After Su Xiaoyue was wheeled into the hospital room, Director Zhao remained outside the door. His hands were clasped in front of him as he paced back and forth anxiously.
A whole row of people stood behind him—the County Magistrate, the Deputy Director of the Education Bureau, the principal, and Homeroom Teacher Wang.
As for the Director of the Education Bureau, don’t bother asking where he was. The old man had nearly been scared to death and was still receiving emergency treatment.
The moment the doctor emerged, everyone immediately straightened their backs.
He pushed the door shut behind him and swept his gaze across the row of people, unable to suppress the irritation in his voice. “The patient is currently under severe mental stress. Her blood pressure is elevated, and her heart rate is unstable. Combined with hypoglycemia and extreme emotional fluctuations, any further stimulation could trigger another acute stress response at any time.”
He paused before adding, “There’s nothing seriously wrong physically, but she needs peace and rest. Anyone who causes significant emotional distress should preferably stay away from her.”
As soon as he finished speaking, Su Xiaoyue’s mother stepped forward. Her eyes were still red, and the tears she’d only just managed to stop began welling up again. “Doctor, I’m her mother…”
“I know you’re her mother.” The doctor cut her off. Although he lowered his voice, his words came rapidly. “I’ve been listening to all of you talking outside for quite a while. As her parents, haven’t you been putting too much pressure on her? The college entrance examination is already over. She scored over 700 points and became the Provincial Top Scorer. What more do you want? Exactly how high does she have to score before you’re satisfied?”
Su Xiaoyue’s mother staggered half a step backward under the barrage of questions. Her mouth opened, but no words came out.
The doctor gave them no chance to defend themselves. He opened the medical chart in his hand, glanced at it, then closed it again. “I don’t care how you usually raise your daughter at home, but neither of you is going inside tonight. What she needs right now is someone who can help her relax, not someone who makes her afraid.”
After saying that, he stepped aside from the doorway and looked past the crowd toward Director Zhao. “The same goes for everyone else. Unless absolutely necessary, don’t disturb the patient’s rest. One person she trusts can stay with her, but no more than that.”
Director Zhao immediately turned toward Xia Anmian, his eyes practically pleading with her. “Student Xia…”
Xia Anmian had been standing at the back of the crowd the entire time.
Hearing him call her, she raised her head. Her face looked exhausted, but her eyes remained clear.
“I’ll go,” she said.
Director Zhao nodded repeatedly and stepped aside. He even opened the hospital room door for her himself. “Thank you. Thank you. If you need anything at all, just call us. I’ll be right outside.”
Xia Anmian said nothing more. She entered the room and closed the door behind her.
The hospital room was quiet.
Su Xiaoyue was half-reclining against the headboard. A white hospital blanket covered her up to her chest, leaving both hands exposed.
Medical tape covered the back of her right hand. An IV tube descended from the hanging fluid bag and connected to the vein in her hand.
Her head was lowered as she stared at her phone.
The screen was black. She clutched the phone so tightly that her knuckles had turned white, her thumb unconsciously rubbing along the edge of the screen.
“Xiaoyue.” Xia Anmian walked over to the bed, pulled out a chair, and sat down. “How are you feeling? Are you dizzy?”
Su Xiaoyue looked up at her. Her eyes were still red, but she was no longer crying. She shook her head and answered hoarsely, “I’m okay. I just feel a little weak.”
“The doctor said your blood sugar was low, and the emotional stress was too much for you. You need proper rest.” Xia Anmian reached over and tucked the blanket around her. “Don’t think about anything else right now. Just lie down and rest.”
Su Xiaoyue nodded, but her gaze immediately returned to her phone.
She pressed the side button. The screen lit up, displaying a low-battery warning.
She clearly hadn’t listened to what Xia Anmian had just said. Instead, she looked up and asked, “Anmian, can you find me a charger? My phone’s almost dead. I’m afraid… I’m afraid he might message me and I won’t see it.”
Xia Anmian stared at her, feeling as though someone had squeezed her heart.
She had known Su Xiaoyue for more than ten years. They had been together since kindergarten, wearing matching little dresses as they climbed up and down the playground slide.
Su Xiaoyue had always been like this—small and slender, never much of a talker, but whenever she smiled, her eyes curved into two little crescents.
Xia Anmian still remembered the final examination in third grade. Su Xiaoyue had ranked second in the entire grade, yet her mother had stood outside the school in front of all those other parents and demanded, “How did you fall behind again?”
Su Xiaoyue had lowered her head without saying a word.
After returning home, she hid beneath her blanket and cried for the entire night.
But once she’d finished crying, she still held Xia Anmian’s hand and said, “It’s okay. I’ll just come first next time.”
As for exactly what had changed, Xia Anmian couldn’t explain it.
“A charger, right?” Xia Anmian stood up. “Wait here. I’ll find one for you.”
She turned around, opened the hospital room door, and leaned halfway into the corridor.
The entire group was still waiting outside.
Director Zhao was the first to rush over. “Student Xia, what do you need?”
“A charger,” Xia Anmian replied. “Xiaoyue’s phone is dead. She needs a charger.”
The moment Director Zhao heard that, he turned around and sprinted down the corridor.
Less than twenty seconds later, he came running back, clutching a white charging adapter and cable. Panting heavily, he handed them to Xia Anmian. “I got this from my car. It’s Type-C. Will it work?”
Xia Anmian checked it, nodded, then stepped back into the hospital room and closed the door.
She plugged the charger into the outlet beside the bedside cabinet and handed the cable to Su Xiaoyue.
Su Xiaoyue practically lunged forward to take it.
The movement was so sudden that her IV tube jerked. The needle tugged slightly against the back of her hand, making her frown, but she paid no attention to the pain. She hurriedly plugged the charging cable into the bottom of her phone and pressed the power button.
The screen lit up.
The charging symbol appeared, a small lightning bolt flashing across the red battery icon.
Su Xiaoyue stared at it for several seconds before releasing a long breath. Her entire body seemed to go limp, as though someone had just pulled her from deep water.
She sank back against the pillow, still clutching her phone. The charging cable was stretched taut in her hand.
Xia Anmian stood beside the bed and watched silently.
She knew Su Xiaoyue’s mind was completely occupied by that “Brother.”
But she didn’t know how to persuade her otherwise.
All she could do was sit down beside the bed again. After a brief silence, she softly asked, “Xiaoyue, can you tell me exactly what happened?”
Su Xiaoyue leaned against the pillow, her gaze still fixed on the phone screen. She murmured, “He… he didn’t want me anymore. But it’s okay now. He’s back.”
“You mean that boy you met online?” Xia Anmian carefully chose her words. “Weren’t things always going well between you two? Why did he suddenly…”
“I don’t know.” Su Xiaoyue’s voice came out muffled, as though something were lodged in her throat. “Starting this afternoon, he deleted me and then deleted his account. I sent him so many messages, but not a single one would go through. I… I thought he’d never talk to me again.”
Even as she spoke, her eyes remained fixed on the phone. “But he came back. He told me not to do anything stupid. He still cares about me.”
Xia Anmian opened her mouth.
‘Have you ever considered that he might be lying to you?’
The words hovered on the tip of her tongue before she swallowed them back.
She knew Su Xiaoyue far too well.
What Xiaoyue needed right now wasn’t suspicion or rejection. She needed someone to stand on her side.
However, Xia Anmian knew perfectly well that a man who could suddenly delete someone, cut off all contact, and erase his account without offering a single explanation couldn’t possibly be a decent person.
Just like that scumbag.
“Xiaoyue.” Xia Anmian leaned slightly closer and softened her voice. “Have you ever considered that maybe… he isn’t as good as you think he is?”
Then she raised her head and looked at Xia Anmian, something almost stubborn burning in her eyes. “Anmian, you don’t know him. You don’t know how good he is to me. He never thinks I’m annoying, and he never tells me that I need to work harder or that I have to come first…”
“He only asks me whether I was happy that day.”
As she continued, the corner of her mouth lifted slightly. “He told me his life isn’t good either. His parents don’t get along, and he’s very lonely. He said I’m his light. What happened today must have been an accident.”
Xia Anmian stared at her for a long time, unable to say a word.
She couldn’t refute her because she knew Su Xiaoyue was telling the truth.
Su Xiaoyue’s parents really did care only about her grades.
Su Xiaoyue really didn’t have anyone she could truly talk to.
Even if that “Brother” was nothing but a liar, he had at least played the role of a “good person.”
And that role was precisely what Su Xiaoyue desperately needed.
Yet the more Xia Anmian thought about it, the stronger the unease in her heart became.
It wasn’t as though she had never heard of people being deceived through online relationships. Stories like that appeared in the news all the time—people being cheated out of money, their bodies, or their feelings, only to end up losing everything.
But Su Xiaoyue’s situation had already gone far beyond simply being “deceived.”
She had almost jumped from a rooftop.
What if that “Brother” deleted her again?
What if he deleted his account again?
Would anyone be there to stop Su Xiaoyue next time?
A layer of cold sweat formed across Xia Anmian’s back.
She sat beside Su Xiaoyue’s hospital bed, watching the way Xiaoyue held her phone, clutching the charging cable in one hand while staring unblinkingly at the screen as she waited for another message.
Suddenly, Xia Anmian knew she couldn’t simply leave things like this.
She couldn’t entrust Su Xiaoyue’s life to an online boyfriend she’d never even met.
As Su Xiaoyue’s best friend, she had to do something.
Xia Anmian’s mind began racing.
She knew Su Xiaoyue too well. Xiaoyue had always been this way. Once she became attached to something, even eight oxen couldn’t drag her away from it.
Back in middle school, she’d once become obsessed with a male celebrity. She saved three months of allowance to buy one of his albums, only to discover afterward that she’d bought a pirated copy with terrible sound quality.
Even so, she listened to it over and over throughout the entire summer until she’d practically worn the lyric booklet to pieces.
Her feelings for that “Brother” ran far deeper than some celebrity crush.
If she hadn’t later gotten hooked on a TV drama, she might still have been clinging to that lyric booklet.
‘Wait!’
Xia Anmian suddenly realized something.
‘The only possible way to help Xiaoyue move on from one relationship is to get her into another one.’
But where was she supposed to find someone suitable?
As soon as that thought crossed her mind, a figure suddenly appeared in Xia Anmian’s head.
Jiang Yi.