Chapter 36: Orange Blossom

Consciousness sank into the deep, cold seabed.

Fragmented memories drifted past like lightless black fish, swimming chaotically around him.

Yu Zhu struggled to move his fingers, clutching a corner of the soft quilt, and let out a self-mocking smile.

In the silent, dark world, the passing of time was, to him, like a false proposition.

It tried to prove an unbearable future by tapping at every trivial detail.

Past and future alike were nothing more than untouchable fish in the sea.

So this was what they called…

Fate?

“Tap.”

At eight o’clock in the evening, the chandelier’s branching arms spread out clear, crystalline light.

The tiles of the vanity shimmered, forming frost-like patterns.

Droplets of water from her fingertips fell into the warm pool, rippling outward in circles.

From the wall-mounted fireplace, heat spread outward, warming the pebbles set along the poolside.

Mist rose, steam curling and billowing like clouds.

Ruan Suhua picked up a towel, dried the drops between her fingers, and walked barefoot to the vanity.

She lowered her gaze to the neatly arranged bottles and jars on the counter.

Sakura, lime, neroli, freesia, marigold, white rose, ocean breeze…

She picked up a bottle of white rose body wash, hesitated, and put it down again.

Her hand lingered before it reached for the freesia one.

The freesia fragrance was clean and cool.

When it touched the skin, the scent wrapped around, faint and subtle—like a solitary bloom beside a cold mountain pool.

Too cold.

She thought for a moment and set it aside.

Sakura was elegant and sweet, like the gentle spring wind carrying the first blossoms.

Lime was refreshing and tangy, like ice cubes in a summer soda.

Marigold…

After much consideration, she finally chose the bottle of neroli.

Neroli was fresh and soft.

Hints of orris root and vetiver fused together into a shaft of sunlight falling upon damp moss in the forest.

In her imagination, the fragrance of neroli seemed to scatter around her.

Moved, Ruan Suhua put down the porcelain bottle, her fair, slender feet stepping onto the soft carpet as she walked toward the room.

Inside, Yu Zhu was already awake.

He leaned against the bedhead, while a professional maid finished removing the needle and pressed gently on his skin to prevent bruising.

“Miss,” the maid looked up at her and said with formal courtesy, “Young Master Xihe woke five minutes ago. We’ve done the initial check. His condition is stable.”

“Alright, I understand.” Ruan Suhua walked closer. “I’ll take over.”

“Yes, Miss.”

The maid stood and retreated.

Ruan Suhua sat at the bedside, pressing her finger against the faint red mark on his skin.

As though dragged back from another world, Yu Zhu turned his head slightly, his gaze beneath the bandages shifting.

After a few hesitant movements, it finally rested on her.

As if… he had been waiting for her all along.

“Xihe, were you waiting for me?”

“I’m sorry. I was delayed at the company today and came back late. Just now, I was choosing bath wash and shower gel. It won’t happen again.”

“By the way, what scent do you prefer? Freesia feels a bit cold, marigold too passionate, lime…”

Ruan Suhua searched aimlessly for topics, rambling softly to him.

She knew he couldn’t hear her.

She was only afraid that when he could hear again, there would be no one speaking by his side.

Her hand’s pressure eased.

A crisp cedar fragrance surged up to her face.

Yu Zhu sat silently in the darkness, his expression unchanged.

Ruan Suhua leaned closer.

Close enough to see the upward curve of his eyelashes.

Close enough to feel his breath, light as a feather.

Thump—

Thump—

Ruan Suhua suddenly turned her head aside, retreating a step.

She must not test the fragile self-control she had left before him.

Her trembling hand clenched, calming her breath.

“Xihe… the bath water… it’s… already ready.”

“I’ll push you… to…”

Her words stumbled, incomplete.

She took a deep breath, then wrote in his palm.

When she finished, Yu Zhu’s fingers curled, catching a lock of her hair as it brushed across his cheek.

The rich fragrance of small roses veiled the cool woodsy scent.

Once again, she lifted him into the wheelchair.

One.

Two.

Three.

…

…

Three hundred and twenty-one.

Three hundred and twenty-two.

In the darkness, damp fingertips brushed across Yu Zhu’s cheek, leaving behind a wet trace.

Moisture swirled all around, the air stirring.

She leaned down carefully, unfastening the first button of his shirt.

Yu Zhu’s right hand clenched unconsciously, then slowly relaxed.

Ruan Suhua paused, lowered her eyes, and re-fastened the button.

“Don’t be afraid, Xihe. It’s alright. We’ll take it slow.”

The water lapped gently.

Her voice, faint in the mist, blended with the rustle of movement.

Her long hair fell into the water, spreading out like soft, dense seaweed.

Ruan Suhua squeezed out a touch of colorless shampoo, rubbed it into fine white foam, and smoothed it over his loose hair.

The fragrance of neroli rose with the steam.

Fresh, tender, like sunlight flickering on moss in the forest.

Like the evening glow of childhood winds, or the green tangerines hanging in the garden.

Like him.

Ruan Suhua carefully rinsed the foam from his hair, drying the damp ends slightly.

Cold body wash dripped onto her palm.

Her breath deepened as she smoothed her hand slowly over the fabric of his clothes, pausing at his sharp collarbone.

Her movements were restrained, yet Yu Zhu still pressed his lips together, trying to suppress the fear rising within.

Her fingers brushed the back of his neck.

His delicate white skin was like a lotus heart beneath clear ripples.

Yu Zhu’s body stiffened, his sightless eyes staring blankly into the void.

Ruan Suhua withdrew her hand and lowered her head to look at him.

The boy’s cheeks were faintly flushed.

Droplets slid down his skin, beautiful and quiet as a fallen Greek statue.

Handsome.

Sacred.

Radiant.

He was a shaft of light piercing into the abyss.

Doing nothing, simply existing, was enough to stir the darkest and most hidden desires of the human heart.

She suddenly understood, a little, why they had done such things to him.

To shred beauty to pieces, to watch him collapse, shatter, decay—was also a form of ultimate beauty.

But to love a flower, to snap it from its branch and admire its final bloom before wilting—

She could not.

She would only dig this flower out from the wild, plant it in her greenhouse, and watch it day after day—bloom, fade, and bloom again.

Never failing, never dying.

This was her flower.

Her flower alone.

The tender neroli scent mingled with the damp mist.

Light rippled across the water.

All her thoughts scattered.

“Tap.”

The hairdryer switched on, warm air flowing through her palms and lifting Yu Zhu’s damp hair at the nape.

He now wore a sky-blue cotton shirt, his eyes once more bandaged.

Ruan Suhua sat behind him, carefully drying his hair.

The clock’s hand moved slowly past a forty-five-degree angle.

Warm air carried the faint neroli fragrance throughout the room.

In the stillness, Ruan Suhua felt that this wasted moment was beautiful.

As if, in a sky of falling snow, she had caught the one flake that belonged only to her.

But no matter how much she wished for time to slow, his hair still dried at last.

She set down the dryer and clasped Yu Zhu’s cold hand.

“Tomorrow.”

A subtle current seemed to run across her palm.

Yu Zhu, in his hazy consciousness, slowly made out the words.

“To.”

“See.”

Outside, moonlight shone pure and cold.

Faraway lights of houses reflected off the snow, glowing faintly yellow.

Ruan Suhua’s smile deepened.

Speaking softly, she traced the final word.

“Xihe.”

“Tomorrow, we’ll go see the snow.”

TL Note:

• Neroli (橙花) is the fragrance of orange blossoms, commonly used in perfumes.

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