The Jeep stopped by the side of the road.
This was still a small path near the mountain forest—potholed, deserted, and completely devoid of surveillance cameras.
The driver opened the car door, stepped out in his boots, and landed firmly on the ground.
He took off his hat and smoothed his hair. The sunlight focused on a face that looked thoroughly displeased no matter how you looked at it—it was none other than Meng Fushan.
He struck his lighter and lit a cigarette. Before long, the curling white smoke dissolved into the sunlight.
He didn’t smoke it; he just stared at the cigarette in his hand, a little lost in thought.
A buzzing vibration had been sounding ever since he parked. It was the phone he had tossed onto the driver’s seat. The screen flashed the incoming number. Since it wasn’t saved in his contacts with a name or alias, it just displayed a string of digits.
The digits that represented Chen Jiashu.
He had just taken them away, and Chen Jiashu’s call had already come.
Could it be a coincidence? Had Chen Jiashu noticed something? Had he started to suspect?
The cigarette was folded and crushed in his hand.
Meng Fushan turned back, picked up the phone, and answered the call: “…Big Brother.”
Whether Chen Jiashu noticed or not, suspected or not, he didn’t have many choices.
Meng Fushan quietly listened to the voice on the phone, his face expressionless. The sunlight shone onto the rearview mirror, and the refracted light fell right below his eye, forming a dazzling white spot.
“Yes, I’m in Qin City.”
By the time Ji Xun’s consciousness floated back up from the deep waters of condensed darkness, gathered and focused enough to open his eyes, he was already staying in the hospital.
Pristine white ceilings and pristine white bedsheets filled his vision. He saw the back of his hand with an IV needle inserted into it. He tried to move, but his body felt as heavy as if a hundred weights were tied to it…
However, it wasn’t completely without good news.
The fact that he could open his eyes and see the hospital was good news in itself.
And his eyes—thank goodness, the blurry 800-degree lens effect had finally been removed, and he could see the world clearly again.
But… where was Huo Ranyin?
Was he in the same ward as him?
Ji Xun tried to turn his head.
“Don’t move.” A young, cold female voice sounded by his ear. “Shot in the right arm, a through-and-through wound. Luckily it didn’t hit any nerves or bones. Second-degree burns on the back of your left hand. Multiple bone fractures throughout your body, equivalent to falling from a great height… If your luck had been a bit worse, a bad fall could have broken your spine, leaving you paralyzed for life; or broken your neck, ending it all once and for all. Rest and recuperate well.”
Ji Xun looked toward the voice.
Sure enough, the only person who would spout such terrifying professional terminology could be none other than the forensic doctor from the police station.
The person speaking was Hu Yuan.
But the problem was… shouldn’t Hu Yuan be in Ning City?
“…Have I already returned to Ning City?” Ji Xun asked, a bit dazed. The moment the words left his mouth, he knew he had made a mistake. Right on the headboard of the bed he was lying on, the bright red words “Qin City First People’s Hospital” were printed.
“No. You’re still in Qin City.” Hu Yuan’s tone was just her usual way of speaking, not deliberately trying to choke a patient. She explained, “I came to Qin City specifically for some personal matters. You arrived at the hospital at 9 AM yesterday, and you’ve been unconscious for a whole day now. The news of you and Captain Huo getting injured reached Ning City yesterday. Yangyang asked me to come visit you on behalf of the Second Detachment. When I came, I also saw the people from the Qin City Criminal Investigation Brigade. They guarded you for quite a while and just left…”
She turned her phone around and showed it to Ji Xun.
Only then did Ji Xun realize that the small screen was packed with people from the Second Detachment. Wen Yangyang, Tan Mingjiu, Little Glasses—even Yuan Yue had appeared.
Everyone spoke all at once:
“Are you okay?”
“You look like you’re in decent spirits.”
“When the news about you and the Captain came back, we were all scared to death.”
“It’s hateful that the thugs made their move in Qin City. If they dared to come to Ning City, we’d guarantee they’d never return.”
“Although they practically didn’t return this time either, the price you guys paid was too high.”
The chattering voices gave Ji Xun a bit of a headache.
He interrupted them, asking what he cared about the most: “Did you go see Huo Ranyin? How is he now?”
The other side of the screen instantly fell silent.
Ji Xun grew anxious and immediately propped himself up. “Is Huo Ranyin heavily injured?”
“No, no, don’t get agitated, watch your wounds!” Tan Mingjiu hurriedly said. He hemmed and hawed for a long time before speaking on behalf of everyone: “The main thing is… Captain Huo probably really needs quiet rest right now, and we felt bad disturbing him, so we just asked Dr. Hu to send a flower basket and a fruit basket inside… We were thinking, once you’re a bit better, you could go see Captain Huo for us and pass on our regards…”
Understood.
Ji Xun’s shoulders relaxed, and he leaned back against the bed.
He almost cried out in pain, but being watched by so many people, he forcefully held it in to save face.
“You should have just said you were afraid of Huo Ranyin… Alright, I’ll go see him. I’m a little tired, I’m going to rest for a bit.”
The crowd from the Second Detachment on the screen were very understanding and all told Ji Xun to hurry up and rest.
Rest more, so the wounds can heal faster.
“Ji Xun, surviving a great disaster means good fortune is bound to follow,” Yuan Yue finally comforted him. “Rest well and recover. Later, when I get time off, I’ll come see you and bring the nourishing chicken soup my mom stewed for you.”
Ji Xun smiled at Yuan Yue.
Compared to the chicken soup your mom stews, I’d much rather drink the chicken soup your wife stews.
But personal matters are for the individual to worry about.
Yuan Yue’s issues with his wife and child should be left for Yuan Yue to worry about himself.
The video call ended, and Hu Yuan took back her phone. “If there’s nothing else, I’ll be leaving first too.”
Ji Xun wasn’t very familiar with this female forensic doctor, but toward someone who made a special trip to visit him, he tried his best to be polite: “I’m fine, don’t worry. Thank you for coming to see me.”
“You’re too polite. It was just on the way.” Hu Yuan walked out of the ward. When she reached the door, she stopped.
“Captain Huo’s ward is 391,” the female forensic doctor turned her head and told him.
“Thank you,” Ji Xun was surprised and thanked her with genuine sincerity.
Hu Yuan gave Ji Xun one last nod and turned to leave.
Less than two minutes after she left, Ji Xun sat up from the bed.
Waves of pain came from the unhealed wounds on his body. He grimaced, pressing against the bed and leaning on the wall as he shuffled out step by step.
This was a double-occupancy ward.
The person sharing the ward with Ji Xun was a young man with one leg in a cast propped up on a frame, boredly scrolling through his phone. His crutches were placed next to the head of his bed. Ji Xun stared at the crutches for a moment, then asked the young man, “You don’t mind if I borrow these for a bit, right? I’ll return them in an hour.”
“I don’t mind…” The young man, who had been playing a game, looked up blankly. “But what do you need crutches for? You’re hurt this badly, can’t you get someone else to do whatever you need?”
Ji Xun smiled at the young man, took the crutches, and left.
With great difficulty, he shuffled out of the ward and glanced at his own door number.
432.
Not far, not far, just one floor apart.
Ji Xun let out a breath, mustered his spirits, and walked toward the nearby elevator… but he still wasn’t used to walking with crutches, or rather, he had overestimated his physical condition. After taking two steps, he almost fell. A passing young lady wearing a purple sweater dress hurriedly supported him.
“Thank you,” Ji Xun quickly said.
“No need.” The young lady smiled at him, took two quick steps forward, and once again took hold of the wheelchair she was pushing.
The wheelchair was facing away from Ji Xun, and the old man sitting in it was wearing a hat. With a quick glance, Ji Xun couldn’t distinguish the old man’s appearance at all; he could only see a long red scar on the back of his neck, extending up into his hair.
Oh, right. That old man had a hunched back and shoulders and was shivering, looking very unhealthy.
Then Ji Xun couldn’t see them anymore. The young lady who had just supported him pushed the wheelchair away. As she moved, a vibrant green jade bracelet on her wrist clinked against the wheelchair, the jingling sound almost bright enough to light up the dreary winter…
The closed ward door was gently pushed open.
Lying in bed, Huo Ranyin initially thought it was a nurse coming in to change his dressing. But when the person pushing the door took a step forward, the sluggish sound of footsteps accompanied by the clack, clack of wood tapping against the floor immediately put Huo Ranyin on alert:
“Ji Xun?”
“It’s me, it’s me. Hurry up and don’t move, don’t tear your wounds open,” Ji Xun hurriedly said. “At a time like this, how is your vigilance still so high… You weren’t sleeping?”
“I couldn’t sleep,” Huo Ranyin replied, then immediately said angrily, “You’re afraid of me tearing my wounds open, but aren’t you afraid of tearing your own wounds open?! Actually coming all the way down from upstairs, are you crazy!”
“I am afraid. But I’m more afraid of not being able to see you.” Ji Xun finally shuffled his way to Huo Ranyin’s side. Letting go of the crutches, he immediately collapsed onto Huo Ranyin’s bed, groaning as he complained, “…This hospital is simply too vicious, actually separating us so far apart. For the first time, I felt that meeting you was like the Cowherd meeting the Weaver Girl.”
“If you didn’t have too much free time and run down here, nothing would have happened. You could use your knees to think and know that I’m definitely recuperating properly.” Huo Ranyin’s words showed no mercy, but his movements were as careful and meticulous as always. He first shifted to the side, making an empty space for Ji Xun, and also lifted the blanket in time so he could now cover Ji Xun with it.
“If it was really that meaningless, how did you know I was upstairs?”
“I asked the nurse.”
“Really?”
“Of course really—”
Huo Ranyin would never tell Ji Xun that after they arrived at the hospital, he persistently refused to receive treatment first, insisting on seeing the unconscious Ji Xun go into the operating room and safely come out, before being wheeled into his ward. Only then did he completely put his mind at ease.
“Huo Ranyin, I think…” Ji Xun pondered, “You’re lying.”
“…”
“There are lab reports and medication lists next to your bed. The first treatment medication time on it is 12:00 noon. Hu Yuan just told me the time we were admitted to the hospital yesterday was 9:00 AM. From 9:00 to 12:00—a full three hours later—before you started treatment. Other than waiting for my results, there’s no other reason, right?”
“…Ji Xun, it seems you are wide awake.” Huo Ranyin flew into a rage out of embarrassment, letting out a cold sneer. “Then let’s take this opportunity to talk about what happened yesterday morning. One second you agreed to listen to me, and the next second you went back on your word! Driving out to perish together with the people chasing us makes you look very capable, doesn’t it? I—”
Ji Xun swiftly kissed Huo Ranyin.
They were about to say more, but a cough suddenly came from the side.
“Ahem—”
The two of them huddled under the same blanket instantly froze.
Huo Ranyin buried his face in the pillow. Ji Xun’s skin was a bit thicker, so he took the initiative to raise his eyes, meeting the bright, piercing gaze of the old man in the adjacent bed.
Since coming in, he had been entirely focused on Huo Ranyin and had completely failed to notice the presence of the other person in the double ward.
He gave the old man an amiable smile, tried his best to stretch out his arm, and pushed the fruit basket sitting at Huo Ranyin’s bedside toward the old man’s direction:
“Sir, sorry to disturb you. Please have some fruit.”
“You two young men, why so polite!…” The old man was instantly bribed, putting away his piercing gaze on the spot and turning his head back to read his newspaper with great relish.
Ji Xun then grabbed the curtain between the beds and pulled it shut with a swish.
Then he fell back onto the bed, let out a breath, and whined to Huo Ranyin: “It hurts—”
“…”
Huo Ranyin pursed his lips and blinked.
His long, slender eyelashes swept a faint shadow beneath his eyelids. In the silence, that butterfly-wing-like shadow fluttered its wings, flew across the small distance between them, and softly attached itself to Ji Xun’s heart.
“I didn’t go back on my word. I’ll listen to you,” Ji Xun couldn’t help himself. “I came to see you just to hear you talk. To talk for a lifetime.”
Huo Ranyin originally wanted to refute Ji Xun’s fallacious reasoning—how could he twist the meaning of “listen” (literally: hear words) into something like this?
But the words entered his ears, and all that echoed in his mind was Ji Xun’s voice.
He suddenly felt that Ji Xun’s reasoning wasn’t so fallacious after all. Because he also felt that these words, Ji Xun’s words—whether sweet nothings or idle chatter, whatever he said was fine—he could never hear enough of them.
He looked at Ji Xun. Because of the difficult journey down, a thin layer of sweat had formed on Ji Xun’s body. The heat made Ji Xun’s face glow with a lustrous shine, beads of sweat of varying sizes rolling down it. The sweat beads were transparent, but illuminated by the light, they reflected a coral color. The color of matters of the heart.
“Lower your head a bit more,” Huo Ranyin said.
“Hmm?” Although puzzled, Ji Xun followed his previous promise and obediently leaned in front of Huo Ranyin. “What for?”
It hurts. Can’t move.
But…
“I want to kiss you.”
Huo Ranyin kissed him.
He kissed this radiant face.
Pressed against the corner of his mouth, bit his lips, explored his tongue.
Gently, before Ji Xun could even react, Huo Ranyin let go of him. He turned his head away, took a deep breath, and then spoke in a low voice. Even though he was complaining, his voice was as soft as cotton candy:
“Where would I find that many words to say…”
“Oh… maybe aiming for a ‘lifetime’ all at once is too big a step. Then let’s be practical and start by talking under ‘one blanket’, and practice well?” Ji Xun pursed his warm lips, looked down at the bed, and teased. (Note: In Chinese, “lifetime” 一辈子/yíbèizi sounds exactly the same as “one blanket” 一被子/yìbèizi).
“…Hurry up and rest.” Huo Ranyin regretted it, burying his face back into the pillow, refusing to face reality.
Ji Xun held back a laugh and also lay down. He used his good hand to gently pat the back of Huo Ranyin’s neck. “Lean a bit closer, lean on my shoulder. Don’t worry, my left shoulder is perfectly fine, not injured at all.”
Huo Ranyin didn’t answer.
But the body next to him under the blanket shifted, pressing against him.
Time slipped forward a little distance.
The floating clouds in the sky quietly dispersed. Under the unobstructed azure sky, a suddenly warm breeze accompanied by golden sunlight blew into the plain white ward, blowing over the two people leaning on each other and deeply asleep on the bed.
The pain had already faded away.
Leaving only the warm and peaceful dreams of drawing close to each other.
