Those fragments that did not belong to this time and space were tearing her consciousness apart frantically.
At her bedside, her cell phone suddenly vibrated, and the screen lit up with a news push, with the time showing October 6, 2046.
She really has returned.
Her fingertips unconsciously stroked the sheets.
This is her modern body, with fair and delicate skin, without any trace of farm work.
But the dull pain in her heart was so real, just like the night before she left, when Fu Hanzhou clutched the dragon and phoenix jade pendant and roared with passion, almost melting her.
The glass window of the ward reflected her pale figure.
Outside the window, the city is full of tall buildings and busy streets. No one knows that there was a ghost of a medical doctor who had an unforgettable encounter with a soldier and a scholar in 1980.
She touched her chest, which was empty. The jade pendant had already been left in Fu Hanzhou's palm.
My phone vibrated, and my bestie suddenly sent me a message:
"Get well soon! We'll have hotpot when you're discharged!"
Qin Ying stared at the unread message. The neon lights outside the glass window flickered on the screen, and in a trance, they overlapped with Wei Zhuolan's red eyes in her memory - the man who always surrounded her with paranoia, holding her wrist and saying "You can't escape."
The smell of disinfectant mixed with the burnt smell of kerosene lamps in 1980 made her bite her lips suddenly. These burning fragments were incompatible with the cold-light LCD screen and the regularly flashing indicator lights of the monitor in front of her.
The tip of her teeth rubbed her lower lip deeply, tasting the salty taste of blood - it turned out that heartbreak was not a tearing pain, but like this moment, the body was intact, but the soul was forever left in a summer that could never be returned.
The sound of a nurse's cart rolling down the corridor sounded like the sound of a tractor rolling over a gravel road in 1980.
Qin Ying lay back on the hospital bed, burying her face in the pillow. The night wind blew outside, bringing a furious rain that lashed the glass. In a trance, she could hear Fu Hanzhou's military boots clacking on the bluestone slabs, Wei Zhuolan's pen nib scratching across the manuscript paper. These sounds would remain fresh in her memory for years to come.
In the darkness, tears soaked the pillowcase, and she heard herself murmur hoarsely:
"The person who can stand among you...will never come back."
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