SWTHTC - 39

Chapter 39: “It’s Over Now”

Thanks to Hou Zihao, Zhou Leqi managed to sleep for a few hours that day.

Her sleep was restless, but at least she slept. When she woke up, it was already past noon, and he had already left. However, he left her a note on the small table next to Yu Qing’s bed, with a piece of chocolate placed on top of it.

Zhou Leqi walked over and opened the note, seeing his familiar handwriting—neat yet slightly messy, just like him. It read:

“I’ve gone for now. I’ll be back before eight. Call me if anything happens.

I hope you’ll eat lunch on your own, or at least have some chocolate. Eating sweets makes you feel better.”

Beside the words was a large, ugly smiley face.

Looking at the note, Zhou Leqi’s lips curved upward slightly. She gently folded it, putting it and the chocolate into her pocket. Her heart already felt… a little sweeter.

________________________________________

Around four in the afternoon, Yu Qing woke up.

The moment she stirred, Zhou Leqi noticed. Ever since Hou Zihao had left, no one was there to talk to her or make her laugh, so she had been sitting silently by Yu Qing’s bedside, all her attention focused on her mother. When Yu Qing’s fingers twitched, Zhou Leqi immediately spotted it.

Like a wind-up doll, Zhou Leqi sprang into action as soon as she saw Yu Qing wake up. She called the doctors and nurses, who examined her and assured her that Yu Qing was fine, telling Zhou Leqi not to worry.

But she couldn’t stop worrying.

After waking up, Yu Qing didn’t look at her or say a word. She simply lay on the bed, facing away from her, looking lifeless.

She seemed alive… but also, perhaps, already dead inside.

Zhou Leqi had thought that when her mother woke up, they would share a joyful reunion. Like characters in TV dramas, they’d cry and laugh together, hugging tightly. She imagined herself freely pouring out her fears and grievances in her mother’s arms, asking for a promise that she would never leave her again, that they would stay together happily from now on.

But reality was far from her idealized vision. Instead of feeling free to express herself, Zhou Leqi felt increasingly constrained and suffocated.

Looking at Yu Qing’s back, which seemed to reject her presence, Zhou Leqi’s heart raced. She sensed that her mother might be blaming her, though she didn’t know what she had done wrong.

Stiffly rooted in place, she tried to think it through, then cautiously called out, “…Mom?”

No response.

She was on the verge of tears. After a while, she finally realized where she had gone wrong and began apologizing to Yu Qing: “Mom, I was wrong. I should have told you earlier about Luo Siyu transferring to our school… Please don’t be mad, okay?”

Still, no response.

She panicked. At the same time, the invisible glass box trapping her seemed to grow narrower and more solid. The space meant for her shrank further, and she felt too exhausted to resist.

Fighting back tears, she moved to the other side of the bed and discovered that Yu Qing was crying.

Like her, Yu Qing cried silently, as if even sadness wasn’t allowed to be too bold.

Her tears had soaked the pillow. Looking at her daughter, she spoke only a few short sentences:

“Qiqi… Mom is so tired…”

“I’m sorry…”

“…Please let me go.”

When do people start seriously contemplating death?

Perhaps it’s when their bodies can no longer endure, or when their spirits break under the weight of despair.

Humans are strange creatures. Sometimes they are incredibly resilient, while other times they become unbearably fragile. A mental collapse often strikes more abruptly and fiercely than physical damage, triggered by something as small as a single incident.

Take Yu Qing, for example.

Why did she want to give up on life? Was it solely because she saw Zhou Lei at the parent-teacher meeting? Did his mere presence remind her of his shameless betrayal?

No, that was merely the trigger. Before that, her heart had already accumulated an overwhelming amount of pain. This pain wasn’t just about a failed marriage or being betrayed by her husband—it was the agony of losing her sense of purpose and emotional faith.

She may not have loved Zhou Lei deeply or needed him desperately, but his existence had made the concept of “family” valid. Yu Qing had devoted her entire life to this family. She enjoyed its happiness and sacrificed everything for its development—her time, energy, career, and all aspects of herself.

But suddenly, this “family” disappeared. Zhou Lei’s departure negated all her efforts and took away everything she had built. She wandered aimlessly amidst the ruins, trying to escape, but it seemed too late. She no longer had the ability to leave or the enthusiasm to seek new goals.

Life can be a mysterious thing. It appears to grant you the freedom to choose, but in reality, countless invisible constraints bind you firmly in place. Every choice requires numerous prerequisites and leads to countless consequences. This intricate web of cause and effect makes every move fraught with difficulty and leaves little room for change.

Yu Qing was utterly hopeless—not just because her current situation was unbearable, but because she didn’t know how things could ever improve. Would she find happiness if Zhou Lei left Gao Xiang and returned to this family? No, betrayal is irreversible. The perfect relationship they once had was gone forever. Even pretending everything was normal wouldn’t restore what was lost. The ideal family life she yearned for was irretrievable.

And when someone’s psychological defenses crumble, almost anything in the world can become the dagger that kills them: matching parent-child outfits in shopping malls, wedding ring ads on TV, Audi A8s driving down the street, old pop songs, or even ordinary Chinese characters like “Zhou” or “Gao.” Pain seeps through every crack.

Amidst such relentless blows, she didn’t know the meaning or purpose of her existence, nor how to continue living this meaningless life. She admitted her weakness, her lack of courage to face tragedy. So… would it be better to just give up here?

Zhou Leqi didn’t continue talking to Yu Qing. She quietly left the ward, spending five minutes alone outside. During those five minutes, she ate the chocolate Hou Zihao had left for her.

It was really sweet, really delicious.

But why… hadn’t her mood improved?

________________________________________

At eight o’clock in the evening, Hou Zihao returned to the hospital as promised. But when he peeked into the ward, he didn’t see Zhou Leqi—only Yu Qing lying on the bed, with a nurse recording data beside her.

He decided not to enter and went to look for Zhou Leqi instead.

He searched everywhere—the cafeteria, corridors, the hospital’s front and back yards, the attending doctor’s office, the nurse station—but found no trace of her. After nearly half an hour, he finally discovered her in the safety staircase on Yu Qing’s floor.

The lights in the safety staircase were motion-activated. Without sound, it was pitch black. There, in the darkness, she sat against the wall, silent and unmoving, seemingly for a long time.

The sound of Hou Zihao opening the safety door activated the lights, revealing her eating chocolate. It wasn’t the pack he had bought for her earlier; upon closer inspection, empty wrappers littered the floor around her. She had eaten a lot of chocolate.

He frowned slightly, sensing something off about the atmosphere. But then she suddenly smiled at him—a bright, beautiful smile. Such a rare sight momentarily relaxed his guard.

He walked over, sitting beside her and asking, “What are you doing here?”

Her mood seemed good. She looked at him softly, her lips curled into a smile. “Mom thought I was making too much noise tearing wrappers, so she told me to come out for a while.”

He chuckled, glancing at the pile of wrappers on the floor. “Why are you eating so much chocolate?”

As soon as he finished speaking, the motion-activated lights dimmed. He looked up, intending to make a sound to turn them back on, but she stopped him.

In the darkness, she gently held his arm and whispered, “Let it stay like this…”

After a pause, she added, “I prefer it a little darker.”

A girl’s fragrance is enchanting, especially in an enclosed space. They were very close—so close that her hair occasionally brushed his cheek, and he could feel the coolness of her skin.

Hou Zihao coughed lightly. “…Alright.”

But deep down, he felt that darkness in this atmosphere was somewhat dangerous.

She hummed in agreement, seemingly satisfied, then unwrapped another piece of chocolate and offered, “Do you want some?”

He shook his head, watching her eat another piece. A strange feeling grew stronger within him. After a while, he asked again, “You still haven’t told me why you’re eating so much chocolate.”

She seemed to smile faintly, her voice soft and teasing. “Didn’t you tell me to eat? Aren’t you happy I listened?”

A playful complaint, a hint of… coquettishness.

Tonight, she was overwhelmingly sweet and adorable, making his heart race uncontrollably.

He coughed again, masking the awkwardness brought on by his racing heart. He thought that her mother waking up must have lifted her spirits, and he could finally relax.

“It’s good, of course it’s good,” he responded, adding jokingly, “Just remember to keep it up.”

She laughed again, her voice like a silver bell, the aroma of chocolate spreading throughout the small space.

“Is Auntie alright now?” he asked.

He was considerate, framing his question tactfully, focusing only on Yu Qing’s current condition without prying into the reasons behind what had happened. Even though he had long guessed that she had attempted suicide, he respected Zhou Leqi’s privacy and waited for her to decide how much to reveal.

Zhou Leqi understood his kindness. In the darkness, her beautiful eyes reflected the moonlight streaming in from the window, appearing exceptionally soft. Her profile shimmered as she gazed at him.

“She’s fine,” she said, “…Thank you.”

Thank you.

For everything wonderful you’ve given me.

The sincerity in her voice was unmistakable, causing Hou Zihao’s heart to skip a beat. He waved his hand, intending to dismiss her gratitude, but at that moment… she suddenly hugged him.

This wasn’t their first embrace. He had held her during the chaos yesterday.

But this was different.

Yesterday’s embrace was genderless, just one person seeking comfort in another during a crisis. But now, she initiated the hug, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing her entire body against his. He couldn’t deny that this embrace stirred something deeper in him—something both thrilling and intensely arousing.

The desire surged so strongly that if the lights had been on, she would have instantly seen his reaction—even the movement of his Adam’s apple, betraying the profound impact she had on him.

He tightened his hold on her waist, whispering into her ear, “…Are you sure you’re not afraid I’ll take advantage of you?”

She laughed, still nestled in his arms, showing no intention of leaving. “I’m not afraid.”

Her sweet breath tormented him further, leaving him both helpless and irritated. With a hint of frustration, he asked, “Do you really think I’m such a gentleman in your eyes?”

She continued laughing, holding him tighter, as if reluctant to let go.

“Hou Zihao,” she sighed his name, her voice sweet and melancholic, “you’re truly, truly an amazing person.”

Amazing enough to make me fall for you.

Amazing enough to make me regret that I can’t be with you.

Amazing enough to make me jealous of whoever ends up having you.

Her words made Hou Zihao frown in irritation. He tightened his grip on her waist, questioning her warily, “What do you mean? Are you handing me a ‘good guy’ card again? Are you rejecting me once more?”

She was so hard to pursue. She had rejected him several times already, making him overly cautious.

“No,” Zhou Leqi laughed, pulling away from his embrace. “Can’t I just compliment you?”

He pursed his lips, unconvinced, refusing to let her distance herself completely. He pulled her back into his arms, seizing the moment. “If you’re not rejecting me, does this mean you’re agreeing? Will you be my girlfriend?”

If she said yes, he would kiss her without hesitation.

“No,” she rejected him again, adding a new twist this time. “You deserve a better girl.”

Hou Zihao was so exasperated he laughed bitterly, unable to speak for a moment. Finally, he demanded harshly, “What do you mean by a ‘better girl’?”

To me, you’re the only one.

Even the word “best” doesn’t quite fit.

Because you’re the only solution.

She sighed faintly, a mix of inexplicable sorrow and contentment, strangely happy despite herself.

“A better girl,” she replied calmly, “someone more outgoing, stronger, and luckier than me.”

Someone with better family circumstances than me.

Someone healthier than me.

Someone more worthy of you than me.

Or at least… someone who can stay with you longer than I can.