On her way to the changing room, Bo Ranying popped a lemon-flavored soda candy into her mouth. It melted away, leaving a dense, lingering sweetness that swept aside all the pain in her body.
She rubbed her abdomen. It no longer hurt, so she put the matter out of her mind.
After chewing up the candy in a few bites, she changed into her costume and stepped onto the stage. The music started up with its rhythmic beat, and the performance began.
She had gone through the routine countless times; it was etched into her memory.
Bo Ranying rose onto her tiptoes and launched into the dance, executing each standard movement with precision.
She moved like a startled swan, graceful as a wandering dragon.
She was a living painting of leaping court ladies, pouring every ounce of effort into displaying her most beautiful form.
She had practiced it over and over. Sweat now covered her cheeks, and her eyelashes were clumped heavy with it, weighing down her eyelids so that even lifting them felt like an ordeal.
Bo Ranying knew she was dancing, but suddenly everything in front of her grew hazy, shrouded in a veil.
Through the gauzy curtain, she saw the arc of her arm as multiple overlapping shadows.
Were her movements up to standard? Were they in sync with the music? What expression was on the teacher’s face in the distance?
She couldn’t tell.
Suddenly, she lost the ability to discern anything.
Her limbs went limp as noodles, and control over her body slipped away entirely.
The abdominal pain she’d thought gone came roaring back, fiercer than before—like ten thousand ants gnawing at her insides, or a little figure swinging a hammer relentlessly in her belly. Bo Ranying felt like she was about to split apart, enduring unimaginable torment.
The stage beneath her feet was no longer solid; it felt like drifting clouds, and every step down sent her body sinking deep into itself.
Her body grew softer and softer. She summoned all her strength for a high-difficulty one-legged spin with a lifted leg, but midway through the turn, all her power vanished. She crashed heavily to the ground.
In the instant before her consciousness faded completely, Bo Ranying heard the sounds of many people rushing over.
Then everything went black, and she knew nothing more.
When she woke again, the sharp scent of disinfectant filled her nose. She struggled to open her eyes and saw a pristine white ceiling above her.
She lay on a single bed, with a girl slumped beside it, her face turned toward Bo Ranying.
She recognized the girl and parted her lips with a mumble, her voice faint and hoarse. “Ye Xingyu?”
She was shocked at how rotten and woody her throat sounded.
No sooner had she spoken than the girl at the bedside jolted upright. “Ranran Jie, you’re awake!”
Bo Ranying managed a mumbled “Mm.”
Ye Xingyu excitedly poured her a cup of warm water. She set up the overbed table across the bed rails, helped her sit up, and placed the cup on the surface. “Drink some water first to soothe your throat.”
Bo Ranying still didn’t fully grasp her situation and didn’t dare move recklessly. But since Ye Xingyu was someone she knew well, she went along with it and gulped down the whole cup.
Her parched throat finally got some relief; it no longer burned like fire.
As she moved, something tugged and swayed, drawing a nervous check from Ye Xingyu.
Only then did Bo Ranying realize she was in a hospital, with an IV needle in the back of her hand and fluids dripping steadily.
“Xingyu… how did I end up in the hospital?” Bo Ranying’s eyes widened. Her last memory was of practicing at the Dance Troupe.
Mention of it made Ye Xingyu shudder in retrospect. “You passed out right in the middle of dancing. We were scared half to death and didn’t dare move you ourselves, so we called an ambulance to bring you here. The doctor said it was exhaustion and low blood sugar that caused the faint. They put you on a few bags of IV fluids.”
“The teachers and colleagues all went back. They asked me to stay and look after you.”
“How could you have low blood sugar, Ranran Jie? Did you skip meals again?” Ye Xingyu pondered, voicing her guess.
Hearing that she’d been carted off in an ambulance—her first time ever in one, and under these circumstances—Bo Ranying felt a wave of shame so intense she wanted to cover her face.
But now wasn’t the time for embarrassment. She brushed it aside.
“I didn’t eat breakfast…” Bo Ranying pieced together what had happened and glossed over it in a few words. Then she urgently grabbed Ye Xingyu’s arm to ask the more important question. “How long was I out?”
Ye Xingyu pulled out her phone and checked. “Two or three hours. It’s just about lunchtime now. What do you want to eat? I’ll go buy you some.”
“No food—” Bo Ranying blurted it out on instinct and started to swing her legs off the bed. But before she could move, Ye Xingyu blocked her firmly.
The girl’s gentle demeanor vanished, replaced by the reliable air of a little adult. “Ranran Jie, I advise you to take that back. Skipping meals again? Want to pass out a second time?”
Bo Ranying thought of how she’d arrived at the hospital and silently halted.
She reined in her impulse, knowing Ye Xingyu was right.
“Fine, then get me a bowl of vegetable porridge—with extra sugar.”
Ye Xingyu nodded and headed out the door to buy the food.
Bo Ranying finally had some space to breathe. She reached for her bag on the overbed table, rummaged through it, and pulled out her phone.
She saw that Nan Mother had messaged her that morning: the Suan Ye had arrived, and she should pick it up as soon as she could.
Her heart stirred. She stared at the words several times as an idea took shape.
A moment later, clutching that hope, she opened her chat with Nan Qi. It was still utterly silent.
Nan Qi hadn’t sent a single word.
Bo Ranying’s eyes stung a little. She steadied her breathing and checked Moments. Nan Qi hadn’t posted anything there either.
That fit her character perfectly. Nan Qi had never been one for frequent personal shares on Moments.
In her own words, she only wanted to seize every moment with the people who mattered, cherishing the joy right then and there.
She kept those feelings tucked away for herself, with no need to broadcast them to the world.
Even so, Bo Ranying featured in many of Nan Qi’s Moments posts.
Nan Qi had said the happiness she got from Bo Ranying was so abundant that her personal collection was overflowing; she needed to share some to make room.
Whatever logic Nan Qi used, Bo Ranying always went along with it, supporting every one of her decisions.
Getting nothing from Nan Qi’s side was both unexpected and entirely predictable.
Bo Ranying’s emotions tangled into a complicated knot. Her fingers mindlessly swiped down to refresh the screen, but no surprises appeared.
She did it several more times before a strange thought bubbled up, one she found odd even herself.
Remembering Tang Lian’s smug, infuriating tone on the phone last night—and how she might have posted something—she ground her teeth. Maybe she had updated Moments?
With that in mind, Bo Ranying opened Tang Lian’s Moments.
Sure enough, there it was: a post from last night thick with implication.
【Tomorrow’s must-do #1: Prepare a new pair of slippers~ (shy emoji)】
Posted at 0:38 a.m.
Bo Ranying’s heart lurched hard. She didn’t need to think twice; those “new slippers” were definitely for Nan Qi.
Tang Lian was declaring—and flaunting—that Nan Qi would be staying over at her place regularly.
Her posts were never baseless.
Bo Ranying scrutinized every word, punctuation mark, and emoji in Tang Lian’s post, even noting the timestamp closely to decode every layer of meaning.
In the end, she deduced that the minutes in the posting time hinted at Nan Qi’s shoe size.
It was like a love letter in code, decipherable only by the three of them.
Bo Ranying glared at it, fury burning in her eyes.
How had things progressed this far, this fast?
She couldn’t stand it—Nan Qi suddenly getting close with someone else.
She could hardly wait another moment; she wanted to rush to her right now, to tell her to cut off all contact with Tang Lian.
But she knew she couldn’t act spoiled like before. Nan Qi was still mad at her, so she needed a gentler approach.
She had no idea where Nan Qi had moved to. The only place she knew to find her was the Law Firm.
The wait for Ye Xingyu to return dragged on endlessly.
After Bo Ranying had counted the bird nests in the trees outside the window several times over, Ye Xingyu finally came back with the food.
She set out the sweetened banana and millet porridge she’d bought for Bo Ranying, complete with a spoon.
For herself, she slowly unpacked two dishes and a soup, placing them nearby. Their aroma easily overpowered the plain scent of Bo Ranying’s porridge.
A child in the next bed craned his neck, whining to his parents for the same meal as Ye Xingyu’s.
Bo Ranying paid no mind to their contrasting lunches.
To rebuild her strength, she forced herself to eat big spoonfuls of the porridge.
Then she voiced her top concern. “Xingyu, how much longer does my IV have to run?”
The IV drip Bo Ranying was receiving came in a large bag, with roughly half the medication remaining. The flow was extremely slow; from the moment she had woken up until now, there had been almost no visible change.
“I’ll ask the nurse.”
Ye Xingyu had no idea either, so she reached out and pressed the call bell beside the bed.
A nurse arrived promptly. She sped up the drip for Bo Ranying and explained that there were three bags in total. This one was the largest size, and two more would follow. Completing the full course was expected to take about two hours.
At the nurse’s estimate, Bo Ranying’s vision darkened. She shook her head and murmured, “Too long. I won’t make it in time.”
“Make it in time for what?” Ye Xingyu leaned close to her ear. She had only caught the latter half of the words.
After a brief moment of consideration, Bo Ranying simply raised her voice and announced directly to the nurse, “I don’t want the last two bags. Once this bottle finishes, I’m checking out!”
Her declaration rang out with firm conviction, laced with a hint of petulance.
Ye Xingyu stared at her in stunned silence.
Even the nurse was momentarily thrown by her forceful attitude. She frowned and replied, “Your eating habits are irregular. You fainted from low blood sugar and scraped your arm, leaving an open wound. After the anti-inflammatory injection, you still need intravenous medication. The current bag is glucose, and the next two are anti-inflammatories. Your body needs to fully absorb them all to ensure proper recovery. Nothing is more important than your health—it’s the top priority.”
The nurse was trying to soothe her while urging her to reconsider.
Ye Xingyu nodded worriedly from the side, echoing the nurse’s words and attempting to dissuade her. The sight of Bo Ranying’s collapse earlier had left her badly shaken.
Bo Ranying was in a frantic race against the clock right now. She had no time to waste. Insisting firmly in a tone that brooked no argument, she said, “No need for the last two bags. I’ll take oral anti-inflammatories at home. Once this glucose finishes, I want to handle the discharge.”
The two women had no choice but to yield to her determination.
Ye Xingyu sighed. “What could possibly be so important?”
“It’s just… very important.”
That was Bo Ranying’s instinctive response.
She couldn’t explain it. There was no logical reason. It was simply a vague intuition deep within her: if she didn’t make the effort now, she would regret it forever.
After completing the discharge paperwork, Bo Ranying rushed in the direction of home.
She made a special detour to the courier station to claim the package Nan Mother had sent.
As the staff verified the shipment, Bo Ranying rattled off Nan Qi’s phone number without hesitation, every digit perfect.
She successfully collected a heavy box of Suan Ye. It brimmed with Nan Mother’s heartfelt care, and thinking of Nan Qi made her own heart swell with warmth.
Clutching the package on the way home, Bo Ranying reflected wistfully on the moment.
She found it somewhat amusing. She often forgot her own phone number, yet amid their effortless companionship, details about Nan Qi sprang to her lips unbidden. It was a truly magical knack.
It was as if all her memorable moments centered on Nan Qi.
In a hazy flicker of thought, Bo Ranying sensed she had overlooked something else.
But try as she might to recall it, the memory eluded her.
So she had no idea whether it mattered or not.
Since it wouldn’t come to mind, it clearly wasn’t worth fretting over. Bo Ranying concluded it couldn’t possibly rival the urgency of her current task.
With that relaxed outlook, she arrived home. Bo Ranying unpacked the box, retrieving the Suan Ye sealed in glass jars. She then divided it into bottles.
Only after finishing that did she dial Nan Qi’s number, her heart pounding with anxiety.
This time, the wait was brief—about half a minute before Nan Qi answered.
Bo Ranying hurriedly pressed the phone to her ear and paused deliberately. Silence lingered on the other end.
Her eyes dimmed faintly. With a deflated sigh, she offered a flat greeting: “It’s me.”
For the first time ever, she had introduced herself on a call with Nan Qi.
It was her way of piercing the awkwardness.
She had so many questions for Nan Qi. It felt like an eternity since she’d last heard that voice.
A sound once filling her days had become unbearably absent.
The very resolve that had propelled her to defy her doctor’s pleas and check out anyway evaporated at the sound of Nan Qi’s cool response.
Bo Ranying swayed unsteadily, nearly collapsing. She clutched the glass jar tightly, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Auntie sent the Suan Ye. It’s for both of us.”
Nan Qi had nearly forgotten, but Bo Ranying’s reminder jogged her memory. Aunt Zhou had indeed promised to mail some.
“You keep it. You like it more anyway.”
Nan Qi no longer cared to indulge her preferences.
She reasoned that her taste for it had stemmed from Bo Ranying in the first place. Now, she could simply let it go.
Pretending not to grasp the implication, Bo Ranying repeated stubbornly, her words mechanical: “Auntie didn’t send it just for me. I’ve already portioned it out. I’ll drop your share at the law firm soon.”
“Why bother, Bo Ranying?”
Nan Qi addressed her by her full name, her tone as aloof as ever, all traces of warmth withdrawn in an instant.
Bo Ranying couldn’t bear it.
She clung desperately to the hope of recapturing their old rhythm. Tang Lian’s arrival had thrown everything off; remove that wildcard, and Nan Qi would surely revert to her former self.
“You don’t have to treat me like the plague either.”
Bo Ranying’s irritation flared at Nan Qi’s cold detachment.
She flung the words out and slammed the call ended.
She couldn’t see Nan Qi’s expression on the other end, nor gauge it from afar. Yet the nonchalant chill in her voice said enough.
No matter.
Just like their school days: if Nan Qi wouldn’t come to her, she’d go to Nan Qi.
Bo Ranying packed Nan Qi’s portion of Suan Ye neatly into a bag, grabbed it, and headed out. She hailed a cab straight to Victory Prayer Law Firm.
In her lustrous apricot eyes, gleaming like polished jade, burned a fierce, all-or-nothing resolve.
