Chapter 2507: 2508: Longing Cannot Be Faked

Chapter 2507: Chapter 2508: Longing Cannot Be Faked

“You should go back too.”

After the three others left, Ji Qingyan leaned her head on one hand, saying, “I’m fine, don’t worry about me.”

“But you’re already more than eight months pregnant—you really can’t keep thinking about these things every day.”

Tao Yuan wore a bitter expression as she tried to console her:

“Even if you won’t think for yourself, you have to think about the baby.”

“I know. Don’t worry about me,” Ji Qingyan replied, “I understand Lin Yi’s situation. He won’t be in trouble. He won’t leave the baby without a father.”

Tao Yuan frowned, unsure of what to say.

She knew Ji Qingyan was using mental optimism to numb herself.

But this didn’t change anything.

No matter how capable he was, he was still human, and the brutality of war spares no one.

“Let’s not talk about it for now. Let’s go somewhere else for a walk and look at the scenery.”

“I’m a bit tired. I’ll go back and rest first.”

Ji Qingyan supported her waist as she stood up, and Tao Yuan hurried forward to help her.

“You should head back—I’ll just lie down for a while, and I’ll be fine.”

Seeing Ji Qingyan insist that she leave, Tao Yuan didn’t persist further but kept reminding her with concern before finally leaving.

Back in her room, Ji Qingyan leaned against the bed and pressed her temples constantly with her hands.

She wasn’t sure what was wrong—this severe headache had persisted for days, and only vigorous rubbing seemed to provide any relief.

But her unsettled emotions were like this headache—sometimes better, sometimes worse.

Eventually, Ji Qingyan gave up. She sat silently on the bed, letting the waves of anguish wash over her.

When the first tear fell, it turned into a torrential shower in just seconds.

Her tears flew freely, unrestrained yet eerily quiet.

At some point, Ji Qingyan picked up the phone beside her.

But she hesitated, putting it down, only to pick it up again—a battle of indecision mirroring her tormented heart.

Finally, she placed a call to her secretary.

“President Ji.”

“Help me look up Secretary Liang’s phone number.”

“Understood. I’ll send it over shortly.”

“Okay.”

After ending the call, Ji Qingyan sat silently on the bed, with her eyes closed, as though time itself had come to a stop.

A dozen or so minutes later, the secretary sent her a text—it contained a phone number.

Staring at the number, Ji Qingyan gripped her phone tightly.

Her hand trembled the whole time, and finally, she tossed the phone aside.

She leaned weakly against the bed, her lips pale and unhealthy.

But in the end, she opened her eyes and looked toward the phone she had thrown away.

She dialed the number.

…

“Hello, who is this?”

At that moment, Liang Ruoxu had set aside her work in Zhong Hai and returned to the Liang family home in Yanjing for her pregnancy.

But she still handled some important matters, her control intact.

“Hello?”

Frowning slightly, Liang Ruoxu glanced at the unfamiliar number that was still connected.

This was her private line, which was generally inaccessible to most.

She was puzzled—why wasn’t the person on the other end speaking?

“It’s me, Ji Qingyan.”

Liang Ruoxu froze, not expecting a call from Ji Qingyan.

It was a rare moment where even someone as composed as her was left speechless, unsure of how to respond.

“Hello, President Ji.”

“Do… do you have any news about him?”

“The connection from that side has been cut off, but he sent a message over a dozen hours ago. He’s safe; there’s no need to worry.”

They were silent for a few moments—neither said a word, as if unsure of what to say.

“Hold on a moment—since so much time has passed, there may be new updates. I’ll ask around.”

Without waiting for Ji Qingyan’s agreement, Liang Ruoxu set the phone aside and exited the room—a sense of urgency fading slowly as she left.

She felt unsettled, as if her heart had been wrenched.

Ji Qingyan wouldn’t have called unless her longing had reached its peak.

Her love ran deeper than anyone else’s.

“Oh, why are you coming out? Need help going to the bathroom? Let me help you.”

Seeing Liang Ruoxu exit, her grandmother stood up to assist her.

“No. I wanted to ask Grandpa about something.”

Liang Xianghe, reading a newspaper, looked up at his granddaughter. “About Lin Yi?”

Liang Ruoxu nodded. “Any updates yet?”

“I’ve sent countless emails, but there’s been no reply. The signal’s definitely blocked.”

“Japan’s officials still haven’t found his whereabouts—how did they manage to block signals so precisely?”

“I suspect it’s indiscriminate blocking, cutting off signals everywhere except within the city. Even rural areas are affected.”

Liang Xianghe set his newspaper down and sighed, saying:

“This isn’t good—it suggests officials are very close to Lin Yi, and danger could strike at any moment.”

Liang Ruoxu’s expression grew panicked, almost causing her to stumble, prompting Liang Xianghe to rush forward and support her.

“What’s wrong with you? Is this all it takes to break you down?” Liang Xianghe scolded:

“You know the situation, don’t you? If you fall, what then?”

“Understood, Grandpa.”

She responded weakly with disappointment before returning to her room and picking up the phone again.

“No updates for now, but it’s not bad news. If something had really happened, news would’ve come through immediately.”

“Thank you.”

This time, it was Liang Ruoxu’s turn to fall silent.

“Thank you as well.”

Neither hung up the call—silence stretched on for over thirty seconds before Liang Ruoxu gathered the courage to disconnect.

In that moment, it was as though all the air had escaped from her, leaving her completely drained.

Ji Qingyan felt no different.

She slumped onto the bed, as if every ounce of strength had been sucked out of her, her face growing pale.

“Yanyan…”

Just then, Song Lan’s voice sounded from outside.

“What is it, Mom?”

Ji Qingyan wiped the corners of her eyes, unwilling to let her mother see her tears.

Click—

The door was pushed open. Song Lan walked in carrying a large bouquet.

The bouquet was of white roses, lavishly wrapped, undeniably expensive.

“What’s going on?”

“I just went out to throw away the trash, and when I came back, I found a big bouquet at the door. I think it’s for you.”

“For me?”

Ji Qingyan was surprised—since becoming pregnant, she hadn’t received such things.

Most people would send roses, but this was the first time she’d received white roses.

“I’m an old woman—surely they weren’t meant for me!” Song Lan joked:

“I guess Lin Yi’s been busy and hasn’t had the time to come back, so he bought these flowers to send to you.”

Song Lan handed the flowers to Ji Qingyan as she spoke.

“Here, they’re yours. I’ll be heading out now.”

After Song Lan left, Ji Qingyan held the bouquet of white roses in her hands.

She searched the flowers for a long while but found no traces of a sender—just pristine white blooms.

But she was certain there was no way Lin Yi had sent them.

Dazed, Ji Qingyan stared at the white roses in silence.

“Who sent this?”

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