The Woman He Regrets Losing

Inside the cinema, Jiang Qingyan's phone rang. Wen Ruan glanced over and saw the name "Yao Man" on the screen, immediately knowing that their movie night was over. Jiang Qingyan must have heard something on the other end, as his expression slightly changed. "Don't cry, I’ll be right there." His voice was soft, soothing, with a deep, gravelly tone that felt almost metallic. After hanging up, he turned to Wen Ruan. "Something happened with Yao Man. We’ll watch the movie another time." He stood up, ready to leave, but Wen Ruan grabbed his hand. "Let's finish the movie first." Rationally, she knew she shouldn’t stop him. Who was Yao Man? The daughter of the chairman of Rongli Group, a powerful family, someone not to be offended or crossed. But disregarding reason, Wen Ruan had had enough. She was fed up. They’d already watched this movie three times. The first time, they’d barely watched it before Yao Man had a headache; the second time, she complained of a stomach ache after just half an hour. Both times, Jiang Qingyan had left her for Yao Man with just one phone call. "Chairman Yao asked me to take good care of her. I can't refuse," he would say. That line always left Wen Ruan speechless. Yes, who could compete with someone who had such a good father? And who could forget that they were drawing their salaries from Rongli? The last two times Jiang Qingyan had left, Wen Ruan had also walked out. Today, she had picked this movie again, not because it was particularly good, but because she felt they hadn’t seen the ending yet, and it should have closure. But, once again, it didn’t have closure. As the movie was about to start, the lights dimmed, and the screen glowed faintly, casting soft light on Wen Ruan’s cold, stubborn profile. One hand was trying to pull away, while the other held tightly onto him, and neither of them would give in. They were locked in a silent standoff. A young man sitting behind them couldn’t take it anymore. He kicked Jiang Qingyan’s chair. “Hey, buddy, are you leaving or not? You’re blocking my girlfriend’s view!” Jiang Qingyan bent slightly, his dark eyes locking with Wen Ruan’s. His gaze was intense, and he didn’t even attempt to pull his hand away. He let her hold it. “Ruan Ruan, now is not the time for a tantrum. We can watch the movie anytime. Let go.” His tone was even gentle, but Wen Ruan could tell: he was angry. He was the master of controlling his emotions. The angrier he was, the more composed he became. Wen Ruan reluctantly released his hand and gave a faint smile. “Jiang Qingyan, don’t get too absorbed in the role. Is your concern for her really just because of her status?” Jiang Qingyan froze for a moment but didn’t speak. He simply turned and walked away. Wen Ruan decided to finish the movie on her own. This film had been out for quite some time, and it was about to leave theaters. Waiting for Jiang Qingyan to return meant the movie would never end. The horror film had a strong, chilling atmosphere, and the bloodied ghost woman seemed ready to crawl out of the screen. The surround sound added to the eeriness, with the ghost’s laughter echoing right next to her ear. Wen Ruan drifted off for a moment, and then the ghost's face suddenly turned into Yao Man’s face. It was repulsive. The popcorn no longer tasted good, and she didn’t want to watch the movie anymore. Her phone vibrated, and her friend Zhang Tongtong had messaged. Zhang Tongtong: "Did Jiang Qingyan leave again? Looks like you guys finally managed to finish this movie. What a struggle." Wen Ruan: "He left." A few seconds later, Zhang Tongtong called her. It was 5:30, with forty minutes left in the movie. Wen Ruan had no interest in continuing, so she grabbed her bag and left. As soon as she stepped outside and picked up the phone, Zhang Tongtong shrieked through the receiver, her voice high-pitched and frantic. “Jiang Qingyan left again? I’m seriously speechless!!!” “It’s Yao Man, isn’t it? What’s happened this time? Did she break her leg or something? Why is she always causing trouble? I’m done!” Wen Ruan didn’t know what happened this time. Before, Jiang Qingyan would at least explain himself before leaving, but this time, he hadn’t even bothered. After New Year’s, Haicheng had been hit with a cold front, and the temperature dropped suddenly. It was still raining, and the howling north wind was sweeping the city with fine raindrops, making the air feel cold and damp. Wen Ruan reached the entrance on the first floor and shivered slightly. After venting her frustration, Zhang Tongtong tried to comfort her. “Ruan Ruan, I really think you should quit. Rongli might be a big company, but it’s just too stifling.” Wen Ruan pulled her coat tighter around herself. “I’m planning to quit.” “Really? What about Jiang Qingyan? Will he quit?” Wen Ruan thought about her years with Jiang Qingyan, and then about his changing attitude toward Yao Man. She gave a fairly honest answer. “Maybe, maybe not. It’s hard to say.” Her voice held a smile, but it was tinged with self-mockery, which made Zhang Tongtong uncomfortable. “Ruan Ruan, you’ve been with Jiang Qingyan for three years, but Yao Man’s only been back for three months. Three months can’t compare to three years, so your chances are greater.” Wen Ruan looked up at the dark sky. Three years, yes. She had been with Jiang Qingyan for three years. In those years, he had been the perfect boyfriend, giving her his heart and devotion, with no flaws to speak of. Yao Man, on the other hand, had only returned from abroad three months ago. Jiang Qingyan had only interacted with her for three months. Three years versus three months—based purely on time, her odds were indeed better. But love wasn’t something that could be measured by time. At first, when Yao Man had started to pursue Jiang Qingyan, he had kept his distance from her, his words and actions clearly showing avoidance. But somewhere along the way, his attitude had slowly changed. Though he still maintained a sense of propriety, his patience and kindness were now shared with Yao Man, and it had nothing to do with her status. ... By the time she got home, it was almost 7 p.m. Wen Ruan opened the door to a dark apartment. She fumbled for the light switch and kicked off her high heels. Huatang Bay—this was the home she and Jiang Qingyan shared. They had bought the apartment two years ago—a 160-square-meter flat. They had each contributed half the money, and both their names were on the deed. At the time, they had argued over it. Jiang Qingyan didn’t want her to contribute, insisting the house should be under her name as a gift to her. She refused, and after a few days of cold war, he relented. They had bought this house with the intention of marriage. At least, that’s what they had believed at the time. Wen Ruan went into the kitchen to make herself a bowl of noodles. Afterward, she read in the study. It was already 11 p.m., and Jiang Qingyan still hadn’t come home. She decided not to wait any longer, putting down her book to go take a bath. After a long soak, she stepped out of the bathroom an hour later. The heating was on in the apartment, and she was drying her hair when she felt extremely thirsty. She decided to get a glass of water. As she walked into the living room, she froze in her tracks. Jiang Qingyan was back. He had been drinking, leaning sideways on the sofa, his jacket discarded, leaving him in just a gray sweater. His eyes were closed, his handsome, aristocratic features twisted in discomfort. It was obvious he had drunk a lot. Wen Ruan turned around and went into the kitchen. She poured herself a glass of water, then made some hangover soup. When she came back out, he was still in the same position. But now he was awake. Their eyes met, and Wen Ruan momentarily lost focus. Jiang Qingyan’s eyes were deep and captivating, filled with tenderness for anyone he looked at. Over the years, she had fallen into those eyes and couldn’t escape. She walked over and handed him the white porcelain bowl she had in her hands. “Drink this.” Jiang Qingyan looked up at her, his gaze lingering. In the soft light, her silk camisole nightdress clung to her body, accentuating her figure. Her pale shoulders and flushed face from the bath made her even more alluring. He took the bowl, drank the soup, and handed it back to her. Wen Ruan had just set the bowl down on the coffee table when her wrist was grabbed. With a slight force, Jiang Qingyan pulled her onto his lap and kissed her. Wen Ruan was caught off guard. After a moment, she tried to push him away, but the scent of his perfume, strong and sweet, invaded her senses. It made her feel sick. It was the same perfume that Yao Man often wore, heavy with the scent of roses. Jiang Qingyan, displeased with her resistance, cupped her face, forcing her to look at him. “You wanted to quit, didn’t you? You think I don’t care?” His voice was low and dangerous. Wen Ruan’s heart squeezed. She didn’t know what had happened between them, but she felt her emotions suddenly become unmanageable. Jiang Qingyan had never spoken to her like this. Was this his true feelings? He was angry, or was he just frustrated? He had been so patient with Yao Man for so long. But what about her? What about them? "Jiang Qingyan..." she whispered, before her voice faltered. He kissed her again, silencing her protests. His emotions poured into her, but so did his frustrations, his desires... His heart was torn between Yao Man and her. The night stretched on, filled with confusion, emotions, and desires. But none of it had anything to do with what they once shared.