Chapter 43: Qingchuan

The crabapple blossoms outside had withered.

Clouds gathered and dispersed, the wind passed without a trace, and time moved forward silently, indifferent to anyone’s wishes.

The harsh June sunlight pierced through the gaps in the leaves, casting fragmented shadows across the study.

As usual, Xia Qingyi sat in the armchair by the floor-to-ceiling window, wearing a kind and caring smile as she spoke to Yu Zhu.

“Xihe, do you like today’s weather?”

Yu Zhu sat on the wooden chair across from her, eyes fixed on the piece of paper in her open palm.

Xia Qingyi’s handwriting carried the delicate grace typical of women, but the hurried strokes made the lines appear slightly sharp and messy.

“She is not your sister.”

The words on the paper sharply contrasted with what she spoke aloud.

She continued, “On days like this, Xihe, you can go out more, take a look at—”

But the words written on the paper were laden with menace—

“You are her pet.”

The smile on her face vanished along with the cheerful tone.

When Xia Qingyi had communicated with Yu Zhu’s assistant, she was told that Yuan Suhua was Yu Zhu’s sister.

But since that day’s incident, in just two short months, she had lost count of how many times she had stumbled upon such a scene.

Lush, tender grass, dense tree canopies, sparkling lakesides, even a simple corner of a path—

Secretive and absurd, a crimson extravagance.

Not siblings, but master and her pet.

“Why!”

Her expression suddenly twisted into a feral snarl. The pen dug harshly into the paper, piercing her palm, and her already unremarkable face became ugly in an instant.

Yu Zhu’s eyes were as calm as a frozen pond, letting the words on Xia Qingyi’s paper fly by faster and faster, without any reaction.

He had grown accustomed to their unreasoned madness.

Beneath such beautiful exteriors hid venomous snakes; the more they wept, pleaded, or recoiled, the higher their spirits soared, their whims unrestrained.

All he could do was suppress the choking sob in his throat to lessen the sudden pain.

“Zhuzhu, the way you cry is so vivid.”

Those sticky, dark words lingered near his earlobe. Yu Zhu’s fingertips trembled as he lifted his gaze toward Xia Qingyi before him.

She still spoke her words, but in an instant, a familiar, friendly smile appeared on her once-feral face as she folded the paper in her hand.

“Beep—beep—” The moment the door opened, the alarm sounded.

Xia Qingyi stood up, smiled, picked up her suit jacket, nodded to Yuan Suhua, and left.

Yu Zhu remained seated, looking at Yuan Suhua entering.

It was already the scorching heat of June.

Over the past few months, his body had slowly recovered. The pallor of his previously emaciated face had given way to a hint of color. With rehabilitation, he could now stand and walk for extended periods without the wheelchair, and the side effects from prolonged medication gradually lessened. He no longer fell into prolonged stupors and could maintain alertness.

Yet his frame remained thin and fragile. Even in a fitted long shirt, he seemed hollow. His left hand, freed from casts and bandages, could perform only slight movements, unable to lift heavy objects or hold a half-filled teacup steadily.

“Xihe, what did Dr. Xia just say to you?” Yuan Suhua asked.

She noticed him trembling slightly, his face looking weary as she entered.

“Nothing much,” Yu Zhu wrote on the paper.

It was not the right moment.

Yuan Suhua held his hand. Though it was summer, Yu Zhu’s hands remained cold. She pressed her fingers into his palm, the warmth flowing along the lines of his skin.

“Xihe, let’s rest a little. Once your hands warm up, we’ll go to the sanatorium.”

They were going to Qingchuan Sanatorium to visit Yuan Suhua’s mother.

The sanatorium had called earlier, mentioning that her mother’s mood had been highly unstable and that she had been repeatedly calling Yuan Suhua’s name. They suggested she visit more often.

Yuan Suhua’s relationship with her mother was complicated. Years ago, her mother suffered severe postpartum depression, her mind often confused, even almost harming her own child. Yuan Suhua felt both pity for her past suffering and an inability to forgive her past actions.

Since Yu Zhu had only just regained his hearing and mobility, this visit had been delayed repeatedly, stretching over nearly three months.

Yuan Suhua half-kneeling in front of Yu Zhu, the sunlight bright in the study, her gaze devout, as if willing to kiss the dust from his shoes.

A trace of warmth remained in Yu Zhu’s palm.

After resting, Yuan Suhua took his hand and led him outside.

The sunlight was brilliant overhead, and the breeze from the horizon was refreshing.

For a fleeting moment, all past events seemed like nothing more than Yu Zhu’s dream.

The pain, the torment, the trampled dignity—they were like clouds scattered by the wind, an intangible illusion.

But it still hurt.

Every quiet night, the pain tore at him as if his soul were being ripped apart and ground into fragments.

He could never awaken from this nightmare.

“Xihe?”

“Xihe, what’s wrong?” Yuan Suhua’s slightly anxious voice sounded in his ear. “Are you feeling unwell?”

Yu Zhu came back to himself and looked at her, shaking his head slightly.

Yuan Suhua held his hand tighter.

Once Yu Zhu settled into the car, Yuan Suhua watched him from outside the window, her cold beauty completely melting.

“Xihe, I’ll show you a magic trick.”

A maid hurried over from the distant flower house, hands behind her back, walking to Yuan Suhua’s side.

A fragrant, beautiful rose slowly rose outside the car window.

It was cut from the rose tree Yuan Suhua had personally planted.

“Do you like it?”

Yu Zhu’s clear eyes looked at her. A faint smile, like ice melting in spring, appeared as he nodded.

Yuan Suhua’s smile brightened even more. She got in beside him and placed the rose in the car’s vase.

The rose’s rich fragrance filled the cabin. Outside, the scenery whizzed by, and many of the capital’s iconic buildings disappeared from view.

Yu Zhu suddenly remembered the night he finished his middle school exams. Though it was merely the end of his school life, his parents already spoke of which university would be better for him.

“Just in City C, it’s close to home,” his mother said.

“Xiaozhu’s grades should go to the capital. City C won’t do,” his father said, signaling to him as he spoke.

Yu Zhu sat on the sofa, laughing uncontrollably. “Three years from now, Mom, Dad, aren’t you thinking too early?”

“Ahem, the capital is better.”

“City C is closer!”

Neither side could persuade the other. Yu Zhu went back and forth between saying the capital was better and City C was acceptable.

Laughter filled the room.

It felt like a lifetime ago.

———

The car departed from the villa, speeding through the bustling commercial district, weaving through lively residential areas, and finally slowing to a stop by the roadside.

Slanted sunlight fell over the tall, sturdy poplar trees swaying in the wind, their shadows stretching across the wide road. Yuan Suhua opened the car door and led Yu Zhu out.

Before them, dense branches cast intertwined shadows, and a nearby marble facade bore bold cursive inscriptions from top to bottom.

Qingchuan Sanatorium.

They had arrived.

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