Chapter 83: You Can Follow Me, But Not Dan Wuyan.

Dan Wuyan, who had been propping her head up, shook groggily awake from her sleep. She lifted her eyelids and realized that the person on the bed had already fallen into a deep slumber.

Because of that little incident that evening, Jing Yan had barely eaten anything. Dan Wuyan got up, intending to go outside and buy some food to bring back. But her wrist suddenly felt heavy, and in the instant she turned her gaze, she looked incredulously at the woman on the bed.

Jing Yan had pulled her back. The icy chill in her eyes melted away completely at that moment, turning into a pool of clear, cool spring water. She pressed her lips together tightly and only after a long while slowly opened her mouth. “Can you… not go? Stay with me a little longer?”

Dan Wuyan patted her hand, her tone flat, carrying that measured distance between friends who weren’t quite friends. “Don’t worry. I’m just going to buy you something to eat.”

Her response was so indifferent, neither warm nor cold, that it left Jing Yan feeling a sense of loss. But she knew full well that this was all her own doing, so any heartache she felt could only be swallowed down.

Jing Yan withdrew her hand and watched the woman’s retreating back, inevitably recalling the moment three years ago when she had stood in the corner, watching Dan Wuyan leave with her own eyes.

Things were different now, but time couldn’t wash away the pain in her heart. She had let go of her own accord—did she really have the nerve to shamelessly beg Dan Wuyan to come back to her side?

As she walked out of the emergency observation room, Dan Wuyan didn’t leave immediately. Instead, she leaned against the white wall in the corridor, lowering her gaze in a daze at the wrist she had just gripped, as if the other’s body heat still clung to her skin.

Ethics and morality all reminded her that she and Jing Yan were a thing of the past. Any trace of greed she felt now was condemning her as nothing more than a homewrecker.

The word “homewrecker,” just like “illegitimate child,” had filled her childhood. They appeared with almost the same frequency.

As far back as she could remember, before Dan Yu had moved to live with her grandmother, the neighbors on both sides would always mock her unmarried, pregnant mother as a homewrecker with sneering attitudes.

That old, rundown history was a shambles. Dan Yu sat calmly on a peeling chair, turning a deaf ear, her fingertips trembling as she folded origami cranes.

One after another.

Later, Dan Wuyan had learned her folding method too.

“Wuyan, even though what Mommy says might be hard for you to understand, once you learn to fold origami cranes, when you grow up and have someone you like, you must fold them for her. You can write all the words you can’t say out loud on them. Do you understand?”

Dan Wuyan had nodded blankly, and Dan Yu’s delighted brows overlapped in the warm light as she reached out with a smile to stroke her head.

After leaning against the wall for a good while, Dan Wuyan finally came back to her senses and stepped out into the cold wind.

There were always little street stalls full of human warmth near hospitals. Dan Wuyan packed two portions of porridge from a small shop, along with some other light pastries, and left.

But on her way back to the hospital, at a handmade bakery, she spotted a familiar busy figure.

Just as Dan Wuyan hesitated whether to go in and take a look, the woman at the counter spotted her first. “Dan Wuyan?”

Surprise filled Fu Lianzhi’s eyes too. Dan Wuyan slightly raised her gaze to meet the other’s. Neither had expected to run into each other at this time, in this place.

The bakery was fairly large, about twice the size of a normal shop, with two storefronts on the commercial street across from Central Hospital, not far away.

Under the warm lighting, the colorful breads looked very tempting. It was almost closing time, and the freshly baked breads were being discounted for those who needed them.

Fu Lianzhi invited Dan Wuyan to sit down. She was indeed quite curious—after all, both had left Fengcheng and taken different paths in life.

Dan Wuyan set down the porridge in her hands and sat across from Fu Lianzhi. She didn’t know how to broach the subject. She had already heard about Fu Lianzhi’s specific situation from Ji Fan beforehand.

Dan Wuyan felt it was a pity, but those words weren’t suitable to say to her face right now.

Deciding to ask something else instead, Dan Wuyan started, “Fu…” But she stopped immediately. Back in Fengcheng, because Fu Lianzhi had been her superior, she had always called her “President Fu.” Now that the other had changed roles, she really didn’t know what to call her.

Fu Lianzhi caught on and smiled. “Just call me by my name.”

Calling her by name felt awkward too.

Dan Wuyan skipped it altogether and asked directly, “Ji Fan hasn’t contacted me in a month. You and her…”

She tossed the second half of the question to Fu Lianzhi. Perhaps it would be better to hear from her directly whether there was any possibility between them.

But unexpectedly, Fu Lianzhi’s gaze darkened. Not only did she deny any relationship, she explained in detail: “Three years ago, because of the pandemic, we were locked down in the neighborhood together. When the lockdown lifted and we could go out, she went back. Then she came to find me under my building every day, talking about all sorts of things.”

At that time, she had softened and let go too. If it weren’t for being gay, once she had worked her way up, there would still be all sorts of excuses to push her out.

In the torrent of society, she had finally climbed out of the countryside step by step. No experience, no background, no one to help her even a little—she had reached the director position with just her two hands. How many people coveted it? Countless.

Fu Lianzhi wasn’t a fool; being gay was just a pretext.

In truth, she had been tired for a long time, fed up with struggling in the workplace. This was actually more relaxed and free, and conveniently, time had given her a reason to take it slow.

Dan Wuyan asked, “Has she contacted you recently?”

Fu Lianzhi shook her head.

No, just when she had fallen in love again, Ji Fan had pulled back.

As a result, she now looked lightly on both love and career. Love or not—it was all just a flash in the pan.

Dan Wuyan found it odd. Before, Ji Fan would call her several times a month to ask about Deep Color’s operations in Switzerland, but now there was total silence.

Messages sent, calls made—all went unanswered.

She tentatively attributed Ji Fan’s situation to avoiding the Ji Family, since they had wanted her back from start to finish.

A thought popped into Dan Wuyan’s mind: should she ask Fu Lianzhi to come try out at Deep Color? Talent shouldn’t be buried like this. She probed, “So what are you doing now…?”

Fu Lianzhi glanced around her shop and hooked up an easy smile. “What do you think? My bakery isn’t bad, right? When I was little, I was always hungry, so I dreamed of one day opening my own shop so I’d never go hungry again.”

Dan Wuyan’s gaze slowly darkened.

The notion of inviting her to Deep Color vanished in that instant.

Fu Lianzhi shrugged, still smiling. “Rather than integrating into someone else’s world at any cost, it’s better to carve out my own little piece of heaven.”

“Don’t worry, President Dan. If there’s any news about Ji Fan later, I’ll let you know right away.”

Dan Wuyan nodded reassuringly.

The Ji Family was also a prominent power in Huaihai. On one hand, perhaps Ji Fan really was just avoiding them and thus not contacting her.

There had been similar situations before.

It had only been three years, but Dan Wuyan felt everything had changed.

Many of Fu Lianzhi’s words touched her. She seemed to have forgotten her original purpose in returning to the country—to quietly stay by Jing Yan’s side, just to gaze at how dazzling her moon was.

But people were always greedy, reaping what they sowed, and now things had come to this with Jing Yan.

Getting closer by an inch or retreating a step—both brought pain.

As she climbed the steps back to the hospital, Dan Wuyan hurried past the nurses’ station in a few strides and entered the observation room.

She set down her things, propped up a meal tray on the bed, and divided everything out one by one, handing a spoon to Jing Yan.

Jing Yan took it and said thanks.

She glanced at the porridge and bread on the table. “You bought bread too?”

Dan Wuyan nodded, not mentioning that it was from Fu Lianzhi. It was fine to keep that secret tucked away, leaving some dignity for both sides.

If Fu Lianzhi really was as nonchalant as she seemed, Jing Yan would probably be the first to know. But from the bread’s packaging exposed in front of her, she showed no reaction at all. She seemed unaware.

Actually, two people couldn’t finish such a dinner. Jing Yan’s throat was still swollen from the allergy, so she had no appetite anyway.

But it was bought by Dan Wuyan.

As she sipped the porridge, Dan Wuyan asked from the side, “Did you notify your family?”

A trace of clarity flickered in Jing Yan’s eyes. “No time.”

“Actually, your condition earlier was very dangerous.”

“I know.”

Notify the family—who? Jing Ming? Or her ninety-something father who panted even when walking? Or her eldest brother, who was already in his seventies and had gone back for the family doctor that afternoon?

Or… that one?

None of these were in Jing Yan’s considerations.

Dan Wuyan looked up, not expecting such a straightforward answer.

Then she added, “I mean… you could have died.”

Jing Yan’s hand holding the spoon paused slightly, then she continued eating her porridge as if nothing had happened.

Dan Wuyan wanted Jing Yan to take this to heart. Was this her first time having such a severe allergic reaction, where even breathing grew rapid?

How could Jing Yan not know? But now she had to pretend to be calm.

The more she acted this way, the more heartache stirred darkly in Dan Wuyan.

“Having you is enough…”

Jing Yan nearly mumbled it through pursed lips, squeezing the words from her throat like a mosquito’s buzz—inaudible unless listened to closely.

Because of the fast speed and faint voice, Dan Wuyan really didn’t hear it. She looked up with an “Ah?” and asked, “What did you say?”

Jing Yan kept drinking her porridge, replying guiltily, “Nothing.”

After they ate a bit, Dan Wuyan cleared away the tray. Just then, the nurse came to change the IV. Jing Yan averted her gaze, inwardly fearful but pretending to be strong.

Seeing this, Dan Wuyan lowered her head and gently curved her lips.

Night deepened, and the entire observation room fell quiet.

Jing Yan turned on her side, while Dan Wuyan unfolded a cot beside her bed.

After a while, hearing even breathing from the side, she lightly turned over.

She blinked her eyelashes, staring at Dan Wuyan’s face. The first time she had seen this person, she had immediately wanted to possess her.

Though Jing Yan knew this was wrong, domineering—plotting against her for so long, carefully arranging for Dan Wuyan to see her, know her, and fall for her.

Yet she had hurt her.

Such a like, schemed and seized in the shadows, was hardly noble. Jing Yan reached out, then immediately suspended her hand in midair. After some hesitation, she placed her palm on the other’s back and gently patted along the spine.

Perhaps feeling the touch, Dan Wuyan shot up like thunder, making quite a commotion. Jing Yan jumped in fright and hastily withdrew her hand. Dan Wuyan opened her weary eyelids and glanced at the IV by Jing Yan’s bed. Seeing some left, she relaxed.

Jing Yan thought she had seen her earlier action and dry-coughed. “Um… I just went to throw out the trash earlier. Sorry, did I wake you?”

“No.” Dan Wuyan lay back down reassuringly but kept her eyes open, not daring to close them again.

On the sickbed, Jing Yan stayed awake too for a long time, staring blankly at the ceiling. Both lay supine in the same posture.

Time ticked by. Jing Yan tossed and turned, unable to sleep. Dan Wuyan had dozed off again when the nurse quietly came to remove Jing Yan’s needle.

Urgent footsteps echoed from the corridor outside. Seeing the panicked person outside, Jing Yan raised her hand to stop him from barging in, then made a shushing gesture to the tall man who halted at the door.

Jing Yan led him out, carefully closing the door behind her. The man behind her lowered his gaze and said, “Sorry, Eldest Miss.”

Jing Yan crooked her finger, signaling him to follow to a nearby corner.

Her slender finger pressed against the man’s chest muscle, using a bit of force. The man before her had no choice but to step back.

Slap! A slap landed precisely on his face.

The man clutched his face and guiltily bowed his head.

“You tell her: she can have you follow me, but not Dan Wuyan.” Jing Yan shook out her wrist, her cold eyes sweeping over him disdainfully. “You’ve been sitting outside the hospital for a long time, huh? Good acting. How much did she pay you to willingly be her dog?”

The man stammered for a long while.

Seeing this, Jing Yan let out a light, mocking laugh.

“Madam… Madam… she just couldn’t rest easy and wanted me to check on you…”

Jing Yan lazily lifted her eyelids and leaned in closer, pinching his collar. “So?”

Her mother had schemed every way three years ago, using Jing Taihong’s desire to reach into Hong Kong’s industries, dragging up old matters to bind her. Jing’s Mother knew Jing Yan feared Dan Wuyan learning the truth, so she had gripped her tightly these past few years.

But during the day, when she sat in Dan Wuyan’s passenger seat, she had spotted a suspicious car tailing them through the rearview mirror. She did not need to guess to know it was her mother—as soon as she got close to Dan Wuyan, the woman would never let it go.

Jing Yan wanted a smoke. Remembering that she was in the hospital, she held back. She lifted her eyelids and stared coldly at the man. “Tell her to drop the fake concern. As she wished, I’m not dead yet. You can repeat everything I said to you today word for word. I don’t care.”

A slap mark still lingered on his face. The man hurried away with a flustered expression.

Jing Yan walked to the side of the trash bin outside. She stood there for a moment before fishing a cigarette and matches from her coat pocket.

The cold wind whipped around wildly. Jing Yan brushed her hair back behind her neck. In the silent night, she struck the match quickly—a spark flared and flickered in the wind. Her thin lips held the cigarette tip as she tilted her head toward the dancing flame.

The next second, the spark vanished into the thick darkness.