Sweet slice-of-life love story: Wife, Let's love again
Chapter 338 - 331: How Many Phases in Life

Chapter 338: Chapter 331: How Many Phases in Life

Gently caressing He Fang’s back with his hand, Qin Guanglin remained silent, letting her vent her emotions.

He dared not imagine what it would be like if he were in her position.

Whenever he thought of He Fang leaving and himself alone with their daughter, a pang struck his heart.

How would he endure the decades ahead?

He did not blame He Fang.

They could just have another daughter.

Scenes from the past flashed in his mind: her smile when they first met, He Fang’s forehead reddened from kneeling in Zhongnan, the slender silhouette of her holding a knife in the recorder...

Now he understood why she couldn’t sleep at night and why she took those pills.

"You finish doing what you must, you try your hardest, and then you turn to pray to the gods, hoping for a wish from the ethereal deities."

"There’s a saying: man plans, heaven decides. If a person has done everything possible and wishes to go further, the only choice left is to pray to the gods for that slight increase in the chances of success, never neglecting even a small opportunity for perfection."

"As long as there’s even a slight chance of increasing hope, one mustn’t let it go easily, right?"

His gentle words echoed in his heart, and Qin Guanglin understood everything.

The night grew deeper.

More than three thousand meters high on the mountain cliff, the night wind grew stronger, bringing a chill even in the height of summer. He Fang’s voice grew quieter, and Qin Guanglin tightened his arms around her.

"Let’s go back."

"Let’s sit for a while longer."

He Fang sniffed and raised her head from Qin Guanglin’s embrace, squeezing out a smile, "Now we can start over, how wonderful."

"Yes, how wonderful."

Qin Guanglin nodded, then sighed, "But... I wish it were me. You’ve endured too much."

"The outcome is good, isn’t it?" asked He Fang. "Everything is moving toward..."

Before she could finish, Qin Guanglin covered her mouth.

"Don’t jinx it."

"..."

"We will work on it together." Qin Guanglin removed his hand, kissed her forehead tenderly, and said seriously, "Me at one hundred, you at ninety-eight, just right."

"Yes, just right."

The wind at the summit stirred He Fang’s hair, and Qin Guanglin helped her smooth it back, sitting down and holding her, turning to gaze at the massive central Buddha statue. They sat quietly for a while, feeling He Fang snuggle closer into his embrace, chilly from the wind, and he suggested again, "Let’s go back."

"Yes." He Fang did not refuse this time, looking toward the neon-lit hotel in the distance, trying to stand up but leaning back on Qin Guanglin again.

"I can’t get up after sitting too long."

"I’ll help you."

Having sat from the afternoon onwards, Qin Guanglin also felt numbness in his legs and feet. He stood up, stamping his feet, bent down to help He Fang up, and looked back at the pitch-dark beyond the cliff’s edge, a vague and indescribable thought rising from the bottom of his heart.

The answer he had been seeking for so long turned out to be this.

"Why..."

Taking a few steps with He Fang, Qin Guanglin opened his mouth then closed it, pondering how to express himself in the face of He Fang’s puzzled gaze; he mused and then said, "Why do I feel that you... are so ordinary?"

That strange sense of contradiction had finally been pinpointed.

Indeed, if looked at from a common perspective, He Fang was a winner in life, enjoying her job and earning money writing novels, living comfortably and having him, an excellent husband.

But for a Time Traveler, her life was too ordinary.

Remembering the first time they watched a movie, Xia Luo on the screen, regardless of the money or power, got everything easily even though it was artistically exaggerated; if such a person existed in reality, achieving that status would probably not be difficult.

He Fang thought for a moment and countered, "What would make it not ordinary?"

"Uh..."

Qin Guanglin hesitated, then randomly waved a finger towards the distance, "Look at those in movies or literary works, someone like you should achieve great things."

"Did you notice that, whether in movies or literary works, the endings are almost never good?" He Fang shrugged and continued, "—I mean serious literature. The over-yy type doesn’t count; it has too many flaws."

"The butterfly effect?"

"Exactly."

"Without anyone living like you, who knows if it’s true or false... The tragedies in serious literature are only for deep impact, not reliable. Why not give it a try?"

"Dare I?"

Qin Guanglin suddenly stopped in his tracks.

Dare to try?

Two people talking here already says it all.

"Even if there’s the slightest possibility of an accident, I wouldn’t try."

He Fang turned his head toward him and smirked, "I know what happiness looks like. So, as long as I carefully and methodically move forward, I can have everything. Why gamble with probability?

— And my biggest advantage is knowing everything. If I disrupt things now, I’d lose all my advantages and become just like you... Do you understand now?"

"I understand half of it," Qin Guanglin nodded, gripping her hand tighter unconsciously.

He didn’t know how he felt.

If it were him, knowing everything about the future, would he be content to stay by her side, living a plain, mundane life?

Qin Guanglin couldn’t come up with an answer to this question.

A prophet knows what that means. He Fang wouldn’t be clueless, yet she chose to stay with him in a rental on South Fly Road, screaming at the sight of cockroaches.

Was he really worth it?

This thought uncontrollably emerged from the depths of his heart.

Steps echoing under the moonlight on Emei Golden Summit, the heavens a glittering tapestry of stars like a colossal inverted crystal bowl sparkling with speckles of light, He Fang slowed her pace, shaking his hand she held, and asked, "Which half do you understand?"

"I should have been an artist," Qin Guanglin sighed. "You’ve always tried to steer me towards an artist’s path, urging me to quit my job—speaking of which, this must be the butterfly effect, right?"

"That’s right."

"Whether or not I’m an artist doesn’t matter, things are fine as they are. It’s just—everything going as it was, it’s not very likely..."

He didn’t finish his words, trusting He Fang would understand his meaning.

He Fang did understand, lowering her head as if thinking. Qin Guanglin was in no hurry, stood his ground without urging her forward, simply watching her quietly, waiting for her to speak.

The matters concerned their lives and their happiness; he had to know He Fang’s thoughts and plans.

"Disrupted scenarios cannot be controlled."

He Fang spoke softly.

"If this were a movie, you knew the protagonist would die, but you had a chance to manipulate the progress bar to change the plot."

She pondered, as if debating how apt her analogy was, "Would you choose to disrupt the plot right from the start, making it totally crumble and spin out of control—

or would you drag the progress bar to the last moment, pausing it at the instant before the protagonist faces danger to save him?"

"Direct strike."

Qin Guanglin nodded, indicating he understood.

The more controlled the details, the easier it was to meet the objective. Besides the concern for the butterfly effect, her desire for stability also played a role, mixing together to finally create the present situation.

In another ten years, the biggest bug in her world would silently disappear without causing any ripples.

"Any regrets?"

Knowing everything, Qin Guanglin hesitated a moment but still asked.

He Fang blinked, momentarily not understanding what he meant, and reflexively asked, "Regret what?"

"The plain daily life, and I still nag you every day." Qin Guanglin attempted a light-hearted tone.

"Then less nagging," He Fang quipped, looking up at the night sky, and said, "Do you know what the eternal theme of time travel is?"

"What is it?"

"To rectify regrets. Everyone thinks that if they could do their whole life over, they could do it better—almost everyone believes that."

He Fang walked slowly ahead, drawing on Qin Guanglin’s sturdy arm, tilting her head to look at him, and asked, "Right?"

"Yeah... seems so."

Qin Guanglin had to admit, the greatest benefit of this affair was to redo all the wrongs he had done.

To do it again, and to do it perfectly.

"All those years, I was very happy; you left me no regrets, except for yourself."

"My only regret is you."

The gentle words rooted Qin Guanglin to the spot.

"Do you think I’ll regret it?"

Under the starlight, He Fang tilted her head back, the rims of her eyes still unnaturally red from recent tears, her voice not as crisp as usual, sounding slightly husky.

That year’s summer, stars dazzled brilliantly and the moon glowed silver. Qin Guanglin and He Fang linked arms, standing at the foot of the colossal Divine Statue in the center of Golden Summit, a breeze brushing past them, whistling to the distant cliff edges like a sigh in their ears.

At last, he had fully grasped the stubbornness of He Fang, his eyes blurred unwittingly by the wind. He blinked hard a few times, then pulled her fiercely into his embrace.