The Remaining Warmth Of Fog Harbor Chapter 18

Lingering Fog

Shen Zhiyi told Lu Wanheng the whole story of Su Man’s custom illustration request under the lights of her studio.

She did not embellish, complain, or offer any subtle hints. She simply organized the chat logs, the requirement drafts, and the meeting times and locations into clear text. Along with her prepared rejection message, she sent it all to Lu Wanheng.

When she sent the message, her fingertip hovered over the screen for a long time. In the end, she only added one extremely restrained and dutiful sentence:

The other party’s intentions are clearly not simple. Continuing to cooperate may affect the exhibition and your reputation, so I am prepared to decline. If this involves your personal relationships, I respect your handling of the matter.

The phrase I respect your handling of the matter was light and effortless, pushing all overstepping concern and hidden grievances back into the safe boundaries of a collaborative artist.

When Lu Wanheng saw this message, she was in a high-level meeting at the investment bank.

The screen displayed financing projections for a ten-billion-level project, and she was surrounded by directors and partners. However, the moment she glimpsed the words Su Man, custom illustration, and intentions are not simple, her knuckles abruptly tightened, and her expression turned cold.

The order to adjourn the meeting almost blurted out of her mouth, her speed so fast that even her assistant was stunned for a moment.

Postpone the remaining items. Leave the documents in my office.

Lu Wanheng grabbed her coat and car keys and walked out. The sound of her high heels clicking against the corridor floor was cold, crisp, and hurried, carrying an irrepressible low pressure. All the way down, what replayed in her mind was not Su Man’s provocation, but the restraint in Shen Zhiyi’s words—I respect your handling of the matter.

It was too polite, too distant, like a carefully handed-over ruler that measured the space between them with absolute precision and decorum.

She understood better than anyone that behind this sensible behavior was the disappointment caused by the words collaborative artist last time, the anxiety stirred up by Su Man’s repeated testing, and the past she had not yet dared to reveal. It was all pushing that pure girl away, bit by bit.

But the more she understood, the more she feared speaking up.

That relationship from ten years ago—crushed by her family, scrutinized by public opinion, and forcibly torn apart—was her most pathetic, powerless, and private side. She did not want Shen Zhiyi to see her that way—the Lu Wanheng who couldn’t even protect her lover, the Lu Wanheng who compromised in the face of family and capital, the Lu Wanheng who was unworthy of the conviction found in Cold Light.

She could take a blade for Shen Zhiyi, turn against anyone for her, and clear all obstacles for her, but she could not uncover that old scar for her to see.

Her car practically lunged through yellow lights as she rushed to the building of Su Man’s company.

Lu Wanheng had no appointment and gave no notice. She pushed past the front desk, stated her name, and walked straight to Su Man’s open-plan office area. The eyes of the entire floor focused on her instantly. Some recognized this top figure from the investment banking world and lowered their heads in silence.

Su Man had just finished a video conference. Seeing Lu Wanheng standing before her workstation, shrouded in coldness without a hint of warmth from a long-awaited reunion, she was startled at first. Then, she flashed her habitual, winning smile.

A rare guest. To what do I owe the honor of President Lu’s presence? Have you come to demand justice for your collaborative artist?

Put away your little tricks. Lu Wanheng’s voice was not loud, but it made the surrounding air tighten. Shen Zhiyi has already told me about your commission.

Su Man twirled a fountain pen between her fingers, her posture casual but her tone sharp. I was merely looking for a rising artist to customize a piece. It’s a reasonable business action. Why is President Lu so nervous? Are you afraid I’ll steal away your favorite?

We both know this isn’t about a commission. Lu Wanheng’s gaze was as sharp as a blade. You wanted to fish for information about my current situation from her, test my attitude, and find an opportunity to sow discord. Su Man, it’s been ten years, and you’re still so good at making things look ugly.

Ugly? Su Man’s smile vanished instantly, and her voice dropped lower. When your family forced me away and trampled our future under their feet, that was what you call ugly. I waited for you for ten years. I came back to take what belongs to me. Is there a problem with that?

What belongs to you? Lu Wanheng let out a cold laugh. Ten years ago, my family opposed us, but you were the one who chose to turn around and leave. You chose to leave me alone in that mess. You have your pride, and I have my bottom line. We settled our debts long ago.

Settled? Su Man stood up and took a step closer. Do you dare say there’s nothing left for me? Do you dare say that when you see me, there isn’t a single ripple in your heart? Do you dare say that when you look at that young girl, you’ve never compared her to me?

A series of questions struck like blows, each one stabbing at the old wounds Lu Wanheng was most reluctant to face.

She closed her eyes. When she opened them again, all her emotions had condensed into a cold hardness.

For you, I have no ripples, no comparisons, and certainly no desire to start over. Su Man, I didn’t come here today to settle old scores. I came to lay my cards on the table.

First, you are not allowed to contact Shen Zhiyi under any name. No prying, no testing, no harassment.

Second, you are not allowed to appear at her exhibition, her studio, or any place she frequently visits.

Third, regarding your projects, resources, and connections in Wugang—wherever they intersect with the capital under my control, I will withdraw everything. I won’t play with you.

Each point was decisive, leaving no room for negotiation.

Su Man’s face turned completely pale. She looked at her in disbelief. Lu Wanheng, for an illustrator you’ve known for less than half a year, you’re going to completely burn bridges with me? You’re going to ruin everything I’ve laid out in Wugang?

You were the one who overstepped first. Lu Wanheng’s tone was calm but carried an unquestionable finality. She is the person I intend to protect. If you touch her, you touch me.

You’re protecting her? Su Man laughed, her voice filled with self-deprecation and malice. Do you dare bring her before your family? Do you dare acknowledge her publicly? Do you dare tell her exactly what happened ten years ago? You don’t. Lu Wanheng, you’re still that coward hiding in your shell.

These words accurately pierced Lu Wanheng’s most painful spot.

Her throat moved, but she didn’t defend herself with a single word. She only coldly dropped one last sentence:

My business is none of your concern. Just remember, don’t touch Shen Zhiyi again. Otherwise, I will make it impossible for you to move an inch in Wugang.

With that, she turned and left without looking back or staying a moment longer, leaving Su Man’s frozen anger and resentment behind her.

As the elevator descended, the metallic walls reflected her tense profile. Lu Wanheng raised a hand to press her brow, her chest feeling heavy and stifled.

She could lay her cards on the table with Su Man, burn bridges, and protect Shen Zhiyi at any cost, yet she was still unable to say the one thing she most needed to explain to Shen Zhiyi:

It’s not that I don’t want to go public; it’s that I’m afraid that once I do, I’ll drag you into the same abyss I fell into back then.

She feared her family’s pressure, the speculation of public opinion, the pointing fingers of the capital circles, and even more, she feared Shen Zhiyi knowing that the omnipotent Cold Light she spoke of once had such a pathetic and powerless moment.

And so, all explanations were swallowed back down.

When Lu Wanheng arrived at the old studio, it was already past nine in the evening.

The fog in the alley was thick. Only the window of the studio still glowed with a warm yellow light, like the only anchor in the dark night. She pushed the door open, and the scent of turpentine that greeted her finally allowed her nerves, which had been tense all night, to relax slightly.

Shen Zhiyi was sitting in front of her easel, revising the exhibition poster. Hearing the movement, she turned around. Seeing it was her, she simply stood up calmly, her tone polite and appropriate. President Lu, you’re here.

The title President Lu pulled the distance back to its original place.

Lu Wanheng’s chest tightened. She walked over and first picked up the phone on the desk, looking at the rejection message Shen Zhiyi had drafted but not yet sent. The wording was rigorous, the attitude polite, and the boundaries clear. No fault could be found, and no emotion could be seen.

Have you declined already?

Yes, I’m about to send it. Shen Zhiyi nodded. If you have other arrangements on your end, I can adjust it according to your wishes.

No need to adjust. Send it as it is. Lu Wanheng placed the phone back by her hand, her voice softening. If she contacts you again, don’t answer or reply. Just block her. Leave all the trouble to me.

Okay. Shen Zhiyi responded obediently, but she didn’t follow up with questions like how did you handle it or will she come back to cause trouble.

She just looked at Lu Wanheng quietly. In her eyes, there was worry, unease, and a trace of hard-to-detect expectation, yet she never overstepped to ask.

Lu Wanheng felt a bitterness in her heart from the look. She reached out, wanting to brush away a stray hair from Shen Zhiyi’s forehead. Her fingertips hovered in mid-air before finally landing gently on her shoulder, giving it a pat.

I’ve already laid things out with Su Man. She won’t harass you again. As for the exhibition, I’ll assign more people to watch the security. Just focus on your painting.

Mm, thank you for your hard work. Shen Zhiyi lowered her head, avoiding her gaze, her voice very soft. Then I’ll send the message first.

She tapped the dialogue box, her fingertip steady as she pressed send.

A standard business rejection—clean, crisp, and leaving no opening for further entanglement.

Lu Wanheng stood by and watched, knowing full well what Shen Zhiyi hadn’t asked:

What exactly is your relationship with her?

What happened ten years ago?

Why don’t you dare acknowledge me publicly?

Is your protection out of love, or is it just the responsibility of an investor and a collaborative artist?

These questions hung in the air like fog. Shen Zhiyi didn’t ask, and Lu Wanheng didn’t speak.

She could break with her ex for Shen Zhiyi and clear all external obstacles for her, yet she alone could not open that door that locked away ten years of scars.

It’s getting late. You should rest early. Lu Wanheng was the first to withdraw her gaze, her tone returning to its usual steadiness. If there are any changes regarding the exhibition, I’ll have my assistant notify you immediately.

Alright. Take care, President Lu.

Shen Zhiyi saw her to the door. There were no extra pleas for her to stay, no extra probing, and she didn’t even look up at her.

The door was gently closed. The soft click of the latch felt like another invisible barrier closing between them.

Lu Wanheng stood in the thick fog at the mouth of the alley for a long time without moving. She knew she had missed another opportunity to explain today, and once again, she had used silence to push Shen Zhiyi’s unease even deeper.

But she truly didn’t dare.

She feared that once she spoke, that pathetic, powerless, and crushed self-esteem would be exposed to Shen Zhiyi’s pure gaze, ruining the image of Cold Light in her heart.

She would rather Shen Zhiyi find her cold, restrained, and guarded than let her see that unsightly version of herself.

Inside the studio, Shen Zhiyi leaned against the door and slowly slid down to sit on the floor.

Lu Wanheng was protecting her, confronting others for her, and clearing away trouble. she had received it all and kept it in her heart.

But that unspoken past was like a heavy fog weighing on her chest.

She wasn’t stupid. She understood the hints in Su Man’s words, she saw the avoidant look in Lu Wanheng’s eyes, and she could feel that behind the phrase collaborative artist lay not just simple social circle concerns, but an old wound she didn’t dare touch and Lu Wanheng didn’t dare mention.

Lu Wanheng could fight the whole world for her, yet was unwilling to be honest about a piece of the past.

This favoritism was heavy, warm, and deeply unsettling.

She slowly stood up and walked to the easel. Cold Light sat quietly in the center. The warm light in the subject’s eyes looked exceptionally gentle under the lamp, yet exceptionally distant.

Shen Zhiyi picked up her brush, dipped it in a bit of gray-blue, and lightly added a layer of even lighter, thinner fog to the blank corner of the painting.

It didn’t cover the original light; it just gave that beam of light an impenetrable layer of haziness.

She didn’t send Lu Wanheng any more messages. She didn’t press for answers, didn’t complain, and didn’t throw a tantrum.

She just quietly dissolved all her disappointment, all her doubts, and all her unspoken whys into this newly added layer of mist.

Outside the window, the fog grew thicker. The river wind wailed, blurring the lights of the old alley into a smear.

Lu Wanheng sat in her car for a long time. In the end, she only sent a short message:

Goodnight. Don’t overthink things.

Shen Zhiyi looked at the screen. Her fingertip paused on the word goodnight for a long time before she replied with just one word:

Okay.

There was no extra emotion, no extra questioning. It was just like her—sensible, restrained, hiding all surging emotions where others couldn’t see.

Looking at that word okay, Lu Wanheng’s chest tightened again.

She had cleared away the external enemy, Su Man, but she hadn’t been able to untie the core knot between the two of them.

She had protected Shen Zhiyi’s person, but she hadn’t been able to soothe her heart hanging in mid-air.

The night in Wugang remained shrouded in thick fog.

Someone was outside clearing the thorns for her,

While someone inside guarded a lamp and a layer of dense, unexplained fog.