[“...Hou Zihao.”]

It wasn’t until an hour later that Zhou Leqi was still in a dazed state.

She didn’t know how she had gotten up from the ground or how she had been taken to the hospital. When she finally came to, she found herself sitting in the emergency room, surrounded by doctors and patients bustling about. The familiar figure who had suddenly appeared before her was now seated at the foot of her temporary bed, his eyes lowered as he examined her injured, swollen, and bruised left foot. His long, strong hands gently touched the area near her twisted bone.

In truth, it must have been excruciating, but Zhou Leqi showed no reaction. She simply stared at him blankly, as if she had lost the ability to speak.

Until he suddenly said:

“Hold on.”

Then, with a sudden force, both his hands pressed down.

“Crack.”

— Her bone was back in place.

This time, Zhou Leqi couldn’t help but feel the pain. A physiological response caused cold sweat to quickly soak through her clothes, and she let out an involuntary cry of pain.

Her cry drew the attention of a nurse, who in turn summoned a doctor. They began chattering around Zhou Leqi’s temporary bed, especially the emergency doctor, whose emotions seemed agitated. Frowning with dissatisfaction, he looked at the man who had just reset her bone and spoke rapidly in Italian.

It was all in Italian; she couldn’t understand any of it.

The intense pain made her ears ring, and the dizziness worsened. But even so, she could see him stand up from the bedside and respond in Italian to the doctor. Gradually, the doctor’s agitation subsided, and after turning away for a moment, he returned with a splint, beginning to apply it to Zhou Leqi’s injured left foot.

She was nearly exhausted.

Another half-hour passed before everything was finally taken care of.

Her vision was blurry, and despite her efforts to focus, her mind remained scattered. Throughout the entire process, however, she kept her eyes on him. Even when the doctor needed her to turn her body to apply the splint, her peripheral vision never wavered from him.

She couldn’t be sure whether she was dreaming or awake, but in either case, she hoped this person wouldn’t leave her sight.

Yet, eventually, he prepared to leave.

After the doctors and nurses departed, he moved, turning in a way that pierced Zhou Leqi’s nerves, causing a pain far greater than the resetting of her bone. This made her instinctively reach out and grab the edge of his coat, asking in her dizzy and ringing state, “…Where are you going?”

She was almost completely drained of strength and couldn’t muster much force. Despite her urgent desire to hold onto him, the pressure she exerted was so weak it was almost negligible.

But he still stopped, as if unable to break free from her slender fingers. His back stiffened momentarily.

“To handle some paperwork,” he spoke, “and buy a wheelchair.”

His voice was emotionless, merely low and deep.

Zhou Leqi, however, became somewhat dazed, easily recalling their youth. They had always seemed destined to frequent hospitals, and she remembered him bustling about for her countless times in similar situations. It was no different now.

Her heart stirred, but her hand gripping his coat didn’t loosen. She stubbornly held on tightly, attempting to rise awkwardly and said, “…I’ll go with you.”

Another layer of cold sweat broke out, making her face even paler.

He noticed her intention, and his brows immediately furrowed, his deep-set eyes conveying severity and disapproval.

He pressed her down, saying, “I’ll go alone. Wait here for me.”

But she shook her head, looking up at him from the bed with a stubborn expression. On the surface, it seemed like she was forcefully insisting on her own way, but deep in her eyes lay vulnerability and fear.

…She dreaded being separated from him.

That fragility seemed to sting him, leaving him momentarily flustered. He had to avert his gaze immediately to avoid meeting her eyes.

Both fell silent, locked in a tense standoff.

Ultimately, it was he who relented first, stepping aside to ask a nurse for a wheelchair. Without needing him to say anything, she managed to sit herself in it. He silently pushed her toward the administrative hall, and they continued in silence.

At the payment window, he went to handle things alone, leaving her waiting in the open space of the hall. From her angle, she could see his profile, finally giving her a chance to study him carefully.

He was somewhat different from her memories.

The person in her memory was still a youth, mostly dressed in school uniforms and sneakers. His clean white shirts always made him appear particularly bright, gentle yet strong. But seven years later, he had become a mature man. He seemed taller and broader than before, his dark coat lending him a more composed air. As he stood at the window handling paperwork, his expression remained neutral. The white light of the hospital cast shadows over his deep-set features, making him appear more distant.

…Even somewhat somber and stern.

Zhou Leqi wasn’t sure if she was mistaken. In her dizzy state, she struggled to make an accurate judgment. Moreover, he didn’t give her much time to think, soon returning with a new wheelchair. After switching, he carried the newly purchased medication and took her out of the hospital.

Outside the hospital gates, the spring night remained tender and gentle.

Zhou Leqi was already very tired, but her mind remained highly tense because she didn’t know what would happen next: Would he stay? Or would he part ways with her?

Her muddled brain could barely think, yet she couldn’t escape his question: “Where should I take you?”

His tone was still stern, as if there had never been any connection between them.

The headache became even more severe, sharp like needle pricks. But she still forced herself to think and deflected by saying, “…I was robbed.”

He showed no reaction.

She didn’t know why she started to feel nervous. Her hands hanging by the sides of the wheelchair began to sweat.

“My phone, money, passport—they’re all gone,” she stated as calmly as possible. “It’s quite troublesome.”

This was clearly an evasive answer, one that couldn’t fool someone as logically rigorous as him. Similarly, he refused to respond to the underlying meaning behind her words, instead continuing mechanically: “Tell me the address, and I’ll take you back.”

Her palms were already soaked.

For some reason, the warm spring night suddenly turned chilly, chilling her heart. Blurred visions appeared before Zhou Leqi’s eyes, as if she saw a broken bridge. Standing at the massive gap, she gazed across, unsure how to cross.

She could only remain silent.

This silence seemed to exhaust his patience. She distinctly felt his presence grow more distant behind her, tinged with impatience. Then she heard him say, “If you don’t need me to take you, I’ll leave first.”

Without giving her time to react, his hands had already released the handles of the wheelchair.

No farewell, just an eagerness to leave.

With her last ounce of strength, she reached out again as he passed by, her trembling fingers unsure whether from fatigue or sorrow. She lacked the energy to choose her words carefully or even know what to say to him. Ultimately, she followed her instincts and called out his name—

“…Hou Zihao.”

Just three ordinary words, yet they represented a forbidden zone untouched for seven long years.

The meaning behind them was too profound, intertwined with countless memories between them. That brief year of shared history inexplicably carried such immense weight that, upon uttering those three words, countless images flickered before their eyes, overlapping like a rope. It bound her throat, preventing further speech, and rooted his once retreating steps.

Confusing and surreal.

In the end, he was defeated by her and took her back to his apartment.

Before getting into the taxi, she didn’t ask where he was taking her. She didn’t care or worry. At that moment, her mind had completely shut down, overtaken by exhaustion and drowsiness. All she wanted was to close her eyes and sleep. Sitting beside him in the backseat, she clung tightly to his sleeve the entire way. Eventually, unable to hold on any longer, she leaned her head on his shoulder. The sudden intimacy after seven years seemed to make him stiffen momentarily, but he didn’t push her away. His profile remained stern, as if he were far, far away from her.

She didn’t care, continuing to lean against him as she closed her eyes.

When they got out of the car, her body felt like it had no bones left—she didn’t want to exert even an ounce of strength. He lifted her out of the backseat and placed her gently in the wheelchair. As they entered the apartment building, she kept her eyes closed, her hearing still working involuntarily. She heard the sound of the elevator running, the wheels of the chair rolling across the floor, the beeping of a keypad as he entered the code to unlock the door, and finally, the soft click of the door closing behind them.

Only then did she open her eyes. The room was pitch dark—he hadn’t yet turned on the lights.

He moved to do so but was stopped again, this time by her lightly tugging at his hand. Her voice was softer than the faint pressure of her fingers, sounding especially tranquil in the darkness: “Don’t.”

Don’t turn on the light.

Of course, light was good. But sometimes it was too clear. What she needed now wasn’t clarity but chaos, for chaos could temporarily offer her a false sense of security. Clarity would reveal truths too cruel for her to face tonight, truths she knew she lacked the strength to confront.

So this was fine for now.

In the darkness, she reached out her hand toward him—a gesture seeking an embrace. It was so dark in the room that she didn’t know if he could see her. Yet, in the end, she received the embrace she sought. He scooped her up effortlessly, just as he used to, though the atmosphere had changed—it wasn’t as intimate or tender as it once was.

But… this was fine for now.

She closed her eyes, leaning against him with a sense of security akin to being in a dream. She felt him push open the door to a room, then carefully lay her on the bed and tuck her in with a blanket.

He didn’t intend to stay. Once again, he tried to leave, but this time she directly grabbed his hand.

It was a large, dry hand—but cold, chilling her enough to make her flinch. Still, she couldn’t open her eyes. Her voice was muffled as she said softly once more: “…Don’t.”

Don’t go.

He understood what she meant, but this time, it seemed he didn’t want to indulge her. This made her heart ache even more, her voice nearly breaking as she murmured: “I’m sleepy…”

The words hung there, incomplete.

But he knew they carried a gentle coercion: I’m tired. If you’re not here, I won’t be able to sleep.

Could you bear to torment me like this?

It was so familiar, subtly echoing the plea she had made to him seven years ago outside her building when she said, “I’m cold.”

And so, he relented again, sitting stiffly on the edge of her bed.

Finally satisfied, she rested her head lightly on his lap, unwilling to let go of his hand, still clutching it gently.

The grip wasn’t strong, but somehow it felt stubborn.

“Goodnight,” she whispered.

The spring night stretched endlessly.