Dr. Wei, the psychiatrist who had been handling Gu Qingshuang’s counseling, had cut her rare vacation short to assist in the joint consultation. The results were minimal. The only good news was that Gu Qingshuang’s temperature was steadily dropping, though her vitals remained dangerously low.
Ming Li didn’t know what to do once she was inside. Following the doctor’s instructions, she sat by the bed to talk to her.
Looking at the unconscious Gu Qingshuang, Ming Li’s heart was a knot of conflicting emotions. Part of her felt a flash of resentment—Qingshuang had fallen into the water for someone else, worried herself sick over other matters, and as a result, Ming Li had lost her grand opportunity.
But another part of her felt a pang of pity. When had the lofty, cold Gu Qingshuang ever looked this pathetic? This went beyond mere dishevelment.
Ming Li wanted to speak, but she didn’t know what to say. She settled on trivial topics. She mentioned that Little Xi was going out to play with Mingyue and Hanxing, and that Little Xi had promised to tutor Gu An and Gu Le.
But what about Ming Li herself?
Ming Li felt that Gu Qingshuang didn’t really care about her life, and truthfully, she had nothing much to say. For the past three years, her life had been like a stagnant well—utterly unremarkable. The business knowledge she had studied and the social etiquette she had mastered were things Gu Qingshuang despised. And Qingshuang had never cared about her private life.
The doctor wanted her to chat, but Ming Li found her reservoir of topics desperately shallow. She ended up repeating the same few things until even she felt bored.
Even now, she felt no real sense of reality regarding the situation. She was like a puppet, doing exactly what others told her to do. The doctor noticed her glazed eyes and waved a hand in front of her. “Miss Ming?”
Ming Li pursed her lips and looked up.
“That’s enough for now.” The doctor signaled for her to leave, returning the focus to the medical team.
Ming Li didn’t know if her presence had helped at all. She glanced at the pale woman on the bed one last time before heading out.
Time ticked away.
The evening clouds spread across the sky, blanketing the horizon. Gu Xueqiang had to leave for company business half an hour ago, while Gu Qingshuang remained under observation.
Ming Li leaned against the wall in the long hospital corridor, watching the light and shadows play across her skin. The sunset was magnificent and vast—beautiful yet harmless. Unlike the rising sun, the human eye could stare directly into the dying light of dusk.
In an instant, memories flooded back.
Three years ago, on an evening just like this, Gu Qingshuang had walked up to her while she was stubbornly struggling to survive and offered an impossible-to-refuse condition. From that moment on, her “employer” had shifted from a faceless crowd to just Gu Qingshuang.
That was why, today, she had to put Gu Qingshuang first.
Setting aside the fact that Qingshuang was at death’s door, even if Qingshuang had simply commanded, “You cannot leave today, you must stay,” Ming Li would have had no right to refuse.
Ming Li stared at the sunset—brilliant and grand, yet fleeting. It was just like everything she had possessed lately.
Night brought a pitch-black darkness, but the hallway lights remained bright. Ming Li waited calmly for the result, like a prisoner waiting for a judge’s verdict. She didn’t dare hold onto any expectations.
Eventually, her phone vibrated, jolting her out of her daze. The ICU light was still on. Gu Xueqiang had come and gone again, leaving Lin Xun behind, who had covered Ming Li with a thin blanket while she drifted.
Ming Li opened her phone to a message from Sun Xihan. It was the middle of the night at home, but noon over there—a twelve-hour time difference.
Sun Xihan had sent a photo of another dance troupe rehearsing. There were seven hours left until the official performance. Ming Li’s finger hovered over the screen. She wanted to say something, but words failed her. In the end, she just sent a “Jiayou” cheering emoji.
Sun Xihan: [Did you try?]
Sun Xihan was the type who didn’t believe in fate; she believed humans could conquer heaven. Ming Li used to be like that too, but people changed.
Ming Li: [Some things can’t be fixed by effort alone.]
Sun Xihan was silent for a moment before replying: [Try to fight for it. What if?]
Ming Li didn’t dare give her hope. She simply replied: [Work hard. I’ll be cheering for you.]
Sun Xihan didn’t reply again.
Throughout the night, Gu Qingshuang’s condition fluctuated. In the small hours of the morning, even Gu Liufu arrived. Dragging his sickly body, he looked even thinner than the last time Ming Li had seen him. His eyes were sunken, the dark circles beneath them heavy.
As soon as he arrived, he began to cough incessantly, shattering the silence of the corridor. Surprisingly, Gu Xueqiang and Gu Liufu didn’t start a fight. Even Gu Liufu went into the room to try “counseling” Qingshuang, but it had little effect.
Ming Li knew that Gu Xueqiang was preparing for the worst-case scenario. The hospital had provided rest areas for them, but no one used them.
Several times, Gu Xueqiang told Ming Li she would arrange a private jet to whisk her away so she could perform and then rush back immediately. It was the best compromise Gu Xueqiang could think of.
Ming Li simply shook her head. “It’s fine. I’ve already spoken with the other side. My teammate will handle it perfectly.”
What was the point of the frantic back-and-forth? She would be terrified the whole way. If she arrived without rehearsing, she wouldn’t know the blocking and would likely cause trouble for Sun Xihan. Furthermore, what if Gu Qingshuang suddenly passed away while she was in the air? It was unpredictable.
So, she stayed and waited.
Gu Xueqiang looked at her, a wave of guilt rising. “I will give you a better stage in the future.”
The corners of Ming Li’s mouth curled up slightly. “It’s alright, Mother.”
She didn’t know if she was comforting Gu Xueqiang or herself.
As dawn broke, Ming Li opened her eyes. The grueling night of waiting was over. Sun Xihan’s performance had already begun.
In the afternoon, Ming Li entered the ICU again. Following the doctor’s orders, she chatted with Gu Qingshuang. The content was much the same as the day before. Even Ming Li felt bored, and the doctor couldn’t listen anymore, gently guiding her to talk about something “interesting” between them—something that might spark Gu Qingshuang’s interest.
