Lin Yiran left the station, pulling her suitcase directly to Anning Hospital.

Nanny Yu Mei was sitting in the hallway. Seeing Lin Yiran approach, she ran over and grabbed her hand, looking terrified.

“You’re finally back, Yiran.” She held Lin Yiran’s hand with both of hers, her eyes red. “I was so scared. If anything else happened, I wouldn’t know how to face you all!”

Lin Yiran patted her shoulder with her other hand and said, “It’s alright, Auntie.”

“You don’t know how frightening your Aunt Fang was during her episode! She kept vomiting too! I’ve never seen anything like it… Her eyes were so vacant!” Yu Mei hadn’t recovered from her earlier shock.

Lin Yiran said, “Let me see her first.”

“She’s asleep. The doctor gave her an injection,” Yu Mei said, following behind her.

Lin Yiran pushed open the door to the hospital room. Aunt Fang was sleeping peacefully. Her hair was disheveled, her clothes wrinkled and stained in patches.

Aunt Fang loved cleanliness and always kept herself neat and presentable. She had never looked so unkempt before.

Lin Yiran’s nose stung with emotion. She turned away and took a deep breath.

Previously, Aunt Fang had said she never wanted to be hospitalized again. When people stay in hospitals, even if they’re physically fine, they start feeling unhealthy, not like normal people.

But in her current condition, she needed to be hospitalized, possibly for a considerable time.

What state she would be in when she woke up remained uncertain. Lin Yiran didn’t dare hope she would recover to her previous condition upon waking; she just hoped it wouldn’t be too severe.

Mental illnesses are difficult to treat, with long and painful treatment processes. Neither Aunt Fang nor Qiu Xing was a particularly pessimistic person. They had accepted her illness. If she were only occasionally lucid and occasionally confused as before, Qiu Xing would choose to continue conservative treatment, avoiding particularly harmful medications, allowing her to recover gradually on her own.

But if she were like today—vomiting, anxious, manic—then treatment would be necessary. Electroconvulsive therapy, neural stimulation, transcranial magnetic stimulation, and so on—Qiu Xing wouldn’t use these on her unless necessary.

Lin Yiran asked Yu Mei to go back and gather some of Aunt Fang’s clothes and personal items. Yu Mei’s eyes showed hesitation as she asked, “Yiran, why don’t we go together?”

“Someone needs to stay here, otherwise Aunt Fang will be alone when she wakes up,” Lin Yiran said.

“I’m still a bit scared… don’t blame me, but I don’t feel at ease,” Yu Mei had genuinely been frightened today. Now she was afraid to go back alone to gather things, both fearing that the woman might still be near the complex and inexplicably afraid to return to that apartment, where she would immediately picture Fang Min screaming. She was, after all, a woman who hadn’t experienced many difficult situations, with limited psychological resilience.

“Then you stay here with her, and I’ll go back to pack,” Lin Yiran told her. “Call me if anything happens.”

“Alright, alright,” Yu Mei agreed repeatedly.

Lin Yiran thought for a moment and said, “Actually, Auntie, come back with me.”

In truth, Yu Mei was also afraid to stay alone in the psychiatric hospital. It was a place normal people didn’t want to visit, especially now as it was getting dark—she probably felt even more uneasy.

Lin Yiran sent Qiu Xing a message with the hospital room number.

Before leaving, she also instructed the nurse, saying she would return soon, and if the patient woke up in the meantime, to tell her that her family had gone home to get clothes.

The nurse wasn’t one Lin Yiran had seen before, possibly new, but her attitude was good.

Lin Yiran told Yu Mei to go straight home and rest well, that she wouldn’t need to come over for the next few days. Yu Mei didn’t say much; in her heart, she truly didn’t want to continue working.

The residential complex wasn’t particularly new, but the landscaping and facilities were good. It wasn’t very large, with only a few buildings.

Lin Yiran exited the elevator, holding the key Yu Mei had given her. As she was about to open the door, she looked up and suddenly froze, her breath catching.

—The door was covered with over a dozen A4 papers, all printed photos showing the horrific scenes of a fire.

Some showed the fire still burning, with black smoke rolling up into the sky; others showed the charred factory after the fire had been extinguished. One could even vaguely make out a blackened corpse.

The elevator door slowly closed behind her. Lin Yiran stood motionless, stunned.

Suddenly seeing these photos, scene after scene like hell on earth, Lin Yiran found it difficult to breathe. Her throat felt blocked, and everything before her eyes made her fingertips tremble uncontrollably.

Many emotions surged toward her at once, binding her in this small corridor, unable to move.

Actually, since receiving Yu Mei’s call last night, or even from today, Lin Yiran had harbored some resentment deep down. She worried about Aunt Fang and also about Qiu Xing. Until today, seeing Aunt Fang sedated and sleeping, her emotions had remained negative. She blamed the vegetable-selling woman, thinking she shouldn’t have spoken such evil words, shouldn’t have targeted someone with a mental disorder, breaking the hard-won peace of another family.

But now, standing at the door, Lin Yiran suddenly accepted the other person’s hatred. The hellish scenes were right before her eyes, and Lin Yiran abruptly understood why Qiu Xing had fully accepted the compensation amount without objection.

Qiu Xing had never said his father was blameless; at most, he had only told those close to him, “My father didn’t do it intentionally.”

Uncle Qiu certainly didn’t intend harm; he was just too confident in his experience. He didn’t deliberately hurt people. But these photos undeniably revealed the depth of his sins.

These shattered families, these dead people—this was a debt Qiu Xing could never repay, no matter how much money he returned.

It took Lin Yiran a long time to move. She shakily walked forward, eyes closed, tearing down the A4 papers one by one. Even at this close distance, she dared not open her eyes, her whole body cold.

The double-sided tape left strips of adhesive marks on the door, like messy knife slashes or scars.

*

When she returned to the hospital with everything packed, Qiu Xing had already arrived.

Qiu Xing was leaning against the wall in the corridor. Hearing footsteps, he looked toward her.

“Has Aunt Fang woken up?” Lin Yiran approached, her voice carrying a subtle tremor as she asked softly.

Qiu Xing said, “Yes.”

“How is she?” Lin Yiran raised her eyes to look at him. Her eyes had red streaks, not as clear as usual, appearing haggard.

“She can’t see me,” Qiu Xing said.

His expression seemed resigned, not surprised; this was within their expectations. Qiu Xing’s gaze as he looked at Lin Yiran was somewhat stern, possibly because Lin Yiran had insisted on coming back without taking tomorrow’s exam.

Qiu Xing looked like his father, and as he aged, he would only look more similar.

When Aunt Fang was ill, Qiu Xing’s face would repeatedly remind her of the young Qiu Yangzheng who had once been in love with her. These confused memories of different times made her doubt herself and distrust everything around her; everyone made her feel afraid.

She only wanted to see the nearly fifty-year-old Qiu Yangzheng and the eighteen or nineteen-year-old Qiu Xing. She wanted to keep herself in that time, so any other age of Qiu Xing was unacceptable to her.

Lin Yiran pushed open the door. Aunt Fang was still lying in bed, facing the window, her back to the door. On the bedside table were the medications the nurse had just distributed.

“Aunt Fang,” Lin Yiran called softly, tentatively.

She remained lying there, making no sound.

“Are you asleep?” Lin Yiran walked in, slowly circling the bed.

Aunt Fang had her eyes open, her gaze blank, looking very drowsy.

“Let’s change your clothes, shall we?” Lin Yiran slowly knelt beside her bed, looking into her eyes, speaking in a gentle tone. “You’ll feel more comfortable in fresh clothes.”

“Alright,” Aunt Fang said.

“Shall we sit up then?” Lin Yiran held her hand, coaxing her. “We’ll lie back down after changing.”

Perhaps due to the sedative, Aunt Fang appeared very sluggish. It took her several seconds to move, being helped to sit up by Lin Yiran.

Lin Yiran helped her change clothes, asking softly, “Who am I?”

Aunt Fang cooperated quietly, looking up at Lin Yiran. She brushed Lin Yiran’s hanging hair aside and said in a low voice, “Xiao Chuan.”

“Yes, that’s right,” Lin Yiran smiled. “I’m Xiao Chuan.”

Aunt Fang’s state after waking was better than Lin Yiran had imagined, somewhat more optimistic. Her emotions weren’t agitated or sharp; she was just very quiet, appearing extremely tired.

The open ward allowed for bedside companions, with private rooms. Most patients here had mild conditions. The severe cases were mostly in the closed ward, so the corridor was relatively quiet.

That night, Lin Yiran stayed in the hospital room. She told Qiu Xing to go home and sleep. Qiu Xing said “Mm,” but didn’t leave, instead sitting in the corridor, occasionally standing by the window at the end of the hallway.

During the night, Lin Yiran came out, gently closing the hospital room door. The nurse looked up at her, and Lin Yiran smiled back. The nurse pointed at Qiu Xing and waved her hand, indicating that Lin Yiran should ask him to leave, not allowing him to stay in the corridor. Lin Yiran nodded and walked over to Qiu Xing.

It was a bit cool at night. She wrapped herself in a thin shirt and stood beside Qiu Xing.

“Can’t sleep?” Qiu Xing asked.

“Not soundly,” Lin Yiran touched his arm and said, “Come in and lie down with me for a while. Aunt Fang is asleep.”

Qiu Xing shook his head. “No, it would be more troublesome if she woke up.”

Qiu Xing might still be angry with Lin Yiran about missing her exam, but right now she was the only one who could take care of things in the hospital room. This made Qiu Xing’s refusal and anger seem untenable and self-righteous; saying anything more would only seem hypocritical.

This left Qiu Xing with nothing to say.

Lin Yiran hooked her arm around his wrist, naturally hugging his arm.

Qiu Xing didn’t move, allowing her to hold him.

Lin Yiran rested her face against Qiu Xing’s shoulder and closed her eyes for a moment. She had only told Qiu Xing she wasn’t sleeping soundly, but in reality, she couldn’t sleep at all. Whenever she closed her eyes, she saw those photos taped to the door earlier in the day. And those images automatically transformed into motion pictures in her mind—the fierce fire burning everything to black charcoal.

“Qiu Xing,” Lin Yiran called softly.

Qiu Xing responded with an “Mm.”

Lin Yiran, eyes closed, said, “Let’s move Aunt Fang somewhere else, away from here.”

Qiu Xing lowered his eyes to look at her. Lin Yiran raised her head: “Let’s move to my place. I won’t stay in the dormitory anymore.”

“No,” Qiu Xing shook his head, looking out the window. “You should live your own life.”

“This is also my life,” Lin Yiran frowned slightly, looking at him.

“This is mine,” Qiu Xing said, his expression indifferent. “Not yours.”