A once-in-a-lifetime heavy snowfall in Hu City brought everyone who should have been at school or work that weekday onto the internet instead — and that was how Liang Yan and Qiao Qi ended up trending.

…As the saying goes, when everyone piles on firewood the flames rise higher. The fact that Liang Yan and Qiao Qi’s fire could burn on a weekday had everything to do with this snow.

【I was literally just slacking off looking at the snow scenery the big shots posted, and then my boyfriend cheated on me?】

【And there’s apparently a death involved, scary】

【Haha, say what you want, but the moment you call Young Master Liang your boyfriend, he can hand you a lawyer’s letter】

【My wife had an affair, and I said what, exactly?!】

【Sigh, two dramas running together now, they’re bound to be tied together — I just hope they can each shine on their own once it’s over】

【AAAAAH Liang Muzeqi (Liang-Wood-and-Perch) forever!!】

【What should the baby be named? How about Liang Yuqiao?】

【That sounds nice, that sounds nice!】

It wasn’t until evening that the two people at the center of it all still hadn’t made an appearance.

Qiao Qi had already fallen asleep before the trending topic hit. Liang Yan hadn’t originally planned to sleep — after all, the instant he finished replying to Cheng Yueming, he too had seen the news push notification.

As the person involved, Liang Yan opened Weibo without so much as a ripple of reaction, and in the process managed to wash his face, rinse his mouth, shave, make his way back to the hospital room, and slip his hand under Qiao Qi’s blanket to hold hers… and so on.

No one had actually caught any substantive footage or video — there were only one or two badly blurred photos of Qiao Qi getting out of a car and hurrying into the hospital lobby.

His own pictures, though, were rather clear, and there was even a short video.

People who didn’t know the truth had spun a pile of stories from images and clips that didn’t even show anyone’s expression clearly — everything from the wealthy Liang family refusing to accept Qiao Qi, a model from some obscure background, to Liang Yan and Qiao Qi taking their on-set romance too far and causing a death.

They had, in fact, taken it too far.

And there had, in fact, been a death.

Liang Yan swiped his thumb, closing out of the Weibo page, and looked with heavy eyes at Qiao Qi in the bed.

Just then Qiao Qi’s brows suddenly furrowed with unease, a thin sheen of sweat gradually surfacing on her forehead.

A glistening film, plainly showing the struggle and pain in her dream.

Liang Yan immediately set down his phone and gently rubbed the back of her hand to soothe her.

It didn’t do much good.

Liang Yan had no choice but to wake her.

Qiao Qi really was struggling in her sleep — trapped in a nightmare where Cai Hong and Maiya appeared together, both stepping forward to accuse her.

They were both blaming her.

Qiao Qi wanted to argue back, opened her mouth, but couldn’t get a single word out.

She could only let out fragile, drawn-out gasps.

A fitting match for the winter wind overhead.

Not until her throat went dry did she finally gasp hard, and in that instant her eyes flew open.

Her chest heaved violently, and Liang Yan’s distant-sounding voice reached her ears.

“Qiao Qi, Qiao Qi…”

The voice gradually grew clear, and the scene before her eyes came into focus along with it. Right on its heels, everything that had happened yesterday and today crashed into her mind like a wave rushing backward onto shore.

Her scattered, hazy consciousness finally woke fully. Qiao Qi grabbed hold of something hard, only to realize she was gripping Liang Yan’s hand.

She turned, dazed, to look at him. Liang Yan gave a forced, deliberate smile. “You’re awake.”

Qiao Qi held his gaze for a long moment before her lips curved slightly, her voice hoarse. “I dreamed of them.”

Liang Yan let out a soft “Hm?”

Qiao Qi said, “Maiya and Cai Hong.”

At the sound of Cai Hong’s name, a flicker of gloom passed through Liang Yan’s eyes.

Absorbed in her own emotions, Qiao Qi didn’t notice. She struggled to sit up, throwing back the blanket as if to get out of bed.

“I want to go see her.” Her voice was very low.

Liang Yan said okay.

—

The morgue felt like an ice cave that had fallen straight out of deep winter. Qiao Qi stood in front of a compartment for a long while before finally reaching out to pull it open.

The little girl lay there so quietly. Qiao Qi’s face showed no expression, and her eyes were calm as well.

Only now, touching Maiya’s face, hands, and arms — no longer warm and soft — did she finally accept that this child had truly left her.

Perhaps their bond simply wasn’t deep enough.

Qiao Qi suddenly recalled Liang Yan once saying the two of them were deeply fated to each other.

She also thought of what the old director had once said: that life, in the end, is nothing but fate.

After a long while, Qiao Qi finally bent down slowly and kissed Maiya’s forehead.

Then she leaned close to her ear and said quietly, “Good night.”

—

They were both people with jobs — and jobs where one person’s absence could throw off the progress of a hundred others’ work — so Qiao Qi and Liang Yan naturally couldn’t stay at the hospital too long, even though they had just been through a momentous farewell.

Qiao Qi had composed herself and was about to leave Tong Shuqu’s office when she suddenly remembered Liang Xumo.

“Where’s your sister?” she asked Liang Yan.

Liang Yan had been scrolling through his phone with his head down, brows slightly knit, looking like he was in a bad mood.

At Qiao Qi’s sudden question, Liang Yan seemed to give a small start. He looked up and met Qiao Qi’s scrutinizing gaze, gave a hesitant “Ah,” and didn’t answer directly.

On top of that, Tong Shuqu’s expression seemed to shift subtly in that instant too. Qiao Qi sharply caught these details, her gaze sweeping quietly over both their faces — and in the end said nothing.

Just as Liang Yan and Qiao Qi were standing up to leave, someone suddenly burst into Tong Shuqu’s office.

— It was Tong Shuqu’s intern.

A young girl.

She moved recklessly, her face pale.

The three people already in the office were all startled. Tong Shuqu asked, “What happened?”

The girl already knew about Liang Yan and Tong Shuqu’s relationship, so seeing the two of them in the office didn’t surprise her in the least.

“Someone found a pinhole camera in the women’s restroom.” The girl couldn’t help swearing as she spoke. “It’s disgusting. If this isn’t handled properly, patients are going to file complaints.”

“What camera?” That something like this could happen at a hospital — in the women’s restroom, no less — Tong Shuqu frowned and stood. “I’ll go take a look.”

The moment he stood, Liang Yan spoke up. “Which women’s restroom?”

Tong Shuqu froze for a beat, glanced at Liang Yan — neither of them said anything, but each read exactly what the other wanted to convey in his eyes.

Only Qiao Qi’s concern lined up with the intern’s. She frowned. “Wouldn’t it be better to call the police first?”

Liang Yan stood up at once. “Let’s go take a look first.”

Tong Shuqu nodded.

The two of them walked to the door and, without discussing it, both stopped at the same moment. It was Liang Yan who spoke, turning back to look at Qiao Qi. “Don’t come.”

Qiao Qi thought it was because of her own identity, but on second thought — “Isn’t it inconvenient for you too?”

Liang Yan said, “A mask and a cap will do.”

Tong Shuqu chimed in, “Right, when something like this happens, there are always plenty of gawkers. We’ll go help out — you two stay here.”

Qiao Qi didn’t want to add to their trouble either, so she nodded in agreement.

The moment she finished speaking, Liang Yan and Tong Shuqu turned and walked out together.

Just as the office door was closing, Liang Yan lifted his foot to leave, but Tong Shuqu spoke. “Liang Yan.”

Liang Yan stopped.

Tong Shuqu looked at him. “Have you thought it through?”

Liang Yan’s expression twisted into something unreadable as he laughed faintly. “What I think doesn’t matter. What I’m more concerned about is—”

“What I’m going to see.”

Author’s note: A bit short today. Will make it up tomorrow if I get the chance.