Chapter 18

“There really isn’t any need to come to the hospital.” Song Jianan habitually pursed her lips and lowered her head to look at the medical record booklet in her hands. The ink on the cover hadn’t completely dried yet. Written in elegant flowing script were the three characters of her name—Song Jianan. Xi Luoyu had written them.

So this lawyer really did have an occupational habit—he carried a fountain pen everywhere, just in case.

She gently moved her foot. It didn’t seem to hurt as much as before. The emergency room smelled faintly of disinfectant, and the damp chill in the air somehow made her feel relaxed.

“I just got stepped on. It’s nothing serious. I’ll just go home and rub some medicated oil on it.”

Standing beside her, Xi Luoyu’s gaze drifted discreetly over her injured foot.

“What if you’ve injured the bone?”

Song Jianan replied absentmindedly, “Then it’ll be a good excuse to take some time off work and rest at home.”

People came and went along the corridor, and noisy commotion erupted from the far end of the emergency department. She suddenly smiled—a slightly smug smile with a trace of playful mischief.

Xi Luoyu froze for a moment. Following her line of sight, he looked toward the disturbance but saw nothing unusual.

“What are you laughing at?”

“Nothing. I was just thinking… if I took out my press card right now, do you think the hospital would kick me out?”

Xi Luoyu smiled helplessly.

“Hospitals are terrified of reporters. The way your mind works is unbelievable. I guess that’s exactly what I’d expect from an entertainment reporter. Who knows how much of what’s printed in those newspapers is made up by people like you?”

She burst into laughter.

“Well, aside from national policies and major government affairs, everything else gets a little extra seasoning.” She smiled teasingly. “You seem to know quite a lot, Xi Luoyu. Don’t tell me you actually read newspapers?”

“Well…” he hesitated for a moment. “You asked me that before. I’m actually a loyal reader of the City Evening News.”

The conversation instantly reached an awkward dead end.

Song Jianan suddenly didn’t know how to respond.

Just then, a nurse called her name and pointed toward the X-ray room down the corridor.

“Miss Song Jianan, please come this way for your X-ray.”

She had barely stood up when the piercing siren of an ambulance swept past the emergency entrance.

Several doctors and nurses immediately rushed outside, throwing the entire entrance into chaos.

Almost instinctively, Song Jianan’s eyes locked onto the doorway.

Her reporter’s instincts flared up, and she couldn’t help wanting to rush over and see what had happened.

Suddenly, someone lightly patted the top of her head.

The gentle breeze from Xi Luoyu’s hand brushed softly across her face like a feather, carrying a cool trace of moisture.

She looked up and met his smiling eyes.

Embarrassed, she pursed her lips.

He simply shook his head helplessly without saying a word, smiling quietly.

For some reason, Song Jianan suddenly felt an unspoken sense of understanding between them.

She turned to glance once more at the chaotic scene that had triggered every reporter’s instinct in her before resolutely walking toward the examination room, still smiling faintly.

It seemed…

She hadn’t felt this relaxed in a very long time.

Smiling to herself, Song Jianan gently shook her head.

Perhaps over all these years, she really had pushed herself far too hard.

If there were someone who could make her feel peaceful… someone who could make time itself feel calm and steady…

Then perhaps she no longer needed to long for the passionate youth that could never return.

Perhaps it would be enough to quietly let those years rest in the present.

The X-ray showed nothing serious.

She simply needed treatment for a while.

The doctor prescribed medication for bruises and soft tissue injuries and advised her to avoid unnecessary walking and use transportation whenever possible.

As soon as she stepped out of the emergency surgery department, she saw a tall young man running down the corridor.

The figure looked strangely familiar.

“Fang Yanyan?”

Sure enough, it was Fang Yanyan.

His hair had been blown into an absurd hedgehog shape by the wind. His eyes were red, making it obvious he’d run all the way there against the wind. Even so, he wasn’t breathing heavily at all.

Looking at him like this, Song Jianan couldn’t help thinking that he really was a fairly capable reporter.

Fang Yanyan tilted his head and stared at her with wide eyes.

“Jianan-jie? Weren’t you interviewing people at the Provincial TV Station? How did you end up here at the hospital with the rest of us? Your role changed way too fast.”

“I’m the patient.” She smiled helplessly. “So what happened this time that they sent you over?”

“A food poisoning incident.”

Then he noticed Xi Luoyu standing beside her.

He blinked innocently.

“A friend? A male friend? Your boyfriend?”

Before Song Jianan could answer, he quietly rejected his own guess.

“No way. Her type is the pretty-boy, secretly brooding kind.”

Song Jianan hadn’t heard a word of his muttering.

“They’re just friends.” She quickly explained before changing the subject. “By the way, Fang Yanyan, did you come alone? There are still people on duty back at the newspaper. Zhou Yu actually trusted you to handle this by yourself?”

Fang Yanyan smacked his lips dramatically.

“Oh my… you sound just like a department director inspecting the local conditions.” He grinned. “Jianan-jie, just focus on recovering. You’re not my boss anymore, so stop worrying about everything.”

He smiled politely at Xi Luoyu.

“I’ll get going. Reporters are busy people—especially reporters who aren’t exactly welcomed in hospitals.”

Watching Fang Yanyan jog upstairs, Song Jianan could only smile bitterly.

“Being young really is exhausting. Looking at him reminds me how difficult things were back then.”

She had once written articles all night long, returning home still clutching the newspaper’s hotline phone. She’d been so exhausted that she’d asked her roommate to answer incoming calls while she collapsed face-down on the desk and slept like the dead.

She had stood outside police stations during the coldest days of winter, swallowing countless humiliations just to obtain a tiny piece of inside information.

She had also been excluded by colleagues at the newspaper.

Sometimes, after finally getting an article published through sheer effort, someone else’s name would appear beneath it instead of hers.

Yet after so many years…

She had become accustomed to it all.

Even during her free time, work would unconsciously occupy her thoughts.

Work…

The article…

Song Jianan suddenly froze.

“Oh no… my article!”

The entertainment section was completely empty now.

Everyone had already gone home.

The only light in the office came from the fluorescent lamp near the entrance, the glow of her computer monitor, and a small orange hanging lamp on the neighboring desk that added a touch of warmth to the otherwise deserted night.

After working for so many years…

No one had ever stayed late to keep her company before.

Song Jianan quietly lifted her head and secretly glanced sideways at Xi Luoyu.

He was sitting at the next desk reading a newspaper.

He wasn’t wearing glasses.

Perhaps because the lighting wasn’t bright enough, he narrowed his eyes slightly as he concentrated on reading the print.

His profile was handsome, though not overly delicate or feminine.

He looked completely absorbed in the newspaper, seemingly unaware that she had been secretly watching him.

Song Jianan suddenly thought that men like him were probably determined, dependable people.

Many years ago…

Under soft ivory-colored lights…

Another young man had once sat quietly five meters away from her, completely immersed in his studies.

A dull ache spread through her heart.

She hurriedly lowered her eyes.

Her fingers absentmindedly typed a meaningless string of words before slowly deleting them again.

Su Li…

Su Li…

He probably never knew that she had once traveled to the university of her dreams—the very university where he was studying.

She had never realized she was capable of such silent courage.

Back then, she had traveled from damp, humid Guangzhou all the way to snow-covered Beijing.

More than twenty hours by train.

The journey felt just as long as all those years she had spent waiting for him.

Slowly…

She exhausted an entire lifetime’s worth of feelings.

She finally understood that longing was something that only grew stronger with time.

That night, she watched Letter from an Unknown Woman.

The heroine loved with such quiet courage and unwavering devotion.

Tears streamed uncontrollably down her face.

Perhaps children who remained silent carried the most stubborn, selfless kind of love.

Her longing burst through its restraints like a broken dam.

She wanted nothing else.

She only wanted to see him.

Just one glance.

One more glance.

That alone would have been enough.

Enough to make peace with every regret of her youth.

Then she could lock all that love deep inside her heart and quietly learn to love someone else.

Even on her deathbed, when she looked back on it all, she would have no regrets.

And so she walked through the snow-covered campus.

She passed Mingde Building.

She passed Xuanyuan Garden.

She passed Shaw Building.

She passed the library.

She hoped she might run into him somewhere on that old campus.

Yet she never dared expect that she actually would.

She only wanted to walk the same roads.

To look upon the same scenery.

To walk beside that pale, youthful boy who existed only in her memories.

By a twist of fate…

She actually saw him in one of the second teaching building’s study rooms.

That melancholy aura entered her sight so suddenly.

He had changed somewhat.

Yet when the man before her overlapped with the boy in her memories, those memories only became more vivid.

His profile was still exquisitely handsome.

He sat quietly by himself.

No one approached him.

There was only him…

A few books…

And a cup of water.

From the window to his seat…

It was only five meters.

Yet she had no right to walk through that door.

No identity that would allow her to stand before him.

She was nothing.

No one to him.

She fled in panic.

The snow that night fell heavily, endlessly.

As though trying desperately to conceal something.

It buried every unspeakable deception…

And every hidden feeling…

Beneath the cold reality.

That night seemed impossibly long.

So long that it felt as though dawn would never come.

The next morning, she left with a smile.

She told herself…

It had all been a dream.

The rustling sound of turning newspaper pages suddenly pulled her back to reality.

Xi Luoyu’s gentle voice reached her ears.

“Finished your article yet? Are you hungry? Should I go out and buy something for us to eat first?”

Flustered, she hurriedly clicked on the word count.

Whether from the cold or from being startled, her voice trembled slightly.

“Just a little more. I’m almost done with the ending. I’m fine. If you’re hungry, go buy something. You don’t have to bring me anything.”

“I’ll wait until you’re finished, then we’ll go eat together.”

Song Jianan smiled politely.

“Thank you. You really helped me a lot today. It’s already so late, and you’ve stayed here working overtime with me. I should be the one treating you to dinner. I honestly feel bad about it.”

An odd silence settled over the room.

The sound of the keyboard suddenly stopped.

Song Jianan looked up.

Xi Luoyu was standing directly in front of her.

The night stretched behind him, pressing against the floor-to-ceiling windows like an endless wall of darkness.

He frowned slightly.

When he spoke, his voice carried an unusual firmness.

“Song Jianan… I really don’t understand you.”

She stared at him in surprise.

He continued.

“Sometimes it feels like you genuinely want to rely on someone. But the very next moment, it’s as if you feel guilty for needing anyone at all, so you push everyone far away.”

“You don’t even know how to simply accept kindness.”

“If someone treats you well, you immediately feel you have to repay them twice as much.”

“And if you can’t repay them… you’d rather not give them even the slightest chance to get close.”

“I really don’t understand.”

“How can someone like you… have such an overly sensitive heart?”