Clara lowered her eyes, her tone calm and without a ripple.

"I came to get the divorce agreement; I'm here to have a final settlement with you."

Julian's face turned pale instantly. He braced himself to sit up, his tone hurried and panicked.

"I don't agree."

Clara raised her eyes and looked at him indifferently, her expression one of utter relief.

"Julian, when feelings are exhausted, there is never a need for anyone's agreement. This relationship ended long ago; I just couldn't bring myself to leave. Now I've thought it through—it's time to part ways."

His fingers tightened on the sheets, his knuckles turning white: "You say it's over, so it's over?"

"Otherwise?"

Clara looked into his eyes, "You once said, you are the gatekeeper of the living, and I am the ferryman of the dead."

"When you said that, I thought you truly felt we were the same kind of people. Later, I realized that you were just saying—you guard the living, I ferry the dead, and we each go our own way."

"From beginning to end, I never walked into your world."

Julian opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but nothing came out.

Clara smiled, a faint smile so light it was almost non-existent.

"Three years ago, you married me because I was quiet and not annoying. Three years later, I want to leave because I don't want to be quiet anymore, and I don't want to be that 'not annoying' person anymore."

"Julian, I am human. I also feel pain, I also get tired, and I also don't want to act anymore."

"Let's not be in contact anymore. Just sign the divorce agreement and mail it to me."

"Clara—"

"Don't see me off, it's inconvenient for your leg."

When Clara walked out of the hospital building, the night wind of Qiyan poured into her neckline, biting cold.

She stood on the steps and looked up at the window on the third floor where the lights were on.

He was inside.

She was outside.

For the first time in three years, she felt this distance was just right.

Neither too far nor too close—exactly the distance of "strangers."

When she arrived at the train station, there were few people in the waiting room. Clara found a seat by the window and sat down.

Her phone vibrated in her pocket several times, but she didn't look.

She knew who was sending the messages.

And she didn't want to look anymore.

Before passing the ticket gate, she took a photo of the train information to Anhe on the electronic screen of the waiting room and sent a message to Julian.

It was just one photo, with a single line of text.

【Don't come looking for me.】

After sending it, she opened her contact list, found his name, and pressed delete.

The moment the red exclamation point popped up, she felt a sense of relief instead.

The train pulled out of the platform into the night, the city lights outside the window receding little by little.

Clara watched the dark night outside the window.

The tracks stretched into the distance, exactly the same as when she came.

Only the direction was different.

She had erased him from her life.

Chat history, call logs, contact list—everything related to him was gone.

Except for that memory.

That memory about "the gatekeeper of the living, the ferryman of the dead."

But even that memory, Clara would delete slowly.

Not blocking, not muting—but complete deletion.

Just like she deleted his contact.

Clean, decisive, and without looking back.

The train sped through the night, the lights outside flashing by one by one, like a movie playing in reverse.

Clara closed her eyes.

This time, it was a real departure.

Not running away from home, not going to Anhe for work, not a temporary separation.

It was deleting him from her life, completely.

Just like he used to delete her messages.

Clean, decisive, and without looking back.

Chapter 12

For the first month after returning from Qiyan, Clara thought this matter had come to a complete end.

Julian did not come to Anhe again.

She told herself this was a good thing.

He had finally realized it.

But every morning when she passed that streetlight, she still slowed her pace unconsciously.

There was no paper bag on the steps, no one under the streetlight, and the wind blowing in from the street corner was bone-chillingly cold.

She lowered her head, quickened her pace, and walked into the service center, burying herself in work.

Her hands were steady when she applied makeup to the deceased.

Five years, no matter how much pain she felt inside, her hands could not tremble; this was her respect for her work.

But today, her hand holding the eyebrow pencil suddenly paused.

Julian had never seen her work; he didn't know what her expression was like when she picked up an eyebrow pencil, didn't know she would say "don't be afraid" when wiping a face, didn't know she would secretly wipe away tears in the hallway.

He knew nothing.

He only knew how to tell her to wash her hands.

Clara took a deep breath and continued with the makeup.

When she got home that night, Lin Wei called her.

"Clara, Julian is back at the hospital working."

My movement of changing shoes paused, my fingertips pinching the edge of the shoe tightening slightly, my tone devoid of emotion.

"How do you know?"

"Stephanie posted on her social media, captioned, 'Senior is finally back, the department can't function without you.'"

"There was Julian in the photo, wearing a white coat, performing surgery. His leg hasn't fully healed; he has to stand to perform surgery, and his leg will swell if he stands for too long."

I lowered my eyes, avoiding the tiny, sharp pain in my heart, my voice very flat.

"That has nothing to do with me."

"Clara, I'm not telling you whether he's good or bad, I'm just telling you: he returned to Qiyan. Think through the matters between you two yourself."

I leaned against the entryway cabinet, silent for a few seconds, and answered softly.

"I'm clear."

After hanging up, Clara sat on the sofa, clutching a pillow and staring at the ceiling.

He returned to Qiyan.

He wouldn't come again.

Wasn't this what she wanted? He left, she was free, she didn't have to be despised for being "dirty," didn't have to be cautious, didn't have to wait for him to come home. This was her own choice.

But why did she feel so empty inside?

Clara opened the drawer and took out that divorce agreement. The one he had signed.

The two characters "Julian" were written neatly beside her name.

When he hadn't signed, there was still a string connecting them in her heart.

He signed, and the string snapped. She was free, but she had also completely lost him.

No, she had never possessed him in the first place.

She put the agreement back and turned off the light to sleep.

In the darkness, she could hear people laughing and talking downstairs.

The world wouldn't stop because of one person's heartbreak. Neither would she.

But the next morning, when she stepped out, she froze.

A paper bag was placed on the steps. The paper bag from that porridge shop on Anhe Road.

The porridge was hot.

There was a sticky note on the paper bag, and Clara recognized the handwriting at a glance.

【I'm back, not leaving this time.】

She stood on the steps, holding the bowl of porridge in her hands, it was warm.

The wind blew, and her eyes grew sore.

He was back.

He said he wouldn't leave.

Clara did not drink that porridge.

She placed the porridge on the windowsill of the guard room and turned away.

But she knew he was nearby. She could feel his gaze, falling on her back, very light, as if afraid of startling something.

She didn't look back.

For every day that followed, when Clara went out, there was a bowl of porridge on the steps.

The flavors changed every day: century egg and lean pork, mushroom and shredded chicken, yam and pork rib, pumpkin and millet.

He knew exactly what she liked and what she didn't.

The porridge was always hot. The notes on the paper bag were different every day.

【It's getting colder in Anhe today, put on an extra layer.】

【You were bowing your head while walking yesterday, is your stomach hurting?】

【I dreamt of you yesterday, you were smiling. I cried after waking up.】

She didn't reply even once.

Chapter 13

But Clara collected those sticky notes and kept them in a drawer.

She didn't know why she kept them.

Anhe had its first snowfall since the beginning of winter.

When Clara returned from work, she saw him at the entrance of the residential complex.

He was standing under a streetlight, and the snow had accumulated in a thin layer on his shoulders.