"Don't worry." Zhou Hui approached, holding the pills. The wedding ring on his ring finger flashed in the sunlight. "You slept for a full twenty-eight hours."
When the warm water was handed to his lips, Li Zhou subconsciously shrank back, his Adam's apple rolling as he swallowed the saliva with a rusty taste.
"Thank...thank you, Mr. Zhou." Li Zhou's voice was terribly hoarse. "The medical expenses..."
"Shh." Zhou Hui suddenly pressed his thumb against his lower lip. "Take the medicine first."
The bitter taste of the pill melted away at the back of his tongue. Li Zhou stared down at the dark patterns on the sheets, and suddenly noticed folded clothes next to his pillow—his shirt and jeans, which had been soaked that day, now smelled of hotel detergent.
But something was missing. He darted to his pocket, his heart pounding beneath his ribs.
"Looking for this?" Zhou Hui pulled out his phone from his suit pocket. "It's fully charged..."
The moment the screen lit up, Li Zhou saw over 99 unread messages. At the top was a message from Lin Xiaoman, sent just three minutes ago: the location of the porridge shop they often went to, with the caption "I'll wait until closing time."
Zhou Hui's fingertips tapped lightly on the edge of his phone. "She's quite persistent."
"I have to go..." Li Zhou's hand that was trying to lift the quilt was held down, and Zhou Hui's body temperature could be felt through the silk sleeves.
"Your current physical condition..."
"Please." Li Zhou interrupted him for the first time, his eyes burning red with a sickly stubbornness. "Just one hour."
The air froze for a few seconds. Zhou Hui suddenly released his hand, took out a thermometer from the bedside table, and put it in his mouth.
"Thirty-seven degrees." He took off his glasses and rubbed his nose as the electronic chime sounded. "Two hours. I'll have the driver wait downstairs."
When Li Zhou nodded, he saw Zhou Hui take the Patek Philippe off his wrist.
The glass windows of the porridge shop were covered with thick mist. Li Zhou paused at the doorway and, through a scraped circular opening, saw Lin Xiaoman mechanically stirring the already cold seafood porridge with chopsticks.
Her eyes were red and swollen like peaches, and there was a Band-Aid on her left ring finger - it was from a burn she got while baking a cake last week.
The moment the wind chimes rang, Lin Xiaoman almost jumped up from his seat.
Li Zhou saw her lips trembling, and his eyes swept from her hospital gown-like clothes to the IV patch on the back of her hand, and finally froze on her pale face.
"You..." her voice choked, "are you still running a fever?"
Li Zhou sat down in silence. On the table was his favorite dish of cold-mixed wood ear mushrooms, with sesame oil congealed into white fat lumps.
He noticed that Lin Xiaoman's phone screen saver was still the photo of them at the amusement park last year, but the missed call notification from Senior Chen in the corner was as glaring as a scar.
"That necklace..." Lin Xiaoman suddenly took out a velvet box from her bag, "I searched all over the park..."
"A park janitor found it," she said, her voice trembling. "I, I searched the trail all night long..."
Li Zhou's heart suddenly skipped a beat. The jewelry box made a sticky sound as it opened. The silver chain gleamed faintly in the morning light, and the inscription on the inside was clearly visible: LXMLZ 2022.03.14.
It was the date of the day they first met, a full two months before their anniversary.
Li Zhou stared at the number and recalled how Lin Xiaoman highlighted the key points for him with a highlighter in the library last year, not even noticing that the tip of her nose had rubbed against the ink.
"Chen Mingzhen is my cousin's senior." Lin Xiaoman pushed his phone over. The screen displayed the class group chat history. "He was standing next to the department head in last year's graduation photo..."
Li Zhou's fingertips traced circles around the edge of the porridge bowl. Of course he remembered Chen Ming, the legend in the Marketing Department.
But that day in the cafe, the angle at which the other person's wrist rested on the back of Lin Xiaoman's chair, the scent of perfume intertwined with hers...
"You've been acting so strange lately." Lin Xiaoman suddenly grabbed his hand on the table, the IV patch curling up from being rubbed by her thumb. "You're always working overtime, and when you get home you just stare at the computer in a daze..."
She lowered her voice, "Last week, when you were showering, I saw a message from Zhou Hui... something like 'Do you like the gift?'"
Li Zhou looked up suddenly. He thought of the Patek Philippe that had briefly belonged to him, and the profound meaning behind Zhou Hui's words, "Young people should wear luxury watches that match their status."
The cold air from the air conditioner suddenly blew on the back of my neck, causing me to shudder.
"I thought you..." Lin Xiaoman's tears fell on their folded hands, "received some incredible gift..."
The glass door suddenly opened, and a driver in a suit stood respectfully at the door: "Mr. Li, Mr. Zhou reminds you in two hours..."
"Get out!" Lin Xiaoman grabbed a teacup and smashed it at her feet. Amid the shattering sound of porcelain, Li Zhou saw for the first time what was in her eyes—not suspicion, but fear.
Silence filled the back seat of the taxi. Lin Xiaoman clutched Li Zhou's sleeve tightly, as if he would evaporate if she let go.
The car radio was playing a rainstorm warning. Li Zhou looked at the lead-gray clouds outside the window and remembered that when he had a high fever, he dreamed that he was standing between two mirrors.
"Zhou Hui..." Lin Xiaoman suddenly asked, "Did he ask you to sign a confidentiality agreement?"
Li Zhou's pupils dilated slightly. He had indeed signed the so-called "internship materials" last month without carefully reading them.
At that time, Zhou Hui smiled and said that this was just a formality, but the pen was specially handed to his left hand - he was wearing a borrowed luxury watch on his right wrist that day.
"I checked." Lin Xiaoman pulled up his phone's notes, which were densely packed with screenshots of legal clauses. "Xinghui Culture, the company he controls, has had seventeen labor disputes in the past five years..."
The light turned red. Li Zhou saw raindrops begin to hit the windshield, just as they had done three days ago when he was crouching under the slide. But now, warm fingertips pierced through his fingers, and a light layer of sweat formed on Lin Xiaoman's palms.
My dear, there is more to this chapter. Please click on the next page to continue reading. It will be even more exciting later!
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