Chapter 85 You Still Have Me

Shen Xian did not refuse Zhou Wan’s suggestion. In fact, he rather enjoyed this feeling of “home.” Even though he knew that someday Zhou Wan and Qingqing would leave him, for now, Shen Xian felt himself slowly being healed.

The pain Lin Zhixia had inflicted upon him was immense. How immense? To prevent his mind from being consumed by thoughts of Lin Zhixia, he had plunged himself into an ocean of problems, working relentlessly, solving questions every moment. Only then could he avoid thinking about her. Because every time he remembered, it felt as if his heart might stop beating.

Before sleep, he would sink into endless internal struggle, unable to rest well at night. The moment he closed his eyes, his mind was filled with Lin Zhixia’s image. In his dreams, she would leave, then return, only to leave again. Each time he awoke, he felt as if he could not endure any longer.

It took him six or seven years to finally emerge from that terrifying cycle of self-consumption. Then he met Liu Ruyun. Her arrival did not heal him much; it was more a sense of responsibility that haunted him. He believed, having taken Liu Ruyun’s first time, he ought to be responsible. So he treated her desperately well, granting her every wish, projecting an image of utter infatuation.

Yet, in truth, Liu Ruyun had never stirred his heart. It was then he realized he had lost the ability to love, to feel excitement for another. On the streets, in various settings, he would see women dressed attractively, beautiful and sexy, and his body would respond instinctively. But there was no love.

Shen Xian never wanted to endure such pain a second time. The wounds Lin Zhixia left still lingered, persisting even now.

“Shen Xian, what kind of woman do you like?” Zhou Wan suddenly turned her head to look at him.

With his emotional intelligence, Shen Xian naturally understood the answer she hoped to hear. He gazed at her earnestly, his eyes full of deep affection: “Mature and independent, emotionally stable, yet with a distinct personality. Others say she has a bad temper, but in my eyes, that’s just character. I like women like that.”

At his words, Zhou Wan’s slender, jade-like neck blushed softly, the pink spreading to her cheeks. He’s describing me! She was rebellious by nature, always saying one thing and feeling another. Everyone claimed she had a terrible temper. But Shen Xian said it was personality—and that he liked it?

He’s flirting with me! Yet his eyes were so sincere, filled entirely with me. But I like the postman. Besides, Ning Cai wants to pursue him. All things considered, I can’t let myself get entangled with him emotionally.

With that thought, Zhou Wan lowered her head, using the motion of drying her hair as an excuse, the towel shielding her face from Shen Xian’s gaze.

Little trickster. Think I can’t handle you? Go to sleep! That was Shen Xian’s thought. But Zhou Wan had no intention of sleeping, and silence settled between them.

A long time passed before Zhou Wan spoke again: “Can you tell me about your past?”

She instinctively sensed that Shen Xian carried many stories, such as the woman standing beside him on the yacht. Clearly, they knew each other.

“Me? I’ve always been alone,” Shen Xian replied with a smile.

Zhou Wan was taken aback, not understanding, and simply looked at him quietly.

Shen Xian sighed, “Do you know why I agreed to let you and Qingqing stay? Because you gave me the feeling of home. When I was young, during the New Year’s Eve dinner, it was just me and my grandfather. Later, it was only me, and a plate of dumplings sent by an aunt.”

The more festive the occasion, the easier it was to feel lonely. Shen Xian felt most alone during the New Year. Outside, thousands of families were lit up, laughter everywhere, but he was by himself. Liu Ruyun went home to be with her family, Xiao Yang accompanied his parents.

Zhou Wan’s gaze softened, feeling her heart touched by his vulnerability.

Once again, she sensed a sorrowful emotion emanating from Shen Xian—a loneliness, lifeless and bleak.

“What about your parents?” she finally couldn’t help but ask.

“I don’t know. But I do know their greatest contribution was bringing me into the world, but they cared little for raising me.” There was a hint of mockery in Shen Xian’s tone.

In today’s advanced society, is it really so hard to find someone? Three years ago, he appeared frequently on screens—did they never notice? And when Xiao Yang’s father, Xiao Zhengchun, visited Haicheng for business, he met a middle-aged man who resembled Shen Xian and whose family had lost a son. Xiao Zhengchun spoke with him, mentioning he’d met a young man in Nanzhou whose age matched the missing son.

But the man’s attitude was indifferent. He said, “Mr. Xiao, please don’t speak nonsense. My son was never lost. I have only one son, and he’s just graduated college.”

From that moment, Shen Xian realized that regardless of what had happened years ago—he and his parents had been separated—but they didn’t seem to care.

If they didn’t care, then so be it. He had endured alone all these years, after all.

Zhou Wan’s heart ached. “You must have had a hard childhood.”

This was Shen Xian’s first time opening up to a woman—even Liu Ruyun had never heard this.

“All the hardship, all the exhaustion—there’s no need to elaborate. The saddest part about being poor isn’t the material deprivation; I could endure that.”

“It’s the deprivation of spirit and dignity.”

“I always had good grades, but that only made me a target for others. Even the teachers would use me as an example: ‘Look at Shen Xian, an orphan from a poor family, and he still scores so well.’”

“Other parents would criticize me, saying it was a pity I wasn’t born into a good family.”

“Classmates would attack me, asking why an orphan like me could do so well academically.”

“The worst part was that, whether in my class, other classes, or the entire school, whenever something was lost, whenever money went missing, the first suspect was always me. In elementary school, I was interrogated sixty-five times, taken away by police thirty-six times. In middle school, interrogated one hundred and one times, taken away fifty-five times. In four years of university… investigated jointly by the school one hundred and twenty-two times, taken away by police one hundred and twenty-two times!”

“The poor have no dignity. Poverty is a sin. For things I never did, they would accuse me without hesitation, pin it all on me. I was called a thief, a bastard, something nobody wanted…”

Zhou Wan saw that this sunny, resolute man now had reddened eyes. Despite the smile on his face as he spoke, his pain was clear.

There were things Shen Xian didn’t mention—such as the accusations and suspicion from Lin Zhixia during his school years, which hurt him most of all.

“Shen Xian,” Zhou Wan couldn’t help but move closer, her faint fragrance drifting to his senses as she spoke excitedly, “It’s all in the past now. I believe you’re a good person. You have me… and my daughter, Qingqing!”