Warning: Has not been beta'd or edited. You have been warned!

When the sun is too bright for the human eyes, they’ll still want to peak at it from the creases in their fingers that are shielding their sight and casting a shadow over their face for visual comfort. That, in a way, summarizes the way Zhang Liyin feels about Shim Changmin.

From what she knows about him, he has never done anyone wrong before. The one time he allowed himself to be selfish and caused pain to another person, despite appearing as though he held no regrets, everyone could tell he was hurting.

Then, to Changmin, what is Zhang Liyin?

She remembers, now feeling like it was much too long ago, confessing to Changmin about the truth behind her pregnancy.

“We both know that the child isn’t yours.”

Although she hadn’t meant for the words to come out so harshly, the guilt and struggle within her mingled with her own pride, preventing her from acting like a child who has committed a wrong. Changmin had simply nodded in reply to her statement, flipping through pages of his biochemistry book without a word.

Did he care?

“You actually don’t have to tell me the obvious,” he finally says, feeling slightly uncomfortable by the way she’s been staring at him. “It may not be my child biologically but, as things are now, the child will have my last name.”

As cold as he makes himself appear, Zhang Liyin knows that there is a warm side to him; unfortunately, that side is not always for her to see. “You’re my husband.”

“Yes.”

“Does this not upset you?” Liyin wanted to know.

He finally sets his textbook down in his lap and meets her eyes. Very calmly, and as kindly as he can manage, Changmin says, “you and I are husband and wife by title; we have not conducted any physical activity that should be shared amongst husband and wife rightfully. Most importantly, you and I do not love each other. What, then, should I be upset about?”

And he was right, so, Liyin silently returned to thinking to herself as Changmin picked up his textbook and began to read again.

Minho once told Song Qian that, out of all the sides of her that he’s seen, she’s the most beautiful when she’s teaching her students.

For whatever reason, most everything that Minho says to her easily remains in her memories. So, when she’s with the children in her class, laughing and joking as they’re learning the material of their courses, Minho’s comment always intercepts her in the most random times.

“Miss Victoria, you’re more smiley than usual today!” A student comments cheerfully.

She pets the child on the head and rushes him off to the playground.

Under the sunlight, her smile is exceptionally radiant. Children run around her in circles, playing games and hollering at her playfully, and, at this very moment, nothing else really seems to matter so much.

“You do seem happier after breaking up with Kris,” Luna says quietly, sliding up beside her when the children disperse towards the monkey bars and swings.

Song Qian nods, linking an arm around Luna’s. “I do feel a little more at ease.”

“It still surprises me how easily he let you go; it was only weeks ago that he seemed to be scarily possessive of you.”

The recent memories flood back to her, trapping her inside a whirlwind of emotions raging in every vessel of her body. Kris had said to her before, “I wish I could make you only mine, so that no one can even so much as look at you.”

After those words, Song Qian began to question the health of their relationship. The issue wasn’t that he became oddly possessive; the issue was that when he spoke to her, his eyes were empty and unfocused, as though he weren’t truly speaking to the woman standing before him.

Over the next few days, Kris would often appear at her apartment horribly drunk. They had met up with Liyin and their other friends in Beijing a few times; Kris and Song Qian both witnessed Liyin, Changmin and their newborn child—the bond that the three of them shared.

From that day on, something about Kris changed.

While Kris was drunk and practically passed out on her bed, she brushes the fringes out of his eyes and gently swipes a warm, wet cloth across his sweaty forehead.

“You regret it, don’t you?” She asks.

His eyebrows furrow, teeth pressed down on his bottom lip.

“It’s your child and it’s the woman that loved only you, yet, you can’t call out their names or hold them in your arms. Does it hurt, Kris?” Song Qian asks. “Actually, I’m not the only one who’s good at making mistakes in life. That’s why you like me so much, isn’t it? You like me because we are so much alike.”

A single tear escapes his eyes, Kris mouthing words that Song Qian can’t quite make out.

“You are weaker than I am though,” she concludes, “so, even though we’re both hurting, you’re the only one that has given in to your sorrows.”

It isn’t as though Kris never loved Zhang Liyin. As a matter of fact he did love her, otherwise, he never would have been so considerate and delicate with her during the years of the relationship they shared. However, there was always the shadow of that girl he could not attain that hovered in the back of his mind.

Him—Kris Wu: smart, handsome, and athletic. Girls would go as far as fight over him from time to time, yet, Song Qian could so easily turn her eyes away, even after he expressed his interest in her.

Admitting his failures has never been something Kris Wu was good at.

Therefore, his longing for Song Qian was not purely out of love but also out of ambition. He always enjoyed a challenge. People always want what they can’t have, after all.

And then, after Kris and Song Qian finally start dating, after all those years of nothingness between them, Kris realizes that the strong desire he once had for her slowly begins to cool off. The relationship they shared came and left; neither of them spent too much time or effort in maintaining what they had, but Song Qian was always there for him if he wanted to see her.

She never betrayed the relationship they had, no matter how sparse or unlikely the likeliness of them continuing on as a couple would be.

Song Qian and Zhang Liyin are different, after all.

Regrets always comes too late, someone once told him. Perhaps the person was Song Qian but Kris can’t really remember after downing all those glasses and cans of alcohol and beer.

At first Kris believed the reason he couldn’t take Song Qian that one night on her bed was because of guilt; he thought he couldn’t touch her because of the betrayal he committed against her with Zhang Liyin, even after Zhang Liyin had married.

The truth was that the moment Zhang Liyin was brought up, his entire body felt as though he were splashed in cold water. Just the mention of Zhang Liyin took away his every lustful desire for another woman.

He hadn’t even realized that Zhang Liyin had that kind of effect on him.

After that night, Song Qian never brought up his past with Zhang Liyin anymore. They continued their spurs of a relationship, sometimes more intimate than others, sometimes more distanced than before, but Kris never tried to make any more advances into her bed.

From what he could tell, Song Qian wouldn’t have rejected him if he did; however, he couldn’t.

When Kris looked Song Qian in the eyes, there’s a new shadow in them that he can’t un-see and it pushes him away with a formless power. Yet, something keeps bringing him back to her again and again.

One night, although he wasn’t entirely tipsy, Kris feigned unconsciousness and found his way to Song Qian’s apartment. He felt tired, so very, very tired, and in Song Qian’s arms there was a kind of solace that he couldn’t find elsewhere.

She asked him quietly, “You regret it, don’t you?”

A warm towel swept across his forehead, cooling off his heated and exhausted body, but pain strikes his chest and nowhere on his body is left untouched by the fierce radius of the agony that is cast upon him.

Kris wanted so much to open his eyes and apologize to her.

He wanted to tell her, none of this is your fault but you’re the one left with all this emotional torture. Kris wanted to say, this is all my fault and I’m only adding onto your suffering, but you still don’t tell me to get out of your life. He also wanted to ask, what is it that makes you so strong?

However, he does not open his eyes and he does not tell, say, or ask a single word.

Kris lies there, still, curled into her blankets, as he tries to hold back his tears. He’s aware that she sees his struggles but she doesn’t say a word to reveal him; a single tear escapes his eyes and he thinks of it as an apology.

Despite knowing that no amount of tears would be able to savor all that she’s experienced, he hopes this tear can wash away some of the hatred she might feel towards him.

One day, Song Qian said, “If we stay together we won’t be able to fly far; we’ll end up crashing and breaking, destroying everything around us, like the horrible disaster that we’ve always been.”

She said, “We’re both birds with no feet and we have no place to land. Yet, what we both want most is a place to call home. We need to find a bird that can take us there—to a place we can call our own.”

Kris listened silently, staring into her eyes. There is stillness in her gaze that calms him.

“Actually,” he says, finally answering her, “you’ve always been the calm after the storm. You’ve never flown very far, because even though you haven’t noticed, you have already settled down on land and have created a home of your own. I still can’t seem to stop myself from wanting to fly further, though. Your home isn’t for me, Song Qian. Your home is more suited for another man.”

And then he kisses her, softly, gently, as though he’s afraid he might break her.

With his lips against hers, he whispers, “Song Qian, don’t forget that you’re the one who broke up with me today.”

She nods.

Kris smiles, a hand around the back of her neck as he leans forward and presses a kiss to her forehead. “You’re the one who doesn’t want me; you’re the one who’s letting go. You’re not the one being left behind.”

She bites down on her lip, staring into his eyes.

“Remember that I’m saying these words to you—I’m making you feel bad for throwing me away. I’m a bad guy, Song Qian, so don’t let my words get to you. You have to learn how to hate me, so that you can feel better.”

Such ironic words are coming from Kris, as though he’s voicing out his own inner battles to her, but she does indeed feel less guilty about bringing this up.

She reaches up and fixes his fringes one last time.

“To be honest, I’ve loved you before,” Song Qian tells him genuinely.

Kris smiles at her and takes her wrist between his fingers, lowering them from his hair. The moment he lets go of her the atmosphere between them changes almost instantly.

She watches him, without a word, as he turns his back.

“What a pity,” he sighs, face lifted towards the sky. “I’ve only just now realized that I never did love you in return.”

Minho hears from Luhan about Song Qian and Kris’s breakup. He isn’t surprised, to be honest; no one really expected their relationship to last as long as it did anyways.

“I really don’t get it,” he complains over dinner.

Zhang Liyin, Changmin, and the little toddler sitting between them glances at him oddly. “You don’t get what?” Liyin asks.

Minho sets down his chopsticks and straightens up his back. His eyes are dead serious, which actually kind of makes the other three want to laugh.

“Issues at work?” Changmin wonders aloud.

His cousin shakes his head. “I don’t understand why a great girl like Qian can’t find an equally great man. Are all good men in Nanjing dead or something?”

“Isn’t she dating Kris pretty steadily?” Changmin asks, lowering his eyes to his dinner plate.

Minho shrugs. “They broke up a few days ago. Luhan just told me.”

In her seat, Liyin freezes. She nearly drops the baby spoon onto the table but quickly recollects herself. Both men notice her reaction but neither decides to comment.

Although he’s scoffing on the inside, Minho simply blinks calmly. He watches as Liyin returns to caring for her child; she’s gentle, slow, but a little awkward with handling the baby.

Suddenly, he says, “I’ve seen Qian at work; she’s really good with children and all the kids really love her. Qian is really beautiful—the type of beauty that exudes from the inside, which is probably why she’s so loved by her students. Actually, she’s more suited to be a mother than you are, Liyin.”

Zhang Liyin does not look towards Minho.

“Choi Minho,” Changmin sputters, eyes hard and his tone of voice almost in warning.

Minho smiles falsely. “Luhan said that Song Qian is living very happily. Without Shim Changmin, she lived happily. Without Kris Wu, she’s still living happily. Luhan said that Song Qian is very strong. Without friends she’s living strongly. Without love she’s still living strongly.”

He asks, “how long do you think Song Qian can continue being strong? How much longer do you think she can hold out?”

The two adults sitting across from him are frozen in place. No words, no exchange of glances.

Minho says, “Kris Wu told Song Qian he never loved her. Song Qian walked away smiling.”

For the first time in a long while, Minho lied.

The truth is that Luhan called him in a panic. Luhan told him, “Song Qian called me and she was crying. I left the club as quick as I could but she wasn’t at home and I didn’t know where to find her.”

Minho’s heart dropped in his chest.

On the other line, Luhan said, “I’ve never seen or heard her cry before. She sounded drunk, but I couldn’t really tell—it was too loud in the club. I think she also said something about being useless; I think she called herself a failure.”

“Have you found her yet?” Minho asked.

Luhan paused for a moment. “She was sitting outside of Changmin’s old apartment. I should have known from the beginning,” Luhan sighs, “she’s not alright at all.”

Minho listened as Luhan continued.

“I hugged her. She buried her face into my chest and cried even louder. At that moment, I couldn’t move a single muscle in my body; she felt so small, Minho. Our Song Qian is actually not strong in the least; the only thing she’s ever been truly good at is lying.”

“She… is she okay now?”

Luhan laughed bitterly. “She’s never been okay.”

“What are you going to do?” Minho wanted to know.

After a brief lull of nothing but dawning silence, Luhan replied, “Loving her is something I cannot do. Song Qian deserves better.”

“What can you do then?” Minho asked, pressing his friend for an answer.

“Maybe…” Luhan started, but paused in between his words. “Maybe all we can do is help her round up her lies and not expose her. If we can’t give her what she’s lacking, then maybe we can help her build a fortress of solace.”

“It won’t last long,” Minho told him.

Luhan nodded to himself. He already knows that lies never survive the tests of time and reality. “I’m just hoping that it will last long enough for her to piece herself together again.”

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A/N: Thank you to all of you for pulling through with me and leaving behind such beautiful and encouraging comments. Your comments give me the drive to keep writing and updating! And thank you to everyone giving me words of praise and encouragement and understanding my situation. You guys always flatter me by telling me how great of an author I am but I honestly believe that I am actually the lucky one for having the best readers in the world! Let's always support Victoria and good fiction~ ♥Xue