The tavern was in a remote area, with the nearest hospital more than ten kilometers away. He Qi sat in the passenger seat, her right elbow leaning against the window, fingertips propping her head.
The warmth of the heater made her nerves feel slightly numb. The music was soft, lulling her into a drowsy state, and soon regret began to creep in.
Her heart had softened too easily tonight. As soon as the sky darkened, and he played the victim, she had fallen for it so easily.
He Qi turned her head toward the car window, unwilling even to catch a glimpse of Chen Jin. She was irritated at her own impulsiveness, biting her fingernail against her teeth in frustration, yet helpless to stop herself.
On the elevated highway—jumping out of the car wasn’t an option.
Fortunately, Chen Jin was also in an abnormal state; keeping the car steady required all his attention, so he couldn’t really talk to her.
The two of them remained in silence all the way to the hospital.
Temperature measurement, registration, consultation, blood tests—He Qi ran around attending to Chen Jin, then took him to the pharmacy and finally to the IV area with the medications.
His temperature kept rising, and he was slightly dazed from the fever. Whenever he sat down, he refused to move, and whenever they had to change locations, he stayed very close to her, moving inch by inch as if he didn’t even have the strength to stand.
Finally reaching the IV area, a nurse inserted a needle into Chen Jin’s hand. He Qi adjusted the IV bottle, then handed him the oral medication she had just picked up from the pharmacy: “Drink it. The doctor said one bottle morning and night.”
Chen Jin took the bottle with the straw inserted but did not take the accompanying bag of pills from He Qi.
He Qi rolled her eyes, looked at the ceiling, and tossed the pill bag to his feet before sitting down beside him.
The smell of disinfectant filled her nostrils. The earlier drinks seemed to hit her now, and she dozed off almost immediately.
But her sleep was restless—every half hour she woke up, unaware when the scarf on her lap had slipped.
She picked up the neatly folded scarf, checked the remaining saline for Chen Jin.
Chen Jin’s eyes were closed, and his breathing indicated he was asleep. With medical staff patrolling nearby, she didn’t have to worry about the IV running empty.
After waking three times, He Qi’s head ached. Her phone, in her pocket, rang. She took it out and saw it was Li Jiajia calling.
“Hello?” she rasped, still hoarse from sleep.
Li Jiajia’s voice was slurred, drunk, and windy: “How’s it going over there?”
He Qi confirmed the progress: “About half a bottle of saline left, maybe half an hour more. Did you guys get home?”
“Yeah, I took a taxi.” Li Jiajia gave the driver her phone number, then said, “If you come back, just enter the house yourself. Too late and I’ll be asleep—won’t open the door.”
He Qi said “okay” and reminded her to be careful, sending her the ride’s license plate number.
She spoke quietly, careful not to wake Chen Jin. Her neck was stiff, so she moved it slightly.
Glancing at the exhausted man beside her, she noticed his cheeks were no longer flushed; his temperature seemed to have returned to normal.
With at least half an hour to wait, He Qi wiped her face, the cold touch refreshing her senses, then picked up a children’s book she had been reading.
Engrossed in reading, a nurse came to remove Chen Jin’s IV as it had emptied.
He Qi turned off her phone, stood, thanked the nurse, held the IV in place with one hand, and patted his arm with the other: “Get up, let’s go.”
Chen Jin woke from sleep, seeing He Qi’s face so close, feeling her cool fingertips pressing his hand to stop the bleeding.
For a moment, he sat upright, dazed, instinctively leaning closer.
He Qi froze for a second, then stepped back two paces before she could react, wide-eyed, unable to say a word.
Chen Jin’s breathing grew heavier; his fist clenched tightly. On the sterile pad under the IV tape appeared a bright red dot—bleeding from the needle.
“Press… press to stop the bleeding,” He Qi reminded him.
Chen Jin remained unmoved. He Qi’s gaze drifted for a moment, then she came back to focus.
“Press yourself. I’m leaving first.” She picked up the scarf and turned decisively to go.
Only then did Chen Jin bolt up, grab the medication bag at his feet, and follow quickly: “Let’s go together.”
“No need.” He Qi had never moved so fast, her legs burning, heart racing. “Go home. If driving alone isn’t safe, get a driver…”
By the time they reached the hospital entrance, He Qi controlled her panic, called a ride, but Chen Jin grabbed her wrist to stop her: “I’ll take you to Li Jiajia’s.”
He Qi lazily shrugged off his hand.
Unexpectedly, the next second Chen Jin crouched beside her, the medication bag hitting the ground.
He Qi thought maybe he had stomach pain or something else, so she put down her phone, looking down at him, puzzled and uneasy. “What’s wrong?”
Chen Jin didn’t answer, suddenly reaching out, grabbing her ankle along with her pant leg.
It was already late at night. The hospital was mostly empty, but a few emergency patients and their families were around. He Qi froze at the grip on her calf, then couldn’t believe it and laughed angrily.
“What are you doing?” she asked, frowning, utterly confused. “Did the doctor give you saline or brain-dead medicine?”
Facing He Qi’s rare mockery, Chen Jin remained impassive, one hand clutching her calf, the other resting across his knee, looking up at her stubbornly: “I’m taking you.”
Crazy.
He Qi sat in the passenger seat with a dark expression. No way was she letting this continue.
What was this? Throwing a tantrum to get his way? Ridiculous.
She was angry. After the fever broke, Chen Jin had energy again, and tried several times to talk to her, only to be ignored.
Seeing this, Chen Jin didn’t insist. On the way, he saw a 24-hour convenience store, parked, went in, and returned with a big bag of things.
“Two bottles of hot milk—drink to ease the alcohol,” he said after getting in, handing the bag to He Qi. He also held a cup of oden and placed it on the center console. “Anything else you want?”
He Qi looked inside. There were snacks, bread, and several mooncakes with ice-skin in flavors she liked, but she didn’t touch any, taking only a bottle of milk.
She sipped a few mouthfuls, finally feeling a bit of relief, tied the bag at her feet, and stayed silent.
The car reached Li Jiajia’s building. As soon as it stopped, He Qi unbuckled her seatbelt, fingers on the door handle, then paused.
She lowered her eyes, thought for a moment, then turned off the car music, her tone icy: “Chen Jin, it stops here.”
Chen Jin’s hand on the steering wheel clenched, jaw tight, silent.
Her voice was calm, not out of place in the quiet: “Pestering me or pretending to be sick won’t work anymore.”
“I left suddenly that day, then didn’t want to face you, so everything seemed unclear.”
“But now I’m telling you clearly—I’ve decided to break up with you.”
“You know me. Once I make a decision, I follow through.”
Deciding to get into Jiang University meant studying relentlessly; deciding not to marry meant arguing with her family no matter the cost; deciding to quit a job meant leaving decisively; deciding to write children’s books meant taking the first small steps toward her path.
In He Qi’s little world, her determination was always unstoppable.
And now, deciding to break up with Chen Jin, she had also prepared herself for never seeing him again.
“Your stuff at my place—you can throw it away or send it over. If you don’t trust the bank card password, change it…”
She paused for half a second, then continued: “And the property deed—I can go with you to the registry office to remove my name anytime. After all, it wasn’t me who paid for it.”
These were the words she had wanted to say that rainy night, but hadn’t.
What a hassle—nearly eight years of a relationship, and breaking up was like a divorce, with all the assets to sort out.
He Qi said everything in one breath, sitting there as she waited for Chen Jin’s response, thinking if she’d left anything unsaid.
After a long pause with no reply, she assumed he was acquiescing, pulled the door handle, and stepped out, walking around the front of the car toward the apartment building. But to her surprise, the silent Chen Jin got out too and grabbed her arm, holding back the not-yet-distant He Qi.
Irritated, He Qi lifted the arm he was holding as if presenting evidence, her tone sharp: “If you’ve got anything to say, say it now! Say it clearly! I don’t want any more entanglements.”
“I can’t.” Chen Jin said.
“Can’t what?”
He Qi tried to shake off his hand, but Chen Jin pulled her back against the car, trapping her completely.
“All the things you just mentioned—you can’t do any of them.”
He Qi met his fierce gaze without flinching: “Let go of me, or I’ll call security.”
“Then don’t leave.”
She didn’t negotiate, just stared at him coldly.
Veins stood out on Chen Jin’s neck, but he slowly released his grip, yet didn’t step back. He Qi remained in the space between him and the car.
“No breakup,” Chen Jin softened his voice. “I said I’ll give you anything else you want… except a breakup.”
He Qi shoved his shoulder hard: “Then go home and live your own life! Don’t squat here watching my every move, don’t interfere with me!”
“I can’t even sleep like that,” Chen Jin grabbed her pushing hand, forcing their fingers together, his grip tight, eyes fierce: “I don’t know where you’ll go, who you’ll be with. Only by staying here, knowing you’re not far away, can I feel at ease!”
Some nerve was triggered. He Qi stopped struggling, sneered, and looked at him absurdly: “What are you talking about? Joking? You can’t sleep if I’m not home? Aren’t you the same person who leaves without a word after staying overnight at the company?”
So many things had piled up, but given He Qi’s personality, she rarely spoke out. Only when pushed could she vent as a form of counterattack.
People naturally avoid harm—when a word could wound one’s own dignity, they stay silent. But if that same word can pierce another’s armor, it slips out easily.
He Qi expected this to make Chen Jin embarrassed at least, maybe show some guilt.
Instead, Chen Jin looked confused and asked: “Forgot?”
He Qi blinked: “Forgot what?”
“The year before last, when I’d just been promoted, preparing for a title evaluation.” Chen Jin stared at her, only seeing He Qi’s puzzled expression. Momentarily stifled, he continued: “You were under work pressure then too, had sleep issues, and I often didn’t get home until after midnight.”
“One night I got home in the early hours, you got up and bumped into me, got startled. Then you told me that driving so late was unsafe, and going back and forth would waste sleep, so you might as well sleep at the office.”
The memory returned. The guilty look that should have appeared on Chen Jin’s face now shifted to hers.
He Qi was speechless, feeling as if she’d lifted a stone only to drop it on her own foot.
But she was the one breaking up. She couldn’t lose the momentum, so she tried to let it slide lightly: “Fine, that’s my fault, but it doesn’t have anything to do with our breakup…”
Before she could finish, Chen Jin pressed his upper body down, tightening their fingers, lifting them against the car door.
Their hot breaths mingled, lips crushed together. He Qi went blank for a second, one thought in her head—
Chen Jin had gone insane.
She never imagined a day like this—asking for a breakup, only to be pinned and kissed by him.
Holding the scarf in her left hand, right hand seized, she kicked at him with hands and feet. But the feel of his lips, his breath, amplified by her senses, made her dizzy, gradually weakening her struggle.
Chen Jin’s kiss wasn’t really a kiss—it was a press, as if squeezing all space and air between them, forcing them into one.
Her nose struggled for air. Gritting her teeth, she bit his lip.
Blood spread in their mouths, yet Chen Jin pressed on.
“Let go…” Her muffled cry barely sounded like words.
Chen Jin thought she was speaking, misty-eyed, and released just enough space.
He Qi could finally breathe, leaning back against the car, chest heaving.
Her hands clutched the scarf, afraid it would fall if she loosened her grip.
She saw Chen Jin’s lips, red and unsettlingly seductive, imagining her own disheveled reflection.
After regaining breath, she struck his neck sharply: “Chen Jin! Are you insane?”
He lowered his eyes but leaned in to peck her lips twice, even making wet “pop” sounds.
“Consider it to keep me from going crazy,” Chen Jin said lightly. “We’re not breaking up.”
He Qi’s mind went blank again.
She felt threatened—no one likes being threatened.
She wanted to argue, to remind him it wasn’t her obligation, to reason and protest—but unreasonable things exist as much as reasonable ones.
Her gaze fell on Chen Jin’s split lip again. She licked her lower lip, bit it, the cold wind making her squint, face stinging.
The metallic taste reminded her—winning or losing wasn’t important tonight. Whether Chen Jin was crazy didn’t matter as much. But he was still sick and should sleep at home.
Yet she didn’t say it.
Chen Jin straightened, brushed stray hair behind her ear: “I got you milk, go rest.”
She knew this was a trap—giving him room to push limits—but still felt a quiet relief, stepping slightly aside.
He opened the car door, grabbed milk from the bag, and slipped it into her coat pocket without handing it to her.
Clutching her scarf, she tried to steady her racing heart with brute force.
She turned to leave, hesitated, then, impatiently, said: “Go home. I’ll rest upstairs. It’s late, there’s nowhere to go. You should go home and sleep too.”
Saying it coldly, she didn’t linger and walked away hastily.
Unlocking the door, He Qi entered, noticing the hallway light on, but the living room dark.
She changed into slippers, tiptoed into the living room, and saw Li Jiajia sprawled on the sofa, fully clothed, one foot on the sofa back, head buried in a cushion. Clearly quite drunk.
“Jiajia, Li Jiajia.” He Qi tried to wake her: “Change into pajamas and sleep in bed, okay?”
“Huh?” Li Jiajia mumbled, semi-aware: “He Qi? You’re back?”
“Back.” He Qi helped her sit up: “Just came back after helping him with the IV.”
Li Jiajia, exhausted, rested her head on He Qi’s shoulder and giggled: “He Qi, are you a schoolkid?”
Confused, He Qi replied: “Whoever can’t sit after drinking is the schoolkid.”
Li Jiajia laughed again, slurred but logical: “Who fights with their boyfriend, schoolkid fights, schoolkid.”
A bit tongue-twisting.
“Don’t understand,” He Qi said blankly.
“Bullshit!” Li Jiajia insisted, pressing her head on He Qi’s shoulder: “You understand.”
He Qi stayed silent. Li Jiajia, thinking she forgot, mumbled: “At the tavern door, you told Chen Jin—go hospital. Not go? Not go, who cares.”
He Qi slapped Li Jiajia across the face.
Li Jiajia just knew she remembered, and laughed boldly: “I was completely stunned at the time, but the two of you really did look like a couple.”
He Qi glanced at her, feeling exasperated. Even drunk to the point of being a mess, she still muttered nonsense: “Look like a couple after breaking up? Isn’t that pathetic?”
Li Jiajia rubbed against her shoulder again. She lost her balance for a moment, slumping back onto the sofa, lying on her back. Her voice wavered, drifting upward: “Pathetic? No… it’s something to celebrate.”
After saying that, she sank into a deep sleep again.
The steady sound of her breathing came from behind. He Qi didn’t disturb Li Jiajia’s dream and sat quietly alone.
After a moment, she got up, took a beer from the fridge in the kitchen, returned to the sofa in the living room, and stared at a point on the opposite wall, drinking it down gulp by gulp.
Her mind wandered through a tangle of thoughts, ideas sparking and piling up endlessly—none of them could be grasped.
Within minutes, she had already drunk more than half a bottle of cold beer.
Her phone in her pocket suddenly buzzed twice.
He Qi reached for it, but first felt a slightly warm bottle—she remembered it was the milk Chen Jin had given her.
She set it on the table, then reached back into her pocket and felt something else rubbing inside the plastic wrapping.
Curious, she pulled it out and found two iced mooncakes dangling from her fingertips.
Probably Chen Jin had slipped them in when he gave her the milk.
“What is this…” He Qi muttered softly, casually tucking the mooncakes into her arms, then covered her face with her hands, rubbing them slightly.
Why did it all feel so childish?
She calmed herself for a moment, not forgetting why she had reached into her pocket in the first place, and finally took out her phone. On the screen was a message from Fang Yi checking in.
He Qi placed the phone on the coffee table, not replying immediately, finishing the last of her beer first, then reaching for the milk.
When she opened it, she realized it wasn’t the bottle she had drunk in the car—Chen Jin had brought her a fresh one.
The milk, still tucked in her pocket, had lost some warmth but wasn’t cold.
Her lips felt the warm moisture, and instinctively she pursed them, catching a faint metallic taste, almost like rust.
In that moment of distraction, through the jumble of thoughts, He Qi began to trace a single thread.
She remembered the inexplicable feeling when Chen Jin had said he wanted both their names on the property deed.
Back then, she had just passed her probation, a rookie in the workforce. The discomfort of entering society had left her overwhelmed; out of a monthly salary of five thousand yuan, almost forty percent went straight to rent.
Then—bam—a whole apartment landed before her, something so unbelievable she would have doubted it in a dream.
The powerful lure of material reality, the hesitation in committing to a relationship, and Chen Jin’s level of trust in her—all combined.
No matter how complex emotions were, the choice was rational. Chen Jin didn’t use marriage as leverage, so she had every reason to secure some protection for herself. If they ever parted ways, she could at least take some compensation from him.
Yet now, things had come to a point where He Qi’s desire for a clean break still left some space. Her wish for an amicable split made what should have been security feel like a barrier.
What seemed like a blessing at first now felt burdensome.
The balcony still reflected the lights outside. He Qi exhaled heavily and picked up her phone.