Chasing Light: The Ultimate Push-Pull Crematorium

Midsummer in New York, the air was thick with the sweltering sound of cicadas.

Sixteen-year-old Elena Jiang, holding her fluffy princess dress hem, was hiding behind the rockery in the back garden of the Jiang mansion to slack off. Today was her grandfather's seventieth birthday, and the front hall was crowded with guests. The various hypocritical pleasantries made her feel suffocated.

"Elena, hiding here again?" A warm voice came.

Elena turned her head and saw her second brother, Mark Jiang, looking at her helplessly.

"Mark, I don't want to go and deal with those old men." Elena pouted, complaining naively.

"The Foster family members are also coming today; are you sure you don't want to see them?" Mark walked over, reaching out to rub the top of her head. "I heard the patriarch of the Foster family, who just returned from abroad, is a rare figure to see."

"The Foster family? Is it the Foster family that is a long-time friend of Grandpa's?" Elena blinked, a vague image surfacing in her mind.

"Yes, Julian Foster. By seniority, you have to call him Uncle."

That was the first time Elena heard the name "Julian Foster."

Half an hour later, when the mahogany doors of the front hall slowly opened, Elena stood behind her grandfather and saw the man for the first time.

He wore an extremely sophisticated deep black suit, his posture upright like a pine tree. Amidst the clamor of the room, he carried a coldness that kept people at a distance. Gold-rimmed glasses covered those deep, narrow eyes. His nose was high, and his thin lips were slightly pursed. His whole person exuded a sense of abstinence and noble Buddha-like nature.

"Julian, come, meet your Grandpa Jiang." Old Mr. Foster introduced him with a smile.

Julian Foster nodded slightly, his voice deep and magnetic, like the G-string of a cello sweeping across the heart. "Mr. Jiang, I wish you happiness as vast as the Eastern Sea and a life as long as the Southern Mountain."

Elena was stunned.

At this age of first love, she had seen countless wealthy sons, but she had never seen anyone who could blend "indifference" and "elegance" so perfectly.

"This must be Elena, right?" Old Mr. Foster looked at the girl hiding behind her grandfather and beckoned with a smile. "Quick, call him Uncle."

Elena's heart skipped a beat. She moved forward slowly, her voice as thin as a mosquito's buzz, yet carrying a hint of trembling that even she hadn't noticed. "Uncle."

Julian lowered his eyes, his gaze lingering for a moment on the girl's youthful face, which already showed signs of stunning beauty. He took an exquisite brocade box from his secretary and handed it to Elena.

"First meeting, a small gift."

His fingers were long and cold-white, his fingertips inadvertently brushing against the back of Elena's hand during the exchange.

At that moment, Elena felt a weak current instantly run through her entire body.

The wind of that summer blew the most secret string in the girl's heart.

Elena thought she was probably sick.

This sickness was called Julian Foster.

Four years is enough time for a seedling to grow into a small tree, and enough for a young girl's admiration to become paranoid.

From sixteen to twenty, Elena Jiang's world almost revolved around Julian Foster.

For him, she gave up the art she originally wanted to study and enrolled in the business school of Julian's alma mater; for him, she learned to brew various complicated famous teas, only because Julian had a habit of drinking tea; she would even appear punctually in the lobby of the Foster Group every Friday afternoon, holding a bouquet of flowers of unknown colors, just to catch a glimpse of him when he got off work.

The entire wealthy circle of New York knew that the pampered little princess of the Jiang family had her eyes on the cold-hearted Buddha of the Foster family.

"Elena, don't go; Julian Foster has no heart." Her best friend, Sarah Lin, watched Elena carefully selecting a tie again and couldn't help but advise, "You've chased him for four years. Besides treating you as a junior, has he ever given you any response?"

Elena's movements paused, and a hint of stubbornness flashed in her beautiful peach-blossom eyes. "He hasn't rejected me; doesn't that mean I have a chance?"

"That's because he's considering the face of both families! Those love letters and gifts you send him—which time didn't he have his secretary take them?"

Elena bit her lip and didn't speak.

Indeed, Julian had never said a harsh word to her. He was always so gentle and elegant, so restrained and polite.

But this "politeness" was often more hurtful than rejection.

Elena decided to make an end of it on her twentieth birthday.

The birthday banquet was held at a hotel under the Foster family. Elena wore a fiery red strapless short dress, which complemented her snow-white skin, making her look like a blooming red rose.

That night, Julian arrived as promised.

He was still that cold and noble self, holding a priceless jewelry box.

"Elena, happy birthday." He stood at the intersection of light and shadow, his gaze as calm as water.

Elena didn't take the box but instead grabbed his sleeve directly, leading him to a secluded spot on the balcony.

"Uncle, I don't want a gift." Elena looked up, her gaze carrying a desperate madness. "I want you."

Julian's brow furrowed very slightly. He looked down at the girl who had grown up, his voice still steady. "Elena, you've had too much to drink."

"I haven't had too much!" Elena's voice carried a sob. "Julian Foster, I've chased you for four years, one thousand four hundred and sixty days. All my social media posts, all my thoughts are about you. Can you really not see it?"

Julian was silent for a moment.

The moonlight fell on his cold-white profile, making him look even more unattainable.

"Elena Jiang," he finally spoke, his tone carrying a heartbreaking distance, "you are the daughter of the Jiang family, and I am the head of the Foster family. In my eyes, you will always be that junior who needs to be taken care of. This 'liking' is just an illusion created because you haven't seen the world outside yet."

"An illusion? I've loved you for four years, and you tell me it's an illusion?" Elena's heart felt as if it had been stabbed hard by a sharp blade.

"When you are twenty-five, or thirty, you will be grateful for my rejection today." Julian turned around, his voice so faint it was almost inaudible. "Go back and rest early. Happy birthday."

He left decisively, without even looking back.

Elena stood on the windy balcony, watching that tall back disappear from her sight.

At that moment, she suddenly felt very tired.

That kind of tiredness was a sense of powerlessness seeping from her bones.

So, one person's persistence was truly nothing in the face of another person's restraint.

She had acted in this one-man show called "Secret Crush" for four years, and in the end, she only got back the word "illusion."

Elena laughed, her tears falling uncontrollably.

"Julian Foster, I'm not chasing anymore."

She spoke softly to the empty night sky.

Truly, I'm not chasing anymore.

Elena Jiang was a woman of action.

When she said she wasn't chasing anymore, she truly disappeared completely from Julian Foster's life.

The thermos that used to be delivered every day, rain or shine, was gone; the figure holding flowers in the lobby of the Foster Group had vanished; even Julian's WeChat dialog box, which used to be stuffed with various childish emojis, had fallen completely silent.

One week, two weeks, one month.

Julian sat in his office, looking at the last message on his phone screen from a month ago—a picture of a sunset Elena had sent, with the caption: "Goodnight, Uncle."

He took a sip of tea; the tea had already grown somewhat cold, and the bitter taste spread across his tongue.

"Mr. Foster, Miss Jiang hasn't... come by lately." Secretary Mark carefully observed his boss's expression.

Julian's hand flipping through documents paused, his tone flat. "She's grown up and has her own life; it's normal."

"But," Mark hesitated, "I heard the Jiang family is arranging blind dates for Miss Jiang lately."

The pen in Julian's hand made a sharp ink mark on the white paper.

He looked up, his eyes behind the gold-rimmed glasses as deep as ink. "Blind dates?"

"Yes, Mr. Jiang senior seems to think Miss Jiang has reached the age for marriage. The other party is the second son of the He family in New York, Ethan He, a top student who just returned from the Ivy League and is quite handsome."

Julian didn't speak.

The office was quiet for a while, in a way that was somewhat eerie.

After a long pause, he finally spoke coldly: "Ethan He? That playboy whose private life is messy and who changes girlfriends faster than clothes?"

Mark was stunned. Although Ethan He's reputation wasn't top-tier, it certainly wasn't at the level of "messy private life"; in fact, within the circle, he was considered a gentle and elegant gentleman.

But he didn't dare to contradict, only nodding submissively. "Yes... perhaps the rumors are incorrect."

Julian closed the document, rose, and walked to the floor-to-ceiling window.

Outside was the bustling neon of New York, yet Elena's face, always smiling and looking up to call him "Uncle," involuntarily surfaced in his mind.

He shouldn't interfere.

This was a decision he had made himself.

He told her it was an illusion; he had pushed her away.

Now that she was being obedient and letting go, he should feel relieved.

But why did his chest ache faintly, as if something important was being brutally gouged out?

"Mr. Foster, tonight's charity gala..."

"Cancel it." Julian's voice was cold enough to freeze.

"But Old Mr. Foster specifically instructed..."

"I said cancel it."

Julian turned his head, the gloom in his eyes making Mark shiver.

He had never seen his boss so out of control.

Julian Foster, who was always known for being calm and restrained, seemed to have something crazily collapsing beneath that layer of abstinence.