Chapter 41

The first thing Zou Ping thought of was dust.

The moment she was pulled out after the earthquake, her ears still hummed and her vision was hazy. Dust choked her breath, and she thought she was still trapped in the rubble. It wasn't until the unfamiliar light pierced her eyes that she realized she had moved.

In the Turkish hospital, the pungent smell of disinfectant was overwhelming. The doctors spoke in an incomprehensible language, their faces obscured by masks. She couldn't remember what she'd eaten or what she'd been asked. She could only visit Tang Yuchuan again and again.

He was lying behind the curtain, as if behind glass, and only his faint breathing reminded her that he was still alive.

On the way back home, what she remembered was the roar.

The low roar of the plane pressed against her eardrums, clouds rolled outside the window, and she was like a piece of luggage being moved, being pushed forward by time. Someone handed her some water, and she mechanically took it. The coolness slid down her throat, but it didn't wake her up.

Tang Yuchuan's face kept floating in front of her eyes - pale, quiet, with light breathing.

In domestic hospitals, the air is so quiet that it is almost stagnant.

Sunlight streamed through the window, falling onto the clean white sheets. She finally sat down beside him, her fingers touching the back of his hand. That touch of warmth gave her the first real confirmation: he was indeed still there.

She didn't cry, nor did she panic. She felt suspended, as if she were hanging in mid-air. Time marched on, but her thoughts remained fixed on one sentence: If he woke, she would be here; if he didn't, she would be here too.

The day Gu Xing showed up, the door of the ward was gently pushed open.

Zou Ping subconsciously looked up, and her eyes immediately became a little tense.

He walked in with a calm expression, as if he was already used to this kind of scene. He had no flowers or fruit basket in his hands, but just stood by the bed and glanced at Tang Yuchuan.

"Why are you here?" Zou Ping's voice was lower and colder than she had imagined.

She admitted that she was a little scared of the man's appearance.

Gu Xing turned his head and replied calmly, "I'll come to see him."

Tang Yuchuan was still drowsy, breathing shallowly.

Zou Ping looked over, her eyes red, but her tone was calm: "He hasn't woken up yet."

After she finished speaking, she subconsciously looked up at Gu Xing with a tense expression.

The curve of the corners of his eyes was alert, and his lips were straight, like a door that could close at any time.

Gu Xing looked at her expression, as if he saw through her doubts and was used to her defensiveness.

"You're wondering," he said, "what the connection is between him and me."

Zou Ping was slightly startled. She didn't nod, nor did she deny. Her suspicions were suddenly shattered: a business enemy? A secret rival? She wasn't sure. Or perhaps a friend with a subtle connection? She didn't know.

They were all guesses, different guesses before and after Tang Yuchuan told her some truths.

Gu Xing retracted his gaze and looked at Tang Yuchuan on the hospital bed, saying calmly, "Don't be too nervous. We are not enemies."

He paused, as if weighing his words, before adding, "Some people aren't antagonistic, nor are they close. They're just... a little more involved than others."

After Gu Xing finished speaking, his gaze lingered on Tang Yuchuan for a long time. There was no emotion in that look, but it was like an examination, and also like a silent farewell.

He didn't look at Zou Ping again, but turned and walked towards the door. His footsteps stretched out in the white ward corridor, as indifferent as a low musical note.

Zou Ping was stunned for a few seconds, then suddenly stood up and ran after him. The air at the door suddenly turned colder, and her voice spread through the corridor: "He told me."

Gu Xing stopped and didn't look back.

"He said I was the daughter of the Gu family." Zou Ping's voice trembled slightly, but she tried her best to suppress her emotions.

These words were like a stone thrown into an empty lake, instantly disrupting the silence of the corridor.

Gu Xing slowly turned around and looked at her. His eyes were neither surprised nor flustered, but deep.

"So," he whispered, "you come to ask me, is it true?"

Zou Ping's chest tightened, but he immediately shook his head.

She bit her lip, her voice low but clear: "No. I don't want to know the answer. I don't care about the grudges of the previous generation. I don't care about the right and wrong of the past."

She stared at him steadily, her eyes showing no evasion, but instead a hint of suppressed sharpness: "I just want to figure out what exactly you want to do."

The corridor fell silent for a moment, the light shining on her profile, cold and white like a knife blade.

Zou Ping stopped in her tracks, her voice firmer than she'd expected: "Yu Chuan doesn't describe you as a bad person, but why do I feel like you're targeting him everywhere?"

After she finished speaking, she was stunned. What welled up in her chest was the long-accumulated doubts and depression.

Every time Gu Xing appeared, it seemed like he was deliberately provoking her, as if he wanted to tear apart the trust between her and Tang Yuchuan bit by bit.

Gu Xing looked at her quietly, his expression unchanged. After a moment, he said softly, "That's between him and me. Don't worry about it."

His tone was flat, but it carried an unshakable barrier, like a cold and hard wall.

Zou Ping stood there in a daze, her heart inexplicably tightening.

Gu Xing didn't stop. The long corridor seemed even more empty against his backdrop. Zou Ping bit her lip and couldn't help but chase after him: "Then let's talk about us. Do you hate me? Because I'm their biological daughter."

The word "they" was so harsh that even she herself felt it stung. But she knew Gu Xing understood that she was referring to the king and queen - the parents of the Gu family.

Gu Xing paused, but didn't turn around. He just said coldly, "Didn't you say you didn't want to care about the past? Why are you asking?"

The light from the corridor fell on his back, casting a long, lonely shadow.

"Don't follow me." Gu Xing left a word.

Zou Ping stared at the shadow and finally stopped following it. Her heart felt heavy as if it was being pressed by a blunt object.

Gu Xing’s figure quickly disappeared around the corner.

The corridor fell silent, and Zou Ping's fingertips felt numb with cold. Her chest felt heavy, yet no emotion erupted. It was as if someone had pressed a huge rock against her heart, muffling any remaining emotion.

She slowly turned around and walked back to the ward.

There was one more person in the ward at this time. Zou Ping paused and did not go in.

The man leaned back in his chair, his body slightly leaning forward, his brows and eyes showing a ruffian look, but he kept it very low.

His voice was especially clear in the quiet ward. "Yuchuan, tell me, it's Chinese New Year, and we wanted to get together with you, but you didn't come and went off to Turkey. We made a bet yesterday about when you'd wake up. I said within a week, so don't let me lose."

Zou Ping held her breath and subconsciously did not make a sound, and stopped in the shadow of the door.

The man didn't notice her. He just stared at Tang Yuchuan on the bed, his tone filled with uncontrollable anger: "Tan Jing committed suicide again. If I hadn't realized that something was wrong with her and sent her to the hospital in time, she would be dead now. The doctor said that her will to live was too weak and she hasn't woken up yet."

Zou Ping's heart suddenly tightened, as if being pricked by a needle.

The man continued, "She called you before she cut her wrists. But you were stuck in Turkey at the time and couldn't answer the phone. I guess she thought you didn't want to answer... Actually, you didn't want to answer the phone, she just misunderstood, right?"

He laughed, but there was no levity in it, rather it was a bitter sarcasm.

"She came to see me once before and said she left something for you. If you can't wake up, I won't leave it to you. I want to see if you have any regrets."

The air was frozen, and only the ticking of the monitor accompanied the breathing.

The man reached out and patted the back of Tang Yuchuan's hand. His voice suddenly became heavier: "I'm running from one place to another now. You two must have been sent by God to torture me. One of you is unconscious, and the other is in danger of death."

He paused, then continued, "You two are such a perfect match!"

After a brief silence, he slowly exhaled, as if to suppress the depression in his heart: "Yuchuan, the doctor said that Tan Jing's will to live is very weak. She can hear us talking, but she doesn't want to wake up, let alone live. You should wake up soon. Go and encourage her, okay? Although I don't like what she did back then, I know that you love her very much."

He lowered his voice, with a harsh sincerity: "I don't want anything to happen to her, and I don't want anything to happen to either of you."

The light fell quietly on Tang Yuchuan's face. He was still sleeping with weak breathing.

Zou Ping stood at the door, her sleeve tightly clenched in her fingertips. She suddenly felt as if the entire ward was a sealed glass cover, isolating her from the outside.

At that moment, she didn't have the courage to go in.

She turned around almost subconsciously, wanting to leave before anyone noticed.

But the door of the ward was suddenly opened.

The man pushed the door open and bumped into her head on.

The moment the two looked at each other, the air suddenly froze.

Zou Ping noticed that the other person was also stunned for a moment, but then quickly reacted, and the corners of his mouth curled up slightly, a smile that seemed to be neither smile nor smile. His eyes were not malicious, but revealed a sense of seeing through, as if he had immediately recognized her identity.

"You're Zou Ping, right?" He said lazily, "I've heard of you. You're a little-known painter, Yu Chuan's... girlfriend."

The man looked at her with a faint smile, neither hurried nor slow, and the ending tone even had a hint of provocation.

Zou Ping pursed her lips and didn't respond. Her fingertips were still cold from the previous conversation.

"He's really careless." Wan Jiaying turned his head and exhaled, his eyes falling on the direction of the ward door. He whispered in a low voice, suppressing his anger, "To protect you, he was injured so badly."

He said it as if he was just complaining casually, but the anger that was hard to hide between his eyebrows was unfaithful.

Then, as if remembering something, he smiled and extended his hand: "Let me introduce myself, Wan Jiaying, Yu Chuan's childhood friend."

The smile was shallow, with a kind of ruffian politeness. It seemed polite, but not really gentle.

Zou Ping stood at the door, her breathing disordered, and a complex emotion suddenly surged in her heart: as if she was being scrutinized, and as if she was being casually classified as some kind of "trouble."

Zou Ping did not reach out to shake hands, but just lowered her head slightly.

The word "girlfriend" in his mouth sounded like a casual label, even with a bit of disdain.

Zou Ping felt a sudden pang of bitterness in her heart.

It wasn't as if she didn't know what the outside world would think of her. The young painter, nurtured and protected by him, even emerged unscathed beneath the rubble, while he was so gravely injured. The chain of cause and effect, seemingly simple and cruel to others, seemed destined to bear the role of "burden."

But that's not the case.

It wasn't a whim on his part, nor was it something she'd done to gain something from him. Those details, that tenderness that supported her, were all real.

But she couldn't argue on this occasion.

Facing Wan Jiaying, she could only remain silent.

Her chest felt stuffy, as if there was an invisible stone pressing down on it, forcing her to swallow back all her words.

She suddenly realized that during Tang Yuchuan's coma, she wasn't the only one watching over him. The outside world, the people outside, were all watching and judging. And she had nowhere to escape, so she could only stand there.

Wan Jiaying seemed to notice her silence, but he didn't say much. He just raised the corner of his mouth, as if smiling, and his tone was a bit perfunctory and polite, but also with a natural arrogance.

"Forget it, I don't care about your business. Yu Chuan is soft-hearted and a good person. I know this better than you. But don't take this kindness for granted."

After he finished speaking, he patted her shoulder. The force was not strong, but it made her back stiffen. Then he put his hands in his pockets and turned away with a gangster look.

The sound of footsteps echoed in the corridor, without paying any attention to her expression.

Zou Ping stood there in a daze, the feeling of the light tap still lingering on her shoulder, as if it had left an invisible mark.

She instinctively wanted to raise her hand to wipe it away, but her fingertips froze in mid-air and she finally put it down.

The corridor was bright, the light like a white cloth stretched too long, cold and dizzy. Her shadow was crushed under her feet, long and thin, lonely.

Wan Jiaying's tone was like a nail, hammering into her heart again and again - Yu Chuan is soft-hearted and a good person, don't take it for granted.

Her breathing became disordered for a moment, and her chest felt heavy as if a stone was pressing on it.

As a matter of course? When had she ever dared to do that? With Tang Yuchuan, she was more worried than ever before.

She suddenly felt like an outsider, with every visitor labeling her identity and footnotes. It seemed as if he or she never saw her, and no one was willing to listen to her. They only regarded her as his, the unimportant her.

Back in the ward, back to Tang Yuchuan's side, Zou Ping's fingers unconsciously stroked the folds of the bed sheets.

The white light in the ward was like a thin mist, shining on Tang Yuchuan's face. His eyelashes drooped and his breathing was shallow and slow. Every rise and fall was like a weak pulse signal, beating out a rhythm in her nerves.

She desperately wanted him to wake up soon. The Gu family, Tan Jing, and that childhood friend, none of them mattered at this moment. As long as he woke up...

Her eyes were fixed on him, like a clue to reality. The surrounding sounds—the pungent smell of disinfectant, the hum of machinery, the gentle scraping of footsteps across the floor—all seemed distant and muted. Only he, like a faint but real light, firmly illuminated her world.

Every second stretched out like dust floating in the air, and she could feel the flow of time being compressed and stretched.

She didn't think about the future, or what choice he would make. She only wanted him to wake up. Wake up, and then look at her. Even if it was just a brief moment, it would be enough for her to confirm that he was still there, and she was still there.

She clenched her fingers, the warmth of her fingertips trembling slightly. At that moment, it seemed as if all she had left was her breathing, her heartbeat, and that invisible line—from her to him.

All the noise, judgments, and past grudges in the outside world were unimportant. She only wanted him to open his eyes, see her, and confirm that all this was real.

This hope was as heavy as lead, yet as transparent as light, heavy yet clear, pressing on her chest and pulling at her nerves, like a thin string, trembling slightly in her heart.

She thought that as long as he woke up, everything would start again.