This sudden statement brought a heavy silence to the room.
Jiang Ling withdrew her trembling hands, looking across at Mo Ran—who sat directly opposite her, gentle features unruffled—with eyes full of confusion and shock. Her voice had changed tone, “Why?”
“Because it’s best for everyone.”
Hearing this, Mo Ran picked up her chopsticks and answered with a smile.
“W-What do you mean, best—”
Bang!
Fang Wannan suddenly slapped the table and stood up. The bowls and chopsticks rattled, shivering for a few moments before falling still. Her face was full of dissatisfaction as she spoke in a tone that was nearly interrogative:
“What do you mean, best for everyone?!”
Saying this, she strode around the table and chairs to stand beside Mo Ran, staring sharply, as if demanding a more reasonable explanation.
But the faint smile on Mo Ran’s face never disappeared from beginning to end. Even when questioned by Fang Wannan, she simply shook her head lightly, “There’s no use in saying more.”
“To hell with ‘no use in saying more’, Mo Ran—”
Fang Wannan was thoroughly angered by her vague attitude, unable to bear her own anxious feelings any longer, raising her voice as she took two steps forward, determined to get an answer.
But she had barely taken a step before Lin Xiaoyu behind her grabbed her with all her strength, her voice, for once, tinged with haste, “Nannan, wait!”
She gripped Fang Wannan’s arm tightly, afraid she might act on impulse and do something irreparable. “Just calm down for now. What if she has her own troubles she can’t speak about?” As she spoke, Lin Xiaoyu’s grip grew stronger.
This made the agitated Fang Wannan instantly fall silent. She stared at Mo Ran, who was calmly meeting her gaze without any visible emotion, her eyes full of complex feelings, and ultimately took a half-step back.
Jiang Ling had already been frozen on the spot ever since Mo Ran had said those words.
Her mind was in utter chaos, her vision gradually blurring. Fang Wannan’s sharp voice rang in her ears, followed by Lin Xiaoyu’s attempts to comfort her, and finally, a long, oppressive silence.
Mo Ran looked over the members before her, each with a different expression, but her gaze finally settled on Bai Xue, who hadn’t responded at all from start to finish.
As if she had expected this all along, Bai Xue didn’t shout or lose her temper. Instead, she spoke up to stop the chaos, “Nannan.”
The sound made Fang Wannan’s body tremble slightly, then she sat down heavily, full of reluctance, her eyes shifting awkwardly to the side to avoid looking at Mo Ran.
“I’ll do my best to finish our last performance.”
Mo Ran’s smile remained gentle. “For personal reasons, I can’t debut with you officially… But this is, right now, the best choice I can make.”
With that, she exhaled slowly, as if relieved of a heavy burden, then picked up her chopsticks and began to eat, moving as naturally as if nothing had happened.
The atmosphere at the dinner table was stifling and heavy.
Jiang Ling was in a daze, her mind involuntarily replaying all sorts of memories of Mo Ran.
Back when Jiang Ling wandered aimlessly through the streets looking for part-time work, if Mo Ran hadn’t invited her to join NOVA, she wouldn’t have met so many adorable and kind teammates, not to mention the days and nights of dance and song practice, or the amazing performances they created. In a way, Mo Ran was the benefactor who changed her life’s trajectory.
She had once thought that, someday in the future, she would stand on bigger and better stages with all the members of NOVA, writing a new chapter that belonged to them.
But now, Mo Ran was actually leaving the group.
For a long while, Jiang Ling couldn’t summon the spirit to do anything, only staring blankly at the sumptuous dishes on the table.
Every time she returned from practice in the past, Jiang Ling would secretly hope there would be her favorite sweet and sour ribs, and Mo Ran would always pat her on the head, serve up a carefully prepared dinner, and then watch her eat with a gentle smile.
When she was exhausted from practice, Mo Ran would always support her at her side with gentle but unwavering strength.
Those warm, ordinary days—
Would they never come again?
Jiang Ling found that just a few seconds imagining a future without Mo Ran made her heart feel like it was being sliced by knives, her mouth filled with a bitter taste.
The meal passed in utter silence.
Not until Mo Ran left the table with her bowl and chopsticks as if she’d done it countless times did Fang Wannan finally lose patience. She clicked her tongue loudly in annoyance, then looked at Bai Xue in confusion.
“That’s it? We’re just going to let this happen?”
She’d heard the hidden meaning in Bai Xue’s earlier words—not to impulsively interfere—but how could Fang Wannan simply accept it?
Upon hearing this, Bai Xue was silent for a long time, so long that Jiang Ling couldn’t help but lift her eyes, meeting Bai Xue’s deep and somber gaze.
“This is the result she’s come to after careful consideration, Nannan. Xiao Ran isn’t a child who can’t make her own decisions. She can take responsibility for what she chooses.”
“I don’t want to let her go either, but before she joined NOVA, Xiao Ran made only one request of me: that when the time came she wanted to leave, no one should question or stop her. So I can’t press any further.”
Bai Xue explained slowly, her expression helpless.
This only made Fang Wannan look even more anxious.
She breathed heavily, tugging at her disheveled hair, lowering her eyes, her voice edged with the threat of tears.
“What is all this supposed to be…”
This night should have been no different from any other.
But Jiang Ling lay in bed tossing and turning, unable to fall asleep.
Every time she closed her eyes, countless memories of Mo Ran flashed through her mind, as well as what Bai Xue had said earlier that day.
Why did she choose to leave?
She’d even discussed it with Bai Xue before joining NOVA—so it couldn’t have been a spur-of-the-moment decision or because of some sudden event. It was something she’d planned, considered carefully, and made up her mind about long ago.
That made Jiang Ling feel even worse.
It was like a couple who’d been together for years—no third party, no betrayal, just a love that slowly faded over time, finally ending in regret. Jiang Ling sighed, and the quilt beside her rustled.
“Can’t sleep?”
Lin Xiaoyu’s quiet voice drifted over.
“Yeah.”
Jiang Ling guessed that Lin Xiaoyu was feeling about the same as she was, so she didn’t hide it, murmuring in confusion, “Why, why did things end up like this…”
Lin Xiaoyu didn’t answer, only moved a little closer.
Feeling her warmth, Jiang Ling squeezed her eyes shut, crystalline tears shimmering in her eyes.
She fought to hold back her surging emotions, afraid she’d burst out sobbing if she wasn’t careful.
“Lingling.”
Lin Xiaoyu sensed her disappointment and called her softly.
“Bai Xue-jie really can’t press her for the reason she wants to leave.”
After a moment of silence, Lin Xiaoyu squeezed Jiang Ling’s fingers tightly in the darkness. If one looked closely, one could see a hint of an encouraging, comforting smile at the corner of her lips.
“But you can.”