The Remaining Warmth Of Fog Harbor Chapter 14
byMist Rising in the Heart
Late autumn in Wugang was damper and colder than usual. By five in the evening, the remaining glow of dusk was swallowed by thick fog until only a faint, dim yellow remained. The glass curtain walls of the investment banking tower reflected the hazy light, and the flow of traffic in the plaza below surged slowly like a metallic river wrapped in mist.
Lu Wanheng closed the final project report and took off her gold-rimmed glasses to rub the bridge of her nose. The phone on her desk lit up right on time. The two words Zhiyi on the screen caused the tension that had gripped her features for days to instantly soften. This was the third week since she had taken the initiative to contact Shen Zhiyi. Her concern had already seeped into her blood and bones, becoming second nature. Dropping Shen Zhiyi off at the old studio after work had become an unshakeable part of her schedule.
She grabbed her dark overcoat from the back of her chair and walked quickly out of the office. As the elevator numbers ticked down, her heart felt light with the anticipation of seeing her. This steady sense of joy was something Shen Zhiyi had brought her—a feeling of groundedness and tenderness she had never experienced during the ten years her life had been frozen in ice.
People came and went in the lobby on the first floor. Investment banking elites in suits hurried about, the scent of coffee and printer ink mixing with the cold air. Lu Wanheng walked straight toward the revolving doors, her fingertips already reaching for her phone to send Shen Zhiyi a message saying “I’m down,” but her eyes caught sight of the white electric scooter parked at the corner of the alley first. She had specifically prepared that vehicle for Shen Zhiyi, fearing that the narrow roads of the Old Town District would be inconvenient for a car.
Shen Zhiyi stood by the scooter wearing a cream-colored knit sweater, cradling a roll of newly painted drafts in her arms. The tip of her nose was slightly red from the cold as she stood on her tiptoes, peering toward the building’s entrance. When she saw Lu Wanheng, her eyes lit up like a kitten seeing its owner. She unconsciously waved the drawing tube in her hand, her lips curving into a clean, bright arc.
Lu Wanheng quickened her pace, took off her overcoat, and stepped in front of her, wrapping it around her shoulders without a word. “The wind is so strong, why didn’t you wear more? How will you paint if you catch a cold?” Her tone carried a hint of a scolding, but her movements were incredibly gentle as she tucked in the collar to firmly block out the freezing wind.
Shen Zhiyi buried her face in the coat that smelled of cedarwood. Warmth and a sense of security spread through her entire body. She held the drawing tube out toward Lu Wanheng, her voice soft and sweet. “I just finished the new drafts of Wugang Pier. I wanted to show you right away, so I forgot about the cold.”
“Let’s get on the scooter first. You can show me when we get back,” Lu Wanheng said, taking the drawing tube. She naturally supported the small of Shen Zhiyi’s back to help her onto the rear seat and carefully adjusted the footrests. “Hold onto my waist. It’s foggy and the road is slippery, so I’ll drive slowly.”
Shen Zhiyi gave a soft “mm” and cautiously wrapped her arms around Lu Wanheng’s waist. Pressing her cheek against Lu Wanheng’s back, she could clearly feel the other woman’s steady heartbeat. The mist clinging to the old street seemed to turn gentle. Lu Wanheng straddled the front of the scooter and gripped the handlebars. Just as she was about to twist the throttle, a voice—both familiar and strange—pierced through the traffic and the fog, striking her ears directly.
“Wanheng.”
Those two simple words were like a cold needle, unexpectedly puncturing the current tenderness. Lu Wanheng’s hands on the handlebars suddenly stiffened, and the blood in her body seemed to freeze in an instant.
She had remembered this voice for ten years, hated it for ten years, and felt an empty ache because of it for ten years.
Lu Wanheng slowly turned her head to look toward the sound. At the bottom of the steps of the investment banking tower stood a woman in a camel-colored trench coat. Her long hair was styled in lazy waves, her makeup was exquisite, and her features were striking. She was dragging a silver carry-on suitcase, clearly having come straight here after landing. The moment their eyes met, the woman did not hide the surprise and excitement in her gaze. her eyes locked onto Lu Wanheng with a burning intensity, like someone who had recovered something lost.
It was Su Man.
Her first love, her ex, the person who had been forcibly separated from her by the family, who had gone far away to a foreign country and had not been heard from since. On this mist-shrouded evening, she had appeared before her without any warning.
Time seemed to stand still. Lu Wanheng’s mind went blank as fragments of the past flooded her brain—the silhouettes of them painting side by side in the studio as youths, the confession under the plane trees on a rainy night, the shouting matches in the family conference room that led to their break, the finality of the silhouette at the airport, and that breakup email that had severed all hope. Ten years of buried memories were forcibly torn open. Pain and shock intertwined, leaving her unable to react for a moment.
On the back seat, Shen Zhiyi sensed Lu Wanheng’s stiffness. Her hands around Lu Wanheng’s waist tightened instinctively. She followed Lu Wanheng’s gaze to the woman on the steps, and a sharp sense of unease rose in her heart for no reason. The woman’s gaze moved past Lu Wanheng to land on her, filled with scrutiny, inquiry, and a trace of subtle hostility. It was like a sharp blade slicing through the gentle barrier between the two of them.
The air instantly solidified. The mist became bone-chillingly cold. The roar of traffic and the sound of the wind became nothing more than blurred background noise.
Su Man carried her suitcase down the steps one by one. Her high heels clicked against the stone pavement, each step sounding like it was treading on Lu Wanheng’s nerves. She stood before them, her gaze landing on Lu Wanheng’s face first with a familiar intimacy. “I’ve returned to the country. I just landed and came to find you immediately. I didn’t expect to actually run into you.”
After speaking, her gaze shifted to Shen Zhiyi. She glanced at their overlapping hands and the coat Lu Wanheng had draped over Shen Zhiyi’s shoulders. The smile in her eyes faded, replaced by a bit of sharpness. “And this is?”
Lu Wanheng finally snapped out of her shock. She quickly reined in all her emotions, her tenderness receding as she donned the cold, hard shell of an investment banking elite. Her tone was flat and distant, without a hint of warmth for a long-lost reunion. “Su Man, why are you back?”
“The project abroad ended, so I came back to develop my career here. I’ll be based in Wugang from now on.” Su Man completely ignored her distance, her tone still carrying the familiarity of the past. “I’m asking you, who is this young lady? Your new assistant? Or… a new artist?” She intentionally emphasized the word “new,” her underlying meaning obvious.
Shen Zhiyi sat on the back seat, her whole body tense. The drawing tube in her arms felt incredibly heavy. She could clearly sense the unusual atmosphere between this woman and Lu Wanheng. That bone-deep familiarity was something she had never possessed; that bond spanning across time was like an invisible wall, shutting her out. Her fingers gripping the edge of the coat turned white. The warmth at the tip of her nose vanished instantly, replaced by an insecurity and unease rising from the depths of her heart.
She thought of her own background, the quagmire of her original family, and the fact that she was just a down-and-out illustrator. Meanwhile, the woman before her was radiant and dazzling. Standing next to Lu Wanheng, they looked as well-matched as a natural painting.
Lu Wanheng sensed Shen Zhiyi’s stiffness. Her heart tightened, and she instinctively shielded her, turning her body slightly to block Su Man’s scrutinizing gaze. Her tone was firm and solemn. “Shen Zhiyi is mine.”
Those few words required no further explanation. They carried an unquestionable sense of protection and belonging, acting like a stabilizing pill that settled into Shen Zhiyi’s panicked heart. But to Su Man’s ears, they were exceptionally piercing. The smile on her face vanished completely, and a flash of shock and resentment crossed her eyes.
“Yours?” Su Man let out a light laugh filled with self-deprecation and irony. “Wanheng, we were apart for ten years. Is this how you describe my position? It was your family that stopped us back then, not me wanting to leave. Now that I’m back, you’re using a little girl like this to brush me off?”
“What happened back then is in the past.” Lu Wanheng’s tone grew even colder, her brow furrowed. She didn’t want to argue on the street, and she especially didn’t want Shen Zhiyi to be dragged into this messy past. “I have things to do. I’m leaving. We can talk if there’s a chance.”
After speaking, she stopped looking at Su Man and twisted the throttle, wanting to escape this suffocating scene. But Su Man stepped forward quickly, reaching out to grab the handlebar to stop her from leaving. Her fingernails almost dug into the metal grip. “Lu Wanheng, you can’t just leave like this! I came back for you! I spent ten years waiting for a chance. You can’t treat me like this!”
During the struggle, the drawing tube in Shen Zhiyi’s arms slipped. A roll of drafts scattered onto the ground, swept away by the cold wind. The watercolor drafts she had just finished were stained with dust and mist, large patches of smudges blooming across them. Those were the new scenes of Wugang she had stayed up all night to paint for Lu Wanheng—the heartfelt gift she had been so excited to share.
“My drawings…” Shen Zhiyi hurriedly got off the scooter to pick them up, her voice carrying an undetectable sob.
Seeing this, a surge of fury rose in Lu Wanheng’s heart. She violently threw off Su Man’s hand with enough force to make her stagger back. Lu Wanheng got off the scooter and walked quickly to Shen Zhiyi’s side. She knelt down to help her pick up the drafts. Looking at the ruined images, her eyes were full of heartache and guilt. She reached out to wipe the moisture from the corner of Shen Zhiyi’s eye, her voice becoming extremely soft. “It’s okay. If they’re dirty, we’ll paint them again. I’ll stay with you. We can paint them as many times as it takes.”
This starkly different tenderness completely stung Su Man. She watched Lu Wanheng’s careful manner toward Shen Zhiyi—a level of consideration she herself hadn’t even possessed ten years ago. Jealousy and resentment surged wildly. “Lu Wanheng, you’re being this heartless to me for her? Have you forgotten what we said back then? Have you forgotten you promised me we would open a studio together and be together forever?”
“I haven’t forgotten, but that’s all in the past tense.” Lu Wanheng stood up, shielding Shen Zhiyi in her arms as she faced Su Man. Her tone was resolute. “Su Man, ten years is enough to change everything. I have someone I want to protect now, and a life I want to live. I’ve let go of those past feelings, and I ask you to do the same.”
“I won’t!” Su Man’s eyes turned red, her voice rising. “I don’t believe you’ve really let go. You’re just angry that I left! I can make it up to you. We can start over. This little girl doesn’t understand you at all. She doesn’t know what you like, she doesn’t know what you’re afraid of, and she doesn’t know the pain you felt ten years ago. Only I understand you!”
“She doesn’t need to understand the past. It’s enough that she understands the me of now.” Lu Wanheng held the person in her arms tighter, her gaze steady. “Zhiyi understands my paintings, my coldness, and my light. That is enough. As for you, Su Man, what you understand is only the Lu Wanheng from ten years ago who hadn’t grown up yet.”
These words completely shattered Su Man’s psychological defenses. She stood there, her face pale, watching the two of them embrace. Seeing the tenderness in Lu Wanheng’s eyes that she had never seen before, she finally understood that what she had missed was not just ten years of time, but the Lu Wanheng whose heart used to be full of her.
The mist grew thicker, blurring the silhouettes of the three people. The streetlights in the plaza flickered on, their dim yellow light falling on the scattered drafts on the ground like a messy witness.
Lu Wanheng didn’t want to linger any longer. She bent down to pick up all the drafts and stuffed them into the tube. Taking Shen Zhiyi’s hand, she got back on the scooter. This time, Su Man did not stop them. She simply stood there, watching their figures disappear into the fog.
The scooter traveled over the bluestone pavement of the old alley. The speed was slow, and neither of them spoke. There was only the sound of the wind and the wheels rolling over puddles. Shen Zhiyi leaned against Lu Wanheng’s back, her hands tightly gripping her waist. She buried her face in the overcoat, her tears silently wetting the fabric as unease surged like a tide in her heart.
That woman named Su Man was too dazzling, too familiar, and seemed too qualified to stand by Lu Wanheng’s side. Compared to her, Shen Zhiyi felt like a snail hiding in its shell—small and pathetic.
Lu Wanheng felt the dampness on her back, and her heart ached. She stopped the scooter in a quiet spot near the alley of the studio, turned off the engine, and got off. She moved to the back seat to pull Shen Zhiyi into her arms, gently wiping the tears from her face. Her voice was so tender it could practically drip with water. “Don’t be sad. Don’t overthink it. She is just someone from the past. She has nothing to do with me, and nothing to do with us.”
“She’s your ex, isn’t she?” Shen Zhiyi looked up, her eyes full of grievance and insecurity. “You have ten years of history. You have shared memories. She understands you, and she’s from the same world as you…”
“There is no such thing as one world or two worlds.” Lu Wanheng interrupted her, cupping her face with her fingertips and forcing her to look into her eyes. “It ended between her and me ten years ago. The family’s interference was part of it, but more importantly, we had already drifted apart. For her, I have no love and no hate—only a buried past. But you are my present and my future.”
“But she’s back…”
“It doesn’t matter if she’s back.” Lu Wanheng lowered her head, her forehead resting against Shen Zhiyi’s. Their breaths intertwined, and her tone was firm. “From the day I accepted Cold Light, my heart has only had room for you. Su Man is an old shadow, but you are my light. No matter how clear an old shadow is, it can’t compete with the warmth of light.”
She picked up the stained drafts and gently smoothed out the creases. “The drawings are dirty, so we’ll paint them again tonight. I’ll be with you, stroke by stroke. We’ll paint our Wugang and our future. We won’t paint anyone else, only us.”
Looking at the sincerity and determination in Lu Wanheng’s eyes, Shen Zhiyi’s tears fell even harder. But this time, it wasn’t because of sadness; it was because she was moved by being so resolutely chosen. She reached out to wrap her arms around Lu Wanheng’s neck and buried her face in the crook of her shoulder, crying out loud. She let out all the insecurity, grievance, and fear.
Lu Wanheng gently patted her back, like soothing a startled small animal. She let her cry and vent until the sobs gradually subsided. Only then did she lead her by the hand into the studio.
The warm yellow lights flickered on, and the scent of turpentine dispelled the damp cold of the mist. Lu Wanheng put the ruined drafts into a drawer, laid out fresh paper, squeezed out the paints, and sat beside Shen Zhiyi. She held her hand, and together they set the brush to the paper.
“We’ll paint tonight’s mist, tonight’s lights, and the two of us,” Lu Wanheng’s voice whispered in her ear, tender and certain.
Shen Zhiyi nodded. As the tip of the brush touched the paper, the unease in her heart gradually dissipated. She could clearly feel Lu Wanheng’s heart. That feeling of being protected and favored was enough to withstand all the wind and rain from the outside world.
Meanwhile, in the plaza in front of the investment banking tower, Su Man still stood in the same spot. Her suitcase lay on its side at her feet, and her camel coat was dampened by the mist. She looked in the direction where the two had disappeared, a flash of ruthlessness crossing her eyes. After ten years of waiting, she couldn’t possibly let go just like this. Lu Wanheng was hers; no one could take her away.
The fog enveloped all of Wugang, wrapping the old shadows and the new love, the past and the present, the conflict and the tenderness, all into the hazy night. The return of Lu Wanheng’s ex was like a stone thrown into a calm lake, stirring up layers of ripples and casting an invisible shadow over their relationship.
In the studio, the sound of the brush scratching against the paper filled the air. Two figures leaned against each other in front of the easel, the warm light cocooning them and temporarily isolating them from the storms outside. Lu Wanheng knew that Su Man’s appearance was only the beginning and that the road ahead would not be smooth. But she gripped Shen Zhiyi’s hand tightly, her eyes showing not a hint of retreat.
Whether it was the family’s obstacles or the ex’s harassment, she would never let go of the person beside her again.
The cold light had arrived, accompanied by the warm sun. After ten years of missing each other, they had met at last. She would use all her strength to protect this hard-won warmth, to protect her artist, and to protect her light.
Outside the window, the mist continued to drift, but the light in the studio shone with a steady, burning intensity, enough to confront all the coming storms and gloom.