Chapter 35: May I Hold You?

The weather had already shifted into early autumn, and the sky hung heavy with clouds. It was a peculiar day—yesterday scorching hot, but today the temperature had dropped off a cliff. A gust of wind swept past, carrying with it an unmistakable chill.

“Sometimes, it must be exhausting, don’t you think?” Shen Xian walked side by side with Ning Cai, turning his head to look at her.

Ning Cai’s profile was flawless. Her skin was as pale as snow, and her slender neck glowed under the streetlights, a luminous white. Her figure was remarkable, full and shapely even from the side.

Sensing Shen Xian’s gaze, she crossed her arms. “My family has never approved of me starting an entertainment company. In their eyes, I should be the CEO of a listed corporation, or a university professor, or perhaps, by the time I’m forty, a top-ranking official, maybe even deputy minister. Being a wife and mother would be acceptable too—just anything but being in the entertainment industry.”

Shen Xian understood. Ning Cai’s background was evidently privileged; she had countless paths available to her.

Yet she had chosen the one road her family opposed most.

“Four years ago, I signed a bet with my family,” Ning Cai said, lifting her gaze, uncertainty flickering in her eyes. “I have to build the fifth entertainment giant in the country, with annual revenues over ten billion. But it’s already the third year, and the company hasn’t made much progress. In fact, we’re regressing. Our annual revenue hasn’t even reached two billion yet! If I fail, I’ll have to go back and get married.”

Revenue and net profit are not the same. With two billion in revenue, Ning Cai’s net profit for the year might be only ten or twenty million, maybe less. If Wu Fan took away a large group of people, it would be a fatal blow to her company—possibly leading to its collapse.

A mass exodus of artists would have dire consequences, especially when someone like Wu Fan was involved. If he left, public opinion would become uncontrollable. Then, shareholders might withdraw their investments, and many commercial performances and endorsements would be canceled. Problems would snowball—broken cash flow, massive penalty fees.

“Any other boss, faced with Wu Fan’s demands, would agree without hesitation. If Wang Tianqi quits the competition, it wouldn’t really hurt the company. But Wu Fan can’t go. If he leaves, the fallout could destroy us,” Ning Cai said.

Shen Xian was silent for a time before finally speaking. “I’ll have Wang Tianqi withdraw from the competition when I get back.”

“If I were the sort to compromise so easily, I wouldn’t be Ning Cai,” she replied.

Shen Xian managed a wry smile. He understood her character—unyielding, willing to break rather than bend.

Someone who would never agree to demands, and even less to threats. Because she wasn’t afraid.

“I refuse to believe that losing Wu Fan would mean the end of me,” Ning Cai said with conviction.

“Don’t worry, Director Ning,” Shen Xian assured her. “I won’t let anything happen to the company. Trust me—I’ll make us the fifth entertainment giant in China.”

Ning Cai clearly didn’t believe him. She’d struggled for three years without success; how could Shen Xian do any better?

“Just focus on running your own studio. I’ll find my own way,” she said, then looked up at the sky. “Looks like it’s going to rain.”

Shen Xian shrugged off his suit jacket and draped it over her shoulders. “Let’s head back to the hotel.”

Ning Cai turned to face him. “Shen Xian, may I hug you?”

He was momentarily stunned, looking into her eyes. In their brightness, he saw a deep exhaustion.

Even artificial intelligence can feel fatigue; when too many programs run in the background, too much data to analyze, even AI needs to shut down and reboot. That was Ning Cai’s state now.

She thought perhaps a hug could reset her inner self.

When Shen Xian didn’t answer, Ning Cai said earnestly, “I can pay you.”

He couldn’t help but laugh, then opened his arms.

Ning Cai didn’t hesitate, nor was she shy or embarrassed. She stepped into his embrace, wrapped her arms around his waist, and pressed her cheek tightly against his chest.

She heard the steady beat of his heart. She breathed in the faint scent of tobacco and alcohol mingled on him—it was pleasant.

At the same time, a strange feeling rose in her heart. It was unfamiliar, like a current running through the depths of her soul.

She felt safe. She felt fulfilled. She was gradually becoming addicted to this sensation.

Was this what it meant to be held by a man?

Beneath the streetlight, the two of them held each other tightly.

Shen Xian breathed in the fragrance of her hair, but felt no stirring in his heart.

He realized, with a pang, that his emotions had been severed.

No one could see the deep sorrow in Shen Xian’s eyes.

He had lost the ability to feel moved, to love another—when had it begun?

Wang Tianqi was right; he had never truly loved Liu Ruyun.

He had treated her well out of a sense of duty, and out of an effort to learn how to love someone.

He’d believed that if Liu Ruyun just stayed by his side, he would eventually fall in love with her. So when she left, he was furious—but not at her betrayal. He was angry that she hadn’t given him the chance to fall in love with her.

Now, his greatest wish was to find the woman he had hurt three years ago. He would use everything at his disposal to treat her well, to love her, to protect her.

“Thank you,” Ning Cai said, releasing him and speaking calmly.

But Shen Xian noticed a faint flush on her cheeks.

His heart skipped a beat.

This was bad—something was amiss.

Ning Cai seemed to be falling for him.

That was not a good sign.

He decided he’d better keep his distance from her in the future.

“Go back and get some rest. Let’s look forward to Wang Tianqi’s performance tomorrow,” Shen Xian said gently.

Ning Cai nodded, walking beside him. Their shadows stretched long in the streetlight. Suddenly, she thought that if they could walk on like this forever, it might not be so bad.

“Look at our shadows,” she said. “They’re stuck together. Do you think, if they were separated, they’d miss each other?”

Shen Xian said nothing.

Ning Cai asked again, “Longing—what does it feel like, do you know?”

It wasn’t just her who didn’t know; Shen Xian didn’t either.

His capacity for love had been severed; Ning Cai was artificial intelligence. Neither knew what it was to miss someone.

But though Shen Xian didn’t know, he knew how to answer her.

“It’s like petals falling and water flowing away—one longing, two places of idle sorrow. No way to dispel these feelings; they leave the brow only to settle in the heart.

“It is to grow thin with longing, never regretting it, wasting away for her sake.”

In this world, there was no Jay Chou, no Song Ge, and certainly no Li Qingzhao or Liu Yong.

Yet when Ning Cai heard these words, her eyes sparkled bright, and goosebumps rose all over her skin.

She suddenly turned her head and looked at Shen Xian, her eyes shining.