Li Mengjue temporarily left the two kittens at the security office.
By the time she returned to the room, a circle of doctors and nurses surrounded Ruan Qingxiao’s bed. Every one of them had furrowed brows and a solemn expression. The patient herself looked just as grave.
Did she really hit her head that hard?
Li Mengjue’s hand froze mid-knock. The patient on the bed looked past the medical staff and was the first to notice her. Ruan Qingxiao’s eyes instantly lit up.
“Um…” Ruan Qingxiao instinctively started to call out but realized she still couldn’t remember the woman’s name. After discovering the “problem” with the heiress’s brain, Li Mengjue had run to get the doctor immediately, leaving no time for small talk.
The light in Ruan Qingxiao’s eyes dimmed slightly, replaced by a sense of loss and trepidation.
This amnesiac heiress is way too easy to read, Li Mengjue thought.
The nurse recognized Li Mengjue—she was likely a fan. The moment she saw the star, the surprise and excitement on her face were impossible to hide. She gasped softly, “Teacher Li!”
The look of disappointment on Ruan Qingxiao’s face deepened.
“Li—” Ruan Qingxiao tried her best, but she couldn’t retrieve the right keyword from her empty mind. Even though the name felt like it was on the tip of her tongue, she couldn’t say it.
“Sister Li,” she finally called out, her voice tinged with a hint of grievance. “I thought you had abandoned me.”
In just a short time, the prickly hedgehog covered in defenses had turned into a kitten meowing around a human’s ankles.
The doctor looked at the patient, then at Li Mengjue, looking thoughtful. “You’re the patient’s family, right?” the grey-haired doctor asked. Clearly, she didn’t recognize these two famous young actresses.
“No.” Li Mengjue was still reeling from the shock of seeing Miss Ruan acting weak and spoiled. She denied it instinctively while in a daze.
“A friend, then.” The doctor nodded and pointed to the chair by the bed, speaking kindly. “Please sit here and stay with your friend. She’s a bit too nervous, and we need to confirm her condition as clearly as possible.”
The nurse stood behind the doctor, looking like she wanted to say something, her face flushing as she glanced between Li Mengjue and the patient.
After Li Mengjue entered, Ruan Qingxiao’s attitude softened significantly. As the doctor re-introduced himself and asked about her symptoms, Li Mengjue sat nearby and gave her an encouraging smile. Ruan Qingxiao slowly relaxed and began answering questions. However, with every answer, she would steal a glance at Li Mengjue, as if terrified she would suddenly vanish.
Li Mengjue was forced to stay alert, offering words of encouragement every now and then, not daring to let her mind wander.
After a joint effort from all three parties, the doctor finally made a preliminary diagnosis.
The patient had total amnesia. She had even deduced her own name only after seeing the patient tag on the bed.
From that perspective, Ruan Qingxiao had only forgotten the people around her and related memories; her basic common sense was still intact. This was good news. It was simple amnesia, not a total loss of intellect.
Aside from a few scrapes and a minor sprain in her right ankle, her most serious injury was the impact on the back of her head. According to the brain CT, there was no obvious abnormality, which made such a thorough loss of memory surprising to the doctor.
“It could also be the result of psychological trauma,” the doctor said, calling Li Mengjue into the hallway to explain the results. “Originally, she could have been discharged once she woke up, but given the situation, it’s best to keep her for observation for a few days.”
The doctor didn’t want to guarantee there wouldn’t be sudden symptoms. “It’ll be hard on you these next few days. Try to keep her in a relaxed state. Talk to her about happy things from the past; usually, that helps with recovery.”
The doctor sighed. “You two must be very close. Even with amnesia, she instinctively relies on you.”
Li Mengjue: “…”
She isn’t, she didn’t, and they aren’t close.
But before Li Mengjue could think of a polite rebuttal, a nurse called the doctor away for an emergency in another room. Li Mengjue sighed, stared at the white ceiling for a moment, and turned back to the room. Luckily, she had the foresight to book a VIP suite, so she didn’t have to worry about prying eyes.
Ruan Qingxiao was sitting up, absentmindedly eating the millet porridge provided by the staff, looking toward the door every few seconds.
When Li Mengjue pushed the door open, Ruan Qingxiao’s eyes flashed. “Sister Li!”
Li Mengjue: “…”
How should I put this? Hearing that cold, aloof voice calling me ‘Sister’ so cheerfully… is actually quite sweet. As long as I forget this is the high-and-mighty Miss Ruan.
“My name is Li Mengjue. You can just call me by my name,” Li Mengjue said after a moment of silence. “Eat first. We’ll talk when you’re done.”
She pulled up a stool and sat a short distance from the bed. Ruan Qingxiao nodded, gave a soft “oh,” and obediently lowered her head to finish the porridge. Even with amnesia, her ingrained elegance remained; her posture on the bed made it look like she was savoring rare bird’s nest rather than plain porridge.
How did the doctor decide we were ‘close friends’? Li Mengjue wondered. Their vibes were worlds apart.
Li Mengjue pulled out her phone. She wanted to tell Yu Siqing about the kittens, but realized her friend wasn’t off work yet. She deleted the draft and searched for “cat care tips” instead. If the kittens were still alive when Yu Siqing returned to City A, she’d have her take them.
Ruan Qingxiao finished her porridge and cleaned up the tray herself. She didn’t speak but looked at Li Mengjue, her gaze eventually settling on Li Mengjue’s hand.
Li Mengjue looked up to find the heiress staring at her… phone? No, the phone charm. It was a little red fox with black paws and a black tail tip—a chubby, round, chibi-style character.
Does a rich young lady like this actually like cheap trinkets?
“Mengmeng, what is this?” Ruan Qingxiao asked, pointing at the tiny charm.
“…” Li Mengjue nearly choked at the nickname. “A fox. And… please just call me Sister Li.”
Ruan Qingxiao nodded. “Sister Li. Where did it come from?”
Li Mengjue sighed internally, giving up on the name correction. At least it was better than “Mengmeng.” “A friend gave it to me,” she said, deciding to start a new topic. “Miss Ruan, are you full?”
Ruan Qingxiao nodded and gave her an undefended smile. “You can call me Qingxiao. Or Xiaoxiao.” She paused and added, “I don’t like being called ‘Miss’.”
Remembering the doctor’s advice not to trigger her, Li Mengjue compromised. “Alright, Qingxiao. Do you remember how old you are?”
Ruan Qingxiao looked lost, glanced at her slender fingers, and guessed, “Twenty-something?”
“Twenty-four,” Li Mengjue said. “Do you know what year it is?”
“2023 or 2024?” Ruan Qingxiao answered quickly, clearly calculating backward from her age.
Her brain is still fast. Why did her personality change so much?
“When you were brought in, you only had your ID, two banknotes, and a few candies,” Li Mengjue said, pointing to the nightstand. “They’re in there.”
Ruan Qingxiao looked at her hospital gown and nodded. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome—but that’s not the issue,” Li Mengjue’s lip twitched. “You have no phone, no room key, and nothing was found near you. There’s no news of you being missing yet. Can you really not remember anything before you fainted?”
Ruan Qingxiao thought seriously and shook her head guiltily. “Nothing at all. I only remember heavy rain and thunder, then I fainted… I’m sorry.”
“Do you want me to contact your manager?” Li Mengjue asked. “You were… an actress. Even if we’re in different companies, I can find her contact info. Her name is Rong Jin. Does that ring a bell?”
Ruan Qingxiao showed no reaction to the name. Instead, she looked at Li Mengjue with growing confusion and asked, “Aren’t we best friends?”
Li Mengjue almost blurted out, “Of course not.”
But Ruan Qingxiao was gripping the sheets again, waiting for an answer with clear anxiety.
Don’t trigger her, the doctor had said.
Li Mengjue swallowed the truth. “Friends don’t spend every second together,” she said. “In fact, we haven’t seen each other in a long time.”
Before Ruan Qingxiao could ask more, Li Mengjue handed her her own phone. “Do you remember any numbers? Try pressing them. Think of the person you trust most; maybe there’s some muscle memory left.”
She moved a bit too fast, her fingertips brushing the back of Ruan Qingxiao’s hand. Seeing the latter freeze, she grabbed her wrist to force the phone into her palm. Once she was back in her seat, Ruan Qingxiao’s face began to flush from the lingering warmth on her wrist.
Ruan Qingxiao’s instinct was to pull away—she seemed very unaccustomed to physical intimacy—but the other woman had already stepped back behind the “safety line.” A faint sense of loss blossomed in her heart. To hide her blushing face, she looked down at the phone.
On the dial screen, her fingers moved instinctively, punching in a string of numbers. She paused just before the last digit.
“The person you trust most.”
Ruan Qingxiao finally noticed the emphasis in Li Mengjue’s words. “Is there some secret behind why I fainted and ended up in the hospital?”
“Hm?” Li Mengjue was surprised by her sharpness. “Maybe I’m overthinking, but finding you alone by the road is a bit strange. And your injury is a bit odd too.”
Actually, the doctors hadn’t raised any red flags; it was just Li Mengjue’s intuition, so she didn’t elaborate.
“But you’re the only one who would know for sure,” Li Mengjue said. “Whether it was an accident or something else. You could choose to call the police.”
Ruan Qingxiao pursed her lips, her knuckles turning white. Usually, a woman of her status wouldn’t want to involve the police in a potential scandal. But with her memory a blank slate and these dark hints, she felt a deep sense of unease.
Li Mengjue didn’t rush her.
Ruan Qingxiao looked up, her frown smoothing out. Her tense shoulders relaxed as if she had suddenly reached a conclusion.
“Is that why you didn’t notify my family or manager immediately?” Ruan Qingxiao asked softly. “You were worried they might be the ones trying to harm me?”
Her voice was overly soft, but the logic wasn’t wrong. Li Mengjue rubbed her ear uncomfortably and nodded. “You could say that.”
In the original plot, the heiress’s relationship with her family was terrible, with an illegitimate brother eyeing the inheritance. In high-society dramas, blood relatives backstabbing each other for profit was common. Li Mengjue didn’t want to get involved, but she didn’t want to see the person she just saved get killed either.
She couldn’t ignore the crisis, even if the person was her “fated enemy.”
Li Mengjue didn’t explain the details, but Ruan Qingxiao somehow interpreted this in a way that brought an incredibly radiant smile to her face. She looked like a red panda that had just climbed out of a jar of honey—drunkenly happy.
“You really are concerned about me,” Ruan Qingxiao said. “I’m so happy.