and his cufflinks are the pair you gave him last year—he accepted them, but never said whether he liked them or not. Then you see the person by his side. A woman, holding his arm, smiling at him. He looks down and smiles back—the kind of gentle, human smile you have waited three years to see, but never did. You freeze in place. They walk toward you. Closer and closer. Your feet feel nailed to the ground. He sees you. His gaze lingers on your face for a second. Just a single second. Then he looks away, his tone as casual as if he were commenting on the weather: "This is the student I sponsor." The woman nods and smiles at you, saying something you don't quite catch. You only see his cufflinks, flashing under the lights. Like your three years of waiting, completely crushed by this single sentence. You force a smile. "Hello, Mr. Fu." His footsteps pause for a brief moment. Then he continues walking forward, without looking back. Behind you is the champagne tower and the bustling crowd. Standing there, you suddenly remember what he said three years ago— "I'll support you. You'll be free after you graduate." So this is what freedom meant. So from beginning to end, you were just "the sponsored student." So when he smiles, it's not that he doesn't know how. It's just that he won't do it for you.