Chapter 77 The Secret of the Scars (Part 1)
The next day at breakfast time, members of the Huo family began to appear at the restaurant.
Huo Siqi was pushed in by her second aunt, Lin Wanru, in a wheelchair; the brace on her leg was quite noticeable. Upon seeing Song Zhiyi, her eyes lit up: "Sister-in-law!"
Song Zhiyi nodded to her and sat down in the empty seat next to Huo's mother, Xu Wenjun.
"How was your rest?" Mrs. Huo asked, glancing at her.
"I'm fine, thank you for your concern, Mom."
After settling her daughter in, Lin Wanru hesitated for a moment before walking over to Song Zhiyi and saying, "Zhiyi, thank you. If it weren't for you and Uncle, Siqi... the consequences would have been unimaginable."
Her tone was somewhat stiff, clearly indicating that she wasn't quite used to expressing gratitude to Song Zhiyi, but the sincerity in her eyes was genuine.
"Of course," Song Zhiyi replied simply.
Huo Yanli walked into the restaurant at this moment, his gaze lingering on Song Zhiyi for a moment before he sat down diagonally opposite her. He noticed that her complexion was better than last night, but there was still a faint trace of fatigue in her eyes.
"Yanli-ge," Huo Siqi said cheerfully, "Where are we going to play today? I can't move at all, I'm so bored."
"Your good rest is the best form of 'play'." Huo Yanli looked at Song Zhiyi and asked casually, "What are your plans for today?"
Just as Song Zhiyi was about to answer, Lin Wei's voice interrupted: "Everyone's here!"
She wore a mint green dress today, which made her skin look fair, and her makeup was exquisitely applied. She walked straight to Huo Yanli's side.
"Siqi, are you feeling better?" Lin Wei asked with concern, her gaze occasionally drifting towards Huo Yanli.
"I feel much better, thank you, Sister Lin Wei."
"That's good." Lin Wei turned to Song Zhiyi with a sweet smile. "Zhiyi, how's your arm injury? I know a very good doctor in Sanya who specializes in treating external injuries without leaving scars. Would you like me to introduce you?"
"No need, thank you," Song Zhiyi politely declined.
"Don't be so polite," Lin Wei continued. "It's never good for a girl to have scars. My friend is a really good doctor; many people fly in from other places specifically to see him..."
“Miss Lin,” Huo Yanli interrupted her, his tone calm but distant, “we will take care of Zhiyi’s injuries, no need for you to worry.”
Lin Wei's smile froze for a moment, but quickly returned: "I was just concerned about Zhiyi. After all, she saved Siqi, and we should all thank her."
Mrs. Huo put down her cutlery, wiped her mouth with a napkin, and looked at Song Zhiyi: "Zhiyi, you don't look well. Just rest at the hotel today and don't go out."
"Okay," Song Zhiyi replied obediently.
After breakfast, Huo Yanli caught up with Song Zhiyi in the corridor as she was preparing to return to her room.
"Go to the hospital." Huo Yanli's tone left no room for argument. "I've already made an appointment with a trauma specialist."
Song Zhiyi put down the documents, somewhat helplessly: "Really, there's no need to go to such lengths..."
“I have to go.” Huo Yanli walked into the room and closed the door. “If the wound reopens and isn’t treated thoroughly, it can easily become infected. And…” He paused, “I want to know just how serious the wound on your back is.”
He said those last words softly, but with unwavering determination.
Song Zhiyi looked at him, remained silent for a few seconds, and finally nodded: "Okay, wait for me for five minutes."
She quickly tidied up the documents, picked up her small bag, and followed Huo Yanli out the door.
In the hotel lobby, Lin Wei was sitting in the lounge area drinking coffee. Seeing the two of them come out together, she immediately stood up, a polite smile on her face: "Yanli, Zhiyi, where are you going?"
Huo Yanli didn't stop walking: "The hospital."
"The hospital?" Lin Wei quickly caught up, her tone concerned. "What happened? Were you injured yesterday? I told you that kind of place is too dangerous, you shouldn't have gone..."
As she spoke, her gaze swept over Song Zhiyi, finally settling on the gauze on her arm: "Zhiyi, is your arm injury serious?"
"A superficial injury," Song Zhiyi replied simply.
"That's good." Lin Wei seemed relieved. "But it's still better to go to the hospital for a check-up to be on the safe side. Shall I go with you? It'll be good to have more people around."
"No need," Huo Yanli refused directly. "We can manage on our own."
His tone was cold, and Lin Wei's smile froze for a moment, but quickly returned: "Then... be careful. Call me anytime if you need help."
Huo Yanli did not respond further and led Song Zhiyi straight to the parking lot.
In the car, Song Zhiyi looked out the window and suddenly said, "Miss Lin cares about you a lot."
Huo Yanli tightened his grip on the steering wheel: "She doesn't care about me, she cares about the position of Mrs. Huo."
That was a very direct statement. Song Zhiyi glanced at him with some surprise, but said nothing.
The hospital was the best private hospital in Sanya, and the Huo family were its VIP clients. Huo Yanli took Song Zhiyi directly to the trauma department, where a chief physician surnamed Chen was already waiting for them.
"Mr. Huo, Ms. Song." Director Chen, in his fifties, wore gold-rimmed glasses and had a refined demeanor. "Please have a seat."
After a brief consultation, Director Chen said, "I need to examine the wound."
Song Zhiyi nodded and followed the nurse into the examination room. Huo Yanli wanted to follow, but she gently stopped him, saying, "You can wait outside."
Her eyes were calm, but Huo Yanli saw a fleeting hint of resistance—she didn't want him to see the process of treating her wounds.
Huo Yanli finally stopped at the door: "I'll be right outside."
The examination room door closed. Huo Yanli stood in the corridor, looking at the white door, and suddenly felt a surge of anxiety.
He recalled the scar he had seen last night, and the way Song Zhiyi calmly said, "It's all in the past."
"Inkstone Gift?"
A familiar voice came from behind him. Huo Yanli turned around and saw Huo Zheng walking from the other end of the corridor.
"Uncle? What are you doing here?"
"I've come to visit a comrade-in-arms; he's recovering at this hospital." Huo Zheng walked to his side, glanced at the examination room door, and asked, "Is Zhiyi inside?"
"Hmm, the wound has reopened. Let's check it."
Huo Zheng was silent for a moment, then said in a low voice, "Is it the injury on your back?"
Huo Yanli's throat tightened: "Uncle, that injury..."
"It was very serious," Huo Zheng said simply. "A shrapnel wound, very close to the spine. It's a miracle that I survived, and it's an even greater miracle that I've recovered to this state."
The examination room door suddenly opened. A nurse came out: "Mr. Huo, you can come in now. Director Chen said he needs the family to know some things."
Huo Yanli strode inside. Song Zhiyi sat on the examination bed, her top pulled down to her waist, her back to the door. Director Chen was examining her; seeing Huo Yanli enter, he nodded.
“Mr. Huo, you’ve come at the right time.” Director Chen’s tone was serious. “Miss Song’s back wound has indeed reopened and needs to be cleaned and stitched again. But more importantly…”
He paused, then pointed to the scar: "This is a shrapnel wound, right?"
Song Zhiyi calmly replied, "Mm."
"Was it treated at a field hospital?"
"yes."
Dr. Chen's voice came through, carrying a professional calmness: "It was handled very professionally, but the conditions at the time must have been limited."
"Yes, it was emergency debridement done at the field hospital." Song Zhiyi's voice was as calm as ever.
"Did you have repair surgery after returning to China?"
"Yes."
Dr. Chen was silent for a moment: "The wound wasn't cleaned thoroughly enough at the time, and the battlefield environment made it prone to infection. Although it was repaired later, the scar tissue is very fragile. It hurts on rainy days, and it's easy to tear if you exert too much force—just like it is now."
He looked at Song Zhiyi: "It will hurt a lot."
He spoke the last three words very softly, but Huo Yanli could hear the weight in them.
"It doesn't hurt," Song Zhiyi suddenly said, already pulling her clothes up. "I'm used to it."
Director Chen looked at her, his eyes filled with complex emotions: "Ms. Song, I have treated many war wounds. You are the first person to say 'it doesn't hurt'."
Song Zhiyi didn't say anything, but quietly straightened her clothes.
Huo Yanli watched her retreating figure, watched her trembling fingers as she straightened her clothes—she was lying. She was in pain, but she was used to enduring it.
Director Chen wrote out the examination form, and the nurse took Song Zhiyi to get a CT scan. Huo Yanli and Huo Zheng waited in the corridor.
"You saw it?" Huo Zheng asked.
"I saw it," Huo Yanli said in a low voice. "It's more serious than I imagined."
“She won’t tell you how serious it is.” Huo Zheng lit a cigarette—this time he didn’t care about the hospital’s rules. “On the battlefield, people who cry out in pain don’t live long. She’s used to swallowing her pain and not relying on anyone.”
Huo Yanli recalled Song Zhiyi's always calm face and her eternally independent and composed demeanor, and suddenly understood—that wasn't innate strength, but a survival instinct forced out by life and death.
"Uncle," Huo Yanli suddenly asked, "what was she like when you saw her in Syria?"
Huo Zheng exhaled a puff of smoke, his gaze fixed on the distance: "She was lying on a makeshift hospital bed, her back wrapped in thick bandages, seeping blood. But she was looking at a document, an assessment report on post-war reconstruction."
He paused for a moment: "I asked her if it hurt, and she said 'It's okay.' I asked her if she was scared, and she said 'Yes, but being scared is useless.'"
Huo Yanli was speechless.
"Later, she returned to China for treatment, and I went to the hospital to see her," Huo Zheng continued. "The wound on her back became infected, she had a high fever of 40 degrees Celsius, and she kept talking in her sleep while she was in a coma."
"say what?"
“She said ‘Run!’, ‘Child!’, and ‘I’m sorry.’” Huo Zheng stubbed out his cigarette. “When she woke up, I asked her what she dreamed about, and she said, ‘I don’t remember.’”
The corridor fell silent.
The sound of a trolley could be heard in the distance; a patient was being wheeled into the operating room. The smells of the hospital filled the air—disinfectant, medicine, and a faint, almost imperceptible, lingering odor of decay.
Huo Yanli suddenly realized that Song Zhiyi always carried this aura—the aura unique to those who have experienced life and death. It wasn't decay, but a tranquility born from seeing through life and death.
After the examination, Dr. Chen opened the door and saw Huo Yanli, nodding: "Mr. Huo."
"Dr. Chen, how is the situation?"
"It's not serious, but it shouldn't be ignored." Dr. Chen briefly explained the precautions: "Change the dressing on time, get plenty of rest, and avoid pulling on the wound. If you develop a fever or the pain worsens, contact me immediately."
"Okay, thank you."
The car was quiet on the way back to the hotel.
Huo Yanli was driving when he looked at Song Zhiyi in the rearview mirror. She was leaning back in her seat, her eyes closed, and her face was somewhat pale.
"Does it hurt?" he asked.
"fine."
“Song Zhiyi,” Huo Yanli’s voice was a little hoarse, “you don’t have to be so strong in front of me.”
Song Zhiyi opened her eyes and looked at him in the rearview mirror, her gaze clear and calm: "I wasn't pretending. I'm really fine."
She paused, then added, "I'm very lucky compared to those who didn't survive."
Huo Yanli tightened his grip on the steering wheel.
He wanted to say: Your luck was earned with your life.
He wanted to say: You shouldn't get used to pain.
He wanted to say: Let me take care of you, even if it's just this once.
But in the end, he said nothing.
Because he knew that these words were too light for Song Zhiyi. Too light to do justice to the scar on her back, to the life-and-death experiences she had gone through.
The car drove into the hotel parking lot.
Before getting out of the car, Song Zhiyi suddenly said, "Mr. Huo, thank you for accompanying me to the hospital today."
Her tone was sincere, but still distant.
Huo Yanli looked at her and said softly, "No need to thank me. It's what I should do."
It's not something that "should be done".
It is "what should be done".
A single word makes all the difference.
Song Zhiyi seemed to sense the difference. She glanced at him, finally nodded, and got out of the car.
Huo Yanli sat in the car, watching her walk into the hotel.
The sunlight was beautiful, shining on her and outlining her slender yet upright figure.
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