The smell of disinfectant in the military hospital was so strong it was almost imperceptible, seeping into the walls, bed sheets, and even into Howard's every breath.
He leaned against the headboard, his left shoulder wrapped in thick bandages, and every slight movement caused a sharp pain in his wound.
As darkness fell outside the window, the ward was shrouded in a somber gray-blue hue.
The door was pushed open softly, almost silently. Mingzhao walked in, her steps steady. She carried a book in her hand, its cover badly worn; it had been found on Howard's desk.
"You're back?" Howard tried to make his voice sound relaxed, his gaze fixed on her face, trying to catch a trace of Liu Wenjun's actions from that calm and expressionless surface.
Is the outcome good or bad?
Mingzhao had no expression, which didn't seem good either...
Huo Hua cursed secretly.
Mingzhao walked to the small cot that was temporarily added for her by the window and sat down, without answering immediately.
She simply hummed in response, then opened the thick book, her fingertips tracing the edges of the pages, making a soft rustling sound.
The pale light in the ward fell on her lowered eyelashes, casting a small shadow that completely concealed all her emotions.
Howard's heart sank. The reaction was calmer than he had expected.
When Mingzhao returned, she showed no disappointment, no complaints, and not even a hint of emotion. It was as if hitting a wall at the research institute was no different from being a leaf blown away by the wind.
Before she returned, Howard thought a lot about how to comfort Mingzhao if Liu Wenjun didn't make any progress and she came back.
He even thought that he had some standing with Director Zhang of the research institute, so if Liu Wenjun didn't work out, then he could...
"As for the research institute..." Howard hesitated before speaking, wanting to offer comfort, but feeling that any words of comfort would seem pale and powerless in the face of Mingzhao's absolute rationality.
"Dean Zhang is... rather cautious. Don't take it too seriously."
He himself felt that these words were dry and meaningless.
Mingzhao's gaze remained fixed on the pages of the book, as if they held some ultimate cosmic secret.
She nodded, the movement so subtle it was almost imperceptible.
Then, nothing more was said. Only the sound of turning pages and her soft breathing filled the hospital room.
Howard looked at her focused profile, and an indescribable sense of loss, like a cold tide, quietly washed over him.
He lay there injured, his movements restricted, like a trapped beast. And Mingzhao, his wife in name only, the one he wanted to protect and be close to, was now like a distant, self-sustaining star.
She didn't need his comfort, his explanation, or even... it seemed she didn't need his protection anymore?
But Howard could sense that from the family compound to the research institute, from being ostracized to showcasing his talent, Mingzhao's future held even greater possibilities.
Mingzhao's calmness and apparent lack of need made Howard, who was used to being in control and taking responsibility, feel an unprecedented sense of emptiness and...powerlessness.
He watched her silently, watching her slender yet seemingly powerful fingers trace the complex circuit diagrams, watching her slightly furrowed brows, perhaps because the derivation of a formula in the book was not concise enough, rather than because of setbacks in the research institute.
Mingzhao, who seems to be born with a natural talent for scientific research, is destined for an extraordinary future.
Howard would be proud of such a clear vision!
As for himself, the honors and status he could possess seemed considerably diminished...
Silence spread through the ward, and Howard vaguely sensed a slight awkwardness.
Howard's mind raced; he didn't want the silence between them to continue. He just felt uneasy!
She needed to find something to talk about. What to say? Work? She had just come back from a setback.
Life? Aside from reading, she spends her time tinkering with parts.
Those gossips in the family compound? Even less appropriate. His gaze swept over the empty enamel bowl in the corner of the ward, and a sudden thought struck Howard…
Clearing her slightly dry throat, she tried to make her tone sound natural: "Um... Zhao Zhao, has Aunt Gou been bringing you meals on time these past few days?"
Mingzhao stopped turning the pages of the book.
She looked up, her gaze shifting from the pages of the book for the first time, and calmly looked at Howard, nodding: "Yes, there is a gift."
"Oh, that's good."
Howard breathed a sigh of relief, feeling that the conversation had finally picked up. "Aunt Gou is hardworking and cooks well. With her taking care of things, I feel more at ease."
He tried to say something nice to his kind neighbor to ease the somber atmosphere in the ward.
However, Mingzhao did not continue nodding or simply saying "hmm" to end the conversation as he had expected.
Her clear, almost inorganic eyes remained fixed on Howard, a strange glint in them.
Mingzhao spoke calmly, her voice not loud, but like a pebble thrown into a stagnant pond: "Aren't you going to ask what kind of food Aunt Gou brought me?"
Howard was stunned!
He had no idea that Mingzhao would ask this.
Delivering food? Isn't that just delivering food? What else could you possibly deliver?
The conditions in the family compound were limited, but Aunt Gou's family was dual-income households and their lives were relatively comfortable. Although the meals they delivered were not as good as those prepared by a private chef, they were at least hot and edible.
"What food?" he subconsciously repeated Mingzhao's words.
Howard's eyes followed her intently.
Mingzhao bent down and pulled out a bamboo basket covered with an old cloth from the bottom shelf of the low cabinet. She lifted the cloth, not looking at Huo Hua, but simply taking out two enamel bowls from inside.
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