Xi Tang moved stiffly, step by step, toward the hospital building. When she reached the lobby, her stomach suddenly convulsed. She immediately broke into a run, rushing to the end of the first floor in the ward area, and braced herself against the bathroom sink. A fishy taste surged repeatedly in her throat, and she couldn’t help but lean over and start vomiting.

When Zhong Qiao died, she hadn’t been by her side. She didn’t even receive the news until more than a month later. Liao Shu Ru, Zhong Qiao’s first boyfriend from university, had called Ni Kai Lun’s company and eventually brought her a ring, saying it was the only thing left in Zhong Qiao’s suicide note, specifically meant for her, as something to remember her by.

It was a very ordinary silver ring. Xi Tang had one too, bought together with Zhong Qiao at a small shop behind the school gate during Christmas of their sophomore year. When she received that ring, Xi Tang lay at home and cried for an entire night.

Zhong Qiao had always loved to hold her hand—soft, warm fingers. Those hands had held hers as they attended classes together, ate meals, and went shopping. Those hands had caressed her face, her shoulders, her body.

Her voluptuous body, bright skin, and hair, warm fingers—all had now turned to cold ashes.

Zhong Qiao was from Beijing, but her parents had been divorced for many years. Her funeral was arranged by her older brother, sister-in-law, and two friends—one was Liao Shu Ru, and the other Ru Ru didn’t know, but from his description, it was not Gao Ji Yi.

The last time Xi Tang saw her was in the hospital. During that period, Xi Tang was staying in the hospital, and Zhong Qiao stopped accepting acting roles, going to the market every day to buy ingredients to make soup for her. At night, she would keep her company in the ward, chatting, while Xi Tang cried. She cried so much during that time that tears had inflamed and ulcerated the corners of her eyes. Zhong Qiao would use cotton swabs to apply the antiseptic solution, and while doing so would start cursing Zhao Ping Jin vehemently until the nurse came knocking to stop her.

Even blood sisters couldn’t be closer.

One night, Zhong Qiao whispered in her ear: “Gao Ji Yi says he wants to take me to Europe.”

The next day, she came very early, bringing a large bowl of pork rib soup and bags of fruit. She visited her, and then suddenly disappeared after that day.

Xi Tang endured the most difficult post-surgery recovery period and was finally able to get out of bed and move around. Ni Kai Lun had hired a caregiver for her.

Later, Xi Tang heard that Gao Ji Yi was filing for divorce. Zhong Qiao, whether bewitched or something else, followed him. After she went abroad, their contact lessened. Zhong Qiao called her a few times, her voice filled with irrepressible excitement. She said Gao Ji Yi had already divorced and promised to be with her.

In the end, she could only become a lonely ghost, leaping from a rooftop in a suburban villa area of Beijing in the dead of night.

Xi Tang gasped desperately. Splashing cold water on her face couldn’t stop her dry heaving. A nurse pushed open the door: “Are you alright?”

Xi Tang shook her head, washed her face clean, and walked out.

Zhao Ping Jin watched her return to the ward without saying anything. She even washed the bowls on the table clean.

She was now very good at taking care of people, even more attentive than before. Zhao Ping Jin’s immune system was low, making his wound heal exceptionally slowly. The chest wound often woke him with pain at night. He tossed and turned, drifting in and out of sleep. Each time he woke, Xi Tang was by his side, giving him warm water, talking to him, trying everything to make him feel better.

Zhao Ping Jin looked at her standing beside his bed: “You don’t like Old Gao, I know. I won’t let you see him again.”

Xi Tang checked the medical instructions while confirming the dosage of some pills, responding indifferently: “It’s nothing.”

At that moment, Zhao Ping Jin, for some reason, defended Gao Ji Yi: “About Zhong Qiao’s matter, it’s not entirely his responsibility.”

Xi Tang suddenly stood up, gently placing the medicine bottle on the cabinet.

Zhao Ping Jin was now very familiar with her expressions. Seeing her face like that—almost unchanged, but with the light in her eyes slightly trembling—he knew she was about to break away: “Huang Xi Tang—”

She had already walked outside, picked up her bag from the sofa, and headed straight for the door.

Zhao Ping Jin propped himself up on the bed with one hand: “Hey!”

Unfortunately, there was no one outside at that moment, and Huang Xi Tang opened the door and left directly.

At that moment, Zhao Ping Jin felt extremely anxious. Without time to think, he pulled out his IV, got out of bed, and immediately felt his feet unsteady. He swayed, steadying himself against the cabinet, gritted his teeth, and chased after her.

He caught up with her in the corridor outside.

Xi Tang stopped, not daring to move him, only saying with restraint: “Let go.”

Only then did Zhao Ping Jin feel the pain in his chest wound. His right arm connected to his chest cavity felt like it had shattered again. Even breathing caused stabbing pain. He managed to say: “Who said you could leave?”

Xi Tang saw his face as white as paper. He was holding onto her, but Xi Tang could feel the weight of his body pressing increasingly heavily on her arm.

“Hey, why is the patient up?” a voice sounded from the corridor. The doctor making rounds had arrived, followed by Shen Min.

After the doctor left, the ward returned to calm.

“What did Old Gao say to her?” Zhao Ping Jin lay in bed, with a large dose of painkillers administered. His face was so white it was almost bloodless, his body showing a kind of exhausted weakness.

Shen Min said quietly: “Couldn’t hear clearly.”

“Then what?”

“She went into the bathroom. I asked a nurse to go in and check. She was vomiting inside.”

Zhao Ping Jin wearily pressed his brow. His vision was blurry, but through it he could see a small figure in the living room, lying on the sofa, quiet and still.

Xi Tang lay on the sofa writing a menu. Shen Min sent someone to buy the ingredients. These past few days since Zhao Ping Jin’s car accident, Shen Min had been handling everything. He didn’t want his family to know and didn’t even go to the cadre hospital, finding a private hospital instead. His parents were in Jiangxi for an inspection, and his grandparents were recuperating in a suburban villa. Since there weren’t any serious injuries, he thought he’d just handle it himself and be done with it.

Close to eleven o’clock, Shen Min came in with Li Ming, followed by two men in suits carrying briefcases, one of whom was Gong Qi, whom Xi Tang had met before.

Li Ming was still the same, carefree and unrestrained. Upon seeing her, he smiled and opened his arms: “Little Tangtang?”

Xi Tang was marinating fish at the time. She waved to indicate her hands were dirty, then politely said: “Mr. Li.”

Li Ming put on a face: “After so long, you’re still being formal? Call me Brother Mingming.”

Xi Tang’s expression remained indifferent, still insisting: “Mr. Li.”

With subordinates watching, the atmosphere became slightly awkward.

Zhao Ping Jin intervened from the hospital room, calling out: “Stop wasting time, come and work.”

A table was temporarily moved into the room, four laptops were opened, and they could have a two-hour meeting by the hospital bed.

At two o’clock, Doctor Zhou arrived. Zhao Ping Jin had just finished working, was in poor spirits, had taken off his glasses, and was resting with his eyes closed on the bed.

Doctor Zhou looked at the data in the medical record: “I heard you almost went into emergency care this morning?”

Zhao Ping Jin, with his eyes closed, said wearily: “It wasn’t that dramatic.”

Doctor Zhou put away the medical record: “If your health deteriorates further, I won’t dare to keep it secret anymore. You’re the only one in both the Zhao and Zhou families; everyone knows how precious you are. You need to transfer back to the General Military Hospital.”

The men were chatting and having lunch in the living room. Xi Tang had stewed bone soup for Zhao Ping Jin. He took a couple of bites but had no appetite. He said: “Go out and eat with them.”

Xi Tang went out and sat next to Shen Min, just like before, when the company lights would still be on at midnight, and they would often work overtime. Xi Tang, as a young girl, would follow behind Zhao Ping Jin, making frozen dumplings for them, and everyone would squeeze together, dipping them in chili sauce for a late-night snack.

Zhao Ping Jin heard Doctor Zhou say outside: “Xi Tang, why aren’t you using chopsticks to eat fish?”

Huang Xi Tang replied in a relaxed tone: “Oh, it’s nothing, I just prefer using a spoon.”

She had trained her left hand very well and could skillfully do many things. But it wasn’t natural, and sometimes she would instinctively use her right hand first, like when carrying water—she couldn’t hold it steady, then suddenly remembered.

At night, Zhao Ping Jin was awake. He had fallen asleep in the evening and woke up after ten at night. Xi Tang asked: “Do you want some snow pear water?”

Zhao Ping Jin shook his head, then said: “Since we’re in the hospital anyway, I’ll have Shen Min arrange for you to get checked.”

Xi Tang was stunned for a moment before understanding what he meant: “No need.”

Zhao Ping Jin frowned: “Don’t be stubborn.”

Xi Tang said: “Kai Lun found very good doctors who have already diagnosed it.”

Zhao Ping Jin disdainfully said: “What kind of doctors could Ni Kai Lun find? Let’s take a closer look. Are you going to spend your whole life eating with a spoon when you go out with me? Aren’t you embarrassed?”

Xi Tang suddenly smiled, a smile with a frightening calmness: “As if I could spend a lifetime with you?”

In the morning, Zhao Ping Jin had a sudden craving for porridge. He had woken up earlier than usual. The driver hadn’t started work yet, so Xi Tang went out to buy it for him.

He specifically requested Bao Fu Fang’s abalone porridge: “Take a taxi there. It’s easy to get one at the hospital entrance. Have the driver wait for you, and come back as soon as you buy it.”

Xi Tang gave him a dirty look: “Precious one, I’ll just buy it from the hospital cafeteria. Take it or leave it.”

She hadn’t been gone for long when the hospital room door was pushed open. Nurses are usually knocked first. Had Huang Xi Tang bought it from the cafeteria for him?

Zhao Ping Jin had gotten up early to look at an important document on his computer. Without looking up, he said: “That was quick?”

“Zhou’er.” An authoritative, elderly voice came from the doorway, a familiar voice calling his name.

Zhao Ping Jin immediately looked up. An elderly man wearing a deep blue Zhongshan suit, with snow-white hair, leaning on a cane, stood with a straight back and piercing gaze.

“Grandfather, why are you here?”

Outside the door, an elderly lady in a silk gown had already rushed to his side: “Child, you’re sick and not resting properly. Why are you still working?”

Zhao Ping Jin had to close his computer: “Grandmother, you’re in Beijing?”

His parents stood at the doorway, glaring at him angrily.

The housekeepers and drivers waited outside the living room, along with several doctors and nurses in white coats. The spacious ward was suddenly filled with people.

His grandmother looked at the bandages on his body with concern: “How could I not be in Beijing? You’ve had such a serious accident, and you’ve been keeping it from the family. Your grandmother and grandfather have been so worried. Your mother is unreasonable…”

Ms. Zhou was an only daughter, and her domineering and autocratic personality was a result of being spoiled from childhood. She dared to say directly to her mother: “Mom, you know, son has grown up. He doesn’t listen to us anymore.”

The elderly lady turned with a stern face: “As a mother, your child is lying in a hospital bed, and you know nothing about it. What’s wrong with me criticizing you a bit?”

Ms. Zhou didn’t dare respond.

Commander Zhao’s expression was stern, his voice resonant. As soon as he spoke, it was an irrefutable command: “Your conduct and discipline are becoming increasingly unacceptable. Even getting into a car accident. After you’re discharged this time, you must take a driver. You are strictly prohibited from driving yourself.”

Zhao Ping Jin couldn’t argue.

The old commander turned to the side, and the doctor behind him stepped forward: “This is Professor Lei, here to look at your scans.”

His father went over with the medical team: “How serious are the injuries? How long has he been in treatment?”

His grandmother took a towel and wiped his hands, touching his face with concern: “Look, you’ve lost weight.”

A moment later, the old housekeeper came in: “Young Master Zhou, have you had breakfast? What would you like for lunch? I’ll have it sent over from home later.”

He glanced outside again. It was completely quiet.

During lunch, the housekeeper’s auntie helped him eat. His parents and grandmother were outside. His grandfather had returned to the suburban house; his grandmother had been diagnosed with senile dementia two years earlier, and his grandfather was worried about his elderly wife.

The doorway was empty.

Huang Xi Tang never returned.

After ten o’clock, Shen Min came in and discreetly removed the black bag she had brought, whispering in his ear: “The ticket is booked. Noon flight.”

His expression remained calm as he nodded to indicate he understood, but his heart sank uncontrollably.