Tracing the Light

Wen Ciyue disappeared for three years. No one knew where she had gone. They couldn't even get through to her parents. Three years later, she returned to China alone, without telling anyone, landing in the dead of night. Four days later, at the "Night of Listening to Jade" haute joaillerie gala, the crowd parted on its own as Lu Shiyan arrived. She stood at the edge of the light; he stood right in its center. Seven or eight meters of roaring voices lay between them, but neither spoke first. The necklace around her neck was called Tracing the Light. It was named after something he had casually said one early morning three years ago, while keeping her company as she worked on a design. She had turned it into a work of art. This time, she hadn't come to get back together. She had returned to do something only she could accomplish. “For twenty-three years, other people arranged her life. This time, she would hold the pen herself.” “Everyone said they were acting in her best interests. Not one person ever asked what she wanted.” “She carved every word she hadn't said in three years into metal.”