Chapter 76 The Dampness on My Back
It was past nine o'clock in the evening when I got back to the hotel from the hospital.
Huo Siqi's ankle was confirmed to be a ligament sprain, requiring two weeks of rest. Zhao Yutong's hypothermia symptoms have subsided after treatment. The young people were all picked up by their parents and taken back to their rooms, and the hotel corridor returned to silence.
Song Zhiyi walked to the door of her room on the third floor—her room was on the east side of the corridor, and Huo Yanli's room was on the west side, about seven or eight rooms apart. After swiping her card to enter, she placed her backpack on the entryway cabinet, leaned against the door, and let out a soft breath.
Exhaustion finally overwhelmed her. The tense rescue in the canyon in the afternoon, the various examinations at the hospital in the evening, coupled with the discomfort from the wound on her arm and the old injury on her back, left her wanting nothing more than to rest.
She was about to head to the bathroom when her phone rang. It was Huo Yanli.
"Hello?"
"You've gone back to your room?" Huo Yanli's voice came through the receiver.
"Just arrived."
"Has the dressing on your arm been changed?"
"I was just about to take a shower before changing."
There was a moment of silence on the other end of the phone: "Do you need any help? Your arm is injured."
"No need, I can manage on my own," Song Zhiyi replied naturally. "Thank you for your concern."
Another silence followed. Then Huo Yanli said, "I've had the restaurant send hot milk and snacks to your room; they should be here soon. Eat something before you rest."
"……Thanks."
You're welcome. Get some rest.
The call ended. Song Zhiyi put down her phone and walked towards the bathroom.
The warm water washed over her body, dispelling the chill of the forest and her weariness. She carefully avoided the wound on her left arm and washed her hair with her right hand. As she did so, a sharp pain shot through her back—the location of her old injury.
She turned off the water, dried herself, and walked to the mirror. The woman in the mirror looked pale, with faint dark circles under her eyes. She turned around and saw a dark red scar on the right side of her waist in the mirror.
At this moment, the middle of the scar was slightly red, and the edges were somewhat moist—not water, but tissue fluid. Sure enough, it had split open again.
She sighed softly and took out her first-aid kit from the bathroom cabinet—an essential item she always carried with her, no matter where she went.
She cleaned the area around the wound with a sterile cotton swab, applied ointment, and then put on a sterile dressing. She did the whole process very skillfully, without even needing to look in a mirror; she could do it by feel alone.
I had just finished changing the dressing when the doorbell rang.
It was a tray delivered from the restaurant: a cup of hot milk, a few delicate pastries, and a small bowl of red date and white fungus soup. Attached to the tray was a card with Huo Yanli's strong, vigorous handwriting: "Take a good rest."
Song Zhiyi stared at the card for a moment, then picked up her milk and took a sip.
The warm, sweet-smelling liquid slid into my stomach, and it did make me feel much better.
She sat down on a chair by the window and slowly ate her snack. Outside, the night view of Sanya was dazzling, and the distant sea shimmered with tiny silver lights under the moonlight. It was like a completely different world from the torrential rain that had battered the canyon that afternoon.
Just as I finished my snack, the knocking on the door started again.
Song Zhiyi got up and opened the door, where Huo Yanli was standing. He had changed into a dark gray casual outfit and was holding a file folder in his hand.
“Sorry to bother you,” he said, his tone gentler than usual. “I have a document I’d like you to look at—a document about the interpretation of diplomatic language in the ASEAN Trade Agreement. There are some parts I don’t quite understand.”
Song Zhiyi nodded: "Please come in."
Huo Yanli entered the room. This was his first time entering Song Zhiyi's hotel accommodation—a simple business suite, clean and tidy. Some documents and books were piled on the desk, and a laptop was on, displaying an analysis report on the situation in the South China Sea.
"Sit down." Song Zhiyi pointed to the chair by the window and sat down at the desk herself. "Which part don't you understand?"
Huo Yanli sat down opposite her and opened the file folder. He didn't actually need to look at any documents—he had already thoroughly studied that one. He just wanted an excuse to check on her and make sure she was really alright.
“Here,” he said, pointing to a clause about the trade dispute settlement mechanism, “what does this kind of wording usually mean in diplomatic language?”
Song Zhiyi took the document and began to read it carefully. Her expression was focused, her eyelashes casting soft shadows under the light. Huo Yanli noticed that she had changed into light gray loungewear, her hair was half-dry and loosely tied back, revealing her slender neck. Her complexion was better than in the afternoon, but fatigue was still evident.
“What this means is…” she began to explain, her voice clear and steady, her words precise and professional.
Huo Yanli listened attentively, but his gaze involuntarily fell on her left arm—the gauze was new, it must have just been changed. Then his gaze moved to her back.
The light gray loungewear was very thin. Under the light, he noticed that her posture was somewhat deliberate—her back was very straight, but her right side was slightly leaning forward, as if she was avoiding pressure from a certain position.
and……
His gaze froze.
On the right side of Song Zhiyi's back, near her waist, there was a small, slightly darker area on her pajamas—not a water stain, but more like… a dressing mark?
“Song Zhiyi.” He interrupted her explanation.
"Hmm?" She looked up.
"Is your back... uncomfortable?" Huo Yanli tried to make his tone sound natural, as if it were a casual concern. "I noticed your posture is a bit..."
Song Zhiyi was stunned for a moment, and subconsciously tried to adjust her posture, but the movement aggravated the wound on her back, and her brows furrowed almost imperceptibly.
"I might be a little tired," she said casually. "My back and waist feel uncomfortable from sitting for so long."
She put down the documents and tried to get up and stretch, but Huo Yanli had already stood up.
"Let me see," he said, his tone more resolute than before.
"I'm really okay..."
“If it’s a recurrence of an old injury, it needs to be treated promptly.” Huo Yanli walked behind her. “Let me take a look. If it’s nothing, I’ll be relieved.”
Song Zhiyi remained silent for a few seconds. She knew Huo Yanli's temperament—once he made up his mind, it was difficult to change it. Moreover, there was a kind of persistence in his eyes that she rarely saw.
Finally, she turned around, her back to him, and said, "Thank you for your help."
Huo Yanli gently lifted the hem of her loungewear. In the soft light of the room, he saw—
A hideous scar.
Starting from the lower right side, the scar extends diagonally upwards, reaching near the spine. It is dark red, with an uneven surface and irregular edges, as if the skin and flesh had been roughly torn apart and then barely stitched back together. At this moment, a new sterile dressing is applied to the middle of the scar, but slight oozing tissue fluid can be seen at the edges of the dressing.
Huo Yanli's breath caught in his throat.
He had seen many scars, but none were as shocking as the one before him.
This is not an ordinary wound.
Huo Zheng's description echoed in his mind: "The shrapnel was only two centimeters away from her spine. If it had been any more off, she might not be able to stand up now."
Now he saw it with his own eyes. The scar was indeed right next to his spine. Just a little off to the side was the central nervous system.
His fingers trembled slightly; he wanted to touch her, but was afraid of hurting her.
"Did it crack when you pulled Huo Chen this afternoon?" His voice was a little hoarse.
"Maybe." Song Zhiyi's voice came from ahead, still calm. "Old injuries are like this; sometimes they get infected if you exert yourself improperly. It's not serious; I've already treated it."
She said it so casually, as if she were just saying, "I cut my finger on a piece of paper."
As Huo Yanli looked at her calm back and the hideous scar on her back, he suddenly felt an indescribable sense of suffocation.
How long has this scar been on her?
She carries the scar and goes to work, live her life as if nothing is wrong.
She carries this scar as she travels through war-torn regions, using language to resolve conflicts.
Despite bearing the scar, she remained calm and composed in the face of the Huo family's scrutiny and coldness.
She never mentioned any of this.
"Song Zhiyi," Huo Yanli began with difficulty, "this injury..."
“It’s all in the past.” She interrupted him, put down her clothes, and turned around.
Her face remained calm, even showing a hint of weariness, but there was no pain, no grievance, and no desire to confide in anyone.
It's as if that wound that almost killed her is really just something that's "in the past."
Huo Yanli looked at her and suddenly wanted to ask: Is it really over? The scar was still oozing fluid, still reminding him of the past pain. Can it really be over?
But he couldn't bring himself to ask.
Because Song Zhiyi's eyes told him—for her, it was truly over. Those pains, those dangers, those life-or-death moments were just experiences on her life's journey. She remembered them, and then continued to move forward.
"I'll fix it for you," Huo Yanli finally said.
"No need, I've already taken care of it."
"The dressing is seeping from the edges, which means it needs to be changed." Huo Yanli pointed to the medicine box. "I'll change it for you. It's inconvenient for you to change it yourself on your back."
Song Zhiyi looked at him, remained silent for a few seconds, and nodded: "Thank you."
She sat down on the edge of the bed, her back to him. Huo Yanli fetched the medicine box and carefully removed the old dressing. The wound was more serious than he had imagined—a small crack had split open in the middle of the scar, slowly oozing tissue fluid.
He used a cotton swab dipped in disinfectant to gently wipe around the wound. He was very careful, afraid of hurting her.
But Song Zhiyi didn't even frown.
"Doesn't it hurt?" he couldn't help but ask.
"It's alright," she said. "I'm used to it."
I'm used to it.
These three words pierced Huo Yanli's heart like needles. How many times would it take before he became "accustomed" to such pain?
He carefully cleaned her, applied medicine, changed the dressing, and then gently put down her clothes.
"Okay," he said in a low voice, "but it's best to go to the hospital tomorrow."
"Really, it's not necessary. I know the situation myself." Song Zhiyi turned around and straightened her clothes. "It's just an old injury flaring up. Just change the dressing on time and get some rest."
She paused, then looked at Huo Yanli: "Mr. Huo, please don't tell anyone else about this."
Huo Yanli was taken aback: "Why?"
"I don't want everyone to worry," she said simply. "Besides, I'm all better now, there's no need for everyone to know."
Again, it's "unnecessary".
Huo Yanli recalled the expression on her face when she said, "Contract marriage is unnecessary," and it was exactly the same as it was now.
In her mind, many things are "unnecessary"—unnecessary concern, unnecessary explanations, and unnecessary emotional entanglements.
Her world is simple: things she should do, and things she shouldn't do. And feelings always seem to come after what she "should do."
“The documents…” Song Zhiyi pointed to the documents on the table, “Do I need to explain?”
Looking at her calm face, Huo Yanli suddenly felt that those documents were no longer important.
“No need,” he said. “You should get some rest. If your wound is uncomfortable or you need help changing your dressing, just let me know.”
"Thank you, I can manage on my own."
Huo Yanli picked up the file folder and walked towards the door. He stopped at the door, turned back to look at her, and said, "Goodnight."
"good evening."
The door closed gently.
Song Zhiyi stood there, listening to his footsteps gradually fade away in the corridor.
She walked to the window, looked at the night view outside, and remained motionless for a long time.
Huo Yanli returned to his room, but did not rest immediately. He stood by the window, looking at the sea outside, the image of the scar repeatedly appearing in his mind, and repeatedly recalling Song Zhiyi's calm expression as she said, "It's all in the past."
Then he remembered Lin Wei.
Recalling the scene at the foot of the mountain this afternoon, when Lin Wei saw him helping Song Zhiyi back, she noticed the complex emotions in his eyes—jealousy, resentment, and a hint of panic.
Lin Wei's "injury" is psychological, "unavoidable," and requires repeated venting and verification.
Song Zhiyi's injury was physical; it was a real injury that almost cost her her life, yet she dismissed it with a casual "It's all in the past."
Which one is heavier?
Huo Yanli didn't know.
All he knew was that, looking at the scar on Song Zhiyi's back, he realized for the first time so clearly—
What kind of woman did he marry?
A woman so strong that she doesn't need anyone's protection, yet she silently endures pain because of an old wound.
A woman who has the world in her heart, but rarely leaves any space for herself.
A woman who... made his heart ache, yet he dared not approach her easily.
Because he knew she didn't need his protection.
All she needs is his respect.
Respect her independence, respect her choices, and respect her "unnecessary" philosophy of life.
The sound of waves crashing against the window drifted in.
Huo Yanli sighed softly.
He knew he couldn't make decisions for her, couldn't force her to go to the hospital, and couldn't interfere in her life under the guise of "for your own good."
All he could do was offer appropriate help when she needed it.
It was just to let her know that someone cared about her.
That's all.
At the same time, in the room at the other end of the corridor, Lin Wei was standing by the window, looking at the light in Huo Yanli's room.
She saw Huo Yanli walk back from the direction of Song Zhiyi's room and saw him standing by the window for a long time.
Jealousy gnawed at her heart like a venomous snake.
On what grounds?
Why is Song Zhiyi able to receive Huo Yanli's attention?
Why does Huo Yanli look at her with such tenderness?
In what way does she fall short of Song Zhiyi?
Lin Wei's tears fell, but she quickly wiped them away.
No, she couldn't admit defeat.
Huo Yanli used to love her; she knew that. He was just angry and needed time.
She will make him change his mind.
It definitely will.
At this moment, Song Zhiyi was sitting at her desk, dealing with unfinished work.
The wound on her back throbbed faintly, but she had gotten used to it.
It's like getting used to facing everything alone, getting used to not relying on anyone, and getting used to swallowing all the pain and difficulties.
She glanced at the card on the table that read "Get some rest," paused for a moment, and then gently pushed it aside.
Continue working.
The sound of waves crashing against the window drifted in.
The night was very quiet.
But some things have already begun to change without us even realizing it.
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