Except for Clara, everyone had had a few drinks. Their faces were flushed, and they were clearly tipsy. No one knew who started it, but the conversation suddenly turned into a venting session about ex-boyfriends. Some laughed until their sides ached, while others had tears in their eyes.

The stories were so bizarre that Simmy Sun couldn't stop laughing. She playfully nudged Clara, the only sober person next to her.

"Sister Clara, what about you?"

Clara looked dazed for a moment, and memories of the past involuntarily flooded her mind. Strangely, she found it hard to talk about. After all this time, mentioning Night Knightley didn't actually make her sad anymore; it was just that looking at these girls—who were years younger than her and still students—she really didn't know where to begin.

The atmosphere fell into a brief silence. Simmy, sensing something, quickly changed the subject to save Clara from the awkwardness.

Once everyone had left and Simmy's head had cleared a bit, she leaned over to offer a cautious apology. "I'm sorry, Sister Clara. I drank too much and spoke without thinking."

Clara naturally didn't blame her. She smiled and ruffled the pitiful-looking girl’s hair, urging her to go get some rest.

After tidying up the room and washing up, Clara lay in bed and opened the new WeChat account she had registered before coming to Australia. She had only shared this ID with her one closest friend; no one else knew where she had gone or how to reach her.

Staring at the dozens of unread messages and the constantly increasing red notification dots, Clara’s eyes widened in shock. She clicked through and realized they were almost all about Night Knightley.

"Is Night Knightley insane? Wasn't he all happy with his 'White Moonlight' before? The moment you left, it’s like he suddenly had an epiphany and realized how important you are. It's hilarious. Does he really think he's the hero of a 'regretful husband chasing his wife' novel? Does he think a bit of remorse can win back a lost love?"

"He comes to find me every few days asking where you are. But don't worry, babe, there's no way I'm telling him your location."

"Oh, right—a month ago, Night had a massive row with his mother at their family banquet. I heard the gist of it; apparently, he was blaming her for forcing you away."

"The man is truly sick. What does it have to do with his mom? The main issue is his two-faced behavior and his attempt to deceive you!"

"Lately, he’s been binge-drinking every day. I heard he almost got a gastric perforation two days ago and ended up in the ICU. The doctors gave him a stern warning never to drink like that again. If you ask me, he's just too lucky—why didn't he just drink himself to death?"

"..."

There were many more messages cursing Night further down. Receiving so much news about him again, Clara felt not even a ripple of emotion in her heart. In her trance-like state, it felt as if those events had happened in a previous lifetime.

She pulled back the curtains. Outside, the sky was vast and clear, a brilliant blue like a polished sapphire. The warm, bright sunlight chased away the chill from her body.

"Sister Clara, I'm heading to class!" Simmy’s vibrant, youthful voice echoed from outside.

Clara smiled and called out a "be careful on the road" to the person outside. She picked up her phone and sent a voice note, her tone filled with relief and liberation.

"From now on, you don't need to tell me any more news related to Night Knightley."

The lingering sense of unreality that had been haunting her finally vanished completely.

——————————

When Night Knightley woke up again, his surroundings were a blur of white, and his nostrils were filled with the sharp, pungent scent of disinfectant. The side effects of the alcohol were still lingering—his head felt heavy and dizzy, and his stomach felt leaden and sour with a faint, throbbing pain.

He stared blankly at the room as the blurry images gradually sharpened. Mrs. Knightley's eyes were red with rage.

"Making yourself half-dead over a woman like that—what has become of you? She’s just a servant’s daughter; what exactly do you like about her?"

Several of his "brothers" crowded around the bed, trying to persuade him with earnest words.

"Clara’s been gone for a month without a word. She’s definitely doing this on purpose. Night, just let it go."

Night had heard these words countless times over the past month. He never took them to heart; they were nothing but noise to him. His bloodshot eyes were hollow and vacant, his thin lips pressed tightly together. His face, covered in stubble, held nothing but stubbornness.

Seeing him like this, Mrs. Knightley didn't want to say another word. Without even glancing at him, she slammed the door and left.

The room fell into a dead silence. The friends looked at each other, weighing their words before speaking again.

"Honestly, with your status now, what kind of woman couldn't you have? Night, there’s really no need to keep hanging onto Clara Jiang."

"You should show her that you can live better without her, that there are plenty of other women. She's nothing without you—she'll eventually come crawling back, won't she?"

"Yeah, and if it comes down to it, we can find you a few women who look like Clara. You can train them a bit; it'll be the same thing. Don't you think—"

With a loud

shatter

, a water glass exploded at their feet. The splashing water soaked their pant legs, but everyone fell silent as a grave, not daring to breathe.

Previously, when they saw Clara staying devotedly by the blind Night’s side, they had felt nothing but disdain. A blind man was nothing more than an outcast of a wealthy family; they couldn't believe someone would actually cling to him.

But gradually, that disdain had turned into envy. They were all young masters of wealthy families who swapped women like clothes, yet they had never encountered a woman so sincere. They couldn't help but recommend other women to Night, but even after he regained his sight and became a powerful figure in the industry, he never looked at anyone else, pampering Clara with all his heart.

Until Selene Young returned.

They had pretended to advise Night while secretly creating opportunities for the two to meet. Sure enough, they succeeded; Night’s love was apparently a thing of the past. They felt a woman like Clara needed to realize that there was no such thing as true heart in this world.

Now that Clara had left, they thought Night would finally let loose, but they didn't expect him to go mad. Now, he wouldn't even let them speak a few words.

"All of you, get out. From now on, no one is allowed to speak ill of Clara. Otherwise, I can't guarantee I won't do something to your families!"

As his cold words landed, everyone’s faces turned several shades paler. One by one, they made excuses to flee the hospital room.

The last man to leave felt a surge of resentment. After closing the door, he pulled out his phone and sent a photo of Clara to his assistant.

"Look closely at this woman. Go find me someone who looks like her. The more similar, the better."

He turned back, staring coldly at the closed door. He wanted to see how much longer Night Knightley could keep up this act!