The Remaining Warmth Of Fog Harbor Chapter 19

Lingering Heart Fog

The setup for the Riverside Art Center exhibition dragged on until evening. After checking the hanging height of the last frame, Shen Zhiyi rubbed her aching neck and walked out of the art center. Outside, the fog was so thick it seemed inseparable. The grayish-white mist swallowed the river view in the distance, blurring car headlights into halos of light. Electronic traffic screens scrolled with red warnings: the Riverside Expressway was completely closed, and several main roads were under traffic control due to heavy fog.

Lu Wanheng’s black sedan was already parked at the entrance. She leaned against the car door, her dark coat making her figure look even more upright. Between her fingertips was a freshly opened letter, and a trace of imperceptible fatigue lingered between her brows. Seeing Shen Zhiyi approach, she immediately tucked the letter into her inner pocket and stepped forward to take the scroll tube from her. Her tone remained as steady as ever: “The fog is too thick, and the highway is closed. I’ll take the back roads through the old alleys to send you back to the studio. We’ll drive slowly; safety first.”

Shen Zhiyi nodded slightly and whispered a polite “Thank you, President Lu.” The formal title was like a thin layer of ice separating them. Since the confrontation with Su Man, Lu Wanheng had cleared away all external interference for her, yet she never mentioned that buried past. Shen Zhiyi tacitly maintained her silence, neither asking nor drawing closer, hiding all her doubts and disappointment behind the shell of her identity as a Collaborative Artist.

The car drove smoothly into the old alleys. Fog crept along the windows, condensing into fine droplets that isolated them from the outside world. The cabin fell silent, save for the faint hum of the air conditioner and the sound of their steady breathing. Lu Wanheng held the steering wheel with one hand, keeping the speed extremely slow. Her eyes were fixed on the blurred road ahead, but her peripheral vision frequently swept over Shen Zhiyi in the passenger seat.

Shen Zhiyi’s eyes were downcast, her long lashes trembling slightly. Her fingertips repeatedly stroked the linen fabric of the scroll tube. Her profile looked exceptionally soft under the warm yellow interior light, yet it carried a lingering sense of loneliness. A sharp pang of heartache rose in Lu Wanheng’s chest. She knew Shen Zhiyi’s insecurity; she knew the unspoken explanation was like a thorn stuck in both their hearts. However, the trauma from ten years ago and the shackles of her family made it impossible for her to open up. She could only protect her silently through her actions.

“Su Man’s assistant sent an apology letter this afternoon. There won’t be any further harassment,” Lu Wanheng spoke first, trying to ease the oppressive silence. “The exhibition’s security team is in place, guarding the perimeter twenty-four hours a day. You can prepare for the opening ceremony with peace of mind.”

“Mhm, I understand. Thank you, President Lu.” Shen Zhiyi looked up and gave a polite smile, but her gaze quickly shifted back to the thick fog outside. There was no further conversation, a politeness that bred a sense of estrangement.

Lu Wanheng’s Adam’s apple bobbed. She wanted to say something—like “Don’t always call me President Lu,” or “It’s not that I don’t want to explain, I’m just afraid of hurting you.” But the words stayed in her throat and eventually turned into a plain reminder: “If you’re tired, lean back and rest. I’ll wake you when we reach the studio.”

Shen Zhiyi didn’t respond. She slowly leaned back and closed her eyes. Her mind replayed Su Man’s provocation, Lu Wanheng’s avoidance, that cold phrase “Collaborative Artist,” and the tender gaze in the painting Cold Light. Reality and the world of her paintings intertwined, making her unable to distinguish whether Lu Wanheng’s protection was genuine affection or merely a capitalist’s responsibility toward a partner.

Just as the car left the old alleys and was about to turn onto the riverside road, a sudden clap of thunder rolled across the sky. The dull sound pierced through the thick fog and struck the roof of the car. Immediately after, pea-sized raindrops pelted down without warning, drumming against the windows. Within moments, it turned into a torrential downpour. A curtain of rain instantly enveloped the world, churning the fog and the night into a chaotic mess.

The windshield wipers swung at their highest frequency, yet the road three meters ahead remained invisible. Water on the roadside rose rapidly, overflowing the curbs. The traffic lights were reduced to blurred smudges of color in the rain. From the intersection ahead came the voice of a traffic officer through a megaphone, accompanied by the honking of cars: “The water ahead is too deep! Vehicles are prohibited from passing! All vehicles please pull over nearby and wait for the rainstorm warning to be lifted!”

Lu Wanheng slowly stepped on the brakes and parked the car steadily in an open area by the road. She pulled the handbrake and said apologetically, “I’m sorry. The storm blocked the road, so we can’t move for now. We’ll be stuck here for a while.”

“It’s fine. It’s the weather.” Shen Zhiyi opened her eyes and watched the surging curtain of rain outside. The sudden storm amplified the unease in her heart. The sealed cabin, the isolated world, and the two of them alone caused all her suppressed emotions to begin growing wildly.

After the engine was turned off, the cabin became completely quiet, leaving only the roar of the rain hitting the roof and the mechanical sound of the wipers. The warm yellow interior light became the only light source, casting their shadows onto the windows—overlapping, blurred, and intimate, forming a jarring contrast with the distance in their hearts.

Lu Wanheng lowered the air conditioning temperature and adjusted the passenger seat to a more comfortable angle. She then took a clean blanket from the back seat and carefully draped it over Shen Zhiyi’s shoulders. “It’s cold at night, don’t catch a chill. There’s water and snacks in the car if you’re hungry.”

The meticulous care was the same as always, but Shen Zhiyi only felt a tightness in her chest. She wrapped the blanket tightly around herself, her fingers clutching the soft fabric. She whispered, “President Lu, you don’t have to be this good to me. We are just in a collaborative relationship. You have already helped me enough.”

These words were like a needle stabbing Lu Wanheng’s heart. She turned her head to look at the top of Shen Zhiyi’s lowered head, her voice carrying a hint of imperceptible hoarseness. “To me, you have never been just an ordinary partner.”

“But in front of everyone else, I am your Collaborative Artist.” Shen Zhiyi finally looked up, her eyes shimmering with a thin layer of tears as she looked directly into Lu Wanheng’s eyes. “In front of the investors, the media, and everyone else, I am just your Collaborative Artist. You were the one who set that position.”

Lu Wanheng’s breath hitched. She wanted to defend herself, to speak of the pain of being torn apart by her family ten years ago, to voice her concerns about Shen Zhiyi being dragged into the conflict if they went public, and to express the love buried deep in her heart. But seeing Shen Zhiyi’s reddened eyes, those words stuck in her throat, and she couldn’t say a single word.

She was afraid her past would disappoint this pure girl; she was afraid her family’s power would bring unbearable pressure to Shen Zhiyi; she was afraid her past compromises would ruin the image of Cold Light in Shen Zhiyi’s heart. She could confront Su Man for Shen Zhiyi, she could spend a fortune on an exhibition for her, and she could clear all external obstacles, yet she alone did not dare to uncover her most wretched scars.

“I have my reasons,” Lu Wanheng could only squeeze out these few words, her tone heavy. “Zhiyi, give me a little more time. When the exhibition is over and I’ve handled everything, I will give you an explanation.”

“What kind of explanation?” Shen Zhiyi pressed, tears finally breaking free and sliding down her cheeks. “Will you publicly acknowledge me, or tell me about your past with Su Man? Lu Wanheng, what exactly are you afraid of? You can have a showdown with your ex for me, but you can’t be honest about a past relationship. Is your protection out of love, or out of pity?”

This was the first time Shen Zhiyi had called her by her name, the first time she had dropped all politeness and restraint to vent all the grievances, doubts, and insecurities in her heart. The sealed cabin magnified every emotion, and the roar of the storm became the perfect background noise, pushing the silence and tension of this period to a breaking point.

Lu Wanheng’s heart felt as if it were being squeezed, hurting so much she could hardly breathe. She reached out to wipe away Shen Zhiyi’s tears, but the other woman gently dodged her. Her fingertips froze in mid-air. Looking at the disappointment and distance in Shen Zhiyi’s eyes, she finally understood that her endurance and protection seemed like nothing more than a perfunctory lack of trust to Shen Zhiyi.

“It’s not pity.” Lu Wanheng’s voice trembled slightly; it was the first time she had shown vulnerability in front of Shen Zhiyi. “From the moment I saw Cold Light, you were never an investment project or a Collaborative Artist to me. You are the person I want to protect by my side, the person I want to spend the rest of my life with.”

“Then why can’t you tell me about your past?” Shen Zhiyi choked out. “Is it because I’m not worthy of knowing? Is it because, in your heart, I can never compare to Su Man—to the person you have ten years of memories with?”

“No, it’s never been like that.” Lu Wanheng argued urgently, yet she still couldn’t speak of that past. She could only repeat, “You are wonderful, better than anyone else. Zhiyi, believe me. Just wait a little longer. When I have enough power to protect you from any harm, I will tell you everything.”

“I don’t want to wait anymore.” Shen Zhiyi turned away, watching the storm outside as tears fell silently. “Lu Wanheng, I can accept your past, your concerns, and all the storms. But I cannot accept your silence. I cannot accept you keeping me out of your world, and I cannot accept being nothing more than a Collaborative Artist who can never see the light of day.”

Silence fell over the cabin once more, leaving only the howl of the storm. Lu Wanheng looked at Shen Zhiyi’s trembling shoulders, her heart full of guilt and helplessness. She knew her silence had broken the person in front of her, but she truly lacked the courage to uncover that scar buried for ten years.

She slowly leaned back against the seat and closed her eyes, her fingertips gripping the steering wheel so hard her knuckles turned white. The warm light in the cabin fell on her profile, outlining a cold, hard silhouette, yet her eyes held an inseparable weariness and tenderness.

After an unknown amount of time, the storm gradually lessened into a drizzle, and the fog dissipated quite a bit. The traffic ahead began to move slowly, and the traffic officer’s voice came again: “The water has receded! The road is open! Please drive in an orderly fashion!”

“We can go now,” Lu Wanheng said softly, starting the car. The speed remained slow, and the oppression in the cabin did not diminish in the slightest.

Shen Zhiyi didn’t speak. She wrapped the blanket tighter and turned her face toward the window, watching the street scenes grow clearer. The fog in her heart was thicker than the fog outside.

The car slowly stopped at the entrance of the studio alley. The warm yellow streetlights pierced through the rain and mist, falling on the car. Lu Wanheng unbuckled her seatbelt, wanting to say something more, but Shen Zhiyi pushed open the door first. Picking up her scroll tube, she said in a low voice, “Thank you for driving me back, President Lu. I will be there for the exhibition coordination tomorrow as scheduled. Goodnight.”

She didn’t look back or linger, walking quickly into the alley and disappearing into the rain.

Lu Wanheng sat in the car, watching the familiar wooden door slowly close. Disappointment surged like a tide in her heart. She reached into her inner pocket for that letter—it was an ultimatum from her family, ordering her to sever ties with Shen Zhiyi, or they would freeze all her assets and revoke all her positions in the investment bank.

This was her struggle, the reason she didn’t dare to go public or be honest. She was afraid her struggle would involve this pure girl; she was afraid she couldn’t give her stability and would instead drag her into the family’s whirlpool.

The rain had completely stopped, the fog had cleared, and a few stars appeared in the night sky. But in Lu Wanheng’s heart, the fog was still dense. She picked up her phone and composed a message, editing it repeatedly before finally sending only four words: Goodnight, don’t be sad.

In the studio, Shen Zhiyi leaned against the door, looking at the four words on her phone screen as tears fell again. She walked to the easel and uncovered the canvas of Cold Light. Looking at the warm light in the subject’s eyes, she picked up a brush, dipped it in grayish-blue paint, and added a layer of fine mist and rain to the corner of the painting.

On this night trapped by rain in a car, it wasn’t just their bodies that were confined, but also two hearts that wanted to draw closer yet were blocked by silence and concern. The fog outside had cleared and the rain had stopped, but the fog between them grew heavier. No one knew when it would disperse, or when that long-overdue honesty and confession would finally come.

Lu Wanheng sat in the car until the lights in the studio went out before slowly starting the engine and driving into the night. She gripped the steering wheel, a flash of determination in her eyes. She had to break free from the family’s shackles as soon as possible. She had to give Shen Zhiyi an honorable explanation soon; she could no longer let her bear the insecurity and loss alone.

The night in Wugang finally returned to peace, but the car cabin trapped by the storm and fog had become a turning point for their emotions. Silent protection and suppressed heartbeat collided, creating cracks in the confined space. All the endurance and unease were waiting for a moment to erupt—waiting for the heart’s fog to clear and for the moment sunlight would pierce through the clouds.

Banxia Novels, lots of happiness.