C15 This Is Our Fate

The airport was bustling with travelers.

Chiang Le, clutching a bouquet of flowers, stood in the center of the terminal, his gaze fixed on a distant couple. He appeared utterly alone amidst the crowd.

The elevator descended.

Oblivious to the world, the flirtatious pair didn't notice the forlorn figure watching them from afar.

Chiang Le watched, his expression vacant, as they smiled and embraced, then rode the elevator down together.

Upon exiting the elevator, the man tenderly took Zhang Miaomiao's hand, and they walked shoulder to shoulder, ready to leave the airport.

A peculiar sensation took hold of Zhang Miaomiao. She turned abruptly and saw Chiang Le standing there with his flowers.

The man beside her sensed her sudden stiffness and asked what was wrong, but received no reply. Following her gaze, he too saw Chiang Le, not far off, holding a bouquet.

At the sight of Chiang Le, Zhang Miaomiao instinctively released the man's hand.

They both stood still, locking eyes, neither moving an inch.

Eventually, it was Chiang Le who shattered the silence.

He took a deep breath, straining to keep his facial muscles in check, and managed a smile as he stepped forward toward the couple.

A month on the construction site had etched its toll on Chiang Le's face.

He was noticeably darker and leaner than when they had last seen each other, his posture slightly stooped, exuding an air of defeat. A flicker of guilt passed through Zhang Miaomiao's eyes but was quickly replaced by a sneer from the man at her side.

The man watched Chiang Le approach with a serene gaze, then gently took Zhang Miaomiao's hand once more, affirming his claim over her.

Zhang Miaomiao made no attempt to pull away.

Chiang Le stopped a meter from them.

"It's been a while," he said, his eyes on the familiar, endearing face before him, his mouth breaking into a wide, pained smile.

"Uh-huh," Zhang Miaomiao murmured, nodding slightly as she fidgeted with her skirt, at a loss for words.

"Hello, Chiang Le. It's been a long time," said the man beside Zhang Miaomiao, extending his hand in greeting.

Chiang Le didn't spare the other man a glance, as if he were invisible, his gaze fixed intently on Zhang Miaomiao, as though she were a complete stranger to him.

The man's hand hung awkwardly in midair, and after what seemed like an eternity, he withdrew it with an embarrassed air. His eyes, now glaring at Chiang Le, betrayed a flicker of annoyance.

"I'm really sorry for not calling you much this month. I've been exhausted," Chiang Le admitted.

"I've been working at a construction site, hauling cement up skyscrapers. By the end of each day, I'm so spent I can barely lift a finger."

"The foreman, a real piece of work, tried to cheat me out of my wages. It took a Herculean effort, but I finally got what I was owed."

"Last night, I couldn't sleep—I missed you too much. I got up in the dead of night and picked flowers from the garden, selecting each one carefully, counting out ninety-nine. They're beautiful, aren't they?"

"I arrived here at six this morning and waited a long time. I wanted to surprise you, but instead, it seems I've given you a fright."

Chiang Le's gaze never wavered from Zhang Miaomiao as he said, "I'm sorry."

"Chiang Le, you should apologize..."

"The flowers and the phone, they're both for you," Chiang Le insisted, cutting off Zhang Miaomiao and extending the gifts toward her.

But Zhang Miaomiao didn't accept them. She simply shook her head, her voice tight with emotion, "Chiang Le, I'm sorry. We should break up."

"The flowers are blameless. Please, take them."

Again, Zhang Miaomiao shook her head. "Chiang Le, you're a good man. You'll find someone better—a girl who truly deserves these flowers more than I do."

"This is probably the last time I'll ever put so much heart into a gift for a girl," Chiang Le said, his eyes growing distant. He was a formidable figure now, with endless resources and an extraordinary life as a cultivator. He would meet many women more beautiful and accomplished than Zhang Miaomiao, but none would ever inspire him to move heaven and earth for her again.

"I don't need them anymore. I'm sorry." Standing between past affection and a new love, Zhang Miaomiao firmly made her stance clear.

Chiang Le forced a smile and nodded, making his way to a nearby trash can. He tossed in the flowers he had painstakingly prepared the night before, along with the phone that had cost him countless hours of sweat and tears.

From a distance, Elena's heart clenched in sympathy. She had no idea what truly irreplaceable treasure was being lost at that moment.

It was as if he was bidding farewell to all that had been. After discarding his tokens of affection, Chiang Le dusted off his hands and faced them once more.

"Alright, can you tell me why?" Chiang Le's gaze was stormy with suppressed emotion. "I need a reason."

"I love rice, but you're fixated on noodles. I prefer sweet bean curd, while you go for the salty kind. I can't stand chili, but you can't get enough of it. I'm into Coke, and you? You'd rather have a drink. We're just not compatible."

"So, is he your destined one? Does he match all your habits and personality traits?" Chiang Le gestured toward the man standing next to Zhang Miaomiao.

"Miaomiao and I aren't a perfect match either. Do you know why we're together? Because Miaomiao is willing to compromise for me, something she would never do for you," Woo Hong, a fellow student from Chiang Le's university, said with a scornful laugh.

"In plain terms, it's not about compatibility; it's that he's wealthier than I am," Chiang Le said with a heavy heart and a long sigh.

"Yes, Chiang Le, call me materialistic, shallow, or whatever you like. The bottom line is, I've wronged you," Zhang Miaomiao confessed, her lips quivering. "You're a good man, and you've done nothing wrong, but we're just not right for each other. This is the real world, and the love you offer isn't the love I'm looking for."

"Why the rush? Why not wait a bit longer? Why not give me a chance to prove I can make you happy?" Chiang Le's voice was laced with sorrow, for both himself and the girl before him.

Chiang Le was utterly convinced that after today, the girl in front of him would never find a more perfect boyfriend than him. She would never find someone who loved her as much as he did.

The thought of his beloved not achieving the perfect happiness he wished for her filled Chiang Le with profound sadness.

"Proof? What kind of proof could you possibly offer? We live in a material world, Chiang Le—face reality," Woo Hong snapped, his patience clearly worn thin. "I can spoil Miaomiao with designer bags, treat her to Michelin-starred meals, and buy her the finest cosmetics. And you? You practically kill yourself just to buy her a phone. You're not in her league."

Chiang Le's eyes narrowed slightly.

Woo Hong's patronizing tone and his air of superiority stoked the fires of Chiang Le's rage.

"When Miaomiao's brother racked up gambling debts online, I was the one who stepped in to calm the debt collectors."

"When her father fell ill, I secured the best doctor for his care."

"I can't guarantee much, but I can assure you that as long as Miaomiao is with me, I'll help her land the best job after graduation and support her in achieving her dreams."

"Miaomiao's birthday is just around the corner. I got her a BMW. What's your plan? A bunch of flowers? A cheesy love poem? Come on, we're adults here."

Woo Hong's words were sharp and domineering, cutting to the core.

"Why didn't you tell me about all the trouble at home this summer?" Chiang Le asked, turning to Zhang Miaomiao.

"What difference would it have made if I had?" Zhang Miaomiao replied with a weary sigh.

Chiang Le hung his head.

"Let's get going," Woo Hong said dismissively, giving Chiang Le a contemptuous look and smirking. He took Zhang Miaomiao's hand, strutting away like a rooster claiming victory.

"Hold on," Chiang Le called out, stopping him in his tracks.

"What?" Woo Hong paused, a sneer spreading across his face.

"Drop the righteous act. You're nothing but a lowlife—a disgrace," Chiang Le said, still looking down. "We've known each other since high school, and now we're at the same university. You're well aware of my relationship with Miaomiao. You did this deliberately, Woo Hong. I'm furious, and you're going to regret it."

Woo Hong's laugh was cold. He had honed his Taekwondo skills for years and if this fool before him couldn't see reason, Woo Hong was more than ready to crush what was left of his dignity.

"What do you want, and what can you actually do?" Chiang Le stared down Woo Hong, blinked, took a deep breath, and then launched a fierce punch straight into Woo Hong's handsome face.

A dull thud echoed as Woo Hong's features contorted under the impact of Chiang Le's fist. A miserable scream escaped Woo Hong as blood sprayed from his nose, and he crumpled to the ground.

Chiang Le advanced, pinning Woo Hong down, his fists raining down relentlessly on Woo Hong's face. Each punch landed with a meaty thump.

Rage and frustration swelled in Woo Hong's chest. He had dedicated over a decade to mastering Taekwondo under a renowned instructor, honing a formidable combat prowess. In a fair fight, five Chiang Les wouldn't stand a chance against him. But Chiang Le's sudden ambush had thrown him into a frenzy.

"Please, stop! I'm begging you, stop!" Zhang Miaomiao pleaded through tears as she rushed to intervene. "Chiang Le, it's all my fault. Take it out on me instead."

A pang of pain struck Chiang Le's heart, and he released Woo Hong's hair.

Woo Hong, his face smeared with blood, gasped for air, ready to strike back, but Zhang Miaomiao held him back.

"Chiang Le, please, I'm the bad one here. Direct your hate at me," Zhang Miaomiao implored, her eyes brimming with tears. "Hit me, scold me, it's all on me."

Chiang Le's eyes reddened. "Miaomiao, I've kissed your face, I've professed my love to you with passion, I've whispered endless sweet nothings. And now you expect me to curse you, to utter vile words with this same mouth? I can't."

With those final words, Chiang Le turned away, his spirit deflated, refusing to glance back at the pair behind him. "Just go."

Bent over with sorrow, Chiang Le shuffled out of the hall.

In a fluster, Zhang Miaomiao tended to Woo Hong, dabbing away the blood on his face. As Chiang Le's silhouette receded, Woo Hong's gaze turned icy. Spitting out a mouthful of blood, he seethed, "This isn't over!"

From a distance, Chiang Le allowed himself a faint smile. Indeed, this was far from over.

Five minutes later, a battered Woo Hong, with Zhang Miaomiao's assistance, climbed into a taxi.

As the taxi prepared to depart from the airport, a piercing honk blared from behind.

The driver quickly yielded.

A Toyota Prado zoomed by.

Soon after, another Prado thundered away.

A Mercedes-Benz glided past, drawing an admiring look from the taxi driver.

Two more Prados brought up the rear.

A quartet of Prados, escorting the Mercedes, brazenly overtook them, kicking up dust as they vanished into the distance.

The taxi driver couldn't help but remark, "That was quite a show just now. All those eights on the license plate—impressive... Definitely a bigwig from Jiang City!"

Zhang Miaomiao gazed into the distance, her mind adrift.

Woo Hong gently took her hand. "Miaomiao, one day I'll be just as influential as that. Trust me."

"Uh-huh." Zhang Miaomiao nodded, her spirit elsewhere, unable to muster any joy.

She felt lost, her heart hollow and aching, as if missing a piece.

It was painful.

"Are you still hung up on Chiang Le, that pauper? Forget it, you owe him nothing," Woo Hong said coolly.

"I can't help feeling a bit guilty, though."

"Everyone has their own destiny," Woo Hong scoffed with a smirk.

Zhang Miaomiao nodded, echoing his sentiment, "Yes, everyone has their own destiny."

Little did she know, the significance of today's encounter had yet to dawn on her.