Chapter 35

Double Arrows

There was no way she could let Diao Zhiyu come upstairs—the jacket on the chair, the Lee Donghae posters on the walls, the photos and movie stills of Qin Xiaoyi she’d secretly printed and plastered everywhere. It looked like a crazed stalker’s fan lair. If he saw it, she’d be done for.

She paced nervously around the room before stopping by the window. Moonlight illuminated the Qin Xiaoyi posters on the wall. Listening to Diao Zhiyu count to three, she calmly spoke. “What makes you so sure I’ll open the door?”

“You—” Diao Zhiyu was at a loss.

“Wait downstairs.”

A mischievous sense of victory stirred in her. She leisurely touched up her lipstick, rubbing off the excess to ensure it wasn’t too obvious. The moonlight didn’t make her radiant, but her expression was full of vitality. She deliberately slowed her steps as she went downstairs, each step tapping like a typewriter: click-clack, click-clack. The sound was faint, but it lit up the motion-sensor lights on each floor one by one. In her love story, the aloof Qin Xiaoyi who barely noticed her had turned into Diao Zhiyu, who showed up at her doorstep over a joke about marriage. She’d pulled him into her life; she’d done it.

Greedy thoughts ignited in her heart again. But when she finally saw Diao Zhiyu, her confidence wavered. She squared her shoulders and walked toward him, her heart pounding like a drum. Can you have a little dignity? It’s not like you’ve never seen a good-looking guy before. You’ve met him so many times already. Why get nervous every time? One look, and you’re ready to pour your overflowing affection out. Does that even make sense?

Diao Zhiyu stepped closer—this schemer was completely different from the person she’d seen in the café earlier. With his black curls and makeup, under the moonlight, he was the very image of Qin Xiaoyi. This white-moonlight-like sentiment gave Hu Xiu a headache, and the words she wanted to say were diminished, leaving only: I like you. I really, really like you.

Her remaining rationality kept knocking on her, urging her to hold back. If she confessed now, there would be no resolution. He wouldn’t respond to a direct confession. If she tore through the ambiguity now, she would merely come off as an impulsive player who didn’t understand him well enough.

Hu Xiu took a few deep breaths with her eyes closed. When she opened them again, Diao Zhiyu was staring at her. He stood there with his hands in his pockets, as if reading her mind, not speaking first. A faint smile played on his lips—he must have easily recognized the look of a girl trying to force her intellect to prevail over her infatuation. Just a moment ago, he had been worried that this “warlord’s wife” he cared about had become immune to his charms, but now he saw she was exactly the same as before.

The realization made him inexplicably annoyed.

Suppressing her irritation at being seen through, Hu Xiu broke the silence first: “I really threw away the marriage certificate. Surely you didn’t come just for that?”

Diao Zhiyu hummed noncommittally, as if denying her claim. “I know you didn’t. You wouldn’t treat it so carelessly.”

“It’s just a marriage certificate. You wouldn’t go around confirming with every one of Feng Youjin’s wives, would you?”

“Just you.”

Hu Xiu averted her gaze. The corners of her lips twitched as she tried to suppress a smile. Diao Zhiyu didn’t seem like he was joking.

“Not knowing about warlords during that era is understandable. I didn’t know before I joined Snowpiercer either. I apologize, okay? But you really are a lot more interesting than before. My first impression of you in the game was that you seemed like... a brainless fangirl.”

Hu Xiu thought, I can act smart when you’re not around. Seeing that she didn’t respond, Diao Zhiyu pressed further: “Are you and Pei Zhen dating?”

“He’s interested in me.”

“Do you like him?”

“Is this the reason you came here?”

The temperature had dropped, and a breeze prompted them both to pull their coats tighter. The day’s fortune might as well have read: Avoid taking long walks. Hu Xiu wanted to stay with Diao Zhiyu a little longer. But as soon as she stepped into the building’s corridor, she knew she’d have to go upstairs—and whatever might follow once she got there, she wasn’t remotely ready to face.

With that thought, Hu Xiu forced herself to say, I’m heading upstairs. I still have materials to read and a translation to finish for the weekend.

She had barely taken a step when he grabbed her hand. Her heart pounded like a drum. Please, if you really like me, just say it; I’m not that hard to win over. Just say the words, and I’ll be yours.

“I…”

The building’s door clicked open, and a couple carrying a child stepped out. They were rushing to the hospital. While the husband went to fetch the car, the baby in the wife’s arms started crying. Their conversation came to a sudden halt. Diao Zhiyu walked over to open the car door for them and carefully tucked the woman’s coat into the vehicle. Only after the car sped off did he return, looking composed again. “Zhao Xiaorou told me today that as an NPC like me, everything I perform might be an illusion. So I can’t be sure what I bring to you. But I promise, I’m not Ning Zechen, nor do I play around with people’s feelings. I hate the idea of making promises I can’t keep. I won’t talk about ‘forever,’ but… I hope you can spend more time on me. You’re important to me.”

The wind brushed against Hu Xiu’s face. She knew she must be freezing; her nose was running. “Does this count as mutual affection?”

“Mutual affection?” Diao Zhiyu’s focus was elsewhere. “Don’t cry.”

Her constant sniffing did make it seem like crying. Without looking back, Hu Xiu opened the building door and used the moment to play along: “Don’t go back on what you said tonight. I don’t like people who go back on their word.”

Her footsteps up the stairs were light and quick. The sensor lights illuminated each flight of stairs as she ascended, and she knew Diao Zhiyu would wait until the lights on the sixth floor turned off before he left. This kind of tacit understanding gave her peace of mind, along with an indescribable sweetness. Once she believed that the peak of love was reaching its conclusion, but time had taught her otherwise—the pinnacle of affection was mutual discovery, a slow, cautious probing of each other’s feelings. There was no mistrust from sudden intimacy, no heartbreak from one-sided infatuation, and no weariness from prolonged companionship. She closed the door, her heart still pounding, and carefully placed the marriage certificate back on the wall. The words “Feng Youjin” were written in bold, unrestrained strokes, like a solemn vow.

Hu Xiu snapped a photo and considered posting it on Weibo. She initially wanted to craft something poetic and sentimental to express her emotions, but in the end, all she managed was: Damn, I’m a goner! 

On January 27, Li Ai arrived at the hospital early to complete the admission procedures. The surgery was scheduled for 3:00 PM, and since it required general anesthesia, he hadn’t eaten since the night before. Outside the ward, Hu Xiu watched as Li Ai’s parents signed the consent forms while Pei Zhen translated the surgeon’s explanation of the procedure: The early diagnosis had spared Li Ai from the risk of infection and amputation, but he still required vascular replacement surgery. A vein would be harvested from his arm for the transplant. At the same time, his knee joint would be treated for osteoarthritis—typically an age-related issue that had been accelerated by the car accident. The procedure involved removing the deformed portions of the joint, smoothing the damaged surfaces, and implanting a prosthetic. Pei Zhen explained everything clearly, including the adjustments that would be made during the operation to ensure the prosthetic’s proper fit. Hearing about potential complications like hidden blood loss and pulmonary embolism made Hu Xiu break out in a cold sweat. But Pei Zhen reassured her, saying these were routine procedures with established interventions. While the recovery would be challenging, it was a hopeful process compared to the pain Li Ai had endured before. 

Li Ai’s parents stood with slightly graying hair, their backs hunched from weariness. They didn’t appear to be financially struggling, and the final medical expenses were covered entirely by Li Ai’s decision to terminate his contract with REGARD. He hadn’t asked for help from anyone. His tendency to shoulder everything alone was frustrating. 

Once his parents stepped out, Hu Xiu and Zhao Xiaorou slipped into the ward, where Li Ai was sorting through a pile of receipts and records. Zhao Xiaorou frowned after glancing at them. “Even now, you’re still worrying about the coffee shop’s revenue?” 

“These are for you guys. In case I…”

“Come on, Pei Zhen just explained everything to me earlier. It’s a minor surgery—it’s not as if this is a deathbed farewell.” 

“I’m just… habitually distrusting of surgeries,” Li Ai didn’t continue the topic. “Zhao Xiaorou, don’t you have a shoot today?” 

Zhao Xiaorou swung her bag behind her. “Are you kidding me? You’re having surgery, and you expect me to go to work? Do you think I don’t know how to prioritize?” 

Li Ai’s phone vibrated. He gently silenced it without checking, then turned to Hu Xiu. “Please thank Dr. Pei for me. If it weren’t for him, the surgery wouldn’t have been arranged so smoothly—this is your doing as well.” 

“It’s your charm that worked. Don’t get the wrong idea—he and I are just friends, helping each other out.” 

“Whoever you end up with, I’ll support you. But you really do have two decent men around you now. Maybe it’s time to pick one and start a relationship for some stability.” 

“You’re seriously like a dad. If my dad were half as decent as you, my life wouldn’t have been so suffocating in the first half.” 

Hu Xiu cut off Zhao Xiaorou before she could chime in. “I’ll step out and call Diao Zhiyu. He’s playing Li Rong today, and during the second act’s intermission at exactly twelve forty-five, he’ll step out for a five-minute break. He’s anxiously waiting for your update.” 

“Things are moving that fast?” 

Ignoring Zhao Xiaorou’s teasing, Hu Xiu stepped out of the ward to avoid the dialect-speaking women nearby. She walked to the end of the hallway, precisely at twelve forty-five. Over the phone, Hu Xiu relayed Li Ai’s surgical plan verbatim to Diao Zhiyu, emphasizing repeatedly that there wouldn’t be severe complications before hanging up. 

Diao Zhiyu almost never chatted with Hu Xiu during his working hours—rarely more than a few words on WeChat. Even after that night, he hadn’t been overly flirtatious. 

After ending the call, Hu Xiu passed by the water room and noticed Zhao Xiaorou sulking inside, waiting for the kettle to fill. The water was overflowing, but she didn’t seem to notice. Standing there in high heels with her arms crossed, she looked entirely like someone stewing in frustration. 

Hu Xiu went over, turned off the tap, and asked what was wrong. Zhao Xiaorou replied irritably, “While helping Li Ai refill his water earlier, I saw the text on his screen. After the surgery, someone’s promising to stop by from the courthouse to check on him. Signed Xu Meng.” 

“Who’s Xu Meng?” 

“That woman from the café.” 

“Oh, I know. That’s the woman with a kid, the one Li Ai met while dealing with a court case. It’s nothing, don’t worry.” 

“She has a kid?” 

“Yeah, she’s been fighting for justice recently because of issues with school district zoning. Apparently, her home in Pudong got reclassified out of a desirable district.” 

“I see.” Zhao Xiaorou smirked. “It’s not as simple as you think. A while back, I retweeted a post advocating for parents like her. I even read the reports carefully to avoid spreading misinformation. It said this rezoning thing was supposed to solve kids’ school placement issues. But because of the forced reclassification, middle-class families’ rights weren’t protected, and several marriages even fell apart over it. Xu Meng is one of those parents. After fighting at home, she left to cool off—and ended up liking Li Ai. Seriously, what are the odds?” 

“Don’t overthink it. There are plenty of people with the same name. It can’t all be connected.” 

“Of course, I’m not mistaken. That parents’ petition for equality, the banner’s all over the internet. I just checked—it clearly has her name. How is this world so small, and coincidences so frequent?” 

Blowing her bangs, Zhao Xiaorou fumed, “What’s going through Li Ai’s mind? Of all people, his emotional crutch has to be some married woman with a kid?” 

“Maybe it’s a bond forged through shared struggles. That bridge-effect thing.” 

“Yeah, right.” Zhao Xiaorou’s temper flared further. “My career is soaring right now. I don’t even need to waste time thinking about someone as insignificant as Li Ai. He likes me? What a joke.” 

She grabbed the kettle and turned to leave, only for both of them to see Li Ai standing at the door. 

The flicker of regret in Zhao Xiaorou’s eyes didn’t escape Hu Xiu, nor did Li Ai’s silence fail to unsettle her. 

They stood there for a few seconds, and no one spoke first. Zhao Xiaorou, used to being hard-headed, didn’t explain herself. She just waited for Li Ai to leave. Instead, he hobbled into the water room, capped the kettle, picked it up, and left without a word, steadying himself against the wall. 

Hu Xiu sighed inwardly, her heart aching. Coincidences—they’re the most tangible embellishments in life. 

Back at her post, Hu Xiu couldn’t shake her anxiety. The surgery was said to last seven hours, meaning it wouldn’t finish until late at night. After reviewing some documents and scheduling upcoming exchange events, she ran into Pei Zhen on the way upstairs. 

Pei Zhen had clearly just finished a surgery, his face ashen with exhaustion. He looked like he was starving. Li Ai was still in the ICU under observation, and Hu Xiu, unable to make sense of anything through the door, accompanied Pei Zhen to the convenience store. 

While she picked up a pack of gummy candies, Pei Zhen sat by the window, hands trembling as he tore open his bento box. 

“Are you that hungry?” Hu Xiu offered him a gummy, but Pei Zhen shook his head. “Eating that now will make my stomach hurt.” 

“That bad, huh…” 

Pei Zhen didn’t respond, quickly finishing his meal. He downed the instant egg drop soup without leaving a drop. 

“Try standing for hours, focusing nonstop—you’ll be starving and light-headed too.” 

“Didn’t you have dinner?” 

“I was mentoring students. Two doctors are rotating in my department right now, and it’s rare to meet ones who take things seriously, so I’ve been teaching them more.” 

“Dr. Pei, you’re so kind. You must be very gentle with your students.” 

“Not at all. I’m known for being strict. If you worked in my department, I’d probably scold you often.” 

“Then I better not visit your clinic. I heard you asked Director Cai to recommend me to the plastic surgery department as a translator. If you’re strict, I think I’ll stay in the admin department.” 

“But if you follow me, you’ll improve faster. What’s it like having your office near the deputy director?” 

“More time spent making tea and trimming plants, more miscellaneous tasks. It’s not bad, though. It’s just that the proportion of translation work has decreased.” 

Hu Xiu knew Pei Zhen wasn’t the type to resort to petty office politics. He relied purely on skill, speaking plainly. 

“Some people enjoy that—being diligent with chores makes the director like them, ensuring stability in the hospital. But you’re not that kind of person. If you need help, I can assist.” 

“No need for now, thank you, Dr. Pei.” Hu Xiu politely declined. “I want to earn recognition in the hospital on my own. The senior staff moved me to that office, and who knows—maybe in a pinch, I’ll get a chance to shine. I have confidence in myself. Besides, pruning flowers in my free time is quite relaxing. Fresh bouquets are delivered every Monday. Trimming and arranging them in a vase is rather fun. Speaking of help, though, what you’ve done for Li Ai has been a huge favor to me.”

“Anything hospital-related is just a small favor. Your matters are my matters.” 

Thinking of Diao Zhiyu, Hu Xiu didn’t respond to Pei Zhen’s ambiguous statement directly. “I’ll find a chance to thank you properly; a favor always needs to be repaid.” 

“That’s unnecessary. A relationship with no debts to each other is boring. When I visited REGARD and saw you with Li Ai, I could tell. He treats you differently. Li Ai’s personality is one that naturally attracts people. Zhao Xiaorou is like a piece of flawless jade, and you… you’re like the irreplaceable soul between them. That feeling of being like a family in a foreign place—I envy it.” 

“Li Ai is the real soul of the group. He always finds a way to bring everyone together. Do you know what Zhao Xiaorou said the first time we walked into REGARD and saw him? She came up with this golden phrase that day—'Perfect people can’t catch my attention. It’s always the ones with a little flaw, a crack here or there, that make you want to keep looking. Not out of pity, but because they’re so fascinating.’” 

Pei Zhen simply rested his chin on his hand and watched her.