Ming Li thought for a moment, her innocent, calm eyes looking back at the doctor.
A few minutes later, the doctor asked in disbelief, “Not even one thing?”
Ming Li racked her brain, searching through her memories, but they were empty. Her time spent with Gu Qingshuang felt like an NPC grinding through repetitive quests. Most days were identical. She couldn’t recall a single moment of pure joy or even profound shared sorrow.
Ming Li had experienced those emotions, but they didn’t belong to Gu Qingshuang. They weren’t caused by her, so they couldn’t be reflected back onto her.
Ming Li shook her head awkwardly. “I can’t think of anything.”
The doctor tried to make an excuse for her. “Perhaps you’re too nervous. It’s understandable to forget things in this state.”
Ming Li wondered: Was that it?
She clearly wasn’t nervous. Ming Li was someone who hated trouble, so she usually avoided thinking too deeply. Now, trapped in this environment, she was forced to think, only to find that her realizations were terrifying.
Even her anxiety over Gu Qingshuang had faded. She had been worried when she first heard the fever wouldn’t break, but after that, she felt nothing.
She even began to suspect that the “A-Li” Qingshuang was calling for wasn’t her “Li” (Black Horse), but the “Li” from “Lideng” (Pear).
(T/N: In Chinese, “A-Li” can refer to both Ming Li (明骊) and Shen Lideng (沈梨灯). “Li” 骊 means black horse, while “Li” 梨 means pear. In delirium, names sounding identical causes confusion.)
Otherwise, how could she not remember a single happy memory with the woman? Their three years had been flat and featureless. Their biggest argument had been over Little Xi and Shen Chang, which ended with Ming Li laying her cards on the table and Gu Qingshuang maintaining a surface-level harmony. It was settled quickly, but it had tormented Ming Li for a while.
Life seemed to be this way—ever since her father died, every time Ming Li felt like things were getting better, a bolt from the blue would shatter her dream. It was like a slap in the face while she was sleeping: Hey! Wake up! You don’t deserve to dream.
Because of this, she was adapting quite well now.
Ming Li stayed in the room for another half hour. When she came out, she sat on the bench and dazed off again. She had become accustomed to aimless waiting.
In the evening, Sun Xihan and Zhu Hanxing both messaged her.
Sun Xihan sent a group photo of the successful performance. Among the dancers was a foreign performer Ming Li admired greatly; Sun Xihan had managed to get an autograph for her. Before leaving, Ming Li had mentioned it in passing, saying that if she met the dancer, she mustn’t lose her composure and should calmly introduce herself before asking for a signature.
Sun Xihan had scoffed then. “I won’t go over there to join the fuss. My English is terrible.”
Ming Li knew her English was barely enough to pass a basic exam. But the autograph Sun Xihan sent was in Chinese. It said only four words: Freedom, At Ease.
The signature was in English, written beautifully.
Ming Li sent back: [Congratulations.] She added a “Thank you.”
Sun Xihan didn’t reply.
Zhu Hanxing, having heard that Ming Li hadn’t gone abroad, bombarded her with messages. She asked why she didn’t go, if she was injured, or if something was wrong. She even called four or five times.
Ming Li let out a soft sigh. Just as she was about to reply to Hanxing, the ICU door opened. A nurse called out, “Miss Ming, Miss Gu is awake.”
Gu Qingshuang was only conscious for a few seconds. Ming Li went in to see her, but they didn’t even make eye contact before Qingshuang drifted off again.
However, for the doctors, this was fantastic news. At least she had woken up; her vitals were stabilizing, and the high fever had subsided into a low-grade one that would be easy to manage.
Ming Li felt like she was in a trance, watching people come and go. Gu Qingshuang was moved to a VIP ward, and Ming Li sat by the bed. Lin Xun brought over some urgent documents for her to review; Ming Li checked them and signed where necessary.
Now, she truly had nothing left to do.
It wasn’t until the morning of the third day that Gu Qingshuang’s fever finally broke. Ming Li hadn’t slept for two nights—one spent in the corridor, the other by the bedside.
When Gu Qingshuang opened her eyes that morning, she saw Ming Li leaning her head on her hand, her eyes half-closed, with heavy dark circles beneath them.
The moment she shifted the stiff blanket slightly, Ming Li snapped her eyes open.
“You’re awake?” Ming Li met her confused gaze and asked tonelessly, “Do you feel uncomfortable anywhere?”
As she spoke, she pressed the call button. For a “Supreme VIP” guest like Gu Qingshuang, the doctors were incredibly attentive. Within a minute of the bell ringing, the room was flooded with doctors and nurses.
Dr. Wei was the last to enter. Upon arrival, she cleared the room, even “chasing” Ming Li out.
Ming Li leaned against the wall and yawned. Her phone began to vibrate incessantly. She saw it only had 5% battery left and saw the caller ID. After a moment’s hesitation, she answered. “Hello?”
Her voice was raspy, not yet fully awake, making it sound as if she had been crying for a long time.
Ming Li coughed to clear her throat, but the other side remained silent for two seconds before Zhu Hanxing’s voice rang out: “A-Li, you… no… she…”
“What’s wrong?” Ming Li asked.
Zhu Hanxing finally blurted out the question she had been hesitating over: “Gu Qingshuang didn’t… you know… right?”
“What?” Ming Li didn’t catch the meaning immediately.
“Died,” Hanxing said. “Don’t be too sad. Give me the address, I’ll come stay with you.”
Ming Li: “…”
“No,” Ming Li explained. “She’s alive.”
“Then she’s alive and she didn’t let you go abroad?! Don’t you know how rare that opportunity was? Are you really that ‘love-brained’? I swear!” Zhu Hanxing let out a torrent of words.
Ming Li only caught bits and pieces. She heard Hanxing ask for the address again, saying she was coming over. Ming Li had just managed to say “No” when her phone died.
While she was staring at the black screen, a hand reached out and offered her a white power bank.
Ming Li looked up and saw Gu Fei wearing a pink baseball cap. Her long hair was tied in a side braid—a casual, youthful look that felt like a callback to their university days.
