Chapter 69 What is "Health"?

At 11:40 p.m., Huo Yanli's car stopped again in front of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs dormitory building.

He hadn't planned to come here. Lin Wei called him again tonight, her voice deliberately choked with emotion, saying she was thinking about her university days, regretting her past choices, and hoping to see him more often "like friends." He refused, his tone cold, but after hanging up, he felt restless and couldn't sleep.

Somehow, the car ended up here.

Huo Yanli sat in the car, looking at the window on the third floor—the light was still on. The warm yellow light shone through the thin curtains, appearing especially warm in the late autumn night.

He recalled that a month ago, he had picked her up here to attend the Ji family's thank-you banquet. At that time, she carried medicinal herbs for Ji's mother and said calmly, "It's what I should do."

That's right.

She always seemed to say things like, "Saving people is what I should do, helping others is what I should do, fulfilling my duties as a wife is what I should do."

It was as if everything she did was not for anyone else, but simply to be true to her principles and conscience.

Huo Yanli rubbed his temples. Lin Wei's phone call was still echoing in his ears. Those words about "the past," "true love," and "regret" that used to easily touch his heart now only made him feel tired and irritable.

As for Song Zhiyi... she never mentions the past, her feelings, or even herself. She simply does what she's supposed to do and walks the path she's supposed to walk.

The phone screen went dark and then lit up again. Lin Wei sent a new message: "Yanli, I just want to talk to you properly, like before. Is it really impossible for us?"

Huo Yanli stared at the message for a long time, then locked the screen and tossed the phone onto the passenger seat.

He pushed open the car door and walked into the apartment building.

The hallway was quiet, with only the motion-activated lights turning on one floor at a time in response to his footsteps. When he reached the third floor, he stopped in front of that door.

After hesitating for a few seconds, he raised his hand and knocked on the door.

The door opened quickly. Song Zhiyi stood in the doorway, dressed in simple loungewear—gray cotton trousers and a loose white T-shirt. Her hair was casually pulled back, and she wore thin-rimmed glasses. She paused slightly when she saw him.

"Mr. Huo?" she asked, a hint of doubt in her voice, "Is something the matter? It's so late."

"I..." Huo Yanli was speechless for a moment. What should he say? That he was so upset that he had unknowingly driven here?

"I'm sorry to have disturbed your rest," he finally said.

"No, I'm not asleep yet." Song Zhiyi stepped aside. "Please come in."

Huo Yanli entered the dormitory room he had never been to before. The room wasn't large, but it was very tidy. A desk stood by the window, with a laptop and several stacks of documents on it. Next to the desk was a simple bookshelf, crammed with Chinese and foreign books. A single bed was covered with plain-colored sheets. Apart from that, there was almost no other furniture.

Simple and neat, just like her.

On the desk, the laptop was still lit, with a glass of water and a small medicine bottle next to it. Huo Yanli walked over, picked up the medicine bottle and looked at it—it was ordinary over-the-counter painkillers.

Huo Yanli put down the medicine bottle. "Are you... not feeling well?"

"It's an old injury, and it hurts when it rains," Song Zhiyi said casually, as if she were saying something as ordinary as "It's a bit cold today."

"A wrist injury?"

"Hmm." She moved her right wrist. "It's a side effect of nerve damage. I experience numbness and tingling when the weather changes. Taking a painkiller will help."

Huo Yanli looked at her. Under the lamplight, her face was somewhat pale, with faint shadows under her eyes. But her back remained straight, and her eyes remained clear.

"Do you do this often?" he asked.

“I’m used to it,” Song Zhiyi said. “It’s not a big problem.”

I'm used to it.

That word again. She seems to have gotten used to too many things—used to living alone, used to dealing with her pain, used to carrying everything on her own.

Huo Yanli suddenly felt a tightness in his chest. He walked to the window and looked at the quiet street outside. It was late at night, and only a few streetlights were still on.

"Lin Wei called me." He said this suddenly for some reason.

Song Zhiyi was silent for a moment, then said, "Oh."

A simple "oh," devoid of any emotion.

“She said she wanted to talk to me about the past,” Huo Yanli continued, as if talking to himself, “saying there’s still a possibility between us.”

"So what do you think?" Song Zhiyi's voice was calm, as if she were asking, "How's the weather tomorrow?"

Huo Yanli turned around and looked at her: "What do you think I should do?"

Song Zhiyi looked up at him through her glasses. The light reflected off her lenses, creating tiny specks of light that made her eyes appear somewhat blurry.

"This is your personal emotional choice, and I shouldn't interfere," she said objectively. "However, from a rational perspective, you need to ask yourself a few questions: First, do you still have feelings for her? Second, if so, what kind of feelings are they? Third, are these feelings strong enough to support a fresh start? Fourth, what problems might you face if you start over? Fifth, are these problems solvable?"

She spoke as if she were conducting a case analysis, each question logically clear and devoid of any personal emotion.

Huo Yanli looked at her and suddenly felt a deep sense of powerlessness.

“Song Zhiyi,” he asked, “if it were you, what would you choose?”

“Me?” Song Zhiyi tilted her head slightly, seemingly thinking about the question seriously. “I won’t put myself in a situation where I have to make this choice.”

"Why?"

“Because relationships aren’t everything in life,” she said naturally. “I also have a job, ideals, and things I want to do. If a relationship requires me to constantly agonize over whether to continue, then it’s not healthy enough. A healthy relationship should make you feel secure, not anxious.”

She spoke these words in a calm tone, as if stating a very simple fact.

Huo Yanli suddenly remembered his uncle's words: "She cares about the world and its people, not about the squabbles within the household."

Perhaps her uncle is right. Her world is too big; it can hold children in war-torn regions, the details of international negotiations, and the essence of traditional Chinese medicine, but perhaps... it can't hold the entanglements of romantic love.

"You..." Huo Yanli began, but didn't know what to say.

Song Zhiyi glanced at her watch: "It's almost twelve o'clock. You have to go to work tomorrow, right?"

This is a polite way of asking them to leave.

Huo Yanli nodded: "Yes, it's time to go."

He walked to the door, then looked back once more. Song Zhiyi had already turned on her computer again and put on her glasses. The light shone on her focused profile, making her look somewhat frail, yet incredibly resilient.

“Don’t take too much of that medicine,” he said, “it’ll upset your stomach.”

Song Zhiyi looked up at him and smiled slightly: "I know. Thank you."

The smile was faint, but genuine.

Huo Yanli closed the door and walked down the stairs. The motion-activated lights turned on and off floor by floor in sync with his footsteps.

When he got back into the car, he found himself surprisingly calm.

The frustration and confusion caused by Lin Wei's phone call suddenly seemed insignificant in that simple dormitory room, in front of that calm woman.

As Song Zhiyi said, if a relationship causes anxiety, then it is not healthy.

And he seems to be just beginning to understand what "health" is.

The car drove into the night.

From the third-floor window, Song Zhiyi took off her glasses and rubbed her temples. A familiar stinging sensation came from her right wrist; she gently massaged it before looking at the computer screen.

The screen displays a report on the current state of education for children in Syrian refugee camps.

There is still so much to do.

She had neither the time nor the energy to think about those complicated emotional entanglements.

Outside the window, the rain began to fall in a light drizzle.

Raindrops tapped against the windowpane, making a soft, pattering sound.

She knew that the pain in her wrist might last a long time tonight.

But she got used to it.

It's like getting used to many things.