Original Sin

Through the crowd surrounding him, Jiang Wenzhe spotted Tang Lin knocking back drink after drink, occasionally throwing resentful glances his way.

"Excuse me." Jiang Wenzhe made his way over to Tang Lin.

Seeing him approach, Tang Lin asked, "Want to talk upstairs?"

"Sure. Why are you drinking so much?" The smell of alcohol hit him, and Jiang Wenzhe couldn't help but frown.

Two tall figures pushed through the crowd and climbed to the second-floor window ledge.

The night had deepened, and stars twinkled in the deep blue sky.

Tang Lin nudged Jiang Wenzhe with his elbow and got straight to the point: "Tell me, why are you lying to Little Fish? I can tell she really likes you."

Jiang Wenzhe tapped the railing absently, his gaze fixed on some distant point. "Do you think attachment equals love?"

What an absurd question. Tang Lin's mouth twitched. Without a second thought, he said, "Isn't depending on someone love? I wouldn't depend on someone I hate—I'd just crush them under my heel."

"Is that so?" Jiang Wenzhe's words seemed aimed at Tang Lin, but even more at himself.

He had laid out an elaborate scheme. Through his own clumsy, self-righteous methods, he had exploited Lin Sangyu's sensitive, insecure nature, effortlessly molding her into someone who couldn't leave him, who clung to him.

But was that love?

No. It wasn't.

Attachment is a psychological need, rooted in an infant's claim on its caregiver—it's selfish, self-serving, a simple "you can't leave me."

But love is more. He wanted Lin Sangyu to love him. Love was giving, fulfillment, empathy, responsibility, selfless devotion to another, the highest emotional aspiration one person can have for another.

And what did Lin Sangyu feel for him?

That was attachment, not love.

Jiang Wenzhe could be certain of this because he was the very architect of it all. Before her love had even taken shape, he was like a bewitched Adam, ignoring the boundary between good and evil, taking a bite of the fruit of the tree of knowledge, and with shallow pride, sharing that fall with her. This was his original sin.

The last time they were in London, Lin Sangyu had joked that she only liked his face.

But today, he was thirty-two—already old. Even that advantage was slipping away.

Last month, carrying the cream cake he'd ordered for Lin Sangyu, he'd passed a skincare shop and, for some inexplicable reason, wandered into that store filled with soft fragrances—a place utterly at odds with him.

It wasn't until the saleswoman's cool lotion swept across his cheek that he snapped back to reality, the illusion shattered, and he fled in a fluster.

For a moment, he couldn't believe that person had been him.

In the cool breeze, he stood frozen. When he came to again, he saw the looped billboard ad outside the door.

A few bold words stung his eyes.

—Precision anti-aging, smooth away the wrinkles of time.

Would an aging Jiang Wenzhe still be liked by Lin Sangyu?

Would she think he was starting to smell old? She'd probably find him ugly.

Lin Sangyu had experienced countless partings in her life. She was helpless, she broke down, she grew numb. To avoid more partings, she had chosen to live alone for over a decade, even coming to resent her own long life.

So could she accept a much older Jiang Wenzhe?

Probably not.

Every pet owner, when choosing to get a pet, is really planting a seed of grief for themselves in advance.

What was that saying? They eat my food, drink my water, and when they leave, they take my tears with them.

He was eight years older than Lin Sangyu, and for her, he was the same.

He was that seed of grief, that sword of Damocles hanging overhead. One day, the seed would sprout, the sword would fall, and his original sin would eventually bring disaster upon his Eve.

And so, he dared not say "love" to Lin Sangyu.

Love could not exist between them.

He was unworthy, and he was shameful.

I know you are weak and helpless. I know the fragility of your life, that you fear another parting. I know you are naive. And yet, knowing all of this, I let desire blind my eyes and chose to hurt you.

"What do you mean?" Tang Lin grabbed Jiang Wenzhe's arm, trying to catch his eyes. "Look at me."

"Nothing. Forget it—just assume I enjoy playing the tyrant." Jiang Wenzhe shook his head and let out a deep breath. "If I get the chance, I'll tell you another time."

The banquet's soothing music continued to flow. Wine, sweat, perfume, and the wavering shadows of the crowd all trembled together in the glittering highball glasses, all distorted, all refined.

Jiang Wenzhe descended the stairs and stepped once more into this revelry that was his alone.

But Lin Sangyu, even if I am scheming, even if I am treacherous, even if my sins are heavy—

When it comes to you, I still refuse to let go.

For defying God's command, Adam and Eve were mercilessly cast out of Eden. Yet after leaving paradise, they remained "one flesh," even if discord arose in their hearts, never separated, bearing together the curse of the earth and childbirth.

So we should be the same—even if it's wrong, it should be a love wrong that entangles us for life.

The banquet's revolving door slid open, and the crowd hushed, turning to look.

Two people entered. A man sat upright in a custom gray-black electric wheelchair, dressed in pure black, with sharply tailored shoulders. His graying hair was impeccably groomed, and even seated, his back remained ramrod straight. His deep, sharp eyes swept calmly over the guests, carrying the pressure of one who had long held power.

Behind him, pushing the wheelchair, was his wife. She wore a matte champagne-colored gown, her temperament gentle and refined, her features elegant despite her age—one could glimpse the beauty she once had.

The newcomers were none other than Jiang Wenzhe's parents, Jiang Yaoting and Yang Zhijin.

Jiang Wenzhe stepped forward, smoothly took the wheelchair handle from Yang Zhijin, and respectfully said, "Dad, Mom."

Yang Zhijin's lips curved in a kind smile. In front of all the guests, she patted her son's shoulder like a doting mother, but her words held no warmth: "Wenzhe, come—let us see the woman you'd risk everything to marry."

Jiang Wenzhe didn't back down. He stepped forward and embraced his mother, pressing his lips to her ear, his jaw tight, his muscles stiff, yet his voice gentle: "Of course, Mother. Let you take a good look at your future daughter-in-law."

His gaze sharpened, a smile curling at the corner of his mouth. "And as for what you should say once you see her, you know, don't you?"

A deep voice cut in. Jiang Yaoting said, "No need for your reminders. Lead the way, Jiang Wenzhe. I don't have time for your childish games."

"Yes, Father."

The scene pulled back. The family of three smiled—son pushing father, mother holding son's arm—and walked into the elevator, all harmony and joy.

Pushing open the door to the private room, Jiang Wenzhe saw two girls huddled together, laughing uncontrollably.

"Jiang Wenzhe, you're done!"

Lin Sangyu noticed him immediately and stood up eagerly to walk toward him, only to freeze the moment she saw the two people behind him.

"Are these your parents?"

Jiang Wenzhe said flatly, "Mm, this is my mom and dad."

Huang Jue, ever quick to read the room, smiled apologetically at the four of them. "I'll leave you all to it, then. Uncle and Auntie, I'll come back later to pay my respects properly."

After Huang Jue left, the atmosphere in the room turned awkward.

Jiang Wenzhe walked over to Lin Sangyu, pulled her back to sit on the sofa, and broke the ice: "Let's all sit and talk."

Lin Sangyu squeezed her palms, doing her best to maintain a composed expression. She smiled and said, "Hello, Uncle and Auntie. I'm Lin Sangyu."

Yang Zhijin wore a practiced smile. "No need to be nervous. We simply wanted to meet you."

"It's really so much trouble for you both—I should have come to visit you." Not knowing what else to say, Lin Sangyu blurted out, "Um... would you like some fruit? The fruit here is very sweet."

"No, thank you. I don't eat after five; I've gotten used to it." Yang Zhijin raised a hand in a graceful refusal.

Jiang Yaoting, who had been silent for a long while, spoke up: "Xiao Lin, I hear from Wenzhe that you work in self-media. Can you tell us more?"

Before Lin Sangyu could answer, Jiang Wenzhe cut in: "She's in self-media for now, but later I'll help her start her own company. Using her current traffic, we'll integrate production and sales."

"The pet industry, with an aging population and shifting views among modern youth, is bound to be an emerging sector. She and I are both interested in building a career there."

Jiang Wenzhe had never mentioned this to her. Lin Sangyu looked up at him, a little surprised.

Jiang Yaoting folded his hands in front of him, a glint in his eyes. "Is that so? It's good that you young people have ambition. With Wenzhe guiding you, Xiao Lin, your career is sure to go smoothly."

Jiang Wenzhe stepped in front of Lin Sangyu again, steady and firm: "On the contrary, in this regard, Sangyu is the one leading me. I'm not familiar with it—whether it's the selection of materials or later marketing, she does it far better than I do."

What was done was done. Faced with Jiang Wenzhe's unapologetic protectiveness, whatever he did now was futile. Jiang Yaoting let out a snort of a laugh, his gaze sweeping over the hand that Jiang Wenzhe kept subtly stroking Lin Sangyu's back. He said, "Well, that's for you young folks to figure out. I wish you success in advance."

With that, he waved a hand and said to Yang Zhijin beside him, "We still have matters to attend to, so we'll be going. You two enjoy your time alone."

A rotten piece of wood cannot be carved.

Lin Sangyu instinctively rose to see them off, but Jiang Wenzhe pressed her back down. He smiled politely at the two of them. "Then take care, Mom and Dad."

The door slowly closed, and in the last sliver of gap before it shut, Lin Sangyu caught Jiang Yaoting's undisguised look of disgust and contempt.

But before that cutting gaze reached her, Jiang Wenzhe's large hand covered her eyes.

Lin Sangyu was enveloped in warm darkness.

His lashes brushed against her palm as he said, "Let's go home. Right now."