Jiang Yining’s eyes flew open.
The harsh white light above stung her vision, forcing her to squint. A sharp, sterile scent of disinfectant rushed into her nose, cold and familiar.
“She’s awake, she’s awake!” a young nurse exclaimed, startled, before turning and hurrying out of the room.
A doctor arrived soon after. He ran through a series of routine checks and finally confirmed that there was nothing seriously wrong with her body. The fainting spell had been caused by a surge of overwhelming emotions combined with low blood sugar.
Auntie Chen stood beside the bed, nodding again and again, her eyes still red from fright.
With her support, Jiang Yining slowly completed the discharge procedures. When they stepped out of the hospital, the afternoon sunlight wrapped around them in gentle warmth.
Auntie Chen held tightly onto her arm, her voice filled with concern as she continued to fuss over her.
“You must not have been eating properly, fainting like that. Young people these days, always starving themselves to lose weight, never taking care of their bodies. When we get back, I’ll make you some old hen soup. You need to nourish yourself, put some flesh back on you.”
Her words were full of everyday warmth, so familiar it felt almost painful.
It sounded just like her mother.
A sting rose in Jiang Yining’s nose. Her eyes reddened instantly as she murmured softly, “Thank you, Auntie Chen.”
“Don’t be so formal with me,” Auntie Chen said with a wave of her hand, helping her walk slowly back toward the flower shop.
…
Back in the small attic room above Lemon Whisper Florals, Jiang Yining hung a wooden sign on the door.
Closed for Three Days.
Her thoughts were in complete disarray. She had no energy, no state of mind to run the shop.
After finishing the chicken soup Auntie Chen had carefully prepared, rich and fragrant with a layer of golden oil floating on top, warmth slowly spread through her stomach.
She insisted that Auntie Chen go home.
“Auntie Chen, I’m really fine now. You must be tired too, please go back and rest. If anything happens, I’ll call you right away. You live so close anyway.”
Seeing that her complexion had improved slightly, Auntie Chen finally felt reassured. She tidied up before leaving, repeating her instructions a few more times.
The sound of her footsteps gradually faded down the stairs.
Silence returned.
In that silence, Jiang Yining felt all her strength drain away.
She sank down onto the rug beside the bed, wrapping her arms around her knees, her face buried against them.
“What do I do… what happens now…”
Her voice was faint.
She needed information.
She needed to understand these missing eight years.
More than anything, she needed to contact her family.
The phone.
She lifted her head suddenly and reached for the canvas bag nearby, pulling out a simple white smartphone.
This belonged to the other Jiang Yining.
She held it in her hand, movements slightly unfamiliar. Eight years had passed, and technology had changed drastically. The smooth touch screen felt both new and distant to her.
Relying on the faint instinct left in this body, she navigated through the apps.
Contacts.
Messaging apps.
Short video platforms.
She tapped into one and was instantly flooded with bright, chaotic visuals. It made her dizzy, as if she had stepped into a world that did not belong to her.
She quickly exited.
Her finger hovered over the Contacts icon.
She opened it.
Inside, there was only one name.
Auntie Chen.
Her heart tightened.
This version of her life had been even lonelier than she imagined.
She opened the dial pad.
Her fingertip trembled above the screen.
Taking a slow breath, she entered a number she had memorized long ago, carved deep into her memory.
Her mother’s phone number.
The green call button glowed quietly.
But she could not press it.
Fear surged through her.
Would her mother think she was insane?
Would she assume it was a prank?
Or worse… would she refuse to hear anything about “Ningning” ever again?
Eight years had passed.
Had that wound ever healed?
For a brief moment, another thought appeared.
Should she call Xie Shiyan?
It vanished just as quickly.
Eight years.
If he had already built a new life, if he had a family of his own, then her call would only disrupt everything.
Xiao Xiao.
Shen Nianan.
None of them felt right.
Who would believe something like this?
In the end, there was only one person.
Her mother.
The one she longed for the most, and the one she feared hurting again.
Jiang Yining closed her eyes.
Then she pressed the call button.
Beep… beep… beep…
The ringing echoed in the quiet room, each sound striking against her nerves like a hammer.
Her hands grew cold with sweat.
Her heart pounded violently, as if it might break free from her chest.
Time stretched unbearably long.
Just as she thought the call would end unanswered, it connected.
“Hello, who is this?”
The voice came through the phone.
Familiar.
So familiar it made her entire body tremble.
There was a hint of impatience in it, and the quiet weariness of years.
It was her mother.
Her number had never changed.
In that instant, everything collapsed.
All the fear, all the restraint, everything she had been holding back broke apart.
Tears surged uncontrollably.
She opened her mouth, but only a choked sob came out.
“Hello? Hello… who is this?” Her mother’s voice grew more puzzled, faintly annoyed, ready to hang up.
Jiang Yining snapped back, panic flooding her.
“Mom… Mom! It’s me… it’s Ningning…”
Her voice broke completely, trembling with sobs.
“I’m Ningning…”
On the other end, silence fell.
Mrs. Jiang had already been about to hang up, assuming it was a wrong number.
But her finger froze.
That voice.
That cry.
That name.
It struck her like a blow she could not escape.