Unspoken Confessions, Unreachable Hearts

"Ningning?" he repeated, slightly startled. He tried to grasp the direction of the conversation. "At first, she seemed cruel," he admitted honestly. "But as I got to know her better, I realized there's a reason behind her demeanor. She's not entirely good, but she's not evil either. She accepted us here, even though her way... isn't easy."

For a moment, Arga fell silent. The bitter memory of the lashings he once endured surfaced in his mind, lowering his voice as he continued, "I hated her back then. But after a few interactions, I started to understand. She has a humanity that isn't visible on the surface."

Sana listened intently, but within her, a growing unease pressed to break free. She grasped Arga's hand tightly, startling him.

"Then what about me?" she asked softly, though her voice trembled.

Arga turned to her, pausing for a moment before offering a warm smile. "Of course, you're a good woman, Sana. You were the first person I met in this world. We've been through so much together. You even took care of me after that whipping punishment, didn't you? I'm so grateful for that."

Those words pierced Sana, but not in the way she had hoped. "It wasn't me who took care of you back then," she murmured, almost inaudibly. "I was locked up with Nico."

Arga's face shifted to confusion, his mind struggling to piece things together. A vague image of someone surfaced in his thoughts but remained blurry.

"Someone else?" he whispered to himself. But before he could connect all the fragments, Sana's voice interrupted, firmer this time.

"Arga, do you remember who took care of you back then?"

Sensing the mood growing too heavy, Arga chuckled softly, attempting to lighten the conversation. "Ah, Sana, you're overthinking it. I truly appreciate your concern. Besides, I'm as young as your child. It's natural for you to feel like a mother to me."

Those words struck Sana like a harsh slap. "A mother?" she thought, her heart boiling with a mix of shame and disappointment. Without realizing it, her hand shot up, smacking Arga's back quite hard.

"Ouch!" Arga exclaimed, turning to her with a small laugh. "Why did you hit me?"

"Ah… there was something on your back," Sana lied, trying to cover her nervousness.

Arga shook his head, stood up, and smiled. "Alright, Sana. Have a good rest."

But before he could walk away, Sana's hand suddenly grasped his, stopping him in his tracks. "Arga…" Her voice was almost a whisper, yet enough to make Arga halt.

"Yes, Sana?" he asked gently, his eyes filled with confusion.

Inside Sana, an inner turmoil reached its peak. Words pressed against her lips, but they remained unspoken. Until, finally, she made her decision.

"Arga… I… I actually like you."

The words hung in the air, rendering Arga motionless. His eyes widened, his voice caught in his throat. "Sana… what do you mean? Are you…"

But before he could finish his question, Sana interrupted. Her voice was firm, though there was a slight tremor at its edge. "But I reject this feeling. Forgive me if you feel the same way. It can never happen. You're as young as my child, Arga. And I… I'm the same age as your mother."

Arga stood silently, his lips moving as if to protest, but no words came out. Sana rose to her feet, embracing him tightly.

"I hope you understand," she whispered before releasing the hug. Without waiting for a response, she turned and walked away, leaving Arga frozen in place.

The night sky enveloped Sana, the cold wind brushing against her paling skin. She looked up, gazing at the stars that seemed to watch her in silence.

"Foolish woman," she muttered softly, a small smile gracing her lips despite the tears that wet her eyes. "You're just a forty-year-old woman… how could such feelings arise?"

Her steps grew further away, accompanied by the whispers of the wind that seemed to mock her. Her heart roared, but the world kept turning, indifferent, leaving Sana alone with the turmoil haunting her.

In the distance, Nico's silhouette stood against the faint glow of a park lamp, his figure swallowed by shadows. Arga approached him slowly, his steps heavy as if each movement bore an invisible weight.

"What's with Sana? Why did she leave like that after talking to you?" Nico asked bluntly, his voice sharp.

Arga stared blankly at the horizon, his mind wandering far. "You'd better not bother her," he replied softly, almost as if speaking to himself.

For a moment, he stayed silent, letting the quiet speak louder than his words. Inside, an internal struggle raged. "What's so wrong about an age difference?" he thought bitterly. "Ah… but Sana's right. I have to kill this feeling before it grows too deep. The gap is too wide."

He took a deep breath, exhaling heavily before turning away, leaving Nico still standing motionless.

Arga's steps carried him down a long, empty corridor. His shadow stretched under the lamplight as the faint echo of his footsteps filled the silence. The night air was cold, biting against his exposed skin.

Soon, a figure emerged from the opposite direction—Salsa, dressed neatly in her formal uniform, her demeanor always composed. She bowed respectfully before speaking.

"Mr. Arga," she addressed him in a formal tone. "Madam Ningning has requested your presence. She'd like to invite you to a private dinner. As for Mr. Nico and Ms. Sana, their meals have been prepared in a separate room."

Arga gazed at Salsa for a moment, offering a faint smile that felt more like a habit than an expression of joy. "Alright, I'll meet her," he replied curtly. But before stepping away, his eyes drifted once more to the wooden bench where he had spoken with Sana earlier.

The night sky grew darker, the stars twinkling faintly as if silently witnessing his heart full of doubt.

The grand hall in Xinjiang's first district loomed majestically before him. As Arga approached, the soft melody of a guqin filled the air, flowing like a tranquil river. The notes brought a sense of peace, wrapping the entire hall in an indescribable warmth.