Chapter 23: ◎You hated those people so much, fought them for so long, yet in the end, you became just like them.◎

Zhou Hui and Yu Bai exchanged glances, then she asked her without a change in expression: “Do you want me to help you?”

The question stunned Yu Bai for a moment. She turned around mechanically, then answered in the same mechanical tone: “No need. You go wash first!”

Zhou Hui didn’t see anything wrong with it. She often stayed at the Police Bureau for half a month or more at a stretch, and the Municipal Bureau Bathhouse was a public facility. Desk officers who got tied up with work and couldn’t make it home would wash up there too.

But Yu Bai still felt profoundly unaccustomed to it!

She had never experienced anything like Zhou Hui’s life. Their paths had diverged completely—different trajectories, different experiences, especially when it came to daily habits. Yu Bai wasn’t used to others looking after her or to physical contact that crossed the boundaries of personal space. She disliked exposing herself to anyone; it made her uneasy.

Fortunately, Zhou Hui didn’t press the issue. She shrugged and headed into the bathroom. Yu Bai turned away and slowly burrowed under the covers. She planned to just splash some water on her face later and go straight to sleep. During her previous hospital stays, she’d always handled things herself because she hated relying on others for care. If she truly couldn’t manage, she’d simply skip washing altogether.

Moments later, the sound of running water echoed from the bathroom. Yu Bai assumed Zhou Hui had started her bath. But just two minutes later, Zhou Hui emerged carrying a basin of water. She set it down on the bedside table and said, “If you’re not taking a bath, at least wash your face before bed. Here, let me wipe it for you.”

Yu Bai turned at the sound. “…………”

She stared at Zhou Hui, at a loss for words. Zhou Hui, seeing her silence, fished a towel from the basin, wrung it out until it was half-dry, cradled Yu Bai’s head with one hand, and gently wiped her face with the other.

Yu Bai hid behind the towel, feeling its comforting warmth against her skin. An indescribable emotion stirred in her chest. Zhou Hui had never really looked after anyone before, but she’d thought of everything for Yu Bai’s comfort. Still, her touch wasn’t particularly delicate. When she pulled the towel away, it left faint red marks on Yu Bai’s already pale skin.

As she rinsed the towel, Zhou Hui asked, “Want some soap?”

Yu Bai hesitated, then—for reasons she couldn’t quite explain—replied, “…Okay.”

She let Zhou Hui continue. The soap-lathered towel stung her eyes a little, but the fresh lemon scent wafting from it was pleasant and oddly soothing.

Soon the towel lifted from her face, carrying the citrus fragrance away with it. “I’ll get fresh water,” Zhou Hui said.

Yu Bai nodded and sat quietly on the edge of the bed, waiting for her to return.

After the sound of splashing water, Zhou Hui came back with the refilled basin.

She took up the towel again and meticulously wiped Yu Bai’s face once more. The warm, soft sensation was something to savor, entirely new to her.

Only after Zhou Hui finished up, cleared everything away, and retreated to the bathroom with a bottle of shampoo did Yu Bai snap out of her reverie.

She sat propped against the headboard, idly flipping through the 《One Hundred Years of Solitude》 Zhou Hui had brought her. After skimming a couple of pages, her eyes caught on these words:

You hated those people so much, fought them for so long, yet in the end, you became just like them. There is no ideal in the world worth such a downfall as the price.

Yu Bai lingered on the page, her gaze burning into the lines as if she could bore straight through them. At last, she let out a faint, almost inaudible sigh. She snapped the book shut and tossed it aside.

Irritation bubbled up inside her. She felt drowsy, yet her mind refused to settle. Those words from the book haunted her vision.

On instinct, her hand drifted to the cigarettes in her bag. Her fingers closed around the pack, but she paused. She glanced toward the bathroom and slowly drew her hand back.

Better not.

When Zhou Hui emerged from the bathroom, Yu Bai had turned her face to the wall and gently closed her eyes. She could hear the wet slap of Zhou Hui’s slippers on the floor, the soft patter of water droplets falling from her freshly washed hair.

Zhou Hui toweled her damp hair as she approached Yu Bai’s bedside. She gave her a light nudge and whispered near her ear, “Yu Bai, you asleep?”

Yu Bai caught the scent of shampoo—subtle and appealing, much like Zhou Hui’s usual fragrance, quietly pleasant.

She realized Zhou Hui’s hair was still wet. If she pretended to be asleep, Zhou Hui would probably just crash like that. After a moment’s hesitation, Yu Bai slowly opened her eyes, turned back, and murmured, “Not yet.”

Zhou Hui smiled softly. “Why aren’t you sleeping? What’s on your mind?”

“Nothing really. Just overslept during the day—can’t seem to drop off now.” Yu Bai spoke from her reclined position; her waist was starting to ache, and she had no desire to shift around.

Zhou Hui grabbed the hairdryer and stood at the electrical outlet near the ward door to blow-dry her hair. There was also a socket by the bedside table, but Zhou Hui worried that the gusts from the dryer would make Yu Bai uncomfortable if she got too close, so she deliberately headed to the doorway instead.

Once her hair was dry, Zhou Hui asked if Yu Bai wanted hers washed too. Yu Bai shook her head and politely declined. After a few words of refusal, Zhou Hui didn’t press the issue. She had grown accustomed to Yu Bai’s temperament—this need to keep a certain distance seemed to put her more at ease. There was no reason to upset that delicate balance.

They switched off the lights, exchanged a few casual words, and settled in for the night. Before long, Yu Bai could hear the steady rhythm of Zhou Hui’s breathing. Zhou Hui led a pretty regular life, aside from those all-nighters spent buried in casework—nothing like Yu Bai, whose schedule was flipped upside down. She was a classic night owl, sleeping by day and prowling after dark.

Now, though, sleep eluded her completely. Yu Bai lay there with eyes wide open, watching the moonlight spill into the room. The shimmering beams pooled on the floor, slowly morphing in her mind into vast expanses of golden sand, the Great Golden Pagoda in Myanmar gleaming under worshippers’ adoration, and fields of poppies swaying in full, sunlit bloom.

The chatter of machine-gun fire rang in her ears—rat-tat-tat. The deafening barrage set her heart pounding. A squad of camouflaged armed militants stormed the village. One second they were hurling curses, bursting with inexhaustible energy; the next, they crumpled lifeless at her feet.

A gaping bullet wound in the temple. Eyes frozen wide in shock, faces locked in expressions that never had a chance to form.

For years afterward, Yu Bai couldn’t shake the image of those eyes staring up at her from the fallen—terror, bewilderment, stunned disbelief, all those emotions twisting through the dead men’s pupils in a grotesque, haunting flash.

Under the pale moonlight, Yu Bai’s distant gaze turned icy. She shifted slightly in bed, her eyes landing abruptly on Zhou Hui. Her expression softened at once, slipping back to its usual calm.

Why dredge up the past now? Yu Bai willed the memories away. She must be exhausted lately—old ghosts kept creeping into her thoughts without warning.

She pinched the bridge of her nose and let out a quiet sigh, telling herself: Just go to sleep.

The next morning, Yu Bai stirred awake in her hospital bed to bright daylight flooding the room. Zhou Hui was nowhere in sight.

A quick check of the bathroom turned up empty. She splashed water on her face and shuffled back to bed, wondering where Zhou Hui had vanished to so early.

Right on cue, the door creaked open. Zhou Hui stepped in from the hall, announcing, “Breakfast time.”

She’d gone out to buy it.

Yu Bai let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. She ate in silence, savoring the still-steaming porridge and buns. Sharing breakfast with Zhou Hui filled the air with a soft, comforting warmth—like the gentle hum of ordinary life.