The other person looked at Ming Can, stunned for a fraction of a second. “You are?”
“I.” Ming Can instinctively wanted to say she was a friend, but the words stuck in her throat. “I am a caregiver here.”
“Hello,” the woman walked over and extended her hand politely. “I am Jiang Yang, Su Zhi’s colleague. I just flew back from abroad. Thank you for your hard work these past few days.”
Hearing the word “colleague,” Ming Can’s handshake carried a hint of perfunctoriness.
“It’s nothing,” she replied in a very flat tone.
Jiang Yang didn’t mind. She stepped closer to the bed, looked down at Su Zhi’s complexion, glanced at the monitor, and then turned back to Ming Can. “How long has she been asleep?”
“The whole afternoon.”
Jiang Yang nodded, standing beside the bed for a moment. Her gaze lingered on Su Zhi’s pale cheeks before she fell silent.
The hospital room was quiet for a few seconds. Ming Can lowered her eyes and busied herself tidying up the bedside table: straightening a tilted water cup, throwing away used cotton swabs, and putting extra stationery back into the drawer. She kept herself completely occupied, so busy that she didn’t even have a spare glance to give the other woman.
Jiang Yang seemed to notice something. Her gaze shifted away from Su Zhi’s face and landed on Ming Can, sizing her up for a brief moment.
“Su Zhi isn’t the easiest person to wait on, is she?” With her hands in her pockets, Jiang Yang’s tone carried a familiar, teasing edge. “Bad temper, cold personality, and a tongue like a razor.”
Ming Can’s movements paused. She lifted her eyes to look at her.
Jiang Yang’s peach-blossom eyes narrowed slightly. “Does she always yell at you?”
“She’s a good person,” Ming Can said.
The four words dropped softly, neither light nor heavy.
Jiang Yang raised an eyebrow, as if wanting to say something, then thought better of it. A hint of playful amusement flickered in her eyes as she looked at Ming Can.
Ming Can ignored her and went back to organizing the contents of the drawer, pulling everything out one by one and placing them back in order. She maintained a picture of focused diligence, though the tips of her ears occasionally twitched as she kept tabs on the stranger in the room.
Jiang Yang leaned against the window, pulled out her phone to check it, and tucked it away again. Her gaze drifted to the blinking numbers on the monitor. After a few seconds, the expression on her face softened into deep thought.
After a moment, she spoke, her voice dropping lower. “Has anyone from the company come to see her since she was admitted?”
Caught off guard, Ming Can took a beat to process the question before throwing out two simple words: “They have.”
“Zhao Guifan?” Jiang Yang asked.
Ming Can said nothing, letting her silence serve as the answer.
“Hmph,” the other woman let out a cold snort, dropping a random remark. “He really has no shame!”
Only then did Ming Can raise her head and give the woman a serious look.
Meeting her gaze, Jiang Yang didn’t offer any explanation. Instead, she turned her head to look out the window. The lingering glow of sunset had completely faded, and the distant buildings were turning on their lights one by one, puncturing the deep blue night sky with warm yellow holes.
After some undetermined amount of time, the person on the bed stirred.
Ming Can sprang into action instantly, leaning over to check on her.
Su Zhi’s eyelashes fluttered, her brows furrowing tighter as her lips moved soundlessly, as if trying to speak.
Noticing the movement, Jiang Yang stepped forward as well. “Su Zhi?”
Those eyes slowly opened, their pupils unfocused for a fleeting moment before gradually pulling into focus. They landed first on Ming Can’s face, then drifted slowly toward Jiang Yang.
“How do you feel? Better?” Jiang Yang asked.
Su Zhi blinked, as though confirming something, and then something shifted across that pale face.
It was very slight, very faint, almost imperceptible.
But Ming Can saw it.
It was the first time since Su Zhi came out of the operating room that Ming Can saw something on her face that wasn’t icy cold, exhausted, or the forced wakefulness of someone pushing past their limits, but rather something resembling softness and relaxation.
Su Zhi’s lips parted, her breathy voice barely audible. “Why did you come back?”
“I came back to see how a meddling busybody managed to land herself in the hospital.”
Jiang Yang had a sharp tongue. Lacking the strength to argue back, Su Zhi simply swept her gaze over her.
She looked travel-worn, as if she had hurried all the way!
Feeling caught, Jiang Yang defended herself in a low murmur. “Don’t look at me like that. I came on short notice, it was a bit rushed.”
She and Su Zhi had previously been on the same project team, and she could be considered someone Su Zhi had personally mentored. Later, when Jiang Yang’s girlfriend went abroad to study and Jiang Yang wanted to resign to accompany her, Su Zhi wouldn’t allow it. Just as an overseas project had an opening, Su Zhi recommended her for it. After moving abroad, relying on her own stellar technical skills, Jiang Yang climbed the ranks all the way to become the head of the overseas project.
Recently, with the project launching, the team had been working back-to-back crunch shifts, and Jiang Yang hadn’t paid much attention to her phone. However, Director Su had suddenly become a viral sensation online. Especially after yesterday’s clearance statement from the vegetable processing plant, the public interest had surged straight overseas. Jiang Yang only found out about it when she overheard her team members discussing the matter. Upon learning the news, she halted all work on hand and rushed back immediately.
Su Zhi’s heavy eyelids trembled, her gaze fixed on her.
Jiang Yang looked back at her for a moment before snapping with feigned annoyance. “You definitely messed with those senior executives’ rice bowls again, didn’t you?”
Su Zhi didn’t speak.
Jiang Yang put her hands behind her back and analyzed the situation while standing beside the bed.
“Let me guess, has the domestic economic performance been poor these past two years, putting pressure from above onto the R&D department? Dog-face Zhao couldn’t handle the pressure and proposed layoffs, which the rest of the management team fiercely supported. Then you stood up at the general meeting, pointed right at their noses, and asked why they didn’t start by laying off all of you freeloaders instead. And then, you successfully managed to offend every single one of them, right?”
Every word struck straight at Su Zhi’s vulnerable spot. Her hands, resting at her sides, unconsciously contracted.
Ignoring it, Jiang Yang kept going, getting more and more worked up.
“Why do you always insist on doing these thankless chores? Not a single one of those idiots under you is worth mentoring. They won’t appreciate you sticking your neck out for them, but if you scold them once, they will hold a grudge against you for life. And look at you now! You do a good deed and get hounded into the hospital, only to be pointed at and cursed at online. Feel good about yourself?”
She complained while tossing out guesses. “I refuse to believe that Wu Bin’s brainless wife could come up with something like forcing an apology on her own. Even if she could think of it, she doesn’t have the clout to hire that many media outlets. It’s definitely Dog-face Zhao and those management execs pulling strings behind the scenes!”
Su Zhi had only just recovered a shred of consciousness, and being prodded over and over by this chatter almost nearly knocked her out cold again.
Having had her fill of ranting, Jiang Yang pulled up a chair beside the bed, crossed her legs, and looked down at her. “What? Am I wrong?”
After taking a long while to steady herself, Su Zhi managed to squeeze out: “Can you please talk less?”
Those few words drained the remainder of her mental energy, and a thin layer of moisture fogged up her oxygen mask.
Hearing this, Jiang Yang raised an eyebrow. She didn’t press further, choosing instead to lean back against the chair. Her gaze fell back onto Su Zhi’s face, the playful, cynical expression fading away to reveal something Ming Can couldn’t quite decipher.
The room fell quiet again.
Standing in place, Ming Can suddenly felt like she was a little bit redundant.
Earlier, she had rushed forward ahead of Jiang Yang purely out of instinct, but now she realized that they were actually close friends with a shared history and bond that no outsider could easily break into.
The truths behind the layoffs that were transparent at a glance, the heavy burdens Su Zhi carried, Jiang Yang had explained it all in just a few sentences. She didn’t need comforting or pep talks; she just needed a slice of understanding and empathy, and that was enough.
Yet she herself had been acting like a complete fool, babbling on about photosynthesis and the distance from the mud to the divine altar. It was excruciatingly embarrassing. What was even more embarrassing was that when she heard Jiang Yang use the word “colleague,” she had jumped to conclusions, assuming the woman was up to no good and subconsciously giving her the cold shoulder.
Ming Can felt so foolish she could dig a hole with her toes. Quietly taking a step backward, she picked up the laundry basket containing the swapped bedsheets and quilt covers. “Um, you guys chat, I am going to go tidy things up.”
Without waiting for a response, she grabbed the pile of laundry and slipped into the bathroom.
Su Zhi’s eyelids were too heavy to lift fully, but with Jiang Yang present, she forced herself to stay awake.
Jiang Yang noticed her exhaustion.
“If you’re uncomfortable, close your eyes for a bit. I’ll watch her,” she said.
Unable to hold on any longer, Su Zhi closed her eyes.
“Where on earth did you dig up such a kid? She’s quite a character,” Jiang Yang kept her voice low, afraid the person in the bathroom might overhear, though she also deliberately wanted Su Zhi to hear.
“When I came in earlier, I asked her if you always yell at people. Do you know what she said?”
Su Zhi’s eyes didn’t open, but her eyelashes quivered.
“She said, ‘She’s a good person.'” Jiang Yang chuckled with a hint of teasing. “Four words, dropped with absolute weight, and it completely left me speechless.”
Su Zhi didn’t open her eyes, but the corners of her lips beneath the oxygen mask twitched ever so slightly.
“Not bad, Director Su,” Jiang Yang leaned back against the chair, swinging her crossed legs. “You go to the hospital and manage to come out with a personal bodyguard, and a fiercely loyal one at that.”
“Stop talking nonsense,” Su Zhi’s voice was faint, carrying a weary hoarseness.
“How am I talking nonsense?” Jiang Yang tilted her head to look at her, her peach-blossom eyes brimming with amusement. “You didn’t see the way that kid looked at me earlier. It was like looking at a thief. I just asked a couple of questions, and her expression, tsk, she practically had the words ‘unwelcome’ stamped on her face.”
Su Zhi didn’t take the bait.
Not expecting her to, Jiang Yang continued on her own. “Well, it’s normal I suppose. A caregiver is just doing a paid job, so being diligent is a good thing. It’s just that the girl looks young, but she’s quite brisk and efficient, and she speaks little. She actually suits you pretty well.”
“She’s not.”
Jiang Yang raised an eyebrow, her gaze fixed on Su Zhi’s face.
Su Zhi fell silent for a few seconds, as if gathering strength, before finally saying, “She is temporarily here to help out.”
“Help out?” Jiang Yang’s interest piqued instantly. “What kind of helping out? A friend? A relative? Or did you drag some random temp off the street from a labor market?”
Su Zhi didn’t answer.
After waiting a moment and getting no response, Jiang Yang didn’t press further. She just smiled. “Fine, helping out is helping out. Either way, I find her quite pleasant to look at, much better than those idiots under your command. She’s easy on the eyes, quick-handed, and even knows how to protect you when it counts.”
Su Zhi finally opened her eyes and shot her a look.
There was no real strength behind that look, but Jiang Yang understood it immediately, raising both hands with a smile in a gesture of surrender. “Alright, alright, I won’t say anymore. Go to sleep, go to sleep.”
Su Zhi closed her eyes once more.
A moment later, Ming Can finished washing the laundry and came out to hang it up. The atmosphere between the two in the room felt slightly awkward, so she tried to minimize her presence as much as possible. Moving quietly, she found a drying rack and hung up the wet clothes, carrying them over to the hangers by the bay window.
Jiang Yang’s gaze followed her the entire time, her peach-blossom eyes filled with undisguised appraisal.
Ming Can felt the weight of that stare, but pretended not to notice as she went about her tasks: pulling the curtains closed a bit more, shaking out the hung clothes and patting them smooth to ensure they would catch the morning sun tomorrow.
“What’s your name?” Jiang Yang asked suddenly.
Ming Can paused, looked up, and hesitated for a second. “Ming Can.”
“Ming Can,” Jiang Yang nodded, repeating the name as if committing it to memory. “It’s a nice name.”
Ming Can didn’t respond, lowering her eyes to continue her work.
Jiang Yang didn’t probe further either, simply leaning back in her chair with her gaze drifting back and forth between Ming Can and Su Zhi, a meaningful smile playing at the corners of her lips.
The room quieted down again, leaving only the rhythmic ticking of the monitor. Suddenly, the sharp, hurried ringing of a mobile phone cut through the silence.
Frowning, Jiang Yang pulled out her phone to check the caller ID, her expression shifting slightly.
She took a few steps toward the window, pressed the answer button, and lowered her voice considerably. “Hello, what is it?”