She went to the restroom to wash her face.
The woman in the mirror had red, swollen eyes, a flushed nose, and strands of hair dampened by rain clinging to her forehead. Half of her lipstick had faded, revealing the natural pale pink of her lips. She looked utterly disheveled.
She pulled out a tissue to dry her face, then took out her cushion compact and lipstick from her bag. She pressed the puff under her eyes to conceal the traces of crying. Dipping a lip brush into a muted rose-colored lip gloss, she carefully traced her lip line.
The person in the mirror once again looked polished and presentable.
She tugged at the corners of her mouth in the mirror, ensuring the smile looked natural enough, then turned and walked toward Gu Zeming’s hospital room.
The room was on the twelfth floor, a private suite with bright, clean windows.
When Gu Ziyao pushed the door open, Gu Zeming was leaning against the headboard reading a book.
Light streamed in through the window, falling on his thin shoulders. His face was sallow, his cheekbones sharply prominent, but his eyes still held a spark—the same eye shape as Gu Ziyao’s, with slightly upturned corners.
Seeing his younger sister enter, he set the book aside, a smile appearing on his face.
“You’re here?” His voice was a bit weak, but his tone was as casual as if discussing the weather. “I told you it’s just a routine checkup, no need to make a special trip.”
Gu Ziyao walked over and sat by the bed, her gaze falling on the bruise left by the IV on the back of his hand. The purplish-blue mark stood out starkly against his overly pale skin.
“What did the doctor say about when you can be discharged?”
“In a couple of days,” he said lightly. “I’ve just been a bit tired lately, so the doctor said it’s better to stay for observation to be safe.”
Gu Ziyao nodded but said nothing.
Gu Zeming looked at his sister’s face.
Even with her makeup retouched and the lighting not particularly bright, he could still see the faint redness around her eyes and the pinkish traces not fully concealed on either side of her nose.
He remained silent for a few seconds, then reached out and took Gu Ziyao’s hand.
His hand was thin, with distinct knuckles, the skin so pale the blue veins beneath were almost visible. His body temperature was slightly lower than normal, and as his fingers touched the back of her hand, she could feel the slight coolness of his fingertips.
“You know?” he asked.
Gu Ziyao’s eyelashes trembled slightly as she nodded gently.
Gu Zeming smiled. There was a sense of calm in his smile, the kind that only comes after facing life and death.
“It’s okay,” he said, his thumb gently stroking the back of her hand.
“It’s not as serious as the doctor made it sound. Look at me now—I’m fine, aren’t I? I can eat, sleep, and even read.”
He picked up the book to show her—a travel photography collection, opened to a page featuring the aurora borealis in Iceland. Green bands of light swirled and danced across the deep blue night sky, so beautiful it seemed unreal.
“I’ve always wanted to visit Iceland. After I’m discharged this time, let’s go together? We can call Eldest Brother and his wife—it’s been a long time since the whole family went on a trip together.”
Gu Ziyao’s eyes began to grow warm again.
She lowered her gaze, staring at Second Brother’s hand holding hers—the bruise on the back, the needle marks left by the IV tube.
“Okay,” she said hoarsely. “Once you’re better, we’ll go together.”
The room fell quiet for a moment. Outside the window, the sky darkened again, and distant rumbles of thunder could be heard. The call bell at the nurse’s station occasionally rang, footsteps passed by in the hallway, accompanied by the sound of rubber soles scuffing against the floor.
“Yaoyao…” Gu Zeming suddenly spoke.
Gu Ziyao looked up.
His expression had turned serious, and his eyes—identical to his sister’s—were filled with complex emotions.
“That marriage of yours…” he chose his words carefully, “will reach its three-year mark in three months, right?”
Gu Ziyao didn’t respond.
“It was for Grandpa’s sake back then, but Grandpa has passed now. Yaoyao, there’s no need to continue.” His voice was soft, carrying the weakness unique to the sick, yet each word felt like a nail driven into her heart.
“That Shen Junyan—for a whole year, he hasn’t even shown his face. He never treated you as his wife. This marriage has been abnormal from the very beginning.”
He tightened his grip on her hand.
“Yaoyao, get a divorce. Go live your own life, find someone who truly cares about you. You’re only twenty-six, you still have a long life ahead.”
Gu Ziyao lowered her eyes, her eyelashes casting a row of curved shadows on her eyelids. The fluorescent light illuminated her with excessive clarity—her smooth forehead, high nose bridge, and slightly pursed lips. The pearl earrings on her earlobes reflected a soft glow.
“I’ll consider it.” She only said these four words.
Gu Zeming sighed.
He knew her too well.
Gu Ziyao had been like this since childhood—the more painful something was, the less willing she was to speak of it. All her emotions were hidden behind that beautiful face, like pearls inside a clam shell. Outsiders couldn’t see them; only she knew how much those layers of concealment hurt.
“Yaoyao, I’m not forcing you.” He softened his voice, “I’m just worried about you. Eldest Brother is in the military, and I’m in this condition… If even you can’t live well, I—”
His words were cut off by a fit of coughing.
Gu Ziyao quickly stood up to pat his back. Her palm landed on his thin spine, and even through the hospital gown, she could feel the protruding vertebrae.
The coughing stopped. Gu Zeming leaned against the headboard, panting, his face even paler than before.
“Don’t talk anymore.” Gu Ziyao poured him a cup of warm water and handed it over, “Rest first.”
He took the cup and drank a few sips, but still couldn’t help speaking: “Promise me—seriously consider the divorce.”
Gu Ziyao looked at him.
Looked at Second Brother’s gaunt, sunken cheeks from illness, at his still-bright eyes, at that stubborn curve at the corner of his mouth.
“…Alright,” she said, “I promise you, I’ll seriously consider it.”
Only then did Gu Zeming seem reassured, revealing a smile.
That afternoon, Gu Ziyao stayed in the hospital room until evening. She peeled an apple for him, cut it into small pieces, and stuck toothpicks in them. She rearranged the items on the bedside table, placing the water cup within his reach. She adjusted the angle of the curtains so the light wouldn’t be glaring.
By the time she left the hospital, the sky had already darkened.
She got into the car but didn’t start it immediately. Her hands rested on the steering wheel as she stared blankly at the twilight outside the windshield.
The last ray of light fell on her profile, outlining its clear contours—the curve of her brow bone, the height of her nose bridge, the shape of her lips, the line of her jaw. Every part was as exquisite as if carved.
But her eyes were empty, like deep autumn lake water. Calm on the surface, with unseen coldness beneath.
Second Brother’s words swirled in her mind.
Get a divorce. Go live your own life. Find someone who truly cares about you.
Slowly, she raised her hand and rubbed the space between her eyebrows. When her fingertips touched her brow bone, she felt the faint pulse of blood vessels beneath her skin.
She took out her phone and opened her contacts.
The screen displayed a name—Lu Heng (Shen Junyan’s Assistant).
This number was left to her by Lu Heng three years ago, saying she could call if there was an emergency. In the three years since, she had never dialed it once.
Her thumb hovered above the screen, hesitating for a few seconds, but in the end, she still didn’t press it.
She put the phone back in her bag and started the engine. The car pulled out of the hospital parking lot and merged into the evening rush-hour traffic.
Night had completely fallen. The city lights of Shanghai shone brilliantly, car headlights weaving across the elevated highways like a flowing river of light. Her car moved among them, its taillights trailing a red streak.