The emergency room lights were blindingly bright.

Ni Kai Lun had regained consciousness, but her complexion was poor. There was some bleeding. The night shift obstetrician came to examine her and said she showed signs of miscarriage. Given the high risks of pregnancy at her age, he prescribed medication to prevent miscarriage and advised bed rest.

Xi Tang wanted her to be hospitalized, but beds were in short supply.

A young woman at the triage nurse station, while unable to suppress her curiosity as she observed Xi Tang, kindly whispered to her that there was no chance of getting a bed, and it would be better to rest at home.

But they were all working in Beijing, staying in hotels, which was inconvenient for many reasons.

Ni Kai Lun, lying on the emergency bed, saw Xi Tang following the doctor and asking question after question. When she saw Xi Tang coming back, Ni Kai Lun said to her: “What are you afraid of? Whether it stays or not is heaven’s will.”

Xi Tang suspected she didn’t want the child.

Ni Kai Lun noticed her expression and said: “If I didn’t want it, I wouldn’t have kept it until now. Besides, your mother said she would help take care of it.”

Being only human, yet able to control her emotions at such a time—Xi Tang truly admired her.

The doctor had her get an IV drip in the emergency infusion room, with half an hour of observation afterward. The nurse gave them a bed. Xi Tang sent A Kuan out to buy chicken soup. Xi Tang took a breath and sat down by the bed, taking out her phone to check the time—it was almost two in the morning.

There was a string of missed calls from the company on her phone.

Ni Kai Lun saw her replying to messages: “What are they saying?”

Xi Tang checked her emails and messages, speaking softly: “A colleague from the publicity department sent over the edited images. They want you to review the draft and images. I’ll look at them myself. You should get some sleep.”

Ni Kai Lun, with her years of sharp intuition, responded indignantly: “We were so close. Something’s fishy about this.”

Xi Tang was downcast. She was fine personally but felt sorry for her colleagues. They had set out for Beijing full of ambition. Reportedly, the company had even prepared a press release announcing her win, but in the end, she wasn’t the one who received the award.

She squeezed Ni Kai Lun’s hand: “Mommy, we shouldn’t mind these things too much.”

Ni Kai Lun finally calmed down and said: “Let’s keep trying harder.”

Xi Tang responded: “Mm.”

After the medication had been dripping for a while, Ni Kai Lun fell asleep on the emergency bed.

After some time, one or two young nurses who had finished their tasks came in for a stroll. Some of the more lively ones came closer, pretending to check Ni Kai Lun’s infusion rate while secretly glancing at her.

Soon A Kuan returned. Xi Tang gave her a look, and A Kuan immediately got up to find the duty head nurse who was busy at the counter. Her manner was quite friendly, but her volume was neither too loud nor too soft, enough for all the nurses at the station to hear: “Excuse me, Head Nurse, our patient needs quiet rest…”

Xi Tang finally had a moment to herself and got up to find a restroom to change her clothes. She was still wearing her formal dress and had been sweating profusely from the rush. She had been wearing a mask and hadn’t dared to take it off; her makeup was completely smeared, making her look quite disheveled.

A Kuan followed her inside, carefully unzipping her back. The expensive silk evening gown slid down like water. Xi Tang rolled up the formal dress and stuffed it into her backpack, then put on pants and a sweater. She reached into her bag and found only a lighter.

Xi Tang thrust the bag into A Kuan’s arms: “Go back and keep Kai Lun company.”

She pulled up the hood of her down jacket and went downstairs to buy cigarettes.

In the late night of November in Beijing, the temperature was below zero. As soon as she stepped outside, she felt the cold seeping up from the ground. Despite wearing a thick sweater, Xi Tang was still shivering from the cold. After buying cigarettes and mineral water from a small store on the street corner, she ran back toward the hospital. Passing the parking spaces in front of the outpatient building, she suddenly froze as someone approached.

Shen Min, seeing her, was also clearly surprised: “Xi Tang, what are you doing here?”

As Xi Tang spoke, a thin layer of mist formed even through her mask: “I’m here for work. My agent is sick.”

Shen Min quickly led her into the hospital building. The two stopped in the corridor on the first floor of the emergency department. Shen Min asked with concern: “Is it serious? Do you need any help?”

Xi Tang removed her mask and said: “It’s fine. Everything’s arranged.”

Shen Min nodded: “That’s good.”

“Call me if you need anything,” Shen Min pointed to the back of the corridor, “I’ll head in now.”

Xi Tang watched as he walked toward the back of the emergency building. The corridor extended inward, leading to the inpatient building.

Xi Tang stood rooted to the spot, watching Shen Min’s figure turn a corner at the end of the corridor, about to disappear. Suddenly her heart skipped a beat, and she ran after him: “Shen Min!”

Shen Min turned around, stopping in his tracks.

Xi Tang rushed to him, her expression showing some anxiety. She asked: “Is he hospitalized?”

Shen Min was stunned for a moment, hesitated for two seconds, then nodded.

Xi Tang was suddenly frozen, her heart constricting sharply. She opened her mouth but couldn’t speak.

Shen Min, seeing her expression, said gently: “He’s just getting an IV drip. The outpatient clinic couldn’t set it up. It’s nothing serious, don’t worry.”

Xi Tang said nothing more and turned to leave.

In the high-level ward, all lights had been turned off.

The corridor, smelling of disinfectant, was illuminated only by a few dim night lights overhead. Shen Min pushed open the door to the sitting room outside the ward.

Zhao Ping Jin was lying on the bed inside. Hearing the sound, he opened his eyes briefly, saw Shen Min enter, then closed them again to rest.

Shen Min took off his coat outside and came in, saying softly: “You’re not resting?”

Zhao Ping Jin nodded. His throat was hoarse, and he didn’t want to speak.

Shen Min dragged the chair to his bedside: “Just sent the leader back to the hotel. Sorry, I’m late.”

Zhao Ping Jin had come straight from a business engagement tonight. After dining with leaders from a partner company and arranging for someone to accompany them, he had come to the hospital for an IV drip.

He nodded to indicate he understood.

Shen Min turned off the bedside lamp for him and said: “The entertainment news is out. It’s the result we expected.”

Zhao Ping Jin heard this and, pressing his forehead, mumbled: “After we get through this, arrange for us to have a meal with Old Gao in the next day or two.”

Shen Min responded: “Noted.”

Zhao Ping Jin said: “Go home early.”

Shen Min nodded and rose to leave.

“Zhou Zi.” At the door, Shen Min suddenly turned back and called out to him.

Zhao Ping Jin, with his hand on his stomach and brows furrowed, looked up at him.

Shen Min opened his mouth, then looked at the man on the bed. His gastritis had flared up these past few days. The attending physician had issued a hospitalization order three days ago, but he had put it off until today. The words on the tip of Shen Min’s tongue were held back as he said softly: “Please get some rest.”

Shen Min closed the door and walked away quickly.

Only when he reached the end of the corridor did Shen Min take a breath, raising his hand to rub his face.

He had just managed to hold back from mentioning seeing Huang Xi Tang at the hospital.

Shen Min couldn’t quite gauge Zhao Ping Jin’s thoughts now, feeling that the matter was too sensitive to touch. Regarding Huang Xi Tang, Zhao Ping Jin showed nothing on the surface, but Shen Min knew his true feelings were deeply suppressed.

In Shen Min’s view, Zhao Ping Jin had been spoiled for all these years. His arrogance and extravagance went without saying. Add to that the fact that everything in his life had gone smoothly for over thirty years—there was nothing he couldn’t accomplish, no person who displeased him. Even when he had that big breakup fight with Huang Xi Tang in his youth, he dealt with it cleanly and decisively, promptly going abroad and returning with the matter closed. Shen Min knew that after Xi Tang had humiliated him so badly back then, he had resolved never to have anything to do with her again.

Shen Min hadn’t expected they would end up living together again.

During the time Huang Xi Tang returned to Beijing and lived with him, Shen Min had seen clearly: if Huang Xi Tang broke up with Zhao Ping Jin, she would probably become his lifelong obsession. He had never seen him care about any woman the way he cared about her.

After getting married, he worked overtime frequently. Sometimes at night when Shen Min entered his office, he would find the room dark, with only one lamp lit on the desk and the computer still on. The curtains would be partially open, and he would be sitting in an armchair a few meters from the floor-to-ceiling window, smoking and staring motionlessly into the distance. In the brilliant night cityscape below, there was a black spot—a square patch of darkness. That was the Forbidden City at night, without a single light. He would stare fixedly at that darkness, his pupils reflecting a painful and struggling red glow like a trapped beast. But later, even that fire gradually extinguished. When Shen Min occasionally saw him alone, his eyes were a dull gray, filled with nothing but despair.

Seeing Shen Min enter, Zhao Ping Jin extinguished his cigarette and resumed his calm demeanor.

Shen Min wouldn’t ask about things Zhao Ping Jin didn’t want to discuss.

His secretary, following Shen Min’s instructions, reminded him to eat regular meals three times a day, but Secretary He frequently reported that Director Zhao was too picky about his food.

The last time, the secretary had called him out of concern, saying that Zhao Ping Jin’s appetite had been particularly poor for the past few days, and he had taken painkillers several times after meals.

Shen Min, having run out of options, had thought of Xi Tang.

He hadn’t expected to be seen through instantly.

Shen Min remembered Zhao Ping Jin lying on the sofa that time, his hand across his forehead, eyes closed, vaguely asking: “How is she?”

Hearing his words, Shen Min was stunned for several seconds before realizing who he was asking about. After careful consideration, he cautiously replied: “She seems to be doing well. Said she just returned from working in Europe.”

Zhao Ping Jin nodded, not asking further, only pointing to the tea table: “Help me tidy up. Tell Xiao He to heat it for me later.”

That evening, when leaving work, Secretary He specifically came to ask him: “Mr. Shen, where did you buy the porridge? Director Zhao ate it all.”

Shen Min looked at Secretary He, sighed, shook his head, and walked away.

Xi Tang returned to the emergency infusion room.

Soon, a nurse came to call from outside: “Family of Ni Kai Lun, is the family of Ni Kai Lun here? The inpatient department just found that a patient is being discharged this afternoon. Could the family come to fill out the hospitalization forms?”

Assistant A Kuan was too young and inexperienced. Xi Tang sent her back with the driver. Xi Tang waited until Ni Kai Lun finished her infusion. It was too late to hire a caregiver, so Xi Tang stayed with her in the ward.

In the private room of the international ward, Xi Tang tiptoed in from outside, only to find that Ni Kai Lun was awake, lying in bed with bulging eyes staring at her.

Xi Tang felt guilty and approached her with a playful smile: “Mommy, are you hungry? Do you want some soup?”

Ni Kai Lun looked at Xi Tang’s face, reddened by the cold: “Were you smoking outside again?”

Xi Tang quickly said: “There was no one outside at this hour.”

Though Ni Kai Lun was in the hospital, her authority remained: “Do you still want your skin to look good?”

Xi Tang immediately pretended to be obedient: “I won’t smoke anymore.”

Ni Kai Lun asked again: “Where did the bed come from?”

Xi Tang honestly replied: “I don’t know either.”

Ni Kai Lun scrutinized her face, trying to detect any falsehood.

Xi Tang looked back with innocent eyes; she truly didn’t know.

After chatting for a while, Ni Kai Lun fell back asleep. Xi Tang lay on the sofa wrapped in a blanket, drifting in and out of sleep all night. From the corridor or neighboring wards, newborns cried in shifts throughout the night, like scene after scene of past and present lives cycling. She woke up just after six in the morning. People had begun moving about in the hospital corridor. Xi Tang got up to buy breakfast for Ni Kai Lun.

As soon as Xi Tang walked out of the ward, she found the corridor quite lively, with a bunch of older women excitedly peering out the windows.

Xi Tang had learned last night while out smoking that Beijing had received its first snow of the year around three in the morning.

The maternity ward could be considered the best floor in the entire hospital, with hardly any somber-faced family members. The early-rising aunties gathered to look out the windows at the spectacle. The entire city of Beijing had been covered in silver overnight, with a thin layer of white snow covering the windowsills and car roofs.

Xi Tang ordered breakfast and, on her way back through the corridor, stood by a fourth-floor window and glanced outside.

On this November morning, the daylight hadn’t fully brightened. The hospital had an apocalyptic sense of stillness. The snow had stopped. Below the inpatient building was a courtyard with a layer of snow on the lawn, exposing yellow-green grass tips. Frost flowers hung sparsely on the tree branches.

Xi Tang hugged her arms, idly watching the scene outside. The hazy, dim daylight began to brighten bit by bit. Suddenly, she saw a large black car drive into the courtyard below.