Yingying had almost no reaction left, only emitting low, beast-like groans with each wave of increasingly intense contractions, the color of the fluid she discharged growing darker and darker.
Jiang Yu’an frowned. “Tell her not to waste her energy. The baby is in the wrong position; she won’t be able to deliver.”
Time passed second by second in the oppressive wait and standoff.
Jiang Yu’an stood beside Mianmian, not speaking again, nor looking at Yingying on the ground anymore. His gaze only occasionally swept over Sister Li and the security guard at the door, their faces shifting uncertainly, carrying a silent intimidation.
His presence was like an anchor, strangely calming Mianmian’s wildly pounding heart a little.
In less than twenty minutes, urgent sirens from police cars and ambulances sounded in the distance, growing closer until they quickly stopped outside the alley.
Police and medical personnel rushed in, swiftly taking control of the scene, understanding the situation, and examining the mother-to-be.
The semi-conscious Yingying was carefully lifted onto a stretcher and loaded into the ambulance.
Sister Li and the security guard were called aside by the police for questioning.
As eyewitnesses at the scene, Mianmian and Jiang Yu’an were also asked to go to the police station to give statements.
In the police car, Mianmian watched the neon lights flying backward outside the window. Only then did her nerves, tense all night, relax slightly, followed by a wave of fearful exhaustion.
She stole a glance at Jiang Yu’an sitting beside her. He leaned back in the seat, eyes closed, his profile appearing somewhat cold and hard under the flickering light from outside the window.
At the police station, after giving brief statements, the police preliminarily judged that Mianmian and Jiang Yu’an had little connection to the core of the incident and soon let them leave.
When they walked out of the police station, it was already late at night.
The summer night wind carried a chill, dispersing the earlier turbidity and strange odors.
The two walked in silence for a while. Mianmian kept her head down, watching her own shadow at her feet, her heart feeling tangled like a messy ball of yarn.
Everything tonight had been too sudden, too far beyond her understanding.
“Ji Mianmian.”
Mianmian stopped and looked up at him.
The streetlight shone down from above his head, leaving half his face in light and half in shadow, making his exact expression unclear. But his eyes, startlingly bright in the night, churned with clear anger and something deeper that Mianmian couldn’t comprehend.
“Having fun?”
He spoke, his voice not loud, but each word struck Mianmian’s heart.
“Huh? Nightclub cleaner? Do you think you’re so capable, so brave, so kind? Going to a place like that for work-study, witnessing the hardships of the world, and almost playing the hero?”
“I wasn’t…” Mianmian wanted to defend herself, but her voice trailed off.
Jiang Yu’an took a step forward, and a sense of oppression followed.
“Tell me, if I hadn’t happened to follow you tonight, what would your situation be right now?”
His voice grew colder, his words faster:
“In a place like that, today you can be a cleaner, tomorrow you could be tricked into being a drinking companion, and the day after? If they paid enough, would you go ‘on stage’ too? Ji Mianmian, that bit of self-righteous pride and stubbornness of yours is worth nothing in the face of real danger!”
He spoke harshly. Mianmian abruptly raised her head, her eyes instantly reddening—not from grievance, but from a kind of shame and mortification at having her most unsightly spot exposed.
She knew he was right. She had indeed been naive, had indeed oversimplified things, nearly putting herself in danger.
But being criticized so mercilessly and bluntly by him, the last remnants of her stubbornness, along with the worries and fears of the past few days, and the shock of witnessing Yingying’s tragic state, all mixed together and shattered her defenses.
She didn’t want to cry, especially not in front of Jiang Yu’an.
She bit her lower lip hard, trying not to make a sound, and simply raised her hand to wipe away her tears fiercely with the back of it before turning to leave.
But her wrist was caught. The grip wasn’t strong, yet it was unyielding.
“What are you crying for?” Jiang Yu’an’s voice came from behind, still devoid of warmth, though the aggressive edge seemed to have softened a little. “Can’t handle being told off for doing something wrong?”
Mianmian tried to shake off his hand with force but failed. She sniffled, her voice thick with a nasal tone as she muttered:
“It’s none of your business. Thank you for tonight. From now on, my affairs have nothing to do with you.” She paused, her voice dropping even lower, tinged with pleading. “Don’t tell Teacher Zhao… don’t make her worry.”
A clear, mocking laugh broke the quiet of the night.
“Now you’re afraid of worrying my mom? What were you doing earlier?” He released her hand but still stood blocking her path.
Mianmian lowered her head, her shoulders trembling slightly.
The night wind rustled through the leaves by the roadside.
Jiang Yu’an watched her for a few seconds before suddenly raising his hand and rubbing her cheek with his knuckles, not too gently.
Mianmian froze.
“I’ve been busy at the hospital lately and haven’t had time to go home, so I’m staying in a single apartment near the school,” Jiang Yu’an suddenly spoke, his tone turning flat, even a bit impatient. “I live alone and can’t be bothered to clean.”
Mianmian looked up at him in confusion, her vision blurred by tears, not understanding why he was suddenly saying this.
Jiang Yu’an stuffed his hands back into his pockets, turning his gaze away to look at the flickering streetlights in the distance, his tone stiff:
“Aren’t you into cleaning? Twice a week, two hours each time, two thousand a month. Take it or leave it?”
Mianmian was completely stunned. She stared at Jiang Yu’an’s cold, sharp profile, trying to find even a trace of joking or teasing in his expressionless face.
But there was none. He was serious.
Two thousand… It wasn’t as much as what she earned working in that nightclub, constantly on edge, but it was clean, safe, and the hours were suitable…
Of course, she knew this was his indirect, discreet way of helping.
With his personality, both mentally and physically fastidious, how could he possibly be too lazy to clean? He had clearly seen her predicament and was using this method to protect her dignity.
Seeing her remain silent for so long, Jiang Yu’an seemed to grow a bit impatient, his brows furrowing again:
“Forget it if you don’t want to. Pretend I never said it.”
“I’ll do it!” Mianmian blurted out almost immediately.
After saying it, her face grew warm. She lowered her head, her fingers unconsciously twisting the hem of her clothes, her voice as faint as a mosquito’s hum. “…Thank you, Senior.”
Jiang Yu’an gave a satisfied hum and turned to walk ahead.
“I’ll give you the address and keys tomorrow. If my mom asks when we get home, just say your workplace let you off early, we happened to run into each other, and had a bit of late-night snacks together.”
He paused, adding, “Don’t let it happen again.”
Mianmian followed half a step behind him, walking slowly.
Her tears had dried, leaving her face feeling tight. The evening breeze scattered some of her chaotic thoughts.
“Senior,” she suddenly called out softly.
“What now?” The person ahead didn’t turn around, his tone still rather unpleasant.
“What’s a ‘pregnancy pearl’?”
The night concealed Jiang Yu’an’s instantly darkened expression.
He remained silent for a few seconds before replying in a deliberately flat, unreadable tone:
“An abnormal fetish targeting pregnant women. The idea is… women nearing childbirth have a certain… stimulating appeal. Some establishments specifically seek out such girls to satisfy the needs of particular clients, and they can fetch high prices.”
He didn’t elaborate further, but Mianmian already understood.
A chill spread from the depths of her heart to every limb, and her stomach churned.
“She’s not that kind of person… She has a boyfriend, and the baby’s father said he’d come back for her…”
“Most likely, he won’t come back.” Jiang Yu’an cut her off, his voice devoid of emotion. “We see stories like this a few times every month at the hospital. They sweet-talk their way into getting what they want and then vanish. The slightly more decent ones might send some money each month after the baby is born. But most just disappear without a trace.”
He spoke bluntly and harshly.
Mianmian bit her lower lip:
“Then… why did she suffer for so long, with her water breaking but still unable to give birth?”
She asked again, this time purely out of a bewildered fear of life’s unpredictability.
This time, Jiang Yu’an answered straightforwardly, with an almost cold objectivity:
“There are many possibilities. She had a typical malposition—transverse lie, meaning the baby was lying sideways in her womb, making natural birth impossible. Surgery was necessary. Her contractions lasted over 24 hours, and the amniotic fluid was murky. It’s very likely fetal distress had already set in, meaning the baby was oxygen-deprived inside her. Any further delay would have endangered both mother and child.”
His voice was clear and calm on the nighttime street, dissecting the chaotic and painful delivery into cold, clinical terms.
Mianmian listened and said nothing more.
The two walked silently, one after the other, on their way home.
Under the streetlights, their shadows sometimes separated, sometimes overlapped.
Everything that had happened tonight truly felt like a hurried, chaotic dream, heavy with the scent of blood, tears, and sweat, weighing down on Mianmian’s heart.
When they reached the building, Jiang Yu’an stopped, showing no intention of going up.
“Go on up. Remember what to say. I need to get back to the hospital.” He waved a hand and turned to leave.
“Senior.” Mianmian called out to him.
He turned back, raising an eyebrow as if to say, “Spit it out.”
Mianmian looked at him and said earnestly:
“Thank you so much for tonight. I’ll do that job well.”
Jiang Yu’an looked at her for two seconds, then tugged at the corner of his mouth, his usual, slightly infuriating smile returning:
“Alright, enough with the sentimentality. Remember to be on time—I hate people who aren’t punctual.”
With that, he shoved his hands into his pockets and ambled off into the night, soon disappearing from sight.
Mianmian stood at the building entrance, gazing at the empty street, then looked up at the warm light shining from Teacher Zhao’s window upstairs. She took a deep breath, rubbed her still somewhat reddened eyes, and tried to steady her emotions before pushing the door open and stepping inside.
Inside was another world—quiet, warm, filled with the scent of books and the aroma of a home-cooked meal.