Chapter 138 Time flies...
Time flies, and it's already May. In the three months they've been here, they've gradually grown accustomed to each other's company. Their love is as beautiful as ever, no, even more so than before; everything they've regained seems so incredibly precious.
In her second month in New York, everything was on track. After getting familiar with the place, she went to the club owner recommended by Coach Jin. Through the introduction, she came to the rehabilitation center known as the best in the United States and began her rehabilitation training. Rehabilitation training was not unfamiliar to her. In fact, when she actually put on the equipment, she had a long-lost sense of familiarity.
However, the extent of her physical damage was so severe that even the doctors frowned. When she first came with her medical records, she startled the doctors at the center, and a rehabilitation plan was only decided after a consultation.
People's thoughts change as they get older, just like her now. She has learned to cherish her body and take injuries seriously.
The New York rehabilitation center has sycamore trees outside its floor-to-ceiling windows, and the courtyard is filled with birdsong and fragrant flowers—a very pleasant environment. Private hospitals are ridiculously expensive. However, with a systematic treatment plan and no longer needing high-intensity training, she has improved considerably.
The May wind rustled the leaves. Ren Xiyao lay on the physiotherapy bed, watching the physical therapist adjust the angle of the traction device. Her fingertips unconsciously clenched the sheets, and a dull ache throbbed from her left shoulder to her lumbar spine.
These days, the scenes at the rehabilitation center are a hidden reef beneath all their warm daily lives.
“Relax,” the therapist’s voice was gentle, “could you reduce the traction intensity a little?”
She was about to nod when she heard soft footsteps at the door. Kwon Ji-yong stood there, holding a thermos, his hair slightly disheveled by the wind. Seeing her clenched hands, he paused, then quietly softened his movements.
After the therapist left, only the low hum of the equipment remained in the room. Kwon Ji-yong placed the thermos on the bedside table; when he opened it, a faint aroma of red dates wafted out. Back in 2014, when he accompanied her through her rehabilitation training, she always drank something to warm her stomach after her sessions.
"How are you feeling today?" He sat on the chair by the bed, his gaze falling on her left shoulder, which was wrapped in a brace, but he didn't dare to ask any more questions. He just reached out and tucked the stray hairs behind her ear.
Ren Xiyao smiled and took the water glass he handed her: "It's better than last week."
When Kwon Ji-yong first accompanied Ren Xiyao to the hospital, he actually thought he had made ample mental preparations. At that time, he had mentally rehearsed countless times the possible injuries she might face and the scenes of accompanying her through rehabilitation training in 2014.
So when he first arrived, he pretended to sit calmly on a lounge chair in the corner, watching her perform a series of movements that he found slow and difficult under the guidance of the rehabilitation therapist.
But at that moment, he suddenly realized that no matter how much he had mentally prepared himself, he could not face Ren Xiyao in this state.
The therapist pressed hard on the old injury on her lower back. Ren Xiyao lay face down on the treatment bed, her face buried in her arms. Quan Zhilong couldn't see her expression, only that her knuckles were white from gripping the edge of the bed, and her bangs were damp with sweat. She didn't utter a sound, only the occasional suppressed groan that escaped from her throat, like tiny needles pricking his heart.
“Here, in the L4-L5 segment, there’s an old injury, and the adhesions after the herniated disc surgery are quite severe,” the therapist explained to Kwon Ji-yong in a professional and calm tone, as if describing the wear and tear of an object: “And your right knee, which underwent anterior cruciate ligament reconstruction, now has cartilage wear and tear, requiring continuous training to strengthen your quadriceps to compensate…”
A mixture of heartache, helplessness, and even a hint of hidden anger slowly spread through his chest. He knew the origin of these injuries; part of it even stemmed from the malice of some of his compatriots. Guilt and an unvented anger choked in his throat, making it almost impossible for him to breathe. He wanted to ask, "Back then... was it very painful?" He wanted to say, "I'm sorry, I didn't know then..."
But he dared not.
That was a tacitly agreed-upon taboo. He knew perfectly well that Ren Xiyao never proactively mentioned anything about her experiences after the breakup in front of him—it was a complete avoidance. He could also sense that it wasn't because she resented him, but because those days were a crucible of hardship for her. The fact that she managed to pull through, stand on the ice in Pingcheng, and win the gold medal was already the limit of her willpower. To delve into it, to revisit it again and again, would be tantamount to tearing open healed wounds, and he feared she wouldn't be able to bear it a second time. He feared seeing the pain that might flash in her eyes, and even more so, he feared that she would simply say calmly, "It's all in the past"—that calmness would leave him more powerless than any accusation. And honestly, hadn't he also been running away from the situation? Back then, overwhelmed by company, military service, and team crises, he had almost escapistly accepted her departure.
Now that he has regained her, he is even more cautious. He is afraid that mentioning it will hurt her, afraid that touching it will make her back down, and even more afraid that the potential thorn will destroy the hard-won peace and sweetness they have now. So, he chooses silence, chooses respect. He tells himself that she will speak when she is ready.
But during the time he accompanied Ren Xiyao through her rehabilitation training, Quan Zhilong gradually came to understand a principle: perhaps true respect is not about carefully avoiding all the minefields that might cause pain, but about being there for her when she has to face the pain, without saying a word, but never leaving her side.
Ren Xiyao could always sense his emotions. For example, right now, Ren Xiyao saw it but didn't say anything. When the treatment was completely over, she put on her coat and casually said with her unique dry humor, "Why do you look so serious? Don't worry, you're not falling apart yet."
He immediately got up and went over to her, handing her the thermos. He took the bag from her hand naturally, but his fingertips restrained himself, not daring to touch her still slightly trembling arm: "I'm thinking about what to eat tonight."
"No need, even a dog wouldn't eat the food you make."
"Hey! Ren Xiyao!"
On the way home, he simply held her hand tightly. Ren Xiyao didn't say anything; she knew Quan Zhilong was slowly getting used to it and was doing better and better. From initially making excuses to get water and taking five or six breaks during an hour-long training session, to later only occasionally turning his back, he was now gradually able to look her in the eye and accompany her through the training. In two months, he had improved significantly.
Kwon Ji-yong is different from her parents and family. She can hide things from them; she never lets them watch her rehabilitation training. Even her injuries are only half-told, only reporting good news and hiding the bad. But she won't hide it from Kwon Ji-yong, nor will she tell him not to go. Of course, she feels sorry for the guilt and heartache he feels every time he sees it, but they are going to be together forever, so she can't let guilt overwhelm her, nor can she let herself be consumed by indebtedness. For those who will spend the rest of their lives together, concealment and embellishment are a form of estrangement. In Ren Xiyao's eyes, true closeness is daring to show your wounds to the other person and believing that the other person is capable of bearing that burden.
Quan Zhilong knew better than anyone that Ren Xiyao was different from the Ren Xiyao of seven years ago. Back then, Ren Xiyao had hidden her injuries from him as much as possible. Even when Quan Zhilong discovered them, she stubbornly insisted she was fine, just like in Chuanxi 2015. But now, Ren Xiyao was showing Quan Zhilong through her actions that she had already decided that they would share the burdens of life together from now on. These injuries, whether the price of glory or the cruel twist of fate, were all part of her life, and she chose to reveal them to him without reservation. This was a complete trust in him, a tacit promise of their future, but also, to some extent, a test for him—could he handle it?
When dealing with her parents and friends, she always said, "I'm recovering well, don't worry," and "It's an old problem, I'm used to it." Only with him did she tear off all the pretense of "I'm fine," calmly laying bare the most vulnerable, most unbearable, and most painful truths before him.
This is a silent declaration: "This is my battlefield, and you are my comrade-in-arms."
He had to learn not to be consumed by the belated truths and overwhelming guilt. His place was not to stand opposite her pain and guilt, but to stand beside her and face it together.
This is Ren Xiyao's frankness and sincerity, which Quan Zhilong understood. And the more he understood, the deeper his love for Ren Xiyao became.
These burdens are destined to be borne by two people together, so that they can walk through the rest of their lives together. And they are also learning how to share the weight of life, not letting love be distorted by guilt, but making it each other's most solid ground.
Of course, their warm and cozy daily life serves as a buffer against all of this. For example, right now, as with every time they need a break, they have a rather lively and heartwarming bickering session, though their tone reveals a hint of helplessness towards each other:
"You can't stay up late tonight."
"I promise you, just for the last bit of the mix..."
"Your last promise was to fall asleep on the mixing console."
“That was an accident! And…” He leaned closer, resting his chin on her uninjured shoulder, his voice trailing off, “…inspiration usually flows best at night!”
Ren Xiyao pushed his head away expressionlessly: "Kwon Ji-yong, are you three years old this year?"
“He’s three and a half years old!” he said confidently.
Their bickering usually ended with Kwon Ji-yong's "strategic surrender." He would obediently turn off his device, grab his notes, and move to the sofa next to her, ostensibly to "draw inspiration." Then, as he looked at them, his gaze would inevitably shift from the screen to her profile as she read her paper. The happiness of regaining what he had lost was so tangible, so tangible, that it often made him feel a slight sense of unease.
So, many times when Ren Xiyao drifted off to sleep, her breathing steady and long, Quan Zhilong would gaze at her for a long time in the dim light of the night lamp. He carefully avoided the old wound on her left shoulder, pulling her into his arms and feeling her real body temperature. The seven-year gap was gradually filled in, but the pain he hadn't experienced became incredibly clear at this moment, becoming the softest and heaviest place in his heart.
Those fragmented investigations about 2017 often resurface with a belated, dull pain. But he learned to close his eyes. This time, he wouldn't numb himself with work like he did in his youth. Ren Xiyao maturely revealed herself, no longer naively viewing injuries as honors and medals. And Kwon Ji-yong also learned to embrace his loved one with a softer yet firmer approach.
Outside the window, the lights of New York, the world city, burn all night long. Inside, the time of separation is being quietly mended, and a new future is growing amidst the warmth of porridge and rice, the trivialities of bickering, and the silent heartache.
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