Chapter 26: Graceful and Outstanding

Shen Chaoyi watched her expression, then sat down slightly behind her to the side, bag on her lap. “Actually, the soil here was originally damaged by medical waste. At first, nothing would grow no matter what we planted. The old dean put a lot of effort into fixing the soil, transplanting these flowers little by little, and now they’ve taken root.”

She paused for two seconds, eyes fixed on the faint blue bruise that still hadn’t faded from Yi Qingzhuo’s neck. “So no matter how hard it was, in the end the flowers still bloomed.”

The process didn’t matter. What mattered was the current profusion of blossoms.

Seeing such an elegant and fresh place now, who could imagine it had once been a scene of utter devastation, unbearable to look at?

What people saw was the present and the future.

Yi Qingzhuo listened, thought for a moment, then turned back. “Are you using a metaphor for me?”

Very direct. No tricks at all.

Shen Chaoyi nodded openly. “Yeah, I think you’re too negative. You should try to connect with the outside world. If you just listen to an MP3 with no music in it, you’ll never discover that music can actually soothe your mood. If you keep your environment completely locked down, not letting anyone in, you’ll never find out that friends can be a spiritual remedy.”

With that, Shen Chaoyi took a white MP3 player out of her bag and placed it on the stone table. “There are some soothing piano pieces in here. You can give them a try.”

“At the internet cafe, I meet all kinds of people every day.” Yi Qingzhuo glanced at the MP3 player, her fingertips trembling slightly.

Did she go out of her way to download those?

Shen Chaoyi tapped the surface of the MP3 player lightly, guiding her. “I’m talking about making new friends. The people at the internet cafe are customers. A one-time meeting—how can that count as a friend?”

“I don’t need friends.” With one sentence, Yi Qingzhuo cut off any possibility of Shen Chaoyi speaking further.

“How can you not need friends? If a person spends their whole life alone, how boring is that?” Just as Yi Qingzhuo finished speaking, a deep voice rang out, accompanied by a light laugh.

Shen Chaoyi shifted her gaze and saw Pei Zhoujin. She immediately stood up and greeted him politely. “Old Dean Pei, you’ve come.”

Pei Zhoujin chuckled, looking kind and benevolent.

He was simply dressed, carrying a transparent teacup, walking over with an easy sway.

He waved his hand. “Mm, good, sit down. I’m just a flower gardener now, no need to be so polite.”

He didn’t look like a dean at all.

If you threw him into the street, he wouldn’t cause the slightest stir.

“Not at all, you’ve always been our respected Teacher Pei.” Shen Chaoyi stood up to give her seat to Pei Zhoujin and carefully helped him sit down.

Suppressing the emotions stirred by Yi Qingzhuo’s emotionless “I don’t need friends,” Shen Chaoyi introduced her. “This is the old dean I mentioned. His surname is Pei. He’s a highly respected old professor.”

Then she said to Pei Zhoujin, “Old Dean Pei, this is Yi Qingzhuo, one of my patients.”

Yi Qingzhuo braced herself on the edge of the table to stand and greet him, but Pei Zhoujin saw she wasn’t steady and waved his hand. “Sit down, don’t worry about empty formalities.”

“Hello.” Yi Qingzhuo could only sit back and gave a slight nod.

Then she quickly averted her eyes, not rudely sizing him up on their first meeting.

But Pei Zhoujin did take a look at Yi Qingzhuo, then said cheerfully to Shen Chaoyi, “Chaoyi, you haven’t been here in so long. Have you finally remembered this old man?”

“Come to think of it, the last time you came to chat with me was a month and a half ago. Count it yourself—I thought you’d forgotten all about me.”

But this time, she had brought someone.

And that someone was a patient of hers.

Pei Zhoujin found it strange.

“The hospital’s been busy lately, so I didn’t have time to come keep you company. Sorry about that.” Shen Chaoyi chuckled lightly and added, “I got off work early today, so here I am. I also brought one of my patients to see all these beautiful flowers. She had surgery and has been in the hospital for almost half a month. She’s a bit bored and can’t walk around much. I thought a change of scenery might change her mood, so I brought her along. I hope Old Dean Pei doesn’t mind.” Shen Chaoyi sat down beside Pei Zhoujin and explained.

Pei Zhoujin’s eyes nearly squinted into slits from smiling. He glanced at Yi Qingzhuo. “Of course I don’t mind. But you’re right—staying in the hospital day after day for half a month can really affect your mood. Still, this patient of yours doesn’t look like a young girl in her early twenties. She seems quite mature. How can she still say she doesn’t need friends?”

Yi Qingzhuo, who had been leaning back in her chair, sat up straight out of respect for the elderly man.

“I…” she began, but before she could finish, Shen Chaoyi spoke for her.

“No, it’s not that. She has a cold personality because of some special circumstances. It has nothing to do with age.”

Yi Qingzhuo exchanged a glance with Shen Chaoyi, then closed her mouth.

Pei Zhoujin propped his chin on his hand, unscrewed his teacup, and took a sip. “So this is that Yi… Qingzhuo who was all over the news recently?”

Because of his age, he had little else to do and paid attention to trending social topics.

And since the news had reported that Yi Qingzhuo was rescued at the First People’s Hospital, Pei Zhoujin had taken a closer look a while ago.

Although the bloodied, mangled Yi Qingzhuo from then was far from the calm one now—barely recognizable as the same person—once he heard Shen Chaoyi’s words, he quickly realized who this was.

This child… was tough.

“Yes, I am.” The faint respect Yi Qingzhuo had felt from Shen Chaoyi’s deference to Pei Zhoujin evaporated instantly with that remark.

Yi Qingzhuo’s brows were clear, her lips pressed tight, her mood low.

Mentioning the past made her reflexively turn cold.

Now Pei Zhoujin understood the reason behind Yi Qingzhuo’s “I don’t need friends.”

His gaze settled deeply on the camellia flowers, their white reflected in his pupils.

“Yi Qingzhuo—this name. Graceful and outstanding, with valleys and ridges in your heart, fearless of time and wind. A good name. It has vision.”

Pei Zhoujin murmured it, the words drifting on the wind into the sea of flowers.

Yi Qingzhuo’s tone was low and slow. “The name’s vision is too grand. My fate isn’t big enough to bear it.”

That was why she had suffered so many disasters, so much misfortune.

“Who gave it to you?” Pei Zhoujin grew interested.

Upon learning she was Yi Qingzhuo, his first question wasn’t about the news, but about her name.

Shen Chaoyi listened quietly.

Yi Qingzhuo—at first hearing, it seemed unusual to put “Qing” (clear) and “Zhuo” (burning) together in a name.

Even “Zhuo” was rarely used.

The name was contradictory, and Yi Qingzhuo herself was contradictory.

“Zhuo” implied blazing heat, but Yi Qingzhuo was ice-cold, not a trace of warmth.

But after hearing Pei Zhoujin’s interpretation, the name seemed filled with soaring ambition.

“Yi Qingzhuo.” Shen Chaoyi murmured it involuntarily.

But Yi Qingzhuo caught it. She raised her eyes and looked at Shen Chaoyi with faint confusion.

Shen Chaoyi hadn’t expected Yi Qingzhuo to hear her. She smiled sheepishly and lowered her head.

Yi Qingzhuo watched. As Shen Chaoyi lowered her head, a few stray strands of hair fell loose with the movement.

They partially veiled her features, as if a thin gauze had fallen over Shen Chaoyi’s profile.

The next second, a breeze lifted that “gauze,” revealing Shen Chaoyi’s flushed cheeks.

Her fair, delicate features carried a trace of tenderness, and Yi Qingzhuo was momentarily stunned.

Until Pei Zhoujin spoke again. “Of course, if it’s inconvenient to say, that’s fine too.”

Yi Qingzhuo withdrew her gentle gaze from Shen Chaoyi. “It’s not inconvenient. I chose my own name. In my third year of high school, I changed both my surname and given name.”

She had gained a new name, and with it had gone against the life of her original name, taking a new path.

A path covered in thorns and darkness.

“I changed to my mother’s surname,” Yi Qingzhuo added.

“It sounds very nice, very meaningful,” Pei Zhoujin commented.

Yi Qingzhuo gave a symbolic nod. “Thank you. You two talk. I’ll go for a walk.”

With that, she stood up.

The hospital gown was a bit big, the collar slightly messy, revealing a glimpse of her collarbone.

She walked forward two steps, out of the pavilion, and without shelter, the wind cut ruthlessly through her.

Yi Qingzhuo shoved her hands into her jacket pockets and pulled it tighter. The veins on her neck were distinct, and her pale skin made her injuries stand out even more.

She looked like that—especially her jet-black hair, pure black, not long, not short, just past her shoulders.

Perhaps also because her features were somewhat sharp, the sense of fragility was so strong it made one’s heart ache.

Even standing among the flowers, she was striking.

Shen Chaoyi watched, with Yi Qingzhuo reflected in the center of her pupils.

She had changed her own name.

So what had her original name been?

Shen Chaoyi wasn’t sure if it was her imagination, but she felt that when Yi Qingzhuo said she changed to her mother’s surname, there was an imperceptible desolation in her voice.

She was unwilling to mention her former name, as if that name was a knife that could pry open her already scabbed wounds.

Just thinking about it brought the pain of fresh blood.

Yi Qingzhuo, clear wind and bright moon.

Your current name is beautiful too.