[“Zhou Leqi... tell me it’s not what I think it is.”]

He was injured—his right shoulder fractured, his head bleeding, and he had suffered a mild concussion.

But she… she was completely unharmed, not a scratch on her.

Zhou Leqi was already overwhelmed by the sudden turn of events, still feeling anxious even after arriving at the hospital. Hou Zihao, however, remained relatively calm, telling the doctor, “It’s just a fracture. No surgery needed—closed reduction will do.”

The doctor immediately recognized a fellow professional and joked, “Alright, your judgment is clear enough. That means the concussion isn’t too serious either.”

Pausing for a moment, the doctor turned to Zhou Leqi and said, “That’s enough, miss. Stop crying. Your boyfriend is fine. Go pay the fees first.”

She waited in line for quite some time. When she returned, he had already been moved to a ward, and the doctor was fitting him with a sling. Seeing her return with red, swollen eyes, he knew she must have been crying outside. He sighed quietly, then raised his uninjured left hand and gestured for her to come closer. “I’m fine. It’ll heal soon.”

A nurse nearby couldn’t help but giggle at the scene, while the doctor, ever stern, warned him, “Don’t say you’re fine. You need to rest. The sling has to stay on for 4–6 weeks.”

Hou Zihao: “...Alright.”

After the doctor and nurse left, she finally sat down by his bedside. Their eyes met, but neither spoke.

He didn’t have the energy to talk, but seeing her cry made him feel like he should say something to comfort her. Summoning what little strength he had, he joked weakly, “Seems we both have a special connection with hospitals, especially orthopedics… don’t you think?”

An awkward attempt at reassurance.

Of course, Zhou Leqi didn’t feel any relief. On the contrary, her heart grew heavier as she suddenly realized they were in A City’s Third Central Hospital—the very hospital where Hou Feng had once worked.

This wasn’t surprising. The orthopedics department here was the best in the province, and the ambulance had brought them here based on proximity. In her panicked state earlier, Zhou Leqi hadn’t paid attention to which hospital they were being taken to; only now did she realize.

This department, this ward—he had been here almost every day. If he were still alive…

Zhou Leqi lowered her gaze, unable to continue that thought.

“Are you… are you hungry?” she forced herself to change the subject. “I’ll go buy you something to eat.”

As she stood up, he grabbed her hand.

“I’m not hungry,” his voice lacked strength, and it was clear he was still in pain, his face pale. “Don’t go—it’s not safe.”

That phrase—”not safe”—brought the conversation back to the crux of the matter. She knew he would ask about today’s sudden car accident.

“You must realize it wasn’t an accident,” he looked at her, his gaze deep and heavy. “What exactly happened?”

Of course, Zhou Leqi knew it wasn’t an accident.

At the time, she had been dazed, her mind a chaotic mess. But upon calming down later, she noticed some details—for instance, why the truck had suddenly charged out when the pedestrian light was green, why its braking distance was so short, and why the driver fled without stopping to check the situation. All of these were questions.

And if none of this had been accidental, then this was an attempt on her life—a murder plot.

This realization sent chills down her spine, and her palms began to grow cold. At the same time, she heard Hou Zihao’s voice deepen further. “Zhou Leqi… tell me it’s not what I think it is.”

Her heart stirred, and she looked up at him. Meeting his gaze, her emotions swirled within her. Impulsively, she decided to tell him everything. “...I came here to find Luo Siyu.”

He furrowed his brow, clearly having forgotten who that person was. She pursed her lips and reminded him, “A girl who transferred to our school, in Milan’s class… my father’s stepdaughter.”

The last part jogged his memory, but he still looked puzzled. “You have personal business with her?”

Zhou Leqi’s eyelashes trembled slightly. After a brief silence, she replied, “Earlier, Runyuan’s financial statements showed an abnormal investment—about three million yuan in total. One portion of that money… eventually ended up in her account.”

She stopped there, but the implication was clear.

The ward fell into a deathly silence.

He didn’t speak, only stared at her. His eyes were clouded with emotion, like the gloomy weather that day. It was obvious he was teetering on the edge of losing control. The intensity of his presence was suffocating, forcing Zhou Leqi to avert her gaze.

In their silent standoff, she had lost.

“So you came looking for her?” he asked, barely suppressing his anger.

She felt uneasy, wanting to soothe his emotions. Her words came faster now. “I suspect Runyuan is connected to… to Haoting’s case from seven years ago. They must have hired people to do things behind the scenes. If we can uncover the truth, I believe we can…”

“Can what?”

He interrupted her, his voice suddenly louder. As a mature man, his tone carried a forceful weight, easily intimidating in his anger.

“Can overturn the verdict? Or can make things worse?”

“Zhou Leqi, what are you thinking?”

“How many times have I told you to stay away from me, from Runyuan, from all this mess! Are you deaf?”

He had never spoken to her so harshly before—or rather, he had. She had forgotten. That stormy night when she climbed onto the hospital rooftop, intending to jump, he had been equally stern, fierce as though he wanted to devour her whole.

It wasn’t anger—it was worry.

Worry that consumed his reason, worry that robbed him of control.

But she couldn’t handle his ferocity now. She felt helpless, even a little wronged, her voice dropping low. “I just wanted to help…”

I just wanted to help you.

I just didn’t want you to feel alone.

I just hoped you’d have a chance to reunite with your family sooner.

She didn’t voice all her thoughts—partly because she struggled to express them, partly because he wouldn’t hear her right now. He was angry, his emotions so volatile that he accidentally knocked over the thermos on the bedside table with a loud crash. The thermos shattered, scattering shards and hot water everywhere.

She had never seen him like this—so fierce, so ruthless, so full of hostility.

Yet, alongside this extreme hardness, his vulnerability was laid bare before her.

…His eyes reddened.

The way he looked at her was filled with helplessness and pain.

“Zhou Leqi…”

His voice softened again, as though he was sinking into a trap he couldn’t escape.

“…Go. Please go.”

“I really can’t… lose you again.”

When Hou Zihao saw the truck hurtling toward Zhou Leqi at the street corner earlier, another scene flashed before his eyes.

It was seven years ago, on a street in A City, and the person involved was his father.

He remembered it was a scorching day in July, shortly after the college entrance exam results were released. He wanted to contact her, but his phone had been confiscated by his father. He wanted to sneak out and go to her school, but he was stopped.

His father had said, “Son, wait a little longer. Can you wait just a little longer?”

He didn’t know why he had to wait, nor why his father seemed so anxious and fearful. Though his mother had already been taken away by the police, he believed in her innocence. He was certain there had been a misunderstanding, and things would resolve themselves in a few days.

But his father clearly didn’t think so. Day after day, he couldn’t sleep. Within just a few days, his hair had turned gray, and he looked much older. He even started smoking again, despite having quit for years. One cigarette after another, from morning till night, the house filled with choking smoke.

Then one day, his father went out—to visit his mother in detention. Seeing this as an opportunity to escape, he ran. He had no choice. He hadn’t yet explained to his girl what was happening at home. He didn’t know if she had succeeded in the college entrance exam. He hadn’t yet told her why he hadn’t been by her side those past few days…

He hadn’t yet told her… how much he missed her.

He managed to escape, though it wasn’t easy. His father had locked the door behind him, and he had to call someone to open it from the outside.

The outside world was vast and free. He planned to find a public phone to call her and then go see her. But as he crossed a street, an accident happened—

A speeding van, running a red light, charging straight at him. At that moment, he experienced the exact same state as Zhou Leqi had today—his brain and body disconnected, losing all ability to react as death loomed.

And just like today, someone came to save him.

…It was his father.

With all his strength, he pushed him out of the way. Alone on the scorching asphalt, he rolled until he finally managed to sit up. All he saw was a pool of blood.

There lay his father—a gentle, good-natured man, an excellent and responsible doctor.

Even then, his father was still conscious, despite his bones being dislocated and his body twisted grotesquely. His expression remained as kind as it had always been, like an overly permissive parent forgiving a child’s mistakes. Slowly, he said:

“You… didn’t I tell you to wait a little longer?”

Then he passed away.

The police said the perpetrator was the son of a stubborn holdout affected by illegal demolition. His father had died in the process, and he sought revenge by targeting the family of Haoting’s chairman, Su Ruini, to make the “heartless capitalist” feel the pain of losing loved ones.

Later, the perpetrator was sentenced to twenty years in prison—but what good did that do? Could it bring back Hou Feng’s life?

Of course not.

Once gone, a person never returns… he would never have such a wonderful father again.

Despite his determination not to show weakness in front of his girl, the floodgates of his memories broke without warning. Perhaps it was because the horrific scene from seven years ago overlapped with the near-death experience she had faced just hours ago. His emotions spiraled out of control.

Pathetic and miserable.

She saw him lower his head, burying his face in his injured palm, as lonely and helpless as a boy abandoned by the world. Yet he didn’t dare cry openly, only letting out a slight sob as he pleaded:

“Please, Zhou Leqi… I beg you…”

“Please… go…”