“If your godmother hadn’t messaged me to tell me, were you planning to keep it hidden? Lou Yixuan, you’re hospitalized—this is no small matter!”
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, Mom, don’t get mad. I really…”
“Don’t give me that ‘I’m fine’ or ‘I didn’t want you to worry’ nonsense. It won’t work.”
“Okay, then I won’t make excuses. Let me tell you something else to cheer you up. Ling Xuan stayed with me at the hospital late last night and only left after I fell asleep. Early this morning, Godmom brought me breakfast—egg pancakes that we both love. Later at noon, Ya Ning-jie will bring me lunch too. Her cooking is especially delicious. Even if you don’t believe me, you have to believe Dad, right? Goddad came to see me yesterday afternoon and prepaid a huge medical bill so I could eat and stay comfortably here without spending a dime.”
Lou Yixuan spoke in one long breath.
Every sentence—even every word—carried a smile and warmth. “Mom, we have lots of family here in China too. They love me just like you do, so I feel a tiny bit bold knowing I have that support. After hearing all this, can you stop being mad at me?”
There was a long silence on the other end of the line. Lou Yixuan tapped the screen to light it up and check, wondering if the call had dropped.
But the timer kept running. Maybe some other signal glitch?
“Mom? Are you still there?”
“Mm.”
Finally hearing her mother’s voice again, Lou Yixuan quickly shoved the Bluetooth earbud back into her ear, cupping her left ear as if afraid to miss a word.
“Then tonight when Ling Xuan comes over, we can video call you and Dad together?”
“Good. Behave yourself, rest up, listen to the doctors, don’t rush to check out, and don’t make me mad. Take a few photos during your afternoon dressing change and send them to me.”
“…Photos might be a no-go. They look a bit…”
“Lou Yixuan.”
“Okay, Mom, I’ll take them.”
The call with her mother was shorter than the one with Kinla, but both left Lou Yixuan feeling at ease.
For Spring Festival, she’d decided to return to Australia, and her father had changed his flight to two days later to travel with her.
Her show of vulnerability and softness, born from longing, had finally thawed the ice with her mother.
In her 26-plus years, that half-year back in China alone was the first time she’d been so far from her mother, the first time they’d been apart for so long.
It was also the first time, after a brief parting and reunion, that she’d buried herself in her mother’s arms and sobbed without a care for her image.
It wasn’t just half a year’s worth of grievances and longing—it was 26 full years of love and attachment, plus the guilt that piled up day by day.
Her mother had accepted her tears, accepted her embrace.
And kissed her forehead.
She knew her mother had forgiven her willfulness—or perhaps, her mother had never blamed her for it at all.
Over those two weeks, she’d met friends and teachers in Australia, chatting about painting, work, and insights. She’d even accompanied Kinla to a banquet, just like old times.
And with her parents, they’d embarked on an impromptu self-driving loop around the city.
They left their shared footprints at many places where they’d lived together for eight years but never visited as a family.
Life in Australia was actually great.
Except it lacked Lin Huayan. Everything else was fine.
“Sorry about that, Teacher Lin. Those were important calls.”
After ending the call, Lou Yixuan first apologized to Lin Huayan for “neglecting” her, then asked, “Did you hear about my hospitalization from Teacher Liu?”
The question was redundant—work-wise, she’d only reported it to Teacher Liu, so that was Lin Huayan’s only channel.
Without waiting for an answer, she straightened up a bit. “My condition isn’t too serious…”
Maybe she moved too suddenly. As she propped herself up, a wave of dizziness hit, along with nausea that made her want to retch—but it passed in seconds.
The doctor had said that depending on constitution, the toxins from the red fire ant venom could seriously affect the nervous and digestive systems, causing headaches, dizziness, nausea, vomiting, and such. Symptoms might last hours or even days.
She was the unlucky type—bitten by tiny ants into the hospital, even hospitalized. Telling anyone would probably earn her mockery.
Lin Huayan hurried to the bedside, her palm supporting Lou Yixuan’s back. “Dizzy?”
“Probably from lying down too long.”
Lou Yixuan wore the casual spring-autumn loungewear she’d brought from home.
Even with underwear beneath the cotton fabric, Lin Huayan’s palm felt scorching hot, the heat seeping right through.
She straightened her back rigidly, not wanting her spine to sink into that palm, not wanting to be burned by the temperature.
Sensing this, Lin Huayan withdrew her hand and softly asked about the bluish needle mark on Lou Yixuan’s left hand. “IV drip today too?”
“Morning one was done. Several bottles yesterday—the catheter just got removed.”
Lou Yixuan was no stranger to hospitals or medical gear; she visited a few times a year.
Sometimes alone, sometimes accompanying her father or mother. All three of them had been frequent visitors.
Whether her own ordeals or those she’d witnessed, no illness or injury stirred fear of pain or death in her anymore.
Lin Huayan turned to stone again, standing silently.
Lou Yixuan threw off the blanket at her waist and made to get up. “Sorry, Teacher Lin, could you step aside? I need the bathroom.”
Her slippers were on this side, so Lin Huayan moved back a bit. “Need me to help you?”
“No need. It’s not the joints—can bear weight, can walk myself.”
Lou Yixuan refused.
She mainly went into the bathroom to steady her emotions, adjust her state—afraid she’d lose control around Lin Huayan again.
Last time in her dorm, it was pure grievance that broke her.
This time…
She wasn’t aggrieved. She had so many people who loved her, giving her strength.
She shouldn’t break.
Her steps uneven, she shuffled to the bathroom, washed her face slowly, washed her hands, then came out.
Lou Yixuan pointed at the items Lin Huayan had brought, placed on the small side table, and struck up conversation. “Are those for me, Teacher Lin?”
“Yeah. I said on Thursday I’d treat you to dinner.”
“…” That was dinner. It was high noon now—what dinner? Dinner in the thermos?
“Cooked a few dishes. Might not be as good as Boss Xu’s. Try them—if you can eat, great; if not, no forcing it. Dump it if you have to, I don’t mind. Most important is your health—nutrition matters during recovery.”
She’d swapped morning first and second periods with He Huan.
Rushed home after the two classes to cook, then straight to the hospital. Asked at the inpatient nurses’ station for Lou Yixuan’s room.
The thermos was one Qin Fengru had brought her food in before—cleaned and kept at the new place.
Saved her some time today.
Lou Yixuan checked her phone—it was past 11:30.
Ya Ning-jie was probably en route. She couldn’t call and interrupt her driving, nor say over the phone: Ya Ning-jie, no need to bring lunch today.
Food made specially for her—who else would it go to if not her?
Her appetite had been poor these days anyway. Two portions? She’d burst before finishing.
“Thanks for thinking of me and going to the trouble.”
Lou Yixuan was polite, smiling on the surface. “Since it’s in the thermos, let’s leave it for now. I’ll eat it later this afternoon. Next week when I go to Tianmu Middle School to teach, I’ll bring the thermos back. Sound good?”
Lin Huayan gave a faint “mm,” then pulled four glass preservers from another paper bag.
“Watermelon, honeydew, blueberries, grapes—all washed and cut. Forks inside. Bring the boxes back next Monday.”
Seeing the fruits separately washed, cut, and boxed, Lou Yixuan felt a flicker of flattered surprise.
She breathed in secretly, out secretly, forcing herself to stay calm.
“Thanks, Teacher Lin.” She stepped closer to Lin Huayan, her smile even brighter. “All my favorites. I’ll eat every last bit—no waste.”
As the distance closed, Lin Huayan caught the medicinal scent on Lou Yixuan again. She wanted to see the injury, know how bad Lou Yixuan’s calf really was.
Would it be like the online pics—swollen lump, bloody holes?
She wanted to keep her company while she healed, apply her medicine, be her crutch, tell her: Not ugly, not gross. Skin regenerates strong—it’ll heal fast, soon.
But Lou Yixuan didn’t lack love, companionship, or care.
I’ve got hands and feet, can earn money. I live just fine alone—like you do. So Lin Huayan, can you tell me—over these past eight years without me, did you live well alone? Did you really live well?
She hadn’t.
The eight years without Lou Yixuan were worse than her first thirty.
But what she’d lacked, Lou Yixuan had in abundance—so Lou Yixuan’s “like you alone” was an invalid hypothetical.
How could Lou Yixuan be like her?
How could she be?
An elf of the human world, beloved by all—no one could resist her closeness. If she wanted, she could have anyone’s doting.
And among those “anyones” was herself—but there’d be no more “herself.”
Lou Yixuan wouldn’t coquettishly say “holding hands isn’t too much” anymore, or “Teacher Lin, hug me,” or “Lin Huayan, kiss me”…
All their flirtations and tenderness ended with: Please, don’t touch me.
Qin Fengru called her scum, her mother called her cowardly—they’d never witnessed how perfect this elf was.
So perfect, she couldn’t bear to taint or sully her even a little.
May’s breeze blew gently, teasing the hair Lin Huayan had dyed black just days ago.
She stepped to the window, the threads of emotion in her heart churning wildly in the wind.
“Have you thought it through? Decided for sure?”
Fate seemed to punish her dullness, her cowardice, her lack of courage. Every time she found a reason, mustered confidence to step forward, brutal gales would hurl her back with the force of a thousand armies.
Fate’s most unyielding dominance and majesty.
She wanted to tell Lou Yixuan “We can,” but Lou Yixuan had walked too far ahead, didn’t want her anymore.
She wanted to give kisses and hugs, but there was no space for her by Lou Yixuan’s side.
She wanted to ask if life in Australia was good—but those two calls told her it was. Australia and its people were great.
Lou Yixuan was being her truest, freest self.
Otherwise…
Otherwise, how could she so boldly call out “Jin Yilin” by name, pour her heart out and act spoiled with her mother without a care?
The breeze carried Lin Huayan’s murmur to Lou Yixuan’s ears, turning into notes that plucked at her heartstrings.
Thought it through?
She’d never actually told anyone: I’ve decided to go back to Australia.
Lu Lingxuan had once half-jokingly, half-seriously teased: After running away from home once, did you realize Mom’s arms are warmest? Not coming back to China?
She’d replied: Maybe.
No idea how Lu Lingxuan passed it to Teacher Du, making her so convinced of Lou Yixuan’s “firm resolve to return to Australia.”
She was wavering, not decided.
Her mother hadn’t demanded she return to Australia to keep their mother-daughter bond.
Otherwise, why would Mom call today, so urgently concerned?
“What do you mean, Teacher Lin? I’m not sure I follow.”
Standing on one foot tired her out. Lou Yixuan sat back on the bed’s edge, gazing wistfully at Lin Huayan’s lonely, desolate back. “These past couple days, the illness has my head spinning. If Teacher Lin has something to say, just say it straight. I’ll answer what I can.”
Knock knock knock—
The door knocked again.
Without even waiting for Lou Yixuan to say “come in,” the voice outside called, “Yixuan, I’m coming in!” and pushed the door open.
At eighteen, thanks to Cen Qiongying’s favor, Ji Mingxin—two years behind her peers in starting school—skipped straight from her first year of high school to her second.
At nineteen, she asked Cen Qiongying, “What can I give you?”
Cen Qiongying replied, “Win the top score in the college entrance exams for me.”
“Okay,” she answered with unwavering confidence. That was also the first time in over a decade that she smiled from the heart.
＊＊
Ji Mingxin became the first top scorer in the history of Tianmu Middle School’s college entrance exams—and the first student to be embroiled in scandalous rumors with Tianmu Education Group President Cen Qiongying.
To be Cen Qiongying’s bedfellow, to be her pride—Ji Mingxin feared not a thousand arrows piercing her heart.
At twenty, she finally kissed the moon she’d long coveted. Their lips and tongues entwined, saliva mingling in an exquisite bliss beyond words.
But the price was her lover’s cold dismissal: “Sleep separately tonight. Don’t cross the line.”
Cen Qiongying came to her for bed-warming less and less.
And Ji Mingxin grew more and more panicked.
On the day her emotions collapsed and she tearfully demanded, “How can you love me?”, Cen Qiongying took her to the cemetery.
One glance, and she almost thought the face on the tombstone was her own. But the name engraved there was utterly unfamiliar: Mu Xiaoyu.
The erector of the stone, besides her parents, included one more—Wife: Cen Qiongying.
Erected… sixteen years prior.
