She Cried for Him
///
Chen Cebai slowly nodded.
He seemed to have returned to normal—not only did his gaze no longer resemble that of a cold and hollow reptile, but the lurking ghostly hands in the shadows also kept a safe distance from her.
However, Qiu Yu knew that this was only an illusion.
He had originally intended to let her leave. But after she personally admitted that she loved him, he had clearly changed his mind again. The obsessive, almost pathological focus in his eyes was proof of that.
—As long as she showed the slightest hint of wanting to leave, the densely packed ghostly hands around her would immediately clamp down on her weak points.
Qiu Yu didn’t mind too much—after all, she had no intention of leaving him.
She had planned to give a carefully structured confession, but her mind went blank, so she could only speak whatever came to her.
“I remember you said before… that you’re not as good as I think you are. But have you ever considered that I might not be as good as you think I am either?”
Chen Cebai quietly watched her.
Without the lenses of his glasses, the cold madness in his eyes became even more distinct and pronounced, as if no matter what she said, he would hold it in his mouth and chew on it over and over again.
“What I’m about to say may sound a bit pretentious to you… but I have to tell you what’s in my heart.” Qiu Yu held his two bound hands and leaned against his shoulder. “I am… someone who is very deprived of love.”
“My parents always taught me that if I wanted to survive in this world, I had to constantly remind myself that everyone is my enemy—including them. If one day I were to stand in the way of their advancement, they would kill me without hesitation.”
Qiu Yu chuckled. “I understand their reasoning. To secure their place in the ruling class, they must become cold, ruthless, and adept at calculations; otherwise, they could be eliminated by their enemies at any moment.”
“I understand the rules of how this world operates.” She lowered her gaze. “But I don’t want to live like that… I want to live like a normal person.”
“After graduation, I was supposed to marry Pei Xi immediately and enter the field of biotechnology, but for the first time, I defied their will and became a journalist instead.”
“Do you remember the day my parents arranged for us to meet?” Qiu Yu asked. “I said that marriage, to me, was more like a partnership rather than the result of love. That was a complete lie. I detest everything transactional, and I also hated your absolute rationality that day. But I still wanted to marry you, so I lied.”
She curled her lips slightly, her smile both mischievous and tinged with a bit of uncertainty.
“Tell me, if I hadn’t lied, would things have been better for both of us? If I had been honest from the start and told you that I liked you, that I needed you to love me with all your heart… would you have suffered less?”
“I’m very angry today, but not because you underwent genetic modification, not because you are the Watcher, and not even because you can control this… these things. I’m angry because you never told me anything. If you had told me earlier that you loved me this much, that it was you who was watching me, that it was you who invaded the billboard, then I wouldn’t have been so afraid.”
She said, “What I fear is the unknown, not you.”
Chen Cebai’s Adam’s apple moved heavily.
“And… I’m actually really happy that you love me this much…” she continued. “Do you know? The moment I found out that you were the Watcher, I was actually thrilled. I knew you loved me, but I never imagined you loved me this much… I didn’t tell you this because the thought was too twisted. If I had known earlier that you—” She frowned slightly, seeming a bit regretful.
Chen Cebai closed his eyes briefly, for the first time trying to steady his breathing.
He felt an overwhelming sense of unreality.
Qiu Yu loved him.
Qiu Yu needed his love.
Qiu Yu was not afraid of his surveillance, but rather… delighted by it.
She did not care about his despicable and shameless actions, nor did she care that he had once been a repulsive mass of flesh and blood.
She only cared about his deception.
Not even the most unrealistic dreams he had ever conjured up could compare to the beauty of this moment.
Qiu Yu buried her head against the cold side of his neck and took a deep breath. “Do you know how I felt when I saw those videos? I was deeply saddened, and I was also furious. I felt sorrow for your past and anger at your secrecy. I don’t know how to describe that kind of sadness… I have never experienced anything truly tragic, so I can’t find the corresponding emotions to empathize with you. But that doesn’t mean I would ever want to leave you.”
“I really hate it when you hide things from me. It makes me feel like you don’t want me to get close to you… Ever since we got married, that feeling has always been there. I’ve had enough of wanting to be close to you but never being able to.”
Her voice trembled slightly, carrying a faint dampness.
Chen Cebai lowered his gaze as if sensing something, just in time to feel a single tear fall onto his neck.
It wasn’t hot, yet it made his skin itch as if ants were biting into it.
A dark and slippery pleasure surged in his heart.
—She cried for him.
He had imagined this scene before.
He had thought that when this moment truly arrived, he would not feel the same despicable excitement he had envisioned—only pain. Yet, the reality was the complete opposite.
Instead of weakening, the excitement intensified. It paralyzed half of his chest, even making his eye sockets tingle as if something damp and wriggling inside them was about to crawl out—to wipe away her tears in place of his lips and hands.
Chen Cebai shut his eyes, locking away those grotesque, writhing things. His voice was slightly hoarse as he spoke:
“You’re crying.”
Qiu Yu, both sorrowful and exasperated, snapped, “It’s because of you—who told you to speak?”
“…I’m sorry.”
“I don’t want your apology.” Her voice choked. “I want you to promise me that you will never lie to me again, never stop me from speaking again. I want you to be completely open with me. Can you do that? If not, then get lost.”
Chen Cebai lowered his gaze to her. This time, his look was no longer one that could see through her flesh and bones. But it was even more raw, even more terrifyingly direct.
“Do you really want complete openness?”
Qiu Yu raised an eyebrow. “What do you think?”
Chen Cebai paused for a moment, then lowered his head and lightly rubbed the side of his face against hers.
There was a faint sense of submission in the gesture.
Qiu Yu felt the cold, hard edge of his jaw against her skin, and her heart suddenly became both sweet and bitter.
“I’m very happy,” Chen Cebai murmured, “that you cried for me.”
Qiu Yu, however, was not happy at all. She was about to speak when she heard him calmly continue:
“…That is my most honest thought. Call me despicable, call me shameless if you want. You love me, you’re not afraid of me, you cry for me, you’re willing to accept me as I am—and I find that utterly unreal. And also… extraordinarily thrilling.”
His gaze locked onto hers, carrying an uncontrollable ecstasy.
“Even if you told me to die right now, I would end my life in absolute exhilaration.”