Chapter Seventy-Four: The Return

Last night, while Mr. Cheng waited at the hospital, the doctor issued a critical condition notice, asking him to sign and cautioning him to prepare himself mentally. They had done all they could, and everything now depended on fate. When Mr. Cheng signed, his hand trembled uncontrollably. Anyone else in his position would find it impossible to remain composed.

In the afternoon, Mr. Cheng urged Xin Gan to go home and rest for a while. Cheng Jiu had not awakened, and no one knew when he would. Waiting aimlessly was futile; if Cheng Jiu woke up only to find Xin Gan ill, that would be no help. But Xin Gan insisted, “Even if I go home, it won’t change anything. Staying here, I can keep him company.”

Commander Meng was also at the hospital, having arrived not long ago. He joined Mr. Cheng in persuading her, “Look at your face, pale as a ghost. Don’t be stubborn—go home and rest well. Come back tomorrow.” Xin Gan’s complexion was indeed poor. Her health was always frail; she was a delicate young woman, thin and weak, and lately she hadn’t rested properly. Of course, she looked unwell.

With heartfelt concern, Mr. Cheng said, “Xin Gan, we understand your worry for Cheng Jiu, but you must also take care of yourself. Don’t let your health fail.” Xin Gan replied, “Uncle Cheng, I’m fine. I want to keep watch over Cheng Jiu. I’m alright. I want to wait for him to wake up. I can wait.” Mr. Cheng could not persuade her further. He sighed, “Alright, when Cheng Jiu wakes and sees you here, he’ll surely be happy.”

Commander Meng and Mr. Cheng stepped aside to talk privately. Commander Meng said, “It was my failure not to look after Cheng Jiu. I sent him on that mission, never expecting an accident.” Mr. Cheng shook his head, “That’s his fate. It’s not your fault. You know his character better than I do. He’s never been one to obey. He chose this path long ago, ready to face life and death.”

“Old Cheng, you have only this one son. No matter what, I’ll make sure you have an explanation,” Commander Meng promised. Mr. Cheng smoked quietly, his temples streaked with white, aged overnight. He blamed no one; this was all Cheng Jiu’s own destiny.

When Cheng Jiu’s primary doctor came by, Xin Gan inquired again about his condition. The doctor, understanding her anxiety, said, “It depends on his own will to survive. If he can pull through, once he awakens, there may be hope for recovery.” After a pause, he added, “Actually, his situation is much better than many others. For an ordinary person to survive such danger and still be breathing is rare. I can’t guarantee anything, but I’ll do all I can to treat him.”

“Thank you, doctor. I have no other questions. Sorry to trouble you.” “No need to thank me—it’s our duty. You should rest as well; you don’t look well.”

After the doctor left, Xin Gan sat outside on a bench, checking her phone and replying to messages. Cheng Hui sent her a message, asking about Cheng Jiu. Xin Gan replied honestly, then switched off her phone. She dared not hope for anything except Cheng Jiu’s safe awakening.

Xin Gan’s mother worried for her, calling three or four times a day to check on her. Xin Gan answered calmly, “Don’t worry about me. I’m fine.” “I know, but as your mother, I can’t help but worry. Are you eating regularly? No matter what, you must eat something.”

Xin Gan forced a smile, “I am eating. I’m not a child—I won’t starve myself.” Her words stirred guilt in her mother, who nearly choked up, “In my eyes, you’ll always be a child.” “Mom, after all these years, I know how to take care of myself. Don’t worry. I’m more concerned about your health. I promise I’ll look after myself. Nothing will happen.”

Her mother feared Xin Gan might lose control and do something foolish. She had only this one daughter. “Alright, as long as you know. Yesterday I visited the Cheng family. Mrs. Cheng nearly collapsed. She confided she didn’t know what to do if Cheng Jiu…” “Mom, Cheng Jiu will be fine. He’s just not awake yet.”

Her mother felt a lump in her throat and was silent for a long time. “But what if there are aftereffects? What will you do? Forgive me for being selfish, but if he has lasting complications, we should distance ourselves from him, alright?” Her mother meant well, thinking only of Xin Gan’s future. Even if Cheng Jiu survived, no one could guarantee he wouldn’t suffer long-term effects, especially after such a severe head injury. She knew this because Mrs. Cheng had confided in her the night before.

Xin Gan’s face darkened at this, “Mom, don’t say such things again.” She rarely got angry, least of all at her mother, and never with such harsh words.

Cheng Jiu showed no signs of waking. Xin Gan spent every day at the hospital, almost wishing she could live there. Mr. Cheng began contacting experts in Yongcheng to arrange further treatment for Cheng Jiu. Money was not an issue; the Cheng family had the means and connections to find specialists for his care. As long as Cheng Jiu could wake up, Mr. Cheng would spare no expense.

The Xin family helped as well, offering support wherever needed. The accident affected the entire Cheng family, and relatives called to offer condolences. Mrs. Cheng, however, had no heart to discuss Cheng Jiu’s condition with relatives. She did not want to broadcast the news—it was hardly something to celebrate.

So, Cheng Hui ended up answering the phone. Young and naïve, she did not understand the subtleties among adults. Some relatives were ill-intentioned, probing for gossip, almost wishing tragedy upon the Cheng family. Cheng Hui guarded her words tightly, answering selectively and seizing opportunities to hang up. She managed to avoid seeming rude while subtly rebuffing those with ulterior motives.

Xin Gan told her that Cheng Jiu was unconscious. Reading Xin Gan’s message, Cheng Hui could not stop crying, the phone screen covered in tears. Suddenly, a WeChat notification popped up. She opened it to see a familiar avatar—it was Tang Que.

Tang Que messaged: Are you alright?

She could imagine Tang Que’s gentle tone, and her tears flowed even more readily. She did not reply. Tang Que sent no further messages; the chat window remained silent.

She had not only Tang Que’s WeChat, but also his sister Tang Huaihuai’s. The reason dated back a long time—when she and Tang Que were classmates, Tang Huaihuai attended parent meetings. Seeing Cheng Hui chatting with Tang Que, Tang Huaihuai found her adorable and eventually added her on WeChat.

The time He Chuan did not answer her call, it was Tang Huaihuai who sent her a voice message, saying He Chuan was drinking with her. Tang Huaihuai even posted a photo of He Chuan’s profile in her moments, clearly snapped on the sly. Cheng Hui was unhappy, for He Chuan had never missed her calls before—always answering immediately. The only time he did not answer, he was with Tang Huaihuai. Perhaps Tang Huaihuai had asked him not to, or maybe there were reasons Cheng Hui did not know.

Cheng Hui’s throat flared up again; she could barely speak. Mrs. Cheng rushed her to the hospital, where the doctor diagnosed tonsillitis, prescribed a patch and antibiotics, and sent her home to rest. Worried about a relapse of her old illness, Mrs. Cheng kept her at home, forbidding her to go out.

Bored, Cheng Hui scrolled through her moments and saw Tang Huaihuai had posted again. One photo showed He Chuan’s back at a well-known restaurant—a place He Chuan had once taken Cheng Hui. She never expected he would visit there with Tang Huaihuai.

Tang Que commented beneath the post: Who’s this guy?

Tang Huaihuai replied: Guess! If you guess right, I’ll buy you a PS4.

Tang Que: Boyfriend?

Tang Huaihuai: Wait for it, good little brother.

Cheng Hui was speechless. She could say nothing more. Whatever—let them be. She no longer wanted to see Tang Huaihuai’s moments. She blocked her.

By blocking, she missed several more posts—all involving He Chuan.

Tang Que played games at home, glanced at the time—it was nearly one o’clock, and Tang Huaihuai still had not returned. Uneasy, he called her. She answered quickly, “Checking up on me, dear brother?”

“You’re not home yet—out with some random guy?”

“What nonsense! How can you talk like that?” Tang Huaihuai burst into laughter, as if his words had struck her funny bone.

The man beside her, expressionless, smoked as he checked his phone—perhaps searching for someone, or waiting for a message.

Tang Que said seriously, “Come home. Stop fooling around. I want my game console.”

“It’ll be delivered tomorrow, silly. It’s not that fast.”

“So when are you coming home?”

“I won’t go home tonight.”

Tang Que was speechless. “Be sure to buy protection. Take precautions.”

“You’re so blunt—truly my brother.”

“Bye.”

Tang Huaihuai put away her phone, slumped against He Chuan’s shoulder, “My little brother, do you know what he just said to me? He’s so bold.”

He Chuan gave no response.

“He reminded me to buy condoms. What kind of brother is that? He’d rather I not go home.”

He Chuan only curled his lips, ignoring her.

“He Chuan, pay attention to me, won’t you? Can you bear to leave me all alone?”

He Chuan turned, his tone icy, “Miss Tang, please move.”

“You’re leaving?”

He Chuan looked at her as if she were foolish.

“Don’t go. I don’t plan to go home tonight—I’ll go with you.” Tang Huaihuai deliberately arched her brows, her voice seductive and intent obvious.

He Chuan seemed to consider it, but ultimately refused.

“No, I won’t indulge.”

Tang Huaihuai smiled, staring at him, her hands wandering over his chest, “He Chuan, I’ve never been rejected by a man before. You’re the first.”

He Chuan showed little interest in her. He had come to talk business, and she arrived by chance—not by arrangement.

He Chuan said nothing, pushed her aside, and prepared to leave.

Tang Huaihuai watched his departing figure, calling out, “You were checking your phone earlier—waiting for a message from some young girl? Cheng Hui?”

He Chuan ignored her and walked away.

Tang Huaihuai leaned at the bar, drinking, lost in memories of how she first met He Chuan and how long she had liked him. The years had blurred it all; she could scarcely recall.

Mr. Cheng contacted the best hospital in Yongcheng to arrange for Cheng Jiu’s transfer and treatment. Xin Gan’s father also helped a great deal.

Cheng Jiu remained unconscious. The transfer back to Yongcheng required careful preparation; even just coordinating with the airport took considerable time and effort. Mr. Cheng and Xin Gan’s father managed all the arrangements. Xin Gan felt helpless—unable to do anything for Cheng Jiu, insignificant and powerless.

Whenever danger arose before, Cheng Jiu always stood in front of her, shielding her with all his strength—again and again. Now, recalling it, her heart was full of mixed emotions.

Cheng Jiu lay silent and still, no longer scolding her, no longer playing tricks, no longer teasing her. She was unaccustomed to this version of him. If only he could wake up safe, she could accept him as he was—marry him, register their marriage, anything.

She would not emigrate, would not leave. She would stay—always.

Finally, the transfer was set for three days later.

Commander Meng wished to keep Cheng Jiu’s condition and transfer secret from outsiders, especially from Jiang Tang.

Jiang Tang had already applied for reassignment from Beiyu, but approval was pending. Still, she came to the hospital to find Cheng Jiu, disheveled and anxious, asking doctors and nurses along the way until she found his room.

Xin Gan was there, keeping watch.

Jiang Tang entered without knocking, voice trembling, “Cheng Jiu.”

But Cheng Jiu, of course, could not hear, nor could he respond.

Xin Gan stood, calmly regarding Jiang Tang without speaking.

Jiang Tang looked at her, “You’re here again.”

Xin Gan frowned.

“Why do you keep coming? Isn’t it better for you to stay in Yongcheng? Why come looking for Cheng Jiu?”

“Why shouldn’t I come?”

“You really have no self-awareness. Since you arrived, Cheng Jiu has changed. Why did you appear? Why isn’t it you lying in that bed instead of him?”

Xin Gan’s grip on her phone tightened.

“Silent now, are you? Have you no self-awareness, Miss Xin?” Jiang Tang’s words were sharp.

Xin Gan was not one for arguments, nor did she wish to quarrel in Cheng Jiu’s hospital room, afraid he might hear unpleasant words.

“Let’s talk outside. Cheng Jiu needs rest.”

Mr. Cheng was absent; only Xin Gan kept Cheng Jiu company.

The two left the room, Xin Gan closing the door behind her.

As Jiang Tang turned, she struck Xin Gan across the face, venting all her resentment, “You’re not worthy of Cheng Jiu.”

Xin Gan had not expected her to resort to violence. Jiang Tang was strong, the blow splitting Xin Gan’s lip and nearly knocking her down.

Xin Gan, always gentle and meek, never fought or argued.

Jiang Tang sneered, “Stop pretending, Xin Gan. Cheng Jiu is unconscious. No need to act anymore—he can’t see you. Who are you pretending for?”

Xin Gan did not cover her face, but spoke frankly, “If it’s a matter of pretending, I can’t compare to you, Miss Jiang.”

Jiang Tang gritted her teeth, her expression twisted.

“You hit me—I won’t just accept it.”

“What will you do, hit me back?”

Xin Gan pointed to the surveillance camera above, “Your attack was all caught on camera. I can call the police right now. They can review the footage and see you struck first. If word spreads, what future will you have?”

Jiang Tang froze, suddenly realizing the camera was recording. In her agitation, she had forgotten it. Now, with Xin Gan pointing it out, cold sweat broke out all over her. She was unwilling to beg for mercy, unwilling to back down.

Xin Gan cradled her elbow and spoke slowly, “Miss Jiang, you were too impulsive. I don’t want to make a scene or tear things apart; it’s unsightly, and I have no desire for it.”

“Call the police if you dare!” Jiang Tang was desperate, unwilling to be trampled by Xin Gan. She could not bear the humiliation.

“Then I will,” Xin Gan said, reaching for her phone to dial.

Jiang Tang lunged, snatching the phone from her.

“You want to call the police? Not without my permission.”

Xin Gan looked up at her.

“Don’t think you can win. I’m telling you—I won’t let go of Cheng Jiu, no matter the cost. Wait and see.”

With that, Jiang Tang threw Xin Gan’s phone to the ground and left.

Xin Gan picked it up and checked—the phone was unharmed.

After Jiang Tang departed, Xin Gan returned to the room to watch over Cheng Jiu.

Her temperament was exceptionally mild. Even after such treatment from Jiang Tang, she did not lose her composure, remaining calm. It wasn’t that she wasn’t angry—she simply saw no need for it. Since Jiang Tang had resorted to violence, Xin Gan would no longer remain silent.

She contacted the hospital, explained what had happened, and secured a copy of the surveillance footage, storing it on her phone as evidence.

She thought Cheng Jiu would stand by her side. She needed to learn to protect herself—silence would only encourage those who treated her poorly.

Cheng Jiu’s transfer could not be stopped by Jiang Tang. She sought out Xiao Shi and asked, “Did you know Cheng Jiu was hospitalized?”

Xiao Shi had been at the hospital, but no one had told him. He was startled and asked, “Brother Jiu is in the hospital? When? How did I not know?”

“It seems Commander Meng told them to keep it from you. Cheng Jiu was injured during a mission—an accident happened while pursuing Ji Bai.”

Xiao Shi cursed, “That damned Fishhead! Where is Brother Jiu now? Is it serious? How is he?”

“He’s unconscious. I’ve seen him—covered in wounds, in the ICU.” Jiang Tang wiped her tears, “The doctors say they can’t be sure he won’t become a vegetable. He shows no signs of waking.”

Xiao Shi clenched his fists, veins bulging, his emotions turbulent.

“I’ll catch Ji Bai myself! I must see Brother Jiu.”

“Don’t go. His family won’t allow outsiders near him. Xiao Shi!” Jiang Tang hesitated, “I understand how you feel, but Cheng Jiu is unconscious, Ji Bai has escaped, you’re wounded, and Commander Meng forbids further investigation.”

“He’s stopping the investigation? Are we just going to let those bastards go?”

“Of course not. I actually have a lead, but you know, I can’t catch them alone. I need help.”

Cheng Jiu was scheduled for transfer to Yongcheng. Commander Meng came to see him off, joined by many colleagues who had worked alongside him. For a time, the airport was filled with people in matching uniforms.