Each day of bed rest was a copy-paste of the previous day. Zhou Mi increasingly felt that she was losing her physical form, like a light breeze sliding through time, leaving no trace behind.

She had asked Dr. Wu if she could go out shopping or do some simple work.

Dr. Wu advised against it, suggesting she rest as much as possible, worry less, and relax.

But how could one keep body and mind relaxed during these days with nowhere to go?

Especially when Zhang Lian sometimes worked in front of her: whether on phone calls or in meetings, in both languages. His spoken language was extremely fluent, not just with a remarkably standard American accent, but also accompanied by an almost unfaltering, composed manner of speech. If one didn’t look at his face, they might think a Wall Street elite was staying next door.

Zhou Mi was genuinely envious and tried her best to listen, attempting to translate simultaneously in her mind.

But she soon gave up. Any content at Zhang Lian’s speaking speed was comparable to half a book of obscure knowledge.

One day, she finally heard a familiar name in Zhang Lian’s call—her leader, Ye Yan.

Like glimpsing a beam of light in the fog, as soon as he hung up, Zhou Mi quickly asked: “What’s up with Yan?”

Zhang Lian replied casually: “Nothing much.”

She immediately raised her voice: “What’s wrong with telling me?”

Zhang Lian looked up, smoothing the fur of this curious cat with a bad temper who had been cooped up for too long: “The Enmei Milk project.”

“Oh.” Zhou Mi was disappointed; she had never been involved in that.

Zhang Lian asked: “Bored?”

Zhou Mi lowered her eyes slightly and admitted: “Mm.”

“Want to watch some TV?” he seemingly sincerely suggested.

“…” Zhou Mi was speechless.

Zhang Lian pulled out the remote from under the coffee table, leaned back comfortably on the sofa, with every intention of turning on the TV: “I’ll keep you company. Want to watch cartoons?”

Zhou Mi hugged her pillow, sinking her chin into it, grumbling unhappily: “Do you have to humiliate me like this?”

“What’s the rush? Get well first,” Zhang Lian smiled. “The gaming company is no place for humans.”

Zhou Mi gave him a cold sidelong glance: “Then what are you, the King of Hell?”

“Dark Lord, King of Hell,” Zhang Lian enumerated the various nicknames she had given him: “Anything else? Something more original?”

Zhou Mi said: “Also, scumbag.”

Zhang Lian chuckled: “That’s quite a gap from the previous two species.”

“Dog.” Zhou Mi solemnly threw out this unflattering word.

Zhang Lian immediately ended this topic and turned on the television, but he didn’t change the channel, just letting the images and sound flow.

The hospital room was no longer as empty as a white trash can. Zhou Mi raised her eyes to look at the TV. The screen was showing the midday news, with a young female anchor whose appearance was pleasing to the eye. From her demeanor to her voice, to the content, everything fit together precisely like gears, meticulously perfect.

Zhou Mi suddenly burst into laughter.

Zhang Lian raised an eyebrow, first glancing at the TV in confusion, then sympathetically said, “You are bored.”

Zhou Mi glanced at him: “Do you know what I’m laughing at?”

“Hmm?”

Zhou Mi pointed her index finger at the TV several times from a distance, her eyes lit up with amusement: “This female host looks like a female version of you.”

Only then did Zhang Lian glance at the screen more, his brow furrowing, finding it difficult to agree with Zhou Mi’s opinion.

Zhou Mi held up her phone to record, laughing: “That pretentious manner, the same.”

Zhang Lian narrowed his eyes slightly: “How am I pretentious?”

“You’re not pretentious?” Zhou Mi lowered her head to admire the “clay figurine version of Zhang Lian” she had just captured: “How you act on the outside, versus how you are on the inside…”

“Hmph.” She gave a cold laugh, leaving everything unsaid.

Zhang Lian pressed his lips together for a moment, then called her: “Zhou Mi.”

She propped her elbow on the pillow, resting her chin on her palm as she looked back at him: “Hmm?”

Zhang Lian looked at her: “Do you know under what circumstances a person usually thinks another person is being pretentious?”

“I don’t know,” Zhou Mi batted her eyelashes a few times, challenging him in a soft voice: “Please enlighten me, boss.”

Her manner made Zhang Lian laugh rather than get angry: “Some people can do things you can’t do. You have no way to deal with it, so you can only comfort yourself by thinking you’re normal, while they’re being pretentious.”

He tilted his chin slightly, gesturing toward the TV: “Would you dare to face a camera and broadcast the news for thirty minutes?”

Caught at her weak point, Zhou Mi was speechless.

She turned her face to look at the Venetian blinds, muttering: “Is that what I meant?”

The man’s voice was calm: “Then don’t make casual judgments.”

“God,” Zhou Mi ran her fingers through her bangs and looked back: “I was talking about how you’re different on the inside and outside, okay?”

“Have you been consistent inside and out every moment since birth?”

“You’re no fun, always nitpicking words,” Zhou Mi choked, using the pillow as a barrier between them, cutting off their conversation line, yet still grumbling through gritted teeth: “First place in university debate competitions, I bet.”

Zhang Lian caught all the information precisely, his tone casual: “You can even guess that.”

Zhou Mi’s head started to ache slightly, and she announced: “Ah, I’m dizzy, I need to rest.”

Zhang Lian suddenly began changing channels, stopping at the children’s channel, which was noisily broadcasting “PAW Patrol.”

He pretended to be serious:

“Let’s watch this instead. It’s my fault for not realizing that an overly perfect female news anchor might cause you anxiety.”

“…” Zhou Mi threw the pillow back to the head of the bed in surrender, raising a white flag: “I beg you, please turn off the TV.”

—

After having lunch with Zhou Mi, Zhang Lian returned to the company.

Perhaps seeing that her mood and spirits had improved considerably lately, the time he spent in the hospital room had decreased somewhat compared to the beginning. He would only return around nine or ten at night.

Sometimes Zhou Mi was already asleep, still busy with her affairs.

Ever since inadvertently learning from Zhang Lian that Ye Yan was now in charge of the Enmei Milk project, Zhou Mi had begun collecting data and information on Enmei and other competing milk brands, categorizing them in her phone’s notes.

At the same time, she would watch some workplace-type American and British TV series without Chinese subtitles, firstly to improve her language sense, and secondly to create an intuition and illusion in her brain that she was still in the workplace, avoiding regression to that completely useless newbie state when she returned to work.

Staring at the small phone screen every day was inevitably tiring for her eyes, so Zhou Mi asked a friend to bring her tablet and wireless mini keyboard to the hospital room.

“I can’t believe you still want to work for him. Is it that good there?” He Miaoyan sat at the edge of the bed, unable to contain her anger, completely unable to understand her decision. Finally, she aimed her criticism directly at Zhang Lian: “That dog of a man must have fed you some kind of love potion again.”

Zhou Mi leaned against the small table, adjusting the Bluetooth, curving the corner of her mouth without emotion: “It has nothing to do with him. As if he deserves it.”

He Miaoyan crossed her arms and leaned forward, her hard gaze like two bricks, trying to knock some sense into her: “Yi City is so big, and his isn’t the only gaming company.”

Zhou Mi glanced at her and shook her head: “I just feel… It’s not worth giving up. I’ve been interning for two months already, and you know I’ve always wanted to work at Aoxing; it’s been my dream for so long. What kind of person would I be if I just gave up like that?”

Zhou Mi tested the keyboard: “And rest assured, after leaving the hospital, I’ll cut off all contact with Zhang Lian outside of work. Besides, he’s the big boss, and I’m just a small intern. The possibility of direct contact at work is very low. We’ll never run into each other at the company, so don’t overthink it.”

He Miaoyan was half-believing: “But I still feel it’s not as simple as you say.”

“Shut up, your mouth is cursed. Don’t jinx me.” Zhou Mi warned her dismissively as she opened Office.

—

To her great surprise, He Miaoyan’s words came true.

It was the afternoon before Zhou Mi planned to be discharged. After completing her final B-ultrasound check, confirming that her body was completely clean and back to normal, she was so light-hearted that she almost skipped and jumped down the corridor back to her hospital room.

Xiao Xuan was helping her fold clothes. She excitedly went over to take over, joining her in organizing.

Xiao Xuan advised with some concern: “Miss Zhou, you should still lie down on the bed. There aren’t many clothes, I can finish folding them soon.”

“No need, I’m fine.” Zhou Mi took off the cardigan that had stifled her for many days, and nimbly twisted her loose hair into a small bun, then rolled up her sleeves, grabbed the entire stack of clothes and stuffed them into the suitcase, leaving out only the outfit she needed to wear for discharge tomorrow.

Prison term served, new life imminent.

Zhou Mi’s eyes shone brightly, and her appetite greatly increased. The afternoon tea side dishes, which usually had leftovers, were swept clean today without a trace, not leaving a single crumb.

Seeing how excited she was, Xiao Xuan mustered the courage to ask if they could add each other on WeChat, hoping to become friends in the future, to go out for meals and shopping together.

“We’re already friends,” Zhou Mi readily agreed, adding her while marveling “Another beautiful girl in my WeChat, that’s an unexpected gain.”

Xiao Xuan’s face reddened slightly: “Me too.”

“I’m most grateful to you during this time.” Zhou Mi thanked her with a smile.

Xiao Xuan shook her head: “Not at all, I just took care of your physical health. It was mainly Mr. Zhang who kept you good company.”

Zhou Mi’s lips twisted slightly, feigning dejection: “On such a joyous day, can we not mention unlucky people?”

Xiao Xuan’s eyes creased with laughter: “I’ve been working in the VIP ward for over two years, and Mr. Zhang is truly one of the most responsible good men I’ve seen. Just forgive him, stop being emotional with each other, and maintain a good relationship.”

Zhou Mi looked suspicious: “Did he secretly give you a lot of benefits? Can you share some with me? I’ll join you in praising him.”

Xiao Xuan giggled softly.

After she left, Zhou Mi sat cross-legged back on the bed, weighing Xiao Xuan’s words in her heart. Then she pulled out her phone from her pocket and solemnly sent a message to Zhang Lian:

Hello, Boss.

I’ll be discharged tomorrow morning. Thank you for your attentive companionship and meticulous care these past ten-plus days.

You don’t need to come over tonight. Get a good night’s sleep at home, consider it my small repayment to you.

After waiting for two minutes with no reply from Zhang Lian, Zhou Mi guessed he was busy, so she lay back on the bed, staring blankly at the ceiling.

That small patch of sunlight that had made her cry from loneliness on her first day here was now a large expanse of orange-colored clouds.

What she had thought would be earth-shattering, wind-battering, and rain-lashing had passed naturally, like the seasons—after severe winter inevitably comes spring thaw.

Zhou Mi curved her lips, took out her phone, and photographed the frame of sunset projected into the room as a memento.

Just as she was about to turn off her phone, the screen suddenly went black. Seeing the words “Mother Dearest,” Zhou Mi jerked upright on the bed, then pressed to answer.

“Mom!” She deliberately called out with full energy, biting her finger to steady her emotions.

“Mimi,” fortunately, her mother’s tone also sounded particularly normal: “Are you still busy at school these days?”

Zhou Mi secretly exhaled: “Yes, and I still have my internship. Like I said last time, it would be too time-consuming to commute between three places. Once things settle down at school, I’ll come home to keep you company.”

Her mother said, “Mom doesn’t have anything special, just missing you.”

Zhou Mi’s eyes instantly reddened. She inhaled very lightly, forcing a smile as she said: “I miss you too, so much.”

Then there was sudden silence from the other end.

For a very, very long time.

So long that Zhou Mi wondered if the call had accidentally disconnected. She was about to take the phone away from her ear to check when she heard her mother call her again.

Only this time it was her full name, serious and calm:

“Zhou Mi.”

In the past, when her mother addressed her this way, it was usually in times of great anger.

A sudden fear, like a cold insect, crawled up her spine with a rustling sound. Zhou Mi unconsciously raised her shoulders and responded with an extremely faint: “Mm.”

Her mother’s breath became heavy on the other end: “Tell Mom the truth, are you pregnant?”