The ambulance arrived quickly.
The paramedics placed Song Kening onto a stretcher and carried her into the ambulance. Lu Zhiyu followed her inside.
The doors closed, and the ambulance sped toward the hospital with its siren blaring.
The lights inside were harsh and pale, making Song Kening’s face look even more washed out. Her lips were still pale, and her forehead was covered in cold sweat.
Lu Zhiyu sat beside her, one hand gripping the stretcher’s railing so tightly that his knuckles had turned white.
The doctor examined Song Kening and put her on an IV.
Clear fluid dripped slowly through the thin tube into the vein on the back of her hand.
She lay on the hospital bed in the observation room with her eyes closed, her breathing finally becoming steady.
Lu Zhiyu stood beside the bed, staring at the IV bag.
A doctor walked in carrying the examination results.
She was a woman in her forties, wearing gold-rimmed glasses. Her expression was somewhat stern.
“Are you her family?”
Lu Zhiyu nodded.
“She’s pregnant. Did you know that?”
Lu Zhiyu remained silent.
The doctor frowned.
“She’s in the early stages of pregnancy. She hasn’t been getting enough nutrition, and she has low blood sugar. Combined with the extreme heat, that’s why she fainted.”
“If this continues, it will seriously affect the baby’s development.”
She handed him another form.
“Go pay the hospital fees first. She needs to stay overnight for observation. If everything is fine tomorrow morning, she can go home.”
“Once she wakes up, go to the pharmacy and get some nutritional supplements. Folic acid, iron supplements, calcium tablets. Make sure she takes them regularly.”
Lu Zhiyu took the payment slip.
At the very bottom was a clearly printed number:
2,952 yuan.
The balance in his WeChat account was only a little over 900 yuan.
“Why are you still standing there? Go pay the bill.”
The doctor finished speaking and turned to check on the patient in the next bed.
Lu Zhiyu stood at the entrance of the observation room, clutching the payment slip.
People came and went through the hallway.
Nurses pushed carts past him, the wheels making a rumbling sound against the floor.
Some people carried thermos containers toward the inpatient ward. Others squatted in corners making phone calls, keeping their voices low.
He opened his phone contacts and scrolled from beginning to end.
From NEX’s business partners, to former suppliers, to all the people he had once drunk with and called brothers.
Every name had a phone number beside it.
And every number now led to someone who wouldn’t answer his call.
The people in Shanghai were probably drinking and making toasts at one of Zhou Yuqing’s banquets right now.
He opened WeChat and scrolled through his conversations.
Ever since the day he went bankrupt, his chat windows contained nothing but lonely green message bubbles, lined up one after another like rows of unanswered questions.
He put his phone away and returned to the hospital room.
Song Kening was still asleep.
The IV fluid had dropped another few centimeters.
Her eyelashes cast a small shadow beneath the hospital lights, and some color had returned to her lips. They were no longer frighteningly pale.
For the past half month, she had been cheerful every day.
Every morning she got up to cook porridge and boil eggs.
It was either bean sprout rice noodles or chive rice noodles.
The vegetables she bought on sale at the supermarket were either water spinach, lettuce, or cabbage.
Whenever she made steamed pork patties, she would always tell him to eat more, saying that coding consumed a lot of energy and he needed proper nutrition.
Today, when she had crouched on the floor crying so hard, she hadn’t said, “What am I going to do?”
She had said:
“I dragged you down.”
Lu Zhiyu stood beside the bed and looked down at her.
She was pregnant.
She was really carrying his child.
He raised his hand.
His fingers hovered above the back of her hand but never touched it.
The IV tube rested against her skin as the transparent fluid quietly flowed into her veins.
Lu Zhiyu withdrew his hand and walked out of the room.
At the end of the hallway, a vending machine cast a cold white glow.
He leaned against the wall beside it, took out his phone, and opened WeChat.
He scrolled through his contacts.
One familiar name after another passed by.
Yet there wasn’t a single person he could borrow money from.
Then he reached:
“Huangcun Landlord Qiang.”
There were only two records in their chat history.
One was the 800-yuan rent transfer from the day they rented the room.
The other was a voice call when Lu Zhiyu had asked to borrow a ladder. When the landlord brought it over, he had even helped hold the ladder for him.
Lu Zhiyu leaned against the wall, his thumb hovering above the message box.
He stayed like that for a long time.
He typed the first line.
Deleted it.
Typed again.
Deleted it again.
Finally, before he could regret it, he quickly typed:
[Hello, Landlord. My wife is pregnant and has been hospitalized. A project I was working on was sabotaged, and I’m short on money right now. Could you lend me 2,952 yuan for the hospital bill? I’ll repay you tenfold someday. You’re the only person I know in Yangcheng.]
He pressed send.
The time displayed on the screen began ticking forward second by second.
Lu Zhiyu stared at the screen, unconsciously holding his breath.
He had faced dozens of investors during fundraising presentations in his life, but he had never felt as nervous as he did during these five minutes.
He didn’t know whether the landlord would discover that he couldn’t even afford medical expenses and then assume they wouldn’t be able to pay the rent either—and kick them out.
His phone vibrated.
[She’s pregnant? Congratulations!]
Another message immediately followed.
[I’ll lend you 5,000. The pregnant woman and the baby are what’s important!]
A transfer notification appeared beneath it.
WeChat Transfer: 5,000 yuan
Lu Zhiyu stared at the orange-red transfer card.
The number was crystal clear.
He typed a message, felt that it wasn’t enough, deleted it, and typed again.
In the end, he sent only two words:
[Thank you so much!]
The landlord quickly replied with a voice message.
Lu Zhiyu played it.
The landlord’s Cantonese-accented Mandarin came through the speaker:
“Don’t mention it. Everyone who leaves home has their own difficulties. Take good care of your wife. If you need anything, just let me know!”
A landlord he’d known for less than half a month.
The landlord who called him “handsome guy.”
He had actually trusted him just like that.
A moment later, the landlord sent another long voice message.
Lu Zhiyu played it.
“Young man, you said someone sabotaged the project you’re working on. Listen to me. Before starting a business, you need to have a stable job first. Entrepreneurship is risky. Don’t throw yourself into it without thinking.”
“My son runs a logistics company that delivers fruit to supermarkets. They have to load and unload goods every day, and they’re short-handed.”
“Why don’t you work there for now? Three hundred yuan a day, ten hours a day. You can work on your project part-time at night. That way, you’ll have a stable income to support your life.”
Another message immediately followed.
This time, it contained a location and a phone number.
[It’s my son’s company. Go there directly tomorrow and tell them Huang Zhiqiang sent you.]
Lu Zhiyu stared at the messages.
Three hundred yuan a day.
Nine thousand yuan a month.
Enough to pay the rent.
Enough to buy nutritional supplements.
Enough to make sure she didn’t have to eat vegetables at every meal anymore.
The landlord was right.
Starting a business was risky.
She was pregnant.
She would need prenatal checkups, nutritional supplements, formula, diapers…
They needed to secure their basic living expenses before thinking about anything else.
Lu Zhiyu replied:
[Thank you, Landlord. I’ll go tomorrow!]
The landlord responded:
[No need to thank me!]
Lu Zhiyu put down his phone and returned to the hospital room.
Song Kening still hadn’t woken up.
The IV bag was nearly empty, and an occasional tiny air bubble floated through the transparent tube.
Lu Zhiyu sat down on the chair beside her bed.
One of her hands rested outside the blanket, with medical tape securing the IV needle to the back of her hand.
Her wrist was so thin that he almost worried the needle might pierce straight through her vein.
He reached out and gently placed her hand back under the blanket.
His fingertips touched hers.
They were cold.
He held her hand for a moment.
And this time, he didn’t let go.