Wang Yuqiong had a secret, known only to those closest to her.
Because of this secret, she hated hospitals.
But now, she had a reason she couldn’t avoid coming to one.
Her lips pressed thin as she stared down the long corridor ahead. The nurse beside her said softly, “Shall we go?”
“Mm.”
Wang Yuqiong took a deep breath and stepped out of the elevator.
The top floor of the hospital was remarkably quiet. Even the passing nurses kept their footsteps light, avoided chatting, and certainly never raised their voices.
A portion of this private hospital’s exorbitant fees came from these fussy, strict rules—commonly known as service charges.
If it had one flaw, it was simply that it was too expensive.
Led by the nurse, Wang Yuqiong navigated corner after corner, like traversing a maze. She followed closely, trying her best to steady her emotions.
Clearly, it was her first time here; everything felt utterly unfamiliar.
Another corner. The nurse stopped just before it.
She turned to Wang Yuqiong and said softly, “It’s just ahead.”
“Alright, thank you.”
Wang Yuqiong’s voice was calm, without a ripple.
“You’re welcome.”
The nurse nodded slightly and left.
Just one corner away, yet Wang Yuqiong lingered in place, as if unable to take that final step.
After a moment’s hesitation, she finally did, rounding the last turn.
What met her eyes was a corridor of moderate length.
In the middle stood the patient’s room.
At the door was a long bench, where a middle-aged man in a suit sat.
He had his head bowed, hands pressed to his temples, seemingly lost in thought.
A bit past the bench was a wide window that was part of the patient’s room, offering a view inside from the corridor.
In front of the window stood the figure of a woman.
The woman’s silhouette entered her view, causing Wang Yuqiong’s eyes to widen slightly in shock and confusion.
The woman merely stood by the window, apparently not intending to go in and disturb the patient.
She stood there intently, her gaze fixed on the scene inside the room.
But up close, one would notice her gaze lacked focus; her serious profile masked a mind adrift in thought.
Wang Yuqiong had no idea what the woman was pondering or thinking about, nor did she care.
It was almost laughable.
If she had come alone, she might have felt anxious and tense.
But seeing the two people by the patient’s door instantly calmed her down—no need to forcibly suppress anything anymore.
The woman was lost in thought, but in this utterly quiet corridor, every footstep rang out clearly.
These were Wang Yuqiong’s footsteps.
The woman arched a brow slightly and instinctively turned to look.
The middle-aged man on the bench looked toward Wang Yuqiong as well.
Both revealed a flash of astonishment, mirroring the expression Wang Yuqiong had worn moments before.
But soon, the woman’s surprise turned to amusement, while the man’s gradually overflowed with delight.
She turned to the middle-aged man. “I should be going.”
The middle-aged man nodded slightly. “Thanks for your trouble.”
“No problem.”
The woman let out a light chuckle, turned around, and walked away from the hospital room’s window, heading straight toward Wang Yuqiong.
She was wearing high heels, and the crisp click of them instantly drowned out Wang Yuqiong’s footsteps.
It was like two cars barreling toward each other on the road—the two women crossed paths at about the three-quarter mark of the corridor.
No words were exchanged.
Wang Yuqiong strode past indifferently, acting as if the foxy woman right in front of her didn’t exist.
They met. They passed.
Until the sharp staccato of those high heels came to a halt.
Wang Yuqiong stopped right on cue as well. The corridor fell quiet once more—deathly quiet, oppressively so.
The woman turned around, a mocking smirk playing on her lips. “What, are we shooting a TV drama here? You see your elder and don’t even say hello? How rude.”
Wang Yuqiong pressed her lips together and said nothing.
The woman went on, “Oh, right—calling myself your elder does make me sound old. Fine, then, your boss.”
“How was your holiday? Yuqiong.”
Wang Yuqiong arched a brow. “Not bad. And you, Senior Sister Zhao?”
The woman was Zhao Qingyu.
“Me? It was going great—until now.”
Zhao Qingyu shrugged her shoulders. “Can you imagine how I feel? Sound asleep, and then someone drags me out of bed for no damn reason?”
“For no reason?”
The chill in Zhao Qingyu’s voice rubbed Wang Yuqiong the wrong way.
She whipped around, fixing her gaze on Zhao Qingyu’s strikingly beautiful face. “You don’t feel even a shred of guilt about this?”
Guilt?
Zhao Qingyu’s smirk faded at that. Her brows knitted together, little by little. “I’m only a little sad. Sad that she couldn’t think straight.”
“But just a little.”
She held up one finger and pinched it between thumb and forefinger.
“Your family kept that news under wraps tight—even I was left in the dark.”
Then her smirk returned. “If you’re dead set on getting to the bottom of it, why not ask your parents? Ask them—don’t they feel any guilt? Hmm?”
Cold fury flickered in Wang Yuqiong’s eyes, spilling out into the air around them. “Admit it or not, it doesn’t matter. I’ll take back what’s rightfully hers.”
Zhao Qingyu tsked. “Now that’s not a nice way to put it. Makes it sound like it’s all my fault.”
“But since you don’t know a thing, I won’t bother arguing with you. Waste of breath.”
“Still, ‘take back’? That doesn’t sound right. Take… or steal?”
The icy mask on Wang Yuqiong’s face cracked. Panic and unease flashed through her heart in an instant.
“Oh? Looks like I hit the nail on the head.”
Zhao Qingyu’s lips curved upward just a touch. That smug look stabbed at Wang Yuqiong’s eyes—disgusting!
“What are you so scared of?”
She took a step forward. The air grew heavier, pressing down on Wang Yuqiong without mercy.
Wang Yuqiong turned away, ignoring her. “You’d better stay away. You’re not welcome here.”
“Ha~ I didn’t ask to come. Someone wanted me here.”
Zhao Qingyu shrugged again. “And you? You’re not qualified to say that. Not yet.”
Wang Yuqiong didn’t waste another word on her. She marched straight for the hospital room, determined to brush off Zhao Qingyu’s taunts.
Zhao Qingyu narrowed her eyes and turned as well, heading for the corner of the corridor.
The high heels still echoed crisply through the hallway—but the two women’s moods couldn’t have been more different.
By the time Wang Yuqiong reached the hospital room door, her heart felt heavier than ever.
The middle-aged man in the chair shot to his feet, his face lighting up with a smile. “Yuqiong, you… you coming here is just perfect.”
“She’d be over the moon if she knew.”
Wang Yuqiong’s expression remained frosty. The man’s smile did nothing to soften her.
She spoke slowly. “Did you call her here, Uncle?”
The man’s face stiffened. He let out a sigh. “The doctor said… it might help her.”
“So I thought I’d give it a shot.”
“Don’t pull stupid stunts like that again. She…” Wang Yuqiong’s eyes shifted to the room. “She doesn’t want to see her.”
The middle-aged man glanced inside too, his face a mix of sorrow and faint relief. “Now that you’re here, we don’t need her anymore.”
Wang Yuqiong peered through the window at the figure lying on the bed. Her own expression grew complicated.
“How… is she doing?”
A long silence passed before Wang Yuqiong asked softly.
The middle-aged man shook his head. “The doctors aren’t optimistic. If she doesn’t wake up soon…”
“How soon?” Wang Yuqiong’s brows furrowed.
“They can’t say exactly. But… at most a month.”
He removed his glasses, his voice weighed down with despair. “If she doesn’t wake within that month, the odds of her ever waking again… they’ll drop to almost nothing.”
“Isn’t there anything else we can do?”
Wang Yuqiong’s voice rose with agitation. “We have to try something!”
“Like what?” The middle-aged man gave a bitter smile. “The doctors say it’s her subconscious refusing to wake up. Her body’s fine—no injuries.”
That was the real problem, the one that kept everyone up at night.
Physical wounds could be stitched up with surgery, nursed back to health.
But a wounded spirit? How do you mend that?
No medicine, no matter how advanced, could heal a broken heart.
Doctors had all sorts of tools for external injuries. For the ones inside, though? They were powerless.
He rubbed his face wearily. Even his refined features looked gaunt and exhausted. “Come visit her more, if you can. Maybe… you can bring her around.”
“She… she’d love to see you.”
“Could… could I go in and see her?”
Wang Yuqiong’s eyes locked on the patient inside. She asked in a low voice.
“Of course.”
The middle-aged man forced a smile. “That’d be ideal.”
“It won’t disturb her?” Wang Yuqiong sounded nervous.
“Not at all. The doctors say talking to her is best—doesn’t matter if she can hear. It helps her condition.”
“The closer you are to her, the better.”
He looked at Wang Yuqiong. “Your mom and I… we dropped the ball on paying her enough attention. So right now… we’re no help.”
“But you, Yuqiong—you’re different.”
“You know how much she loves you, don’t you?”
Wang Yuqiong just nodded. “Yeah.”
She took a step toward the door.
But right before opening it, she glanced back. “Did Zhao Qingyu go inside earlier?”
“No.”
He shook his head. “She just stood by the window and looked.”
“Good. If she’d gone in, she might never wake up.”
Wang Yuqiong’s tone was ice-cold.
The middle-aged man’s heart skipped a beat. He looked lost.
He had no idea what had gone down between them—or what had happened at all.
Wang Yuqiong sighed and said nothing more. She pushed open the door and stepped inside.
Once in the room, her footsteps—which were already quiet—grew even more tentative. Every step was hesitant, careful as could be.
There on the bed lay a patient—a young woman.
She looked about Wang Yuqiong’s age.
Her skin glowed with a healthy flush, making it hard to believe she was in a deep coma. You had to ignore all the medical equipment surrounding her.
One step. Another.
Wang Yuqiong approached slowly, then eased herself onto the edge of the bed beside her, moving as silently as she could.
Memories flooded her mind, churning relentlessly.
They cut like a razor-sharp blade through the heavy silence, twisting in Wang Yuqiong’s heart bit by bit.
She’d thought she could stay calm.
She’d thought her hatred would hold firm.
But…
She couldn’t.
She really couldn’t.
Wang Yuqiong still couldn’t shake the image of her at her weakest, most fragile.
She who’d always been… so towering.
Towering like the sun in the sky—radiant, brilliant. Wang Yuqiong had admired her, envied her.
It all felt like a dream now. Flashes of the past flickered by, crashing back into the present before her eyes.
Wang Yuqiong reached out slowly, hesitantly toward that still hand.
She inched closer, then clasped it gently.
It was warm, just as it always had been. As if the life in it had never dimmed.
But why…
Why wouldn’t those eyes open?
So distant, yet so close.
Tears welled up in Wang Yuqiong’s eyes. Her emotions started to unravel.
She lifted the limp little hand and pressed it tenderly to her cheek.
With a smile laced with tears, Wang Yuqiong nuzzled against it.
That afternoon, she talked and talked—like a fool chattering to herself, spilling words she’d never dared say aloud.
She had no idea if her words were getting through. It didn’t matter.
From afternoon until evening, Wang Yuqiong sat there for hours.
The hand stayed warm in hers. But silent.
Wang Yuqiong let out a soft sigh. She ducked her head to hide her frustration, then looked up with a smile.
“I’ll come visit all the time. I promise.”
She stood to leave.
But after just a few steps, she paused. Glancing back, she said softly, “Oh, right—one more thing I forgot to tell you.”
“I… I saw him.”
