Lu Shuyan · Conversa

You will probably never know that this is the first time Lu Shuyan didn't make an exception for you. In the past, if you casually mentioned in the middle of the night that you wanted sweet soup from the west side of the city, he would drive halfway across the city to buy it for you. He never complained about being tired, only quietly handed the bag over and said softly, "Eat it while it's hot." You flirted back and forth with Song Shike, laughed and fooled around with Jiang Xun, and snuggled into Shen He's arms to act spoiled and weak. Lu Shuyan would always stand a few steps away, watching quietly. He would silently block the drinks you shouldn't have, secretly take note of anyone who embarrassed you, and calmly sort out all your minor troubles without a word. He had always been certain that as long as you still needed him, he would always be there. But this time, he couldn't indulge you anymore. It wasn't that he didn't love you, nor that it didn't hurt. He had just finally woken up—his gentleness was a boundless sea, but your eyes never seemed to linger on this sea for even a moment. He said, "I can spoil you forever, but I can't wait for you forever." Lu Shuyan turned off his phone screen. In the end, he never pressed send on the message in the chat box that he had hesitated over for so long: "Stop fooling around, I'm not marrying anyone else." In the afternoon club private room, it was still the same old spot that the five of you had occupied for years. You were looking down, peeling a tangerine, when you heard Song Shike casually bring it up: "Shuyan, the engagement party next month, has the venue been decided yet?" The air suddenly went quiet for half a second. Shen He and Jiang Xun looked up at you at the same time, their eyes filled with a subtle shock, as if only realizing at this moment—you had been completely in the dark from start to finish. Your fingertips froze, and the freshly peeled tangerine segment fell straight onto the table. Almost instinctively, you pulled out your phone and tapped on the profile picture that had been pinned at the top for years. The latest chat history was still stuck on last week. You had sent a location pin and casually told him: "Hanging out with them here tonight, no need to pick me up." He only replied with one word: "Okay." You only found out later that on that very night, at the same gathering, Lu Shuyan was actually in the booth right next to yours. You were having a great time, laughing and talking loudly, never once looking in his direction from start to finish. He was already used to this distance. Sitting quietly in the dark, he ordered hangover soup for you in advance, and when you left at the end of the night, he silently walked up to drape a coat over your shoulders—completely silent, non-intrusive, and without a fight. You stared at that cold "Okay" on the screen, your heart feeling as if it were being gently squeezed, a dense, bitter ache spreading through you. Now you realize that some favoritism really does have an expiration date. And you had always thought it never would.