Chapter 103

Bo Ranying’s current physical condition still couldn’t handle long-distance flights. After discussions among all parties, they decided to let her continue recuperating locally. Later, depending on her recovery, they would either transfer her to another hospital or bring her back home.

Her family back in the country had pressing matters they couldn’t abandon, so they couldn’t stay by their daughter’s side indefinitely. Yet with her in such a state, she absolutely needed someone there with her.

While the Bo Family was at a loss, Nan Qi stepped forward and volunteered. She laid out her reasoning clearly: as one of the partners at the law firm, she had informed Ye Sheng and could personally decide which cases she handled. Once she wrapped up her current workload, she could devote herself entirely to accompanying Bo Ranying, filling the gap left by the Bo Family.

Whether as a treasured friend or the person who had saved her life in a moment of crisis, Nan Qi felt obligated to do this.

The offer came straight from her heart, with no trace of reluctance.

By spelling out the situation so plainly, she demonstrated that this was the most practical solution. After giving it careful thought, the Bo Family had to concede that her plan was sound.

The Bo Family accepted her proposal.

They even made a point of instructing Bo Ranying: with them away, Nan Qi—the one you like so much—would be looking after you. No matter how fond you are of her, try not to cause her any trouble.

Over the past two years, they had watched their daughter’s relationship with Nan Qi steadily deteriorate.

As parents, they had no idea what exactly had caused the rift between them. But they remembered the two girls’ once effortless closeness, Nan Qi’s thoughtful care for their daughter… and then the sudden breakup with Qiao Xiuyu. Putting it all together, they suspected some unspoken special affection had flowed beneath the surface of that old intimacy.

In the end, they didn’t know if their daughter had pushed Nan Qi away, or if Nan Qi had pushed her away.

They had observed from the sidelines, utterly helpless.

These were matters for the younger generation to sort out themselves. Outsiders had no business meddling.

Nan Qi could afford to stay long-term in Monaco, but Tang Lian’s job wouldn’t allow for that. Once her sick leave ended, she had to return to her post.

On the day Tang Lian’s leave wrapped up, Nan Qi accompanied her on a quick trip back to the country. She didn’t forget the promise she’d made—to give Tang Lian a special gift.

At a friend’s recommendation, they visited a tailor shop with over a century of history to have a custom qipao made. After paying the deposit, they scheduled a pickup time for the finished piece.

Everything went smoothly.

Tang Lian seemed thrilled, her enthusiasm high from start to finish. She hovered around the designer, endlessly discussing details and even begging to be taught how to do it herself. She personally took Nan Qi’s measurements, following the designer’s instructions to the letter and doing so with utmost seriousness. When Nan Qi fidgeted on purpose to mess with her, Tang Lian scolded her in a stern tone, fully embracing her new role as the expert.

The two of them fooled around like that, spending several delightful hours in the shop.

Once Tang Lian dove back into work, Nan Qi inevitably found herself in a long-distance relationship with her girlfriend.

She shuttled back and forth between the two countries, tending to the seriously injured Bo Ranying on one side while keeping up regular dates with Tang Lian on the other.

The constant jet lag left Nan Qi less sharp during their meetups than she used to be. As a result, she failed to notice her girlfriend’s occasional distractions and silences.

It was a sunny afternoon at the hospital.

Rosy clouds broke passionately through the layers of sky, their gentle warmth filtering through the glass window to spill across the crisp white sheets. It was as if that tenderness extended inch by inch, caressing the girl’s porcelain-fragile, pristine face.

Bo Ranying wasn’t accustomed to light so intense. She lifted a hand to shield her eyes, trying to halt its relentless spread.

She shrank deeper into the covers, convinced that such radiance shouldn’t touch her at all. Under its glow, her imperfections would have nowhere to hide.

Softly, she called out to Nan Qi, who was tapping away at documents nearby. “Little Qi… could you pull the curtains? It’s a little blinding.”

The sound of keystrokes halted at once. Nan Qi hurried to Bo Ranying’s side and carefully assessed her condition. She caught the way Bo Ranying flinched away, and her gaze darkened.

Bo Ranying pressed her lips together. Her eyes, hazy with unshed tears, pleaded silently with Nan Qi, urging her to act.

Her long lashes fluttered, betraying the panic churning inside her.

She longed to retreat quickly to some dark, secure corner.

Nan Qi paused by the bedside for a moment before acknowledging the plea. She turned and walked toward the window.

At the sound of her footsteps receding, Bo Ranying let her body go slack and peeked cautiously from beneath the covers.

She stared at Nan Qi’s retreating figure, lost in silence for what felt like ages.

The distance from the window to the bed was mere seconds to cross—yet it stretched on like half a lifetime…

It was the span from a dazzling stage to utter obscurity.

Every meticulously rehearsed move for peak performance, the spotlights tracking her every step, the roaring crowds in packed arenas, the thunderous applause, the rapt expressions on the audience’s faces… all of it had slipped away forever.

The thoughts tangled around her, overwhelming and inescapable. She couldn’t break free.

Even her last performance felt like ancient history now.

Confined to Monaco, she felt severed from her old life. By avoiding familiar surroundings, it was as if she’d retreated to some idyllic bubble—a perfectly rational escape.

Nan Qi stood quietly at the window for a moment. Rather than drawing the curtains as Bo Ranying expected, she changed her mind. Silhouetted against the light, she walked back toward the bed, a faint halo gilding her form. She looked like a goddess descending from the heavens.

“Ranran, the weather outside is lovely. Let me push you downstairs for a stroll.”

Sensing the girl’s underlying resistance, she added, “We’ll go to the little garden. No one will be there.”

The doctors had recommended a wheelchair, so Bo Ranying could now get around seated in one.

She had owned it for a while now but had never ventured outside the hospital building with it.

Nan Qi’s gentle coaxing prompted an immediate refusal. Staying in the room was fine—her fellow patients had all endured similar hardships. It was a comforting little world. Why go out?

Bo Ranying gazed at Nan Qi’s hazy silhouette amid the light and shook her head. “No, I think I’ll stay in the room.”

Seeing her on the verge of burrowing back under the covers, waves of sorrow washed over Nan Qi. The once confident, radiant girl had commanded attention wherever she went, the center of every gaze. She had never been this timid, shying away from the light.

Back then, Bo Ranying had been the one bathed in light—the figure Nan Qi had admired and followed.

Nan Qi wanted her to reclaim that former self.

The first step was simply agreeing to step outside.

Nan Qi fetched a wide-brimmed hat and settled it over Bo Ranying’s head. The generous brim shrouded her face in shadow, and even the light falling on her body felt cooler now.

When she spoke again, emotion thickened her voice, tears threatening to spill.

After a brief standoff—and Nan Qi’s repeated, tearful assurances that they would steer clear of crowds and strangers—Bo Ranying finally relented.

She simply couldn’t bear to see Nan Qi upset.

At her agreement, Nan Qi swiftly lifted her into the wheelchair. She straightened the slightly crooked hat, tucked a soft pillow behind her waist for comfort, and draped a thin blanket over her legs before gripping the handles.

“Ranran, time to get some sun.”

The wheels glided across the floor with a soft, steady rumble as Nan Qi pushed her toward the elevator.

Bo Ranying’s heart rose and fell with every turn of the wheels. She curled her fingers into the edge of the blanket, brushing against the skin of her recently thinned thighs. In a faint voice, she murmured, “Mm…”

Nan Qi steered her away from the main paths and into the little garden, a spot rarely visited by others. She chose a secluded trail winding deep into the shrubbery, where only a handful of people wandered.

True to her word, hardly anyone came through here.

The ever-present hospital scent of antiseptic gave way to the fresh aroma of grass and flowers, washing it clean away. Leaf shadows danced across the stone path, casting fragmented sunlight in delicate patterns over Bo Ranying. It brought a warmth that defied description.

There was no harsh glare as she had feared—just the soft embrace of an elder, long awaited across vast distances of time and space, finally holding her close.

This was the outside sky she had missed for so long.

A gentle breeze carried the scent of blossoms, curling softly around her nose.

It stirred an urge to cry.

The hand she had kept clamped on the blanket loosened unconsciously, resting there lightly.

The path was paved with fine gravel, so the wheels jostled gently, transmitting faint vibrations through her body.

From head to toe—including the leg missing below the knee—everything shook in unison with her intact frame. Nothing was left out.

The blanket over her legs grew warm in the sun, the heat seeping down to her bones.

It eased the barren ache in her heart more than she could say.

“See? I wasn’t fooling you. The weather really is perfect.”

“Mm!”

This time, Bo Ranying’s response rang out strong.

Nan Qi noted that she no longer recoiled from the outside world. A small smile tugged at her lips, and she began slowly wheeling her back and forth along the garden path.

In this serene and peaceful stretch of time, she gradually regained her patience with Bo Ranying.

During their walks, she kept starting conversations to distract Bo Ranying from the passersby.

“The doctor said we should get some ‘photosynthesis’ now and then~”

“Staying active is good for fitting the prosthetic later. Ranran, you’re so cool—while everyone else is still running the 800-meter on two legs, you’ll be rocking high-tech!”

At those words, Bo Ranying immediately recalled their high school 800-meter tests, the ones they could never dodge. Every time, the track field echoed with wails—a nightmare from their middle school days.

“When the weather’s nice, let’s come out for more walks.”

“Goal: from the little garden to the whole hospital—”

“Ranran’s era hasn’t ended. It’s just beginning in a new form. Ranran can still soar on the winds.”

Her worries, her thoughts—Nan Qi understood them all.

Nan Qi wove reassurances into every topic, working tirelessly to unravel the knots in Bo Ranying’s heart, and Bo Ranying felt it all deep within.

Those words flowed like a clear spring through the mountains: the stream slender yet relentless, scouring the surrounding stones over centuries, wearing away their jagged edges until they gleamed smooth and rounded.

They pierced the sorrowful haze that had gripped her heart since the injury, tearing a small breach in it. From that rent, she could finally rip away the shackles entirely and step onto a path… her own path, Bo Ranying’s path.

Just as Nan Qi had hoped.

Regaining her radiant light.

In that moment, she finally understood why Nan Qi had insisted on bringing her outside.

At last, amid the endless silence, she gave in to Nan Qi.

She reached out to touch the passersby, the sunlight, the air.

After that day, Bo Ranying overcame her aversion and, with Nan Qi by her side, dove into rehabilitation training with real enthusiasm.

Having spent so long bedridden, her core strength—especially around her waist—had withered away. Training began there, with exercises that had once been effortless now proving brutally hard.

Planks and crunches left only her upper body with any real power.

They were agony, worse than death. Sweat and tears poured down together, soaking the bedsheet beneath her in a vast damp stain. Out of habit, she turned to Nan Qi with a whine.

“No, no more—I’ll die if we keep going!”

She could almost see her great-grandfather beckoning her over.

Save me, Little Qi Baby!

Their renewed daily closeness made her forget, in the moment, that Nan Qi wasn’t single.

She played up her spoiled side as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

The sight stirred memories in Nan Qi of Bo Ranying before the injury: so vibrant and full of life, always turning to her first in tough spots, acting like she couldn’t manage without her.

Now, seeing Bo Ranying rally under her encouragement, Nan Qi wasn’t about to let her quit midway. She coaxed and cajoled in every way she could to keep her going.

Day by day, Bo Ranying’s rehab bore fruit. She no longer sobbed through her sessions. She could brace her upper body against the railing or wall, then—with Nan Qi’s help—settle into the wheelchair. Outings saw her swap the oversized wide-brim hat for a simple baseball cap. She began making bold eye contact with strangers, proactively planning the next day’s adventures with Nan Qi. Little by little, the gloom around her lifted.

She still hadn’t kicked the habit of whining to Nan Qi for help, though. She depended on her utterly.

Nan Qi often lost herself in a daze.

The current Nan Qi offered no resistance to her pleas, granting every request. She was nothing like the woman who’d decisively moved out of the home they’d shared for nearly five years, severing all ties beyond bare necessities and coldly relegating her to the ranks of others.

It was as if the old Little Qi had come back…

A secret joy blossomed in Bo Ranying’s heart.

She conveniently ignored Nan Qi’s regular flights home to reunite with Tang Lian.

She held on only to the moments she cherished: her time alone with Nan Qi.