Jiang Yang’s video call.
Su Zhi’s gaze landed on that name, her fingertips pausing above the keyboard for two full seconds.
Ming Can clearly saw that in those eyes, unfocused from the pain, something softened.
Su Zhi raised her hand, picking up the phone with somewhat sluggish movements. Her thumb hovered over the answer button, yet she didn’t press it right away. She tilted her head to look at the code segment still scrolling on the screen, then glanced at Ming Can, signaling her to move the computer in front of her away.
Ming Can understood instantly, took the computer away, and lowered the raised head of the bed a bit.
The phone rang for a long time.
In the very last second before it was about to automatically hang up, Su Zhi pressed answer.
“Done with work?”
She tried her best to make her voice sound somewhat normal, but the moment that greeting came out, even Ming Can could hear the thinly veiled, forced weakness within it.
On the other side of the call.
Half of Jiang Yang’s face was squeezed into the screen, and appearing alongside her was half of her girlfriend Bai Shuangxu’s pretty face.
“Hi, long time no see, Director Su.” Bai Shuangxu greeted Su Zhi.
She and Jiang Yang both belonged to that bright and cheerful personality type. Bai Shuangxu had striking features, almond-shaped eyes, red lips, and a dazzling appearance. Although there was exhaustion at the corners of her eyes at the moment, when she smiled at the camera, those eyes curved into two gentle arcs, and the curve of her lips was sweet and slightly playful, forming a stark contrast with the woman in the previous dream who had red-rimmed eyes and questioned her with a voice so cold it bordered on hatred.
Looking at such a face, Su Zhi’s thinking stalled for a few seconds.
“Director Su?” Bai Shuangxu called out again.
Su Zhi came back to her senses, her unfocused gaze fixed on the screen.
“It’s me!” Bai Shuangxu took the phone from Jiang Yang, pulled back a bit to intentionally reveal a corner of the tech building, and imbued her voice with a hint of dissatisfaction. “Accompanying Jiang Yang for overtime, she’s practically living at the company these past few days!”
Su Zhi knew that the two of them were deliberately coordinating to put her mind at ease. She knew it, but she didn’t expose them, merely giving a faint “Mm.”
Jiang Yang took the phone back: “Su Zhi.”
Su Zhi looked at the screen.
“The matter with the project has been resolved, and there’s just some lingering cleanup work handed over to those handymen to do. I originally wanted to buy tomorrow morning’s flight ticket, but Shuangxu said she also wanted to come over and see you, though she still has some school matters to deal with, so it might take about a week.”
Jiang Yang felt a bit apologetic and meticulously deliberated her phrasing, but Su Zhi spoke up first.
“It’s fine,” her physical overdraft was too severe, requiring her to break a single sentence into several pieces, yet she kept her tone as fluent as possible. “You guys, come later. I will actively cooperate with the treatment.”
“Mm.” Jiang Yang didn’t dwell any longer on not being able to make the trip, instead turning the topic to Ming Can: “Where’s Cancan?”
Su Zhi tilted her head and glanced in Ming Can’s direction.
Jiang Yang smiled: “With Cancan around, I’m relieved. It’s just you, Director Su, don’t be too harsh on the little girl, oh, be a bit more gentle, a bit more generous, buy her milk tea or something when you have nothing to do.”
Su Zhi was a bit too weak to respond to her. The words “I don’t need your concern” turned into a faint “Mm” as they slipped out.
Sensing her exhaustion after saying a few more words, Jiang Yang hung up the phone.
The exact moment the video call cut off, Su Zhi’s hand loosened, and the phone in her hand dropped down, hitting her collarbone. Yet she didn’t feel any pain.
“Su Zhi!”
Ming Can had just picked up the phone from beside her collarbone and hadn’t yet had time to put it back by the pillow when the phone started vibrating again. She lowered her eyes to look at the screen.
Incoming call: Cai Ji.
The phone buzzed in Ming Can’s hand, the name “Cai Ji” flashing repeatedly on the screen. She subconsciously looked at Su Zhi.
Su Zhi had her eyes closed, her chest rising and falling more shallowly than before. With Jiang Yang having emerged safely, her tightly strung nerves relaxed, and her body collapsed as well.
The phone kept ringing.
Ming Can hesitated for a moment, then gently touched Su Zhi’s arm: “Su Zhi, a call, it’s Cai Ji.”
Su Zhi’s eyelashes trembled, lacking the strength to open them.
Ming Can bit her lip, hesitating whether to help her hang up, but Su Zhi’s hand moved, slowly lifting up and stretching out in her direction.
Ming Can hurriedly handed the phone over, catching it with both hands for fear that she wouldn’t hold it steady.
Su Zhi struggled to lift her eyelids, her trembling fingertips sliding across the screen several times without managing to answer.
Ming Can helped her answer it, picking up the phone and holding it close to her ear.
Su Zhi’s Adam’s apple rolled a few times, and when she opened her mouth, she tried her best to make her tone sound calm: “What is it?”
“Su Zhi,” a magnetic male voice came from the other end, very gentle, “how is your body recovering?”
Su Zhi fell silent. After a few seconds, she spoke: “Alright.”
Her voice was lukewarm, matching her usual style.
The other end of the phone grew still for an instant.
“Su Zhi, about Jiang Yang…” Cai Ji was deliberating his phrasing, his tone growing increasingly gentle, “I just asked clearly, it was a misunderstanding.”
Su Zhi didn’t speak, her breathing traveling through the earpiece, shallow and hurried.
“Zhao Guifan’s side, I’ve criticized him. You know as well, although his position is high, he actually doesn’t have much experience regarding some internal matters of the R&D department. Jiang Yang’s handling of this matter was indeed a bit inappropriate, don’t take it to heart on your end, alright?”
He spoke earnestly, carrying the rare patience and sincerity of a listed company’s CEO in his tone.
Su Zhi didn’t speak. She actually vaguely guessed that Jiang Yang being able to get out smoothly wasn’t because her own threats had taken effect, and Cai Ji making this phone call wasn’t a genuine apology seeking reconciliation either. He had a more important objective.
Sure enough, the next second, this old fox spoke up: “Also, regarding Jiang Yang’s resignation, you have a good relationship with her, can you help persuade her from a friend’s perspective? As an R&D professional, having some problems crop up on a project is completely normal; the company won’t hold any bad views of her because of this. Let her not have psychological pressure, and don’t make extreme decisions just out of temporary impulse. The macro environment isn’t good right now, and our plant is still considered stable.”
“President Cai,” Su Zhi spoke up, her extremely low voice interrupting him. After resting for a moment, she said, “Jiang Yang’s resignation is a matter between her personally and the company. I will not interfere.”
Although she had been somewhat surprised upon just hearing the news of Jiang Yang’s resignation, since the matter was already a foregone conclusion, she respected her choice.
After finishing the call, Cai Ji tossed the folder right into Zhao Guifan’s lap.
“This is all the good work you’ve done! Don’t you even investigate before doing things? The Chairman’s call was thrown right in my face!”
Zhao Guifan picked up the documents scattered on the ground and apologized with an ingratiating smile: “I’m sorry, President Cai, it was my misstep. I’m willing to take responsibility.”
“Take responsibility?” Cai Ji sneered. “Can you afford to take responsibility? Do you know what kind of person Bai Shuangxu’s father is? A private enterprise, no matter how big it grows, is still just a private enterprise. With a single word from that old man, you, me, and tens of thousands of employees under us will all go down together!”
Hearing this, Zhao Guifan’s complexion paled. His original intention in doing this was simply to suppress Su Zhi, and at most, he was wary of the people under her coming back to exact revenge. Who would have thought that this Jiang Yang would suddenly have a girlfriend pop up midway, and a powerful one at that?
Had he known this earlier, he wouldn’t have dared to do it even if you gave him ten guts.
“I’m sorry, President Cai. I just genuinely couldn’t stand the sight of Su Zhi.”
Zhao Guifan wanted to explain, but was cut off by Cai Ji’s reprimand: “You idiot, your whole group of idiots in the R&D department, do you think I don’t want to get rid of her? The company’s entire core data is in her hands. If the Bai family doesn’t step forward in this matter, it’ll be a battle of fish dying and nets splitting between us and her. As long as she lies there alive for a single day, the risk will always exist.”
As he spoke, he bent his body forward slightly, his sharp eyes glaring at the person before him. “So Zhao Guifan, no matter how you guys are behind closed doors, on the surface, you’d better maintain this relationship well for me!”
Zhao Guifan came to the hospital carrying a fruit basket on the next evening. During this period, Su Zhi had remained in a coma, touching neither water nor food. Ming Can felt uneasy and called Gong Que over. When Zhao Guifan arrived, the two crossed paths at the doorway.
“President Cai,” Gong Que’s voice was extremely cold, carrying the assertiveness customary to medical practitioners, “a patient’s post-operative recovery is already slow to begin with, and recently it seems to have relapsed into a coma due to work matters. As her attending physician, I have the right to remind you.”
She paused, shifting her gaze from the fruit basket to Zhao Guifan’s face.
“Visits are fine, but if there is any verbal provocation, or any attempt to discuss work matters unrelated to health recovery, I will immediately notify security to escort you out. I can’t control your workplace politics, but this hospital room is still up to me for now.”
The smile plastered on Zhao Guifan’s face stiffened for an instant, and his fingers clutching the fruit basket tightened, but very quickly, those rigid lines softened into a nearly servile compliance.
“Yes, yes, yes, Dr. Gong is right; I was inconsiderate earlier.” He nodded repeatedly, lowering his posture immensely. “This time, I am merely here on behalf of the company to check on Director Su. Purely a visit, absolutely no mention of work, absolutely none!”
Gong Que didn’t speak further, turning sideways to clear the doorway. Her gaze, however, swept past Zhao Guifan to look at Ming Can inside the room, carrying a hint of warning within that look: keep an eye on him.
Ming Can nodded lightly.
Zhao Guifan carried the fruit basket into the ward, keeping his footsteps very light, resembling a standard, empathetic leader who cared for his subordinates.
He placed the fruit basket gingerly on the bedside table, glanced at Su Zhi, whose face was pale and whose eyes were tightly closed on the bed, and then looked at the monitor by the bedside emitting regular ticking sounds, a worried expression appropriately surfacing on his face.
“It’s only been a few days, how did she end up like this?” He turned his head, his gaze falling upon Ming Can standing to the side.
Ming Can lowered her eyes without speaking.
Zhao Guifan grew impatient. He looked Ming Can up and down, completely devoid of the polite courtesy he had just shown to Gong Que: “Answer when you’re asked a question. Did you not receive professional training before coming here, or what’s going on?”
He shifted his gaze from Ming Can to the bedside table and began picking faults at everything: “These disposable paper cups, don’t you know how to clean them up after use? And these cotton swabs, why are they still stuffed inside the container after being used? A smell is drifting into the room, don’t you know how to open the window to ventilate when you have nothing to do?”
Ming Can walked over and symbolically pulled the window open to create a small gap.
Zhao Guifan’s anger seemed to have finally found an outlet. The frustration he suffered under Cai Ji and the fire he held back under Gong Que poured out entirely onto this young caregiver who appeared to have no background.
“You’d better remember this: Director Su is our company’s core technical personnel. If she suffers even the slightest mishap, you’ll be the very first person I hold accountable! When that happens, don’t talk about wages. Whether you can even survive in the caregiving industry will be a question!”
Ming Can rolled her eyes internally: My wages are already safely in my pocket, what use is it for you to talk so much? Besides, Sister here never planned to stay long-term in the caregiving industry anyway, no need for an idiot like you to remind me.
Just as Zhao Guifan wanted to say something else, a very slight movement came from the hospital bed.
Su Zhi’s fingers hanging by her side twitched a few times.
With sharp eyes, Ming Can ignored Zhao Guifan and rushed forward instantly: “Su Zhi?”
Zhao Guifan’s words jammed in his throat, and before the expression on his face had time to switch over, he saw that pair of eyes on the hospital bed slowly open.
Su Zhi’s gaze was somewhat unfocused, wandering idly in the air before slowly focusing to land on Ming Can, then moving sluggishly toward Zhao Guifan.
“Awake?” Zhao Guifan reacted quickly, the impatience on his face instantly wiped clean, replaced by an expression of relieved concern. “How are you feeling? President Cai asked me to come check on you. Regarding what happened with Jiang Yang earlier…”
Su Zhi’s reactions were very slow. She couldn’t hear what Zhao Guifan was saying, only seeing his mouth opening and closing. Then, in her fuzzy mind, scenes from her recent dream overlapped: Zhao Guifan had been berating Ming Can, saying she hadn’t placed the water cup properly, didn’t know how to throw away used cotton swabs, hadn’t ventilated the room.
She saw Ming Can’s slender back walking step by step toward the window to pull open a gap in the curtains.
When she came back, he still wouldn’t let up and continued barking abuses right at her.
Dreams and reality were still tangled together, and Su Zhi couldn’t tell them apart. She parted her lips, her unfocused eyes staring straight at Zhao Guifan.
“Get out.”
A single word, pronounced very softly. Zhao Guifan didn’t hear it clearly, leaning his body forward slightly as he bent down: “What?”
“Get out.” Su Zhi repeated it again. Her voice was still very soft, but this time Zhao Guifan heard it clearly. The smile stacked on his face stiffened for an instant, his body maintaining a slightly bent posture.
The ward was quiet. Zhao Guifan slowly straightened up, the curve of his mouth still lingering, but devoid of its earlier warmth. A trace of sinister gloom flashed across the depths of his eyes, though it was quickly suppressed.
“It’s completely normal to have a bad temper right after waking up,” he muttered to himself, as if looking for a way out for himself, before turning to glance at Ming Can with an imperceptible trace of transferred anger in his gaze.
Ming Can met his look unblinkingly, her fair and youthful face even carrying a hint of well-timed bewilderment: Why are you looking at me? I didn’t tell you to get out.
Zhao Guifan took a deep breath, straightened the cuffs of his suit, and tried hard to maintain his remaining composure.
“Then you rest well, I’ll come check on you in a few days,” he finished saying. Without waiting for Su Zhi’s reply, he turned and walked toward the door.
Near the doorway, he stopped, turned his head back, and smiled politely at the person on the hospital bed.
Su Zhi kept her eyes wide open, her unfocused gaze locked steadily in one direction until Zhao Guifan’s figure completely vanished and the ward door closed softly. Even then, those eyes remained unblinkingly fixed.
“Su Zhi,” Ming Can lightened her footsteps as she walked over, bending down to call her softly, “he’s gone.”
Su Zhi’s eyelashes trembled, sluggishly pulling her gaze back bit by bit from the doorway to land on Ming Can’s face.
Then her lips moved without making a sound. Ming Can lowered her head, her warm breath brushing against the edge of the ear.
“Zhao Guifan is gone.” She repeated.
Only then did those eyes close slightly.
“Su Zhi?” Ming Can called her name softly once more, but that pair of closed eyes never opened again.
Chapter 2
Su Zhi remained unconscious for three whole days, during which Ming Can guarded her for three days, barely closing her eyes.
Triple wages really weren’t easy to earn!
While mentally joking with herself like this, she was also deeply worried about her employer’s health condition.
“Su Zhi,” Ming Can finished cleaning the other person’s face and oral cavity, then routinely began wiping her hands. Her fingertips brushed against the skin, sending a chill shivering to her heart, but she quickly steadied herself. Wrapping a warm towel around those fingers, she wiped them one by one while keeping her mouth busy.
“You haven’t let me sleep well for three days already. If this keeps up, I’m going to go complain to Jiang Yang, you know?”
The person on the hospital bed gave no response.
Ming Can paused for a second and continued: “I added her on WeChat, you know. At ten o’clock, if you still don’t wake up by ten o’clock, I’m going to go message her.”
Right as she finished speaking, her phone gave a ding.
Ming Can froze for a moment, lowering her head to look at her own pocket.
The nurse uniform pocket she was wearing today was shallow, leaving the top half of the phone exposed. When the screen lit up, the message content was clearly visible. It wasn’t from Jiang Yang, but a short voice message sent by her roommate, Zhuang Xuan.
An idea struck Ming Can. She pulled out her phone, waved it right in front of Su Zhi, and said: “Look, Jiang Yang’s message came through, right?”
No response.
Ming Can gave up, tapped into her roommate’s chat box, lowered the volume, and held it to her ear to listen.
“Can, I found a job, but there’s an awkward situation. That five hundred yuan you lent me for the emergency earlier might need you to let me return it a bit later. The school dorm is too far from where I’m going to work, and I’m planning to rent a place near the company, but I don’t have enough money.”
Upon hearing this, Ming Can didn’t hesitate in the slightest. She opened WeChat Pay, pooled together a few cards, transferred a thousand yuan over, and then pressed down to reply with a voice message.
“Xuanxuan, congratulations on finding a job! Where is the company located? If you’re renting, five hundred probably won’t be enough. My hands aren’t as tight these days, so I transferred a thousand for you to handle emergencies first. Scrape together whatever else you’re short of on your end, and if it doesn’t work out, tell me and we’ll figure it out together.”
After sending the message, the other side showed typing for a few seconds before the one-thousand-yuan transfer was refunded. Tucked along with it was a short voice message, which Ming Can tapped to open.
“It’s enough, Can. Just transfer me five hundred, I still have a bit left in my hands. I just feel a bit embarrassed asking for it back right after borrowing it from you.”
The roommate sounded apologetic, but Ming Can had a crystal-clear head on her shoulders. The other person extending a helping hand during her desperate hour was already a massive favor. Even if she had to borrow money from everywhere else right now, she would pay this debt back first, not to mention that out of the forty-five thousand prepaid by Su Zhi, after clearing her urgent debts, she had still left herself two coins for meals.
Ming Can didn’t dwell on it further. She re-transferred five hundred and pressed the voice message button: “Xuanxuan, don’t say that. I’m already super grateful that you were willing to lend it to me. How’s the new job? Is it the front-end position you wanted to find or some other post?”
After switching topics, the subtle awkwardness eased, and her roommate’s urge to rant kicked right back in.
“It’s front-end. Oh god, Can, let me tell you, it is SO damn hard to find. These past two weeks, I applied to over a hundred companies, and only three or four replied. The rest either said my education wasn’t high enough or my project experience was too shallow. You tell me, we just graduated, where are we supposed to get project experience? Aren’t they joking? The place I got an interview with is far as hell. Taking the subway takes two hours, and once you get off the subway you still have to transfer to a bus. If I weren’t truly unable to find anything else, I wouldn’t go.”
After the roommate finished babbling on and on, she started urging Ming Can: “Can, you need to hustle too. That caregiving gig of yours is fine to do short-term, but if it drags on too long, the gap between you and everyone else is going to widen. Your tech skills are so good, polish up your resume and find something long-term and stable so you can have peace of mind.”
Ming Can glanced at the person on the hospital bed: “We’ll see.”
“Don’t give me ‘we’ll see,’ I’m being serious!”
Seeing her roommate’s persistence, Ming Can yielded: “Alright, I’ll find time tonight to revise my resume.”
The two chatted for a few more minutes before hanging up. Ming Can checked the time, 9:58. The person on the hospital bed was sleeping quietly without the slightest sign of opening her eyes.
“Su Zhi,” she brought the phone closer and began threatening again, “it’s two minutes to ten. If you don’t wake up now, I’m calling Jiang Yang.”
As soon as she finished speaking, Ming Can lowered her head to observe. The closed eyes of the other person didn’t move at all, but the fingertips hanging by her side twitched lightly in a place Ming Can couldn’t see.
“Su Zhi,” Ming Can reached out and poked her eyelashes with her index finger, “I’m calling Jiang Yang.”
The next second, those long eyelashes swept upward abruptly, and dark, heavy pupils crashed into Ming Can’s view unawares. Those eyes seemed devoid of any post-awakening confusion, appearing as lucid as if she hadn’t slept for three full days at all, staring straight at her.
Ming Can’s finger was still suspended in mid-air, unretracted. Her eye-poking posture froze as she locked gazes with the person on the bed for a full three seconds.
“Cough,” she gave a dry cough, “awake?”
Su Zhi didn’t speak. She blinked once, shifting her gaze from Ming Can’s face to the ceiling, then blinked again as if confirming her whereabouts.
Ming Can pulled her hand back, casually putting it behind her back, cleared her throat again, and adopted a joking tone: “Looks like Jiang Yang still packs the biggest punch. You were in a coma for three days, and Dr. Gong couldn’t wake you up no matter how many needles she poked you with. The moment I brought up Jiang Yang, boom, you woke up in split seconds, didn’t you?”
The gaze Su Zhi fixed on the ceiling shifted from its initial impression of brightness to dullness. Her long eyelashes trembled gently, as if she were finally stepping out of a long, drawn-out dream. Then she turned her head, very, very slowly, to glance at Ming Can.
Being looked at like this made Ming Can feel somewhat guilty, yet she still bit the bullet and acted stubborn: “What? Am I wrong?”
The gaze Su Zhi had pinned on her gained a bit of focus. Her dry lips moved once, then again, and then looking right at her, she used a throat so hoarse it was barely recognizable to say: “You owe money and still won’t pay it back.”
The expression on Ming Can’s face froze. She subconsciously took half a step back, but feeling that this made her look too guilty, she forcefully pulled her foot back, straightened her spine, and said: “I, when did I ever owe money and not pay it back?”
Su Zhi’s gaze shifted away from her face and landed on the hand still clutching the phone.
“Little kid, don’t owe other people money. It’s not good.” Her voice was very small, sounding somewhat like talking to herself.
Ming Can: (…)
Fine! So this bad impression of me is rooted deep in her heart and can’t be scraped off even if I tried!
Since it couldn’t be scraped off, she simply admitted it openly and honestly: “Right, I do owe money and haven’t paid it back yet! Well then, Boss, can you advance me a bit more salary so I can pay off the rest of my debts?”
Su Zhi didn’t answer immediately, her gaze shifting from the clutched phone back to Ming Can’s face with a slight delay. After a solid several seconds, she asked again: “Advance how much?”
Her voice was slow, hoarse, and devoid of emotion.
“One million.”
Ming Can maintained a deadpan expression, observing Su Zhi’s reaction after she spoke.
Then she watched those long eyelashes droop downward, as if calculating the balance in her own bank card. She calculated for a very, very long time before silently shaking her head: “Can’t advance that much.”
Ming Can burst out with a chuckle, feeling the big boss was both somewhat adorable as well as heartwarming and touching.
“I was joking with you,” she explained. “My roommate just called earlier saying she found a job and needs to rent a place, so I lent her five hundred, which I’ve already paid back.”
—Already paid back.
Su Zhi repeated her words internally. Her cognitive processing was extremely slow, and her lowered eyelids drifted back onto Ming Can’s face, carrying a hint of skepticism and probing.
Ming Can smiled, dimples blooming into a clear, sweet curve on both sides of her cheeks.
“Really,” she emphasized once more. “I don’t owe that much money anymore, and my creditors aren’t as difficult to deal with as the previous one either. I’ll find a job later, and once I start working officially, I’ll earn enough after a while to pay them back. I won’t flake on them.”
Su Zhi watched those lips parting and closing, using her meager remaining cognitive faculties to verify the truth or falsehood of her words bit by bit, though she still felt somewhat uneasy.
Seeing this, Ming Can beamed brightly: “Well, if Big Sister feels I’ve performed well and wants to give me a little extra perk, why don’t you treat me to milk tea? I’ve been dead broke lately and haven’t tasted what milk tea is like in ages.”
An even more radiant smile, together with the sunlight, fell right beside the pillow.
Su Zhi blinked her eyes once, then twice. Her faculty of perception was slowly reviving, and along with it came her usual sense of aloof coldness. She looked away from Ming Can toward a certain spot outside the window, waiting for a long, long time. So long that Ming Can even thought the other person wouldn’t reply to her anymore.
“The phone is with you. If you want to drink, order it yourself.” Her dry and awkward tone was very soft, so soft it was almost inaudible.
Belatedly realizing what she meant and confirming she hadn’t heard wrong, Ming Can could no longer suppress the curve of her lips.
“Then I’m really ordering?” she confirmed once more.
Su Zhi didn’t make a sound, her gaze floating toward that spot outside the window while maintaining that aloof and detached facade.
Without exposing her, Ming Can excitedly picked up Su Zhi’s phone from the bedside table, lit up the screen, and handed it right in front of her: “What’s the password?”
The person on the hospital bed made no move, the fingertips hanging by her side twitching a few times.
“Su Zhi? Big Sister?” Ming Can tested her again, tilting her head to observe. Then, a stroke of inspiration hitting her, she leaned over, aligned the phone with Su Zhi’s face, and scanned it.
The exact millisecond face unlock succeeded, Su Zhi’s brow twitched imperceptibly. Though her face remained expressionless, the tips of her ears quietly crept up with a trace of unnatural redness.
Ming Can giggled inwardly while keeping a straight face outwardly, holding the phone and starting to scroll through the delivery app.
“I want to drink YiDianDian’s Lemon Yakult. No, Lemon Yakult is too cheap. Since the boss is finally treating us for once, I’ve got to order something expensive. Heytea, how about Heytea? Their Multi-Grape is delicious. Extra-large cup, double grape flesh, plus an order of crispy bobo, an order of bouncy jelly.”
After piling on a bunch of toppings and applying the delivery voucher, the total came out to just twenty-six yuan. Ming Can backed out, selected a few other items, and then shoved the phone right up to Su Zhi’s face again: “Boss, time to pay.”
Su Zhi: (…)
Before she could even utter a word, the money inside her bank card had just been swiped away by the other party.
Satisfied, Ming Can set Su Zhi’s phone aside and picked up her own phone to play with. Not that she was actually playing, but rather messaging Gong Que to ask about the series of reactions Su Zhi had shown right upon waking up.
Gong Que deemed them normal, figuring it was most likely because the patient’s body was too weak, causing her consciousness to come and go in fragments while still being able to perceive some outside events without being able to wake up. She instructed Ming Can to continue observing and report back immediately if any issues arose.
Only then did Ming Can set her mind at ease, asking about detailed dietary precautions and other specifics. Half an hour later, the delivery arrived.
Aside from the milk tea, there was also a portion of apple millet porridge.
Su Zhi had already closed her eyes to sleep. Not that she was asleep, as she was fully awake, but she was simply too exhausted and found it somewhat difficult to keep her eyes open. Ming Can noticed this, brought the delivery over, lifted it right in front of Su Zhi, and called out very softly: “Su Zhi?”
Su Zhi’s brow knitted, and under the other’s watchful gaze, she lifted her eyelids bit by bit.
The bag Ming Can lifted up swung slightly, revealing a corner of the millet porridge: “Look, I ordered one for you too. Am I great?”
It took Su Zhi a good several seconds for her vision to lock onto the focal point. It wasn’t the millet porridge, but a little puppy begging for praise and rewards.
“You’re good.” She moved her lips, spitting out two words with difficulty and exertion. Pausing for a few seconds, she added two more words: “So noisy.”
Chapter 3
The ward fell silent for a few seconds.
Ming Can’s hand holding the delivery bag froze mid-air, the smile on her face stiffening. The dimples hadn’t had time to recede yet, leaving her frozen in a somewhat comical expression.
She blinked her eyes once, then twice, facing the pale-faced woman on the hospital bed who was staring right at her with a dead gaze.
“Fine, no praise then!” Ming Can ultimately compromised.
She set the delivery bag in her hand down on the bedside table, pulled out the apple millet porridge inside to feed Su Zhi: “No praise, but breakfast still has to be eaten, right?”
Yet Su Zhi seemed to completely lack any interest in food. When Ming Can pushed the porridge spoon forward, she instinctively pressed her lips tightly shut and turned her head away.
Ming Can felt a bit helpless: “Millet porridge is super delicious, and I even specially added apple to it for you.”
Annoyed by the noise, Su Zhi was just about to raise her hand when Ming Can zipped out of the way.
“Won’t eat then don’t eat!” She placed the millet porridge back on the bedside table, pulled out her own giant cup of milk tea. “If you won’t eat it, I’ll drink my milk tea and finish the whole thing up!”
With that, she jammed the straw straight in with a snap, clutched it in her hands, and started drinking: glug-glug, glug-glug, making a very loud sound.
Su Zhi didn’t mind it at first, but she was soon drawn in by the noise, turning her head slightly to the side to see the kid holding a cup of milk tea with both hands, cheeks puffing in and out as she drank, with a bit of fruit tea moisture still smudged at the corner of her lips without her even realizing it. Like a little hamster starved for a long time, she squinted her eyes to enjoy the deliciousness of the food.
Sunlight filtered through the window gaps, landing on Ming Can’s face and gilding the fine fuzz with a layer of pale golden halo.
Su Zhi watched for a moment, suddenly feeling her throat grow somewhat dry.
It wasn’t the dryness of wanting water.
It was that kind of dryness where, watching someone else eat with such relish, one’s own mouth inexplicably starts generating saliva.
Ming Can instinctively turned her head and found Su Zhi staring straight at her.
That direct gaze was fixed right on her half-cup of unfinished milk tea. Ming Can’s mind stalled for half a second, and on an inexplicable impulse, she handed the milk tea in her hand outward.
The very instant she extended it, she regretted it. What was Su Zhi’s status? A dignified director. What fine things hadn’t she seen? How could she possibly be eyeing a half-cup of milk tea she herself had already drunk from?
“Sorry,” she sheepishly pulled her hand back, giving two dry laughs, “I was joking, you go on.”
Before the word “sleep” could leave her lips, the woman on the hospital bed abruptly lifted her arm, stretching her slender, fair fingertips out in her direction.
Ming Can froze, stunned for a good while, until Su Zhi’s arm suspended in mid-air dropped powerlessly downward.
That hand landed on the snow-white blanket, the fingertips still maintaining a slightly curled posture, as if wanting to grasp something yet failing to catch it.
Ming Can shifted her gaze from that hand to Su Zhi’s face.
On the hospital bed, Su Zhi still wore no expression, her thin lips pressed tightly together, her long eyelashes veiling the emotions in the depths of her eyes, radiating an aloof distance that screamed “I didn’t do anything.”
Yet that hand remained splayed right there.
Ming Can looked at the milk tea, then looked at that hand, and belatedly understood.
She swiftly handed the milk tea she was holding back over, bringing it to a spot where Su Zhi’s mouth could reach: “There, drink up!”
Su Zhi didn’t move.
Only then did Ming Can remember Jiang Yang saying Su Zhi was a germaphobe and probably couldn’t bring herself not to mind someone else’s saliva. Just as she was about to say she’d swap it for a clean straw, she saw the other party slightly lower her eyelashes and stare at that straw for two seconds.
Immediately after, she lowered her head, parted her lips gently, and bit down on the tip of the straw.
Her pale, chapped lips clamped around the transparent plastic tube. Lacking strength, she sucked once without getting anything, and sucked a second time still without getting anything. Holding that straw in her mouth, she tried repeatedly and failed repeatedly.
Watching from the side, Ming Can suddenly felt a twinge of heartache.
“Su Zhi, I suddenly remembered, Sister Gong said you can’t drink milk tea yet right now.”
Having said that, Ming Can pulled the straw out of the other’s mouth, ripped open the lid of the milk tea, scooped up the grape pulp inside with a spoon, and fed it to her.
Pressing it against Su Zhi’s lips.
Su Zhi hesitated for a moment, slowly opened her mouth, and extended her tip of the tongue to receive that grain of pulp.
The icy sensation touched her oral cavity, and a wave of bitterness instantly spread out, making her whole body shiver.
The rim of the spoon still carried a trace of fruit tea residue from the cup Ming Can had just been enjoying so much. This realization made Su Zhi hold that grain of pulp in her mouth for a long time without spitting it out.
Ming Can tilted her head to observe her expression: “How is it? If it doesn’t taste good, spit it out and I’ll catch it.”
With her eyelashes lowered, Su Zhi shook her head.
She slowly used the tip of her tongue to press against that piece of grape pulp. The flesh was soft, carrying a chilled coolness that gradually softened against the temperature of her mouth. The bitterness remained bitterness, with the acrid taste of medicine creeping up from the root of her tongue. Yet right within that expanse of bitterness, she tasted a faint, wispy trace of sweetness.
Was it an illusion?
She didn’t know.
She simply couldn’t bear to swallow it down.
Holding it right there, she let that tiny piece of pulp slowly warm up in her mouth, letting that minuscule sweetness battle against the mouthful of bitterness. She didn’t even dare to move, afraid that if she moved, that trace of sweetness would vanish.
“Su Zhi?” Ming Can gently nudged her, handing over a paper cup. “If it tastes bad, spit it out. It’s totally fine.”
Su Zhi refused. She wanted to swallow it down, her throat rolling repeatedly, yet something seemed to be stuck right in her windpipe. Her slender swan neck tensed into an arch from the exertion, but no matter what, that piece of pulp simply wouldn’t go down.
She shook her head in small increments, struggling through the attempt until a cold sweat broke out all over her, still unable to accomplish it.
Ming Can put down the milk tea cup, picked up the hand that was twitching violently while curled against the other’s side, and clasped it inside her own palm.
“Su Zhi, don’t be tense, take it slow.” She soothed over and over, using her warm fingertips to rub the frozen-cold palm.
Only then did Su Zhi’s emotions ease up a tiny fraction. Adjusting her breathing, she mustered all the strength in her entire body to push that spoonful of pulp, held for so long, step by step deeper toward her throat.
The pulp slid down her esophageal tract, her swan neck arching an insecure curve. Beneath that thin layer of skin, a tiny lump moved downward with difficulty and slowness.
Ming Can hesitated for a moment, extending her hand to cover the other’s throat.
Her hand was very warm and very soft, with fingertips pressed against Su Zhi’s slender neck, feeling the pulse hammering wildly there from tension.
Su Zhi’s breathing missed a beat. The warm touch carried a bit of itchiness. Closing her eyes, she felt the temperature of that hand, feeling that gentle force stroking downward in an extremely light and slow motion along with her swallowing action.
As if helping that piece of pulp, and helping her as well, to get through this difficult hurdle together.
Finally, that spoonful of pulp slid into her stomach.
Su Zhi opened her eyes, her eyelashes trembling slightly.
The hand on her throat hadn’t moved away yet, and Ming Can was looking at her intently with a trace of worry in her eyes.
The ward was quiet. In such close proximity and amidst such intimate movements, Su Zhi locked gazes with those eyes. Reflected in the other person’s clear, bright pupils was her own shadow, pale, weak, devoid of any vitality, a reflection.
Yet it rested right there, carefully cradled within those bright eyes.
Their breaths intertwined in this stillness. Ming Can suddenly realized that her hand was still resting on the other’s neck. A posture that was somewhat overly ambiguous. The next second, she pulled her hand back, the tips of her ears quietly climbing with a hint of red.
“Sorry, I…”
The instant the warmth withdrew, Su Zhi’s fingers twitched.
She wanted to grab something.
Yet that hand only curled up futilely against the bedsheet, failing to catch anything at all.
Ming Can felt somewhat at a loss, her gaze wandering before finally settling on the half-cup of milk tea on the bedside table: “Do you want to drink a bit more?”
Su Zhi lowered her eyelashes and gently shook her head.
No more.
That piece of pulp was still in her stomach, an icy little speck like a spark rolling into ashes. She was afraid that taking another sip would dilute that trace of warmth, or, even worse, that she would greedily want more.
Ming Can gave an “Oh,” snapped the lid back onto the milk tea cup, and placed it back on the bedside table with somewhat flustered movements, missing the grooves and having to press down twice before it clicked in.
Recovering her composure, when she looked back, the person on the hospital bed had already closed her eyes and fallen asleep.
Ming Can didn’t disturb her further, raising a hand to pull the blanket higher up over her chest. Her fingertips brushed past Su Zhi’s chin inadvertently, but the person remained unresponsive, as if truly asleep.
She stood in place for a few seconds, fished out her phone, and sent a message to Gong Que.
[Sister Gong, when is Dr. He coming back?]
The Dr. He she referred to was Gong Que’s married wife of many years, He Nian. The two worked at the same hospital, with Gong Que as the lead surgeon while He Nian took charge of the psychiatric department. This pairing was often joked about around the hospital: one wielding a knife, the other talking through the heart.
Yet that wasn’t what they were most famous for.
It was their names.
Early on when their relationship was made public a few years ago, someone posted a thread on a forum featuring a couplet composed of a poem:
“Not knowing which year in heaven’s palaces tonight.”
“Only seeing a match made in heaven meeting pairwise here.”
“Horizontal scroll: A match made in heaven.”
Recently, He Nian had been studying abroad, leaving this pair of heaven-sent wives to endure the hardships of a long-distance relationship.
Ming Can received a reply five minutes later.
Gong Que: [She’ll be another month. Why?]
Ming Can glanced at the person on the bed and replied with deliberation: [Su Zhi, I feel like she might have developed some psychological issues.]
Gong Que: [?]
Ming Can: [She seems somewhat unable to eat anymore.]
Gong Que: [?]
Gong Que: [How so?]
Ming Can wanted to send a voice message, yet feared being overheard by Su Zhi. Thus, she jabbed her fingertip into the input box, describing the earlier details as concisely as possible.
A few seconds later, a reply came through.
Gong Que: [A part-time caregiver, and you’ve got quite the wide jurisdiction.]
Ming Can: […]
Gong Que: [I’ll come over later.]
Ming Can: [^o^]
The door of the ward was pushed open gently.
When Gong Que walked in, Ming Can was squatting before the hospital bed, observing Su Zhi’s sleeping face with a posture bordering on piety.
“Counted them yet? Which of her eyelashes has a problem?” Gong Que’s voice was ice-cold.
Startled, Ming Can turned to look at Gong Que and complained in a small voice: “Old Gong, you really are something! Do you not make any sound when you walk at all?”
“You were just too focused.” Gong Que took off her white lab coat, hung it on the clothes rack, walked to the bedside, and let her gaze fall upon Su Zhi’s face.
Asleep.
Yet she wasn’t sleeping peacefully.
Gong Que watched for a moment, reached out to gently lift Su Zhi’s eyelid to check her pupils, and then felt her pulse.
“Was she like this as soon as she woke up?”
Ming Can pressed her index finger to her lips in a hush gesture, then answered with her eyes.
Gong Que’s gaze lingered on her face for a few seconds with a scrutinizing air. Ming Can arched a brow, urging her impatiently.
Gong Que withdrew her gaze, looking back at Su Zhi: “Swallowing disorder, accompanied by separation anxiety. A type of stress reaction.”
“Stress?” Ming Can raised her voice a bit, then subconsciously lowered it: “Dr. He isn’t here, so what should we do?”
Without answering, Gong Que turned to look at her, a hint of playful amusement actually rising within those wave-less, tranquil eyes.
“A caregiver,” she began, speaking in a leisurely pace, “worrying over the employer’s psychological problems.”
Ming Can choked for a second, the tips of her ears climbing with a touch of red.
“No way. I was just…” she stammered, her gaze dodging, “I just thought she was pitiful.”
Right as she was weighing her phrasing, her phone suddenly buzzed in her pocket. Startled, Ming Can fumbled to pull it out, her heart skipping a beat when she saw “Counselor” flashing on the screen.