Chapter 11: The Birth of a Mistake

3 a.m.

The entire world was enveloped in silence, save for the occasional scattered chirping of insects outside the window.

Wishing suddenly opened her eyes and sat up in bed. There were no screams, no cold sweat—only a slow, heavy suffocation, as if immersed in icy water.

Her heart thudded dully against her chest, each beat sharp and densely painful.

In her mind, the absurd yet vivid dream replayed repeatedly—

A vast, ornate living room, a birthday cake with no candles lit, and a small boy named Jiang Yi, dressed in a little suit, sitting alone.

And the woman’s words, cold and sharp as a blade:

“Jiang Yi, you must remember, you have no right to wish.”

“Because your very birth was a mistake.”

Mistake...

Those two words drove into Wishing’s heart like poisonous nails.

At last, she understood.

Why he stood like a solitary reef in the sea, silently enduring every storm. Because from the moment he was born, perhaps no one had ever told him that he had the right to hide, the right to cry out in pain.

She understood why, at the KTV, when Li Wenfeng hurled the most vicious insults at him, he remained calm; yet when she was struck in the face by a thrown coin, he lost control completely. Because he could bear destruction himself, but could not stand to see another who struggled in the same mire have their dignity trampled.

She understood why he said, “I have no money, but I have brains.” Because that was his only weapon to fight the world and prove he was “not a mistake.”

An overwhelming wave of sorrow engulfed Wishing like a silent tsunami, drowning her completely.

All her previous motives—whether for money or to prevent that tragic end—suddenly felt so petty and selfish.

A newfound, intense impulse surged within her.

She wanted to find him.

Not to save him, nor to change anything.

She simply wanted to walk up to that small boy in a suit, kneel down, and tell him:

Your birth was not a mistake.

...

The next morning, as the first rays of sunlight filtered into the dormitory, Lin Feifei yawned and climbed down from the top bunk. Her eyes immediately caught Wishing sitting quietly at her desk, gazing absentmindedly out the window.

“Up so early?” Lin Feifei rubbed her eyes in surprise. “After all that tossing and turning last night, I thought you’d sleep until noon.”

She leaned closer, scrutinizing Wishing’s face, and frowned immediately. “Something’s wrong. Your dark circles are worse than yesterday, and your eyes are swollen like walnuts. Did you cry again last night after coming back?”

“No.” Wishing shook her head, her voice hoarse.

She hadn’t cried—just stayed awake all night, aching with heartache.

“Don’t lie!” Lin Feifei pinched her cheek with a “don’t try to fool me” look. “But hey, my brother sure works fast, huh? That bastard Li Wenfeng probably won’t dare show his face around you and Jiang Yi for at least a month.”

“Feifei, thank you.” Wishing looked at her with unprecedented sincerity.

“Oh, no need for thanks!” Lin Feifei waved carelessly, then lowered her voice, leaning in with a gossipy expression. “Hey, be honest—where do you and Jiang Yi stand? Last night’s hero-saving-beauty scene—was he really touched? Did he say anything to you...?”

She raised her eyebrows suggestively.

In Wishing’s mind, Jiang Yi’s focused profile as he applied medicine came to life, along with his words: “You didn’t mess up.” Her cheeks flushed uncontrollably.

“Stop talking nonsense. We’re just business partners,” she denied, though her heart was in turmoil.

“Yeah, right. Nobody believes that.” Lin Feifei scoffed, then suddenly remembered something and grew serious. “By the way, Wishing, I need to warn you. Since you’re getting close to Jiang Yi, besides watching out for idiots like Li Wenfeng, there’s someone else you need to be careful of.”

“Who?”

“Song Shiya.” Lin Feifei’s tone was laced with obvious disdain. “She’s the one who dissed you on the forum yesterday. But with Jiang Yi, she’s more than just a rival in love.”

Wishing’s heart jumped sharply.

“What do you mean?”

“Song Shiya used to be in the same circle as Jiang Yi—kind of childhood sweethearts. Before Jiang Yi’s family fell from grace, everyone thought they’d get engaged.” Lin Feifei brushed her teeth as she spoke indistinctly. “After the Jiang family’s downfall, Song Shiya immediately cut ties with him and turned around to hook up with the sports department’s campus heartthrob, Chen Hao. I heard... Jiang Yi’s father’s troubles are tied to the Song family.”

“So, her targeting you isn’t just because she still likes Jiang Yi and can’t stand other girls getting close to him. More importantly, she sees you as a threat,” Lin Feifei rinsed her mouth and looked at Wishing gravely. “She’s arrogant and ruthless. You must be very careful.”

Wishing’s heart sank deeper and deeper.

The storms surrounding Jiang Yi were fiercer and more complicated than she had imagined.

Just then, her cracked phone screen lit up with a chime.

A new email.

[Sender: Nebula Technology—HR]

[Subject: Interview Notification for Online Software Tester Position]

[Content: Dear Wishing, we have received your resume recommended by Mr. Jiang Yi. After preliminary review, we find your background suitable for the position. Are you available for an online video interview at 10 a.m. today?]

Wishing stared at the email, at the words “recommended by Mr. Jiang Yi,” and the lake of calm she had just settled into rippled uncontrollably.

...

At 10 a.m., Wishing completed the online interview smoothly in a private study room at the library.

The interviewer seemed pleased and immediately informed her she could start working that afternoon. The pay was 150 yuan per hour, settled daily.

After hanging up, Wishing gazed at her reflection on the computer screen, momentarily dazed.

At the end of despair, there truly seemed to be a glimmer of light.

And that light was handed to her by Jiang Yi.

She took out her phone and, on impulse, sent Jiang Yi a WeChat message.

[Wishing: I passed the interview. Thank you.]

Immediately, regret crept in. Was her gratitude too deliberate? Would he think she was overstepping again?

Nervously, she stared at the screen. Five long minutes passed before a single word came back.

[Jiang Yi: Mm.]

Still cold, still distant.

Wishing laughed wryly at herself, about to put away her phone when a second message popped up.

[Jiang Yi: 2 p.m., East District Gymnasium. Don’t forget.]

It was the photo shoot appointment they had set yesterday.

Her heart involuntarily quickened.

...

At 1:50 p.m., East District Gymnasium.

When Wishing arrived, members of the photography club were already there, adjusting lights and equipment.

There were many teams competing in the “Starlight Cup,” and seven or eight groups were scheduled for photos that afternoon.

Through the crowd, Wishing immediately spotted a familiar figure—Song Shiya.

She wore an expensive ballet practice outfit, her swan-like neck long and graceful, her figure slender. She was surrounded by admirers like a star at the center of the sky.

Beside her stood a tall, handsome young man—the sports department’s campus heartthrob, Chen Hao.

Together, they were a dazzling golden couple.

Song Shiya seemed to notice Wishing. She glanced over with a contemptuous, unabashed smirk, then turned and affectionately linked arms with Chen Hao.

The challenge in her expression was unmistakable.

Wishing took a deep breath and forced herself to look away.

“Wishing, over here!” the photography club president waved her over.

She approached, about to ask about the shoot schedule, when the president looked a little uneasy and said, “Um... your partner isn’t here yet? Our schedule’s tight; you’re next.”

“He’ll be here soon,” Wishing replied quickly.

Just then, a small commotion arose at the gym entrance.

Jiang Yi arrived.

He wore the same simple black hoodie, carrying a laptop bag, his expression cool and indifferent.

Yet even in such simple clothes, he still seemed to emit his own light, instantly drawing everyone’s attention.

The girls who had been clustered around Chen Hao instinctively turned their gaze to him.

Song Shiya’s face stiffened ever so slightly.

Without looking sideways, Jiang Yi strode through the crowd directly to Wishing.

“Sorry, I’m a bit late—something came up,” he said quietly, but loud enough for those nearby to hear.

It was the first time he had ever apologized to her.

Wishing’s heart skipped a beat. She shook her head. “It’s fine, just on time.”

“Alright, everyone’s here, let’s get ready!” The president clapped his hands. “You two, go change over there.”

He pointed to two white shirts hanging on a nearby rack.

These were the uniforms provided for the competition, meant to embody the purity of the theme “Dreams and Partners.”

Wishing took the women’s shirt and entered the temporary changing room.

A few minutes later, after changing, she stepped out to find the previously noisy environment now eerily silent.

Everyone’s eyes were fixed in the same direction.

Following their gaze, Wishing’s breath caught.

Not far away, Jiang Yi had also changed into a white shirt.

Simple and unadorned, the white shirt on him was more stunning than any designer brand. It perfectly outlined his slim yet upright figure, accentuating his already fair skin, nearly translucent.

He lowered his head, patiently buttoning the cuffs one by one.

Sunlight streamed through the gym’s tall glass windows, casting a soft halo around him, enveloping him completely.

In that moment, he was no longer a gloomy, cold reef.

He was...

A deity fallen to the mortal world.

Wishing was so entranced that when Jiang Yi finished buttoning his cuffs, he suddenly raised his hand and instinctively touched the back of his neck.

His brows furrowed ever so slightly.

Wishing’s pupils constricted sharply.

She saw it.

On the clean, clearly visible back of his neck, framed by the white shirt collar, was a faint, nearly imperceptible old scar.

Its shape resembled a crescent moon.

Her mind exploded with a thunderous realization.

She recalled a long-forgotten childhood memory, also on a rainy night.

A small boy in a little suit, soaked through, blood trickling down the back of his neck, stubbornly refusing to cry.

And a strawberry milk candy she had pressed into his palm.