Chapter 34

Chen Nian was stunned for a long moment before she buried her face against Fang Zhi’s lap and burst into laughter.

But since she was pillowed right on Fang Zhi’s thigh, even the tiniest sound traveled straight to her. Barely a few seconds in, Fang Zhi demanded fiercely, “What are you laughing at?”

“It’s just…” Chen Nian couldn’t stifle her grin and kept her head bowed. “Why’d you throw it away? You could’ve given it to me…”

“What good would that do?” Fang Zhi retorted. “Anyone could still track it down to you.”

Chen Nian shot back, “I’d hide it really well.”

Fang Zhi countered, “I hide things really well too.”

Chen Nian insisted, “No way you’re as good at it as me.”

Fang Zhi challenged her, “Then go ahead and try finding it right now. See if you can.”

Chen Nian had no intention of searching. It was just a telescopic baton. Sure, tossing out that much cash stung a little, but something like a weapon ought to be destroyed anyway.

Fang Zhi was just too clever about this sort of thing—too clever by half.

They bantered back and forth for a bit before lapsing into silence. Chen Nian sensed that the awkward tension between them had eased considerably over the past stretch. She tugged at Fang Zhi’s pant leg and put on her best pitiful act. “Sis, I’m hurt now. You’ve gotta take good care of me from here on out.”

“Don’t worry,” Fang Zhi said, patting her head. “Just be more careful next time.”

Her tone was so earnestly grown-up, utterly adorable.

Chen Nian’s lips curved in a smile, but Fang Zhi wasn’t done. “You were way too careless this time.”

Not wanting to spoil the warm mood, Chen Nian murmured softly, “Mm-hmm.”

Fang Zhi pressed on. “You shouldn’t have run over at all. I could’ve handled it.”

That, Chen Nian wouldn’t concede. “How could I just stand by?”

“I…” Fang Zhi glanced left and right before lowering her voice. “I had a weapon!”

Chen Nian declared, “I’m your best weapon!”

Fang Zhi flared up in an instant. She pinched the flesh of Chen Nian’s arm and gave it a vicious twist. “I don’t want a weapon like you!”

The atmosphere plunged right back into awkwardness.

Somehow, it even felt worse than before—or maybe not. Maybe it would improve.

Like a lingering cold that’s overstayed its welcome: right as the virus nears defeat, it musters one last explosive outburst.

By the time they’d observed long enough, Liu Chunhua arrived at the hospital.

She hauled Chen Nian and Fang Zhi through a full round of checkups, double-checked all the nurse’s instructions, and only then led the group outside.

At the hospital entrance, Lin Huiling pulled up with the car. Lin Tianyi clambered in but shot lingering, reluctant looks back at Chen Nian and Fang Zhi.

Lin Huiling hesitated too, her mouth opening and closing several times as she stammered frantic apologies.

“I’m sorry—I should’ve been right there…”

“It’s all my fault. I stepped out to buy something and forgot to keep an eye out…”

“I ran too slow. If I’d just been a little faster…”

“Aiya, Sister Liu, at least let me cover Niannian’s medical bills…”

Liu Chunhua refused the money and didn’t blame Lin Huiling a bit. Of course her heart ached fiercely as a mother whose child had been hurt, but this was a pure accident—no one’s fault but misfortune’s. She knew Lin Huiling would’ve thrown herself in harm’s way for any of the kids if she’d had half a chance. They hadn’t spent much time together, but Liu Chunhua trusted the woman’s character implicitly.

It took a good deal of coaxing before she finally settled them down.

Liu Chunhua flagged down a taxi, and the two families parted ways. The moment the car door slammed shut, every trace of her composed expression vanished from Liu Chunhua’s face.

Chen Nian scooted closer, propping herself up gingerly. Liu Chunhua asked, “Tianyi said that dog had an owner?”

Chen Nian flicked a glance at Fang Zhi. “Uh… I think so?”

Liu Chunhua pressed, “You think so?”

Chen Nian whined, “Wuwu, it happened so fast and scary—I didn’t get a good look…”

Liu Chunhua shifted gears. “How was the dog acting? What did it look like?”

“A white fluffy ball. Like a…” Chen Nian paused. “Broom.”

Liu Chunhua let it drop and turned to Fang Zhi instead. “Did you get a good look, Zhizhi?”

Fang Zhi pressed her lips together, not daring to reply. Suddenly, Liu Chunhua growled, “If I find that dog, I’ll stew it into soup.”

Chen Nian jolted in shock. She clung to her mother’s arm and rubbed it frantically. “Mom, it’s okay now, really! Don’t get so vicious—it’s just an animal. What does an animal even know…”

Liu Chunhua shot back, “If someone’s keeping it, I’ll stew the owner too.”

Chen Nian yelped, “Mom! There’s a kid here! You can’t say stuff like that!”

Liu Chunhua drew in a long, held breath and let it out slowly. She fell silent, but her hand clamped down tight around Chen Nian’s, cradling it in her palm.

Fang Zhi hung her head, hands folded in her lap as she silently picked at her nails. Heaven knew what thoughts churned in her mind.

Chen Nian reached over with her free hand and laid it atop Fang Zhi’s.

“Stop picking…” She hesitated. “It’s annoying.”

Fang Zhi obediently stopped and sat there quietly.

Chen Nian couldn’t tell if it was the dog bite or the vaccine that caused it, but the car hadn’t been driving for long before it jostled her into a groggy daze, her mind growing foggy and unclear.

In that hazy state between sleep and wakefulness, she thought of Fang Zhizhu again.

Fang Zhizhu also had the little habit of picking at her nails, especially after getting a manicure—within just a few days, her nails would end up chipped and uneven.

But Chen Nian rarely caught her doing it. Once, she squatted beside Fang Zhizhu, holding her fingers and examining the cracks closely as she asked, “When did you pick at them?”

Fang Zhizhu thought for a moment and replied, “During meetings, or while waiting to go on stage.”

Chen Nian asked, “Are you under a lot of pressure?”

Fang Zhizhu smiled and said, “It gets a bit annoying sometimes.”

When she felt a bit annoyed, she would have these little unconscious habits. Sometimes she’d pick at her nails, sometimes tug at her fingers, or sometimes fiddle with the corner of her clothes, rubbing it back and forth.

It wasn’t a big problem—it didn’t hurt her, and it didn’t damage her image.

If fans occasionally spotted it, they’d screenshot it, amplify it, and it would rack up tens of thousands of reposts calling it cute.

Chen Nian’s fingertip brushed gently over them as she asked, “Doesn’t that hurt?”

“It doesn’t,” Fang Zhizhu said, lifting her fingers. “Don’t believe me? Try it yourself.”

How could Chen Nian try it, though? They weren’t her own hands. After racking her brain, she could only say, “Your hands are so important…”

Fang Zhizhu cut her off with a long, deep kiss.

“Mm, they are needed,” Fang Zhizhu murmured against her lips. “I’ll remove all the nail polish clean before coming home from now on.”

Looking back now, Chen Nian didn’t actually want Fang Zhizhu to keep her hands pristine, nor did she want her to break that little habit.

She wanted Fang Zhizhu to tell her just how annoying meetings were, or what exactly got to her before going on stage.

She wanted Fang Zhizhu to bring all that irritation home, to vent to her, argue with her, even make a huge mess of things—and then hold each other tight afterward.

She wanted to know every inch of Fang Zhizhu’s emotions, the reasons behind them. She wanted to tear off the mask of her smiles, grip her heart tightly, witness her breakdowns, her dishevelment, her pain…

She missed her.

She missed her.

She missed her so much.

Even if she were holding her hand, she would still miss her.

Chen Nian suddenly gasped for air. When she came to, Fang Zhi was staring at her in surprise and panic.

“What are you looking at?” Chen Nian asked her, her voice hoarse as if squeezed out from a splintered tree stump.

“You’re crying…” Fang Zhi said. “Why are you crying?”

Chen Nian raised her hand and wiped her face, only then realizing she was already back home, lying in her own bed.

Fang Zhi sat on the edge of her bed, her hand still clasped in Chen Nian’s palm.

“I…” Chen Nian’s chest felt stuffed full of cotton, making it hard to breathe. “It hurts.”

“Does your butt hurt?” Fang Zhi leaned over to peek.

“Hey, hey,” Chen Nian chuckled and shifted her body slightly. “Don’t just peek at places like that.”

Fang Zhi sat back down. “You’re not wearing pants.”

Chen Nian moved her legs. “I can tell.”

Fang Zhi blinked. “Auntie took your pants off. She said it’s better for the wound to heal this way.”

“Hey, hey, okay.” Chen Nian tugged the blanket up higher.

Fang Zhi asked her, “Are you shy?”

Chen Nian replied, “Yeah, a bit.”

Fang Zhi gazed at her. “Why were you crying?”

Those eyes were clear black and white, pure and bright, with a noticeable sparkle whenever she was curious.

Ever since Chen Nian had returned to this world, Fang Zhi had asked her more than once with those eyes: Why are you crying? What are you crying about? Why are you crying again?

Chen Nian pulled her hand away and covered her face, wiping away the last of the tears.

“I had a nightmare,” she said.

Fang Zhi asked, “What was the dream about?”

Chen Nian said, “Whoa, a nightmare—nightmares have all sorts of stuff.”

Fang Zhi pressed, “What was it about just now?”

What was it about just now? Chen Nian thought back—the dream was vivid, clear as an unaltered memory.

As her brain activity ramped up and reason returned, she turned her head toward Fang Zhi and said, “I dreamed about you.”

Fang Zhi’s brows lifted slightly. “What did you dream about me doing?”

Chen Nian pouted. “I dreamed you wouldn’t tell me anything.”

Fang Zhi’s mouth fell open, stunned.

She hadn’t expected Chen Nian’s nightmare to be just about her not saying anything.

She hadn’t kept anything from her—she’d already told her so much, so many secrets, more than she’d shared with anyone else.

But clearly, Chen Nian thought it wasn’t enough.

Far from enough.

Otherwise, she wouldn’t have cried so sadly.

She could cry that hard in a dream, wake up crying in a dream, clutch her hand so tightly in a dream…

It suddenly made Fang Zhi want to cry too.

“I didn’t,” Fang Zhi said.

Chen Nian smiled. “You’re mad at me, but you won’t even tell me what it’s about. If you never tell me, if you always refuse to tell me, then I’ll never be able to guess what you’re thinking.”

“I can’t guess what you’re thinking…” Chen Nian’s mouth corners drooped, and she sniffed. “Then I’ll lose you.”

“No!” Fang Zhi denied it resolutely.

Chen Nian looked at her. “But right now, I don’t know.”

“I’m not mad.” Fang Zhi panicked a little and spilled everything frankly, like beans pouring from a bamboo tube. “I’m not mad at you. I’m mad at myself. It shouldn’t be you hitting people—you’re a good girl. I’m the big sister; I can be the bad one.”

“You can be the bad one?” Chen Nian asked in surprise. “Do you think I’ve turned bad?”

“You turned bad just to protect me,” Fang Zhi shook her head. “You can’t.”

Her words were so fragmented and so logically muddled, yet Chen Nian understood.

She easily understood Fang Zhi’s meaning. Once Fang Zhi was willing to talk to her, she could grasp it with just one or two sentences.

“So you want to protect me, right?” Chen Nian asked.

Fang Zhi nodded.

“You’re willing to turn bad yourself to protect me because you think you’re already kind of bad deep down, right?”

Fang Zhi: “Mm.”

Chen Nian smiled. She raised her hand, grabbed the quilt, and pulled it over herself.

Then she began to cry uncontrollably.

There were some things she could no longer ask Fang Zhizhu; she could no longer know the answers.

So even the slightest hint of a possible answer utterly shattered her heart.