TPIL - 32

Qi Xiaochuan wasn’t the type to dream often. Recently, he had frequent dreams of becoming an executed person, the board passing around the company seal like a hot potato, his car tires being deflated on a bridge spanning the river, and an unknown man showing up at his door with a baby in arms, claiming it was Luo Andi’s child. But this time was different from all the others—it wasn’t fictional; it had actually happened.

He forgot his keys after school and went to the Luo family mansion to find his mother. The housemaid recognized him and quickly pointed him in the right direction. He rushed upstairs to the study in three quick steps, about to knock when he overheard voices inside.

Luo Andi’s mother, Mrs. Luo, said: “Stop crying.”

Soon, she added: “If you need any help, come to me anytime. Don’t be formal. I’m glad to be needed.”

Then came Qi Xiaochuan’s mother’s nasal response: “I know I’ve been very fortunate. That child is extremely intelligent and has strong opinions—my husband and I could never have produced such a child. But I’ve never felt like a real mother. Xiaochuan is too independent, too strong. Even when he was thrown into a garbage bin by older classmates in elementary school, he quietly went home, took a bath, and changed clothes. If the teacher hadn’t contacted us, my husband and I wouldn’t have known. Does a child like this really need useless parents like us?”

“Boys’ thoughts…” Mrs. Luo started again, sighing softly. “He matured early, and given his background, he probably had to be strong. When he grows up and meets a girl he likes, one day he will change.”

Outside the door, Qi Xiaochuan already understood that his mother had shared his past with others. He coldly laughed to himself, thinking it was a pity—the day would never come. They always made various misjudgments about him.

This didn’t shake his composed demeanor. Turning to leave, he suddenly heard a third voice.

“Xiaochuan should go home.” Luo Andi said, “Auntie, stop crying. It’ll worry him.”

As the dream faded, the rhythmic beeping of medical equipment filled his ears. The white ceiling dominated his vision, and the pain surged after the anesthesia wore off. The weapon had pierced his abdominal wall, showing just how much his attacker hated him. But it was expected. When the woman was taken away by the police, she didn’t hold back, bitterly cursing him as a “bastard,” which resonated with his previous nightmares.

In the end, even while still bleeding profusely and before losing consciousness, he calmly called for an ambulance. His judgment was clear, but evidently, some people didn’t follow his instructions.

The nurse examined him, and the doctor came to confirm his condition. Fortunately, no vital organs were damaged. Lying flat, Qi Xiaochuan’s strongest desire was to drink fish porridge. It was rare for a man who usually insisted on finishing meetings even on the brink of starvation to have a specific craving, something hard to admit.

Footsteps echoed outside the room.

She had called out to him countless times like this. Leaning out of windows, raising her hand in crowds, catching his gaze. “Xiaochuan, Xiaochuan.” It was always this voice.

Luo Andi said: “Xiaochuan, are you okay?”

Her concern was written all over her face. Her sun hat fell to the back of her neck as she touched his face and shoulders, tears welling up transparently in her eyes. “You really scared me. I was so afraid. I thought you were going to die.”

She pressed her face against his arm, her tears soaking through the hospital gown. It was hard to describe his feelings.

Qi Xiaochuan painfully turned to look at her bedside. The female nurse, with an ambiguous expression, also teared up, while the slightly older doctor looked at them with a kind yet subtle gaze. “Luo Andi,” he said, “... can you help me contact my parents?”

“Oh, right. Your secretary is still hiding this from them.” Luo Andi seemed enlightened and quickly picked up her phone. Since there were other people in the ward, she excused herself and stepped out first.

Even though he was the one who had driven her away, Qi Xiaochuan couldn’t help but follow her movements with his eyes. This was normal. When crying, Luo Andi’s face became even paler, her tears falling like broken glass beads, truly pitiful and captivating. Such a posture was hard to ignore.

After she left, the doctor finally spoke: “Mr. Qi’s lover has been waiting outside, pleading with everyone involved in the surgery. You should treat her well.”

Qi Xiaochuan detested preaching, especially meaningless sermons. However, understanding the doctor’s goodwill, he refrained from uttering harsh words to his savior upon regaining consciousness. Instead, he briefly explained: “She’s not my lover.”

Now it was the teary-eyed young nurse’s turn to brighten: “What?! Then you should cherish her even more.”

Reason told Qi Xiaochuan that it was best to keep quiet. One more word, and those around him might force him onto a stretcher to the civil affairs office to get a marriage certificate while he was still severely injured.

When she returned, Luo Andi thanked the angels in white once more, and they graciously left them alone.

Seeing Qi Xiaochuan, tears began to well up in her eyes again. She stared intently at him, tears falling onto the bedsheet. Despite this, she didn’t blink, as if afraid he would disappear the next second.

Luo Andi said: “What exactly happened? Can you tell me?”

Qi Xiaochuan looked back at her but remained silent for a long time. Finally, he faintly crafted a sentence: “I’ll tell you later.”

Not pressing someone to talk about things they don’t want to discuss was one of Luo Andi’s most important virtues. She nodded, smiling at him with concern: “The doctor hasn’t said if you can eat yet. I’ve taken leave from work and will stay here with you for the next two days. If you need anything, just let me know.”

A wave of unease swept over him. Was she planning to switch careers and become his caregiver? Qi Xiaochuan held onto Luo Andi’s wrist as they gazed at each other. He hesitated, wanting to say something.

“Dear, falling in love with you, since that day, sweet as it is, effortlessly…”

Luo Andi blinked innocently.

Qi Xiaochuan, expressionless, turned his head and sternly addressed his secretary at the door: “Yi Weihao, if you play music again, I’ll kill you and hang your head in the company’s lobby.”

The secretary, who had just arrived, was frantically trying to break his phone playing “Confession Balloon”: “Sorry, Mr. Qi, my girlfriend’s mom called to urge me to fix the toilet—”

Receiving the boss’s blessing to “get lost,” the secretary scurried away in a hundred-meter dash. Luo Andi remarked, “Does he like Jay Chou?” Meanwhile, Qi Xiaochuan finally regained the floor: “I can hire a caregiver. I don’t need you to take care of me. Besides, the doctor said I’ll be able to go home after a few more days of rest.”

“Xiaochuan,” Luo Andi showed concern, suddenly reaching to touch his forehead, the other hand pressed against her own cheek and forehead. “Are you running a fever?”

Because of some warmth, worrying about peritonitis, another series of tests were conducted. Qi Xiaochuan’s plan to send Luo Andi away naturally fizzled out. She stayed by his side throughout, fortunately without any signs of deterioration.

Luo Andi really took leave. Qi Xiaochuan wanted her to leave, but there were more pressing matters at hand. By the second day of regaining consciousness, he was already checking work emails on his phone in bed. The secretary brought over a pile of documents, and even the nurses couldn’t help but scold: “Do you think this is where you should be working?! If anything happens to the patient, you’re responsible!”

“Sorry, lady,” the secretary replied politely, dark circles under his eyes from overtime. “But if I didn’t do this, the patient would throw my body into the wilderness first.”

Qi Xiaochuan didn’t mind his subordinate speaking frankly about him; he only frowned and urged: “Will you die if you talk less? What did you do instead of monitoring the financial reports? Hurry up and fix them.”

While buried in work, complaints naturally followed: “It’s not like I’m saying, why don’t you open a metaphysics class and teach everyone how to lose virtue daily yet still have such good luck, getting stabbed yet avoiding vital spots.”

Of course, this drew the boss’s life-threatening disdain: “Do you want to try getting stabbed too?”

There was still a lot to handle. Qi Xiaochuan felt an unbearable headache but was reminded by the secretary of something. Zhou Hanyao’s wife had studied medicine when she was young.

Finally, the true savior descended.

Luo Andi arrived with a portable fruit and vegetable juicer, nearly screaming out loud at the sight. While putting down her things, she asked them: “What are you doing? Working now? Xiaochuan!”

“Don’t interfere.” Qi Xiaochuan held a pen in one hand, casually moving it behind his ear, absentmindedly rubbing his neck with the backs of his middle and ring fingers. Hospital gowns weren’t comfortable, and the smell of disinfectant was irritating, let alone the constant IV drips.

However, she persisted, not saying much, but suddenly grabbing his hand tightly. Surprised, he looked over, and Luo Andi gazed at him, both melancholy and sad, harmless to an astonishing degree, causing all the carefully prepared words Qi Xiaochuan had planned to say to vanish.

She sat by his bedside, making work impossible. The secretary seized the opportunity to leave quickly. Luo Andi casually picked up a copy of David Copperfield and began reading it aloud to him.

Humble David Copperfield, mediocre David Copperfield, caustic David Copperfield.

Luo Andi’s voice was soft, swirling like stirring coffee and milk, drawing one in involuntarily. For no reason, Qi Xiaochuan said: “How’s your English now?”

Luo Andi sat sideways on the chair, her thin back visible. Upon hearing his question, she shrugged slightly, leaning forward, and laughed: “I read occasionally. I took the level eight exam in college, but my vocabulary was still poor.”

Reading is a good habit. Qi Xiaochuan nodded but didn’t say anything else. He had always disliked those who criticized without offering money, of course, paying didn’t mean they had the right to comment either. He planned to endure for two days, even arranging work for the third day, but unexpectedly, early in the morning, Luo Andi arrived with freshly made pastries.

She wore a corduroy strap dress with a grass-green undershirt, looking somewhat strange in this weather but not out of place in the air-conditioned room, clearly dressed specifically for the hospital visit. Qi Xiaochuan looked at her, finding her beautiful but saying nothing. On closer reflection, when did she ever look bad? Saying so would be redundant.

Luo Andi had taken the subway here, laughing as she took out the items she brought, and while staring at the IV drip, she asked: “Is it too cold? Is the speed okay?”

Qi Xiaochuan didn’t care about these things: “Just finish it quickly.”

“Xiaochuan, you can’t take your injury so lightly.” She tidied the things while inadvertently saying.

“It’s not necessary to be overly concerned.” Qi Xiaochuan was tired of obsessing, originally speaking assertively but inexplicably lowering his voice.

Luo Andi still heard him. She looked up at him, and for a moment, he thought she might burst into an angry tirade, but she didn’t. Instead, Luo Andi reached out and gently patted the back of his hand.

He cleared his throat with difficulty and then said: “Well, I’ll be discharged soon. The doctor agreed, and we’ll sign tomorrow. I really don’t need you. Go to work, meet friends for dinner, or set up a stall in Martyrs’ Park if nothing else.”

“Shixiao helped me cover the shift.” Luo Andi glanced at him indifferently, peeled an orange, removed the veins, and handed it to him. “What’s the password for your door lock?”

“…5357,” Qi Xiaochuan said. “Why?”

“Didn’t you say we could live together?” Elbows propped on her knees, Luo Andi supported her cheeks on both sides, lightly laughing. “I’m going to move my things to your place.”