Chapter 47 How Many Six Years Can a Person Have in a Lifetime?

At six in the evening, Lu Er appeared in the hospital ward carrying a thermos container.

He looked like a wilted eggplant after frost— even those always-bright peach blossom eyes had dimmed a little. He was completely different from the clingy little puppy he had been at noon.

Silently, he unpacked the containers one by one, setting them on the table, and softly called out, “Time to eat.”

Song Jingmo put down the book in his hand, his gaze lingering on Lu Er’s face for a moment.

Seeing the heavy look on Lu Er’s face, as if he had something weighing on his mind and didn’t want to talk, Song Jingmo’s heart sank slightly.

As expected.

Lu Er’s enthusiasm toward him had always been fleeting—coming quickly and fading just as fast.

He should have gotten used to it long ago.

Lu Er’s closeness to him was nothing more than a momentary whim.

Like walking a dog—when interested, he would tease it for a bit; when bored, he would casually cast it aside.

Even though he had rehearsed this kind of scene countless times in his mind, when Lu Er truly withdrew all his intimacy and became distant and silent, Song Jingmo still felt a sharp pain in his chest.

Lowering his eyes, he concealed the pain in them. When he looked up again, his face was already calm.

“Have you eaten?”

Song Jingmo spoke first, his voice steady, betraying nothing unusual. “Want to have some together?”

Lu Er was distracted and had no appetite at all. He shook his head. “I ate at home. You go ahead.”

The ward was left with only the faint clinking of utensils.

Lu Er didn’t start a conversation like usual. He simply sat quietly, resting his chin on one hand, watching Song Jingmo eat with focused attention.

The evening glow filtered through the window, outlining Lu Er’s stunning profile.

Those peach blossom eyes were slightly hazy, long lashes curled, the corners of his eyes faintly lifted—giving him an inexplicable aura of fragility mixed with allure.

Song Jingmo’s grip on his chopsticks tightened slightly.

Six years ago, on that night, a drunken Lu Er had looked at him with those same misty, affectionate yet innocent eyes.

He had even hugged him, biting and kissing him.

It had shattered the defenses Song Jingmo had built over the years, and in a moment of lost control, he had pressed him down onto the bed.

Song Jingmo could barely restrain the surging impulses in his heart.

He wanted to kiss those eyes, to pull him tightly into his arms.

He wanted to ask why Lu Er was always so close yet so distant.

He wanted to ask why he could so easily stir up his emotions, only to withdraw just as easily.

But in the end, he did nothing.

The price was too great.

How many six-year stretches could a person waste in a lifetime?

Song Jingmo ate quietly. Only after finishing the last sip of soup did he casually ask, “What happened?”

Lu Er seemed startled awake, blinking as he came back to his senses.

Looking at Song Jingmo’s concerned gaze, and thinking of that childish agreement—to tell the other person first if they ever liked someone—a strong urge to confide surged within him.

“I…” Lu Er took a deep breath, as if making up his mind. “I think… I might have fallen for someone.”

Those words were like a dull knife, cutting harshly into Song Jingmo’s heart.

Just ten minutes ago, he had seen Lu Er’s post on Weibo—a behind-the-scenes photo with the “fairy-like” Ye Qingge.

In the photo, Lu Er was looking down at her with a gentle gaze, while Ye Qingge looked up at him, smiling sweetly.

He had even checked— the two were currently working together on a modern romance drama, playing a couple entangled in a tragic love story.

The comment section had already exploded, with fans speculating that their on-screen romance had turned real.

After all, this wasn’t the first time such rumors had spread—it had already happened once a year ago when the cast was first announced.

Bitterness spread through his chest. Suppressing the ache, Song Jingmo asked softly, “What kind of problem did you run into?”

Lu Er carefully observed Song Jingmo’s expression. Seeing that he didn’t seem particularly repulsed, he cautiously continued.

His words were full of hints: “If I want to be with him, it’ll be very difficult. Almost everyone would oppose it.”

Counting on his fingers, Lu Er said, “My mom would definitely oppose it. My brother probably wouldn’t agree either. And if fans find out, it’ll probably cause chaos.”

To make Song Jingmo guess who he meant, he deliberately added, “Probably only Aunt Wang wouldn’t object.”

The moment Lu Er finished speaking, Song Jingmo’s suspicions were fully confirmed.

The Lu family was a prestigious century-old household. Lu Er’s mother, always mindful of status, placed great importance on family background.

She had always believed actors were performers who exposed themselves to the public in an improper way. She had even strongly opposed her own son entering the entertainment industry, thinking it brought shame to the family.

A woman so strict about reputation would never accept a daughter-in-law from the entertainment industry, especially one surrounded by rumors.

As for Lu Chen, the heir of the Lu Group, he had been raised strictly since childhood, following rules and tradition. His wife was a well-matched young lady from the Luo family—a union of equals.

From the perspective of family reputation, business interests, or personal values, he would never support his younger brother marrying a female celebrity.

As for Lu Er’s fans, idols dating was practically taboo. Once exposed, it would inevitably trigger mass fan loss, backlash, and even online harassment.

Aunt Wang had raised Lu Er since childhood and doted on him endlessly. As long as Lu Er was happy, even if he brought home a cat to marry, she would happily help prepare the wedding room.

So, all of Lu Er’s silence and heavy thoughts… were for someone else.

Song Jingmo’s throat tightened. He lowered his gaze, avoiding those expectant eyes, afraid that even one more look would expose his unbearable emotions.

So Lu Er’s recent closeness to him really had just been a passing whim. Now that the amusement had ended, it was time for him to exit.

“If it’s that difficult,” Song Jingmo said, his voice dry, carrying a calmness he himself despised, “then what do you plan to do?”

Lu Er couldn’t read his expression and felt a little uneasy.

Had Song Jingmo not understood his hints?

Or had he understood… and simply didn’t want to respond?

“I don’t know,” Lu Er’s voice dropped, filled with confusion and exhaustion. “That’s why I’m so frustrated.”

After a long pause, Song Jingmo only said, “Just do your best.”

He couldn’t wholeheartedly encourage him, nor could he selfishly ask him to give up.

Lu Er froze, not expecting such an answer.

“But…”

He wanted to say more, but was interrupted.

“I’m a bit tired,” Song Jingmo said, issuing a subtle dismissal. “Thanks for bringing the food. You have a flight tomorrow—go back early and rest.”

Lu Er opened his mouth, but in the end said nothing. Silently, he packed up the containers. “Then… rest well. I’ll go.”

Moonlight streamed through the window, casting a cold glow over Song Jingmo.

After a long time, the person on the bed slowly closed his eyes, quietly digesting the overwhelming emotions.

Outside the hospital, Lu Er looked up at the sparse stars in the night sky, utterly lost.

Why had he made his hints so obvious, yet Song Jingmo remained unmoved?

Did Song Jingmo really feel nothing for him at all?

That realization sank his heart to the very bottom.