A month later, Su Qingci was ready to be discharged.
When Wu Lü arrived carrying two large fruit baskets, Su Qingci remarked that if he’d been any later, he would’ve already left.
Wu Lü protested with feigned innocence, blaming the hospital’s vastness. He’d visited twice yet still got lost.
Su Qingci bluntly called him directionally challenged, a label Wu Lü accepted without flinching.
Before discharge, Wu Lü peeled the freshest, largest mango from the basket and offered it to Su Qingci to quench his thirst: “I asked Xiao Chen—you’re not allergic to anything. You can eat all of these.”
At the mention of Pei Jingchen’s name, Su Qingci’s hand paused. Thinking his wound hurt, Wu Lü snatched the fruit fork to feed him: ” Open wide, ah—”
Su Qingci: “…”
After feeding Su Qingci, Wu Lü took a bite himself, thinking to himself, no wonder he’s the star attraction of the place. “Are you discharged this afternoon? Will Xiao Chen pick you up?”
Su Qingci looked slightly surprised: “He hasn’t told you yet?”
Wu Lü: “Told me what?”
Su Qingci: “We broke up.”
“Cough cough!” Caught off guard, Wu Lü choked on a large chunk of mango flesh, his face flushing red as he pounded his chest and thighs. Su Qingci jumped in alarm, about to press the bedside call button for him, when Wu Lü somehow managed to clear his throat on his own. Eyes wide with disbelief, he asked, “Seriously? When? Why did you break up? Did you initiate it, or did Xiao Chen tell you?”
Su Qingci: “It’s true. Late last year. We drifted apart. I did.”
“…” Wu Lü was momentarily speechless. After a long pause, he forced out, “Su Su, are you okay?”
“I’m perfectly fine.” Su Qingci leaned back against the pillow. “And don’t call me Su Su.”
“Oh! Su Su, have some more mango. This one’s super sweet. Eating sweets will lift your spirits.” Wu Lü adopted the manner of a kindergarten teacher coaxing a child. “Open wide, ah—”
Su Qingci didn’t open his mouth. “Instead of being happy for him, you seem more concerned about teasing me?”
Wu Lü looked puzzled. “Why would I be happy for Xiao Chen?”
Su Qingci: “Aren’t you his friend?”
Wu Lü: “I’m your friend too!”
Su Qingci: “…”
Completely unrelated. Their thought processes weren’t even on the same wavelength.
After showing off the mango, Wu Lü went to wash the peaches. Su Qingci couldn’t help but call out to him: “Have you always been this naive? Just because I stood up for you, saved your half-month’s wages, and casually gave you a piece of clothing that meant nothing to me—you genuinely feel this way about me?”
Wu Lü widened his eyes dramatically: “Isn’t that enough?! That’s dignity + personal reputation + 3,500 yuan + 23,800 yuan!”
Su Qingci: “…”
Wu Lü abandoned washing the fruit and asked Su Qingci if there was anything else needing packing—he was more than happy to do the heavy lifting. Seeing his bright, sunny expression, Su Qingci thought to himself: This kid is genuinely naive—even though Wu Lü is a year older.
Su Qingci had once bluntly admitted, “I’ve envied you before.” Wu Lü blinked in surprise, asking, “Why? What exactly do you envy about me?” “Clearly I’m not as rich as you, not as good-looking as you, not as talented as you—I fall short in every way! I just don’t get it, really don’t get it.”
Wu Lü had to work that afternoon. Before leaving, he said he’d visit Su Qingci at his place tomorrow. Su Qingci agreed, but asked him not to bring fruit again—they couldn’t finish it all, absolutely couldn’t.
“Su Su,” Wu Lü called out, smiling warmly. “Don’t dwell on what you’ve lost. Think about what you still have. I saw this quote online—let’s share it together.”
After Wu Lü left, Su Qingci stared blankly at the hydrangeas on the balcony. His motivational platitudes didn’t apply to everyone.
He had lost far too much—more than he could count. What he possessed was scant—barely enough to count on one hand.
What did he have left? Talent? Status? Ten percent of the family shares? That was more than most could dream of in generations, yet it would all be claimed by illness.
In the end, he had nothing.
Oh dear, that sounded even more pessimistic.
Su Qingci gave a self-deprecating chuckle. Everyone feared terminal illness, but when it struck, acceptance was the only option. Cradling his heart and lungs, worn out like broken bellows, he had no choice but to make peace with these parts that had weathered twenty-four years of storms alongside him.
At two in the afternoon, Pei Jingchen arrived.
When he appeared at the door, Su Qingci felt surprisingly calm. A few minutes later, Secretary Wang arrived too. Perhaps to avoid mutual annoyance, Su Baidong stayed away.
Secretary Wang helped carry the luggage downstairs. Inside the ward, Su Qingci listened to Wen Mengmeng’s discharge instructions—a list of precautions long enough to fill two A4 pages. It went in one ear and out the other. He even picked up a pot of baby’s breath from the balcony, intending to take it with her. Annelise had bought it the day before yesterday.
Pei Jingchen, however, was intensely focused, his expression even more serious than when signing the contract with Nari Games.
Su Qingci wondered why he was taking it so seriously, unable to understand. As he lifted the baby’s breath flowers, Pei Jingchen took them from her. Just then, Wen Mengmeng mentioned wanting to speak privately with Su Qingci. Pei Jingchen stepped out holding the flowers: ” I’ll wait for you outside.”
The door closed, leaving the room quiet. Su Qingci neither looked at Wen Mengmeng nor spoke.
Wen Mengmeng walked over and sat down on the sofa. “After you’re discharged, get plenty of rest, avoid overexertion, stick to a low-salt diet, be careful not to drink too much water, keep warm so you don’t catch a cold, take your medication on time, and call me anytime if you feel unwell.”
Su Qingci replied expressionlessly, “Thank you.”
Wén Méngméng’s lips twitched as if she wanted to say more but held back. Su Qingci looked at her. “Are you wondering about Ms. Jiang, Director Wén?”
Wén Méngméng froze, twisting her hands nervously. “Yes…”
Su Qingci’s voice turned slightly cold: “She resides in a nursing home. There are no guards, no bars. You can visit her anytime you wish. If guilt prevents you from going, then I have nothing more to say.”
Wen Mengmeng’s tongue felt stiff, her face ashen.
Su Ge brutally beat his wife and child—could he really rush to the hospital every single time? It was both troublesome and carried the risk of exposing the “cultured university professor who’s actually a domestic violence psychopath.” Besides, the Su family had their own personal physician.
Wen Mengmeng was that cleanup doctor. She was the only person in the world besides Su Baidong who knew Su Ge’s true nature.
Yet like Su Baidong, she chose to turn a blind eye and pretend not to hear.
Jiang Seru was innocent and carefree, pure and adorable. Wen Mengmeng was gentle and intelligent, beautiful and graceful. Though separated by a generation, they shared a deep bond—friends, confidantes, closer than mother and daughter. Wen Mengmeng once told Jiang Seru, “You’re like my goddaughter.” After severing ties with her biological parents and cutting off all contact, Jiang Seru confided only in Wen Mengmeng—venting about life’s hardships and pouring out her work pressures.
Later, when Wen Mengmeng arrived with her medical kit to tend to Jiang Seru’s horrifying whip wounds, Jiang Seru cried out, calling her godmother and then mother. Kneeling on the floor, she begged Wen Mengmeng to save her, clutching her arm and pleading, “Mom, please save me.”
Wen Mengmeng’s hands trembled as she dared not meet Su Qingci’s gaze. “I’m a scholarship student funded by Su Baidong’s father. Without the Su family, I wouldn’t be where I am today. And I’m just a doctor—they call me an expert, but really I’m just an employee. This position as hospital director is also thanks to the Su family. I…”
“Enough,” Su Qingci cut her off.
From Wen Mengmeng’s perspective, Su Qingci understood her. But Su Qingci couldn’t forgive her.
Thinking selfishly, why should anyone sacrifice their own interests to help you selflessly? Wen Mengmeng was right to stand with Su Baidong and Su Ge. She was also right to betray Jiang Seru and the little Su Qingci who called her “Grandma Wen.”
But still, Su Qingci was equally selfish. He couldn’t forgive Wen Mengmeng’s cold-heartedness and lack of compassion.
That was that.
Su Qingci rolled his electric wheelchair out of the ward. In the distance, Pei Jingchen approached. Su Qingci noticed pollen clinging to the cuffs of his dark suit. Instinctively, he wanted to reach out and brush it off—but only in his mind, rehearsing the motion internally.
Su Qingci asked Pei Jingchen for the flowerpot. Pei handed it to him, then moved behind the wheelchair, pressing the elevator button with one hand while gripping the wheelchair handle with the other.
Su Qingci wanted to say he didn’t need the push, but he couldn’t be bothered to speak. Still recovering from serious illness, talking took effort, so he kept his mouth shut unless necessary. Only after exiting the hospital building did Su Qingci finally speak: “Thank you.”
The two words, delivered with extreme politeness and unusual formality, startled Pei Jingchen.
Secretary Wang had been waiting for some time. At Su Qingci’s beckon, he approached, took the wheelchair from Pei Jingchen, and pushed it to the rear of the sedan. Su Qingci had intended to rise and enter the car with crisp efficiency—ideally whirling like a mini tornado to demonstrate his resilient spirit despite physical limitations. But his sudden movement caused his steady heart rate to spike, and a wave of weakness nearly sent him tumbling back into the wheelchair.
Fortunately, Su Qingci was agile and managed to steady himself by grabbing Secretary Wang.
Strangely enough, the old him would have relished appearing weak before Pei Jingchen to win attention and sympathy. Now, he refused to let him see any vulnerability. Even in a wheelchair, he could still walk. If he had to be disabled, he’d be a dignified one—a disabled man who carried himself with pride.
Secretary Wang drove. Su Qingci glanced in the rearview mirror. The pitch-black Koenigsegg, three parking spaces back, had been tailing them for nearly half an hour.
Secretary Wang tentatively asked, “Young Master?”
Su Qingci closed his eyes. “Ignore him.”
Upon arrival, Secretary Wang parked in the garage and secured the wheelchair. He offered to help Su Qingci sit down, but Su Qingci declined, insisting on moving slowly and laboriously on his own.
Secretary Wang pushed Su Qingci to the villa entrance, where Pei Jingchen was waiting.
Secretary Wang instinctively sought guidance: “Young Master.” Glancing down, he noticed Su Qingci’s face had darkened alarmingly.
Su Qingci instructed Secretary Wang: “Just leave me here. You may go.”
Secretary Wang dared not disobey Young Master Su’s wishes and turned to leave. At that moment, Pei Jingchen approached. Su Qingci had just risen, deliberately avoiding Pei Jingchen’s offer of support. He took two steps, climbed the steps, unlocked the door, and opened it.
Pei Jingchen carried the wheelchair inside and said to him, “Sit down.”
Su Qingci didn’t sit. He insisted on walking across the spacious living room and sat down on the sofa.
Pei Jingchen silently followed with the wheelchair, placing it within easy reach should Su Qingci wish to sit, then walked toward the entrance hall. Thinking he was leaving, Su Qingci didn’t even have time to relax before seeing Pei Jingchen bend down to pick up the luggage, apparently intending to take it upstairs.
Su Qingci couldn’t hold back: “What are you doing?”
“Let’s move your bedroom downstairs.” Pei Jingchen gestured toward the perpetually empty room. “Same square footage, but the orientation is better than where you are now.”
Su Qingci frowned. “I don’t like too much sunlight. It’s blinding.”
Pei Jingchen: “More sun exposure is good for your health.”
Su Qingci wanted to retort, What the hell is it to you? All you ever talk about is health, health, health—as if you care so much about mine. Shouldn’t Mr. Pei’s signature lines be “Behave yourself,” “Stop messing around,” or “Oh, done with your story yet”? Su Qingci hated this abrupt shift in tone. He felt humiliated, like he was being toyed with.
About ten minutes later, Pei Jingchen came downstairs carrying a large suitcase and entered the first-floor room. Another ten minutes passed before he emerged, his face clouded with worry. “There’s no bathroom in the room. You’ll have to take a few extra steps when you get up at night.” As he spoke, he measured the distance with his foot, walking to the bathroom door and declaring, “Nineteen steps. Since your stride is shorter now, let’s make it thirty.”
Su Qingci scoffed, “Thirty steps for ten meters? Do you think I’m a little kid?”
Pei Jingchen remained noncommittal, clearly treating him like someone with a tiny stride: ” Round trip is sixty steps. At your slow pace, it’ll take at least a minute.”
Su Qingci: “…”
Pei Jingchen continued, “That’s just the time and energy wasted on the trip—time stolen from your rest period.”
Su Qingci wanted to retort, Are you out of your mind?
Returning to the doorway, Pei Jingchen added, “Have someone remodel this place over the next couple days. Install a bathroom in the bedroom.”
Watching Pei Jingchen’s hurried retreating figure, Su Qingci drifted into a daze. It felt as though the one bustling about wasn’t the suit-and-tie Mr. Pei, but rather the school-uniformed Chenchen.
How many years had it been? So long ago Su Qingci could scarcely recall when the former Pei Jingchen had shown such patience, such earnest focus, bustling about for his sake, exhausting himself for him.
A pang of bitterness welled up in Su Qingci’s heart, mingled with a sense of absurdity. He called out to Pei Jingchen, saying, ” Back then, I was the persistent ghost. Now, you’re the one clinging on. Mr. Pei, I made myself perfectly clear last time.”
Su Qingci solemnly declared once more, “You don’t owe me anything. You don’t need to repay me here.”
Pei Jingchen replied, “I’m not repaying you.”
Su Qingci immediately asked, ” Then what are you doing?”
Pei Jingchen took a few steps closer to Su Qingci. Seeing his pale face, he spoke softly, “You’ve been in the car all this time getting home. Rest first. Lie down on the sofa and get some sleep. We’ll talk after you wake up.”
Su Qingci snapped, “Talk now.”
Pei Jingchen: “Talk about it after you wake up. Be a good girl.”
Su Qingci froze.
He had a strong-willed personality, rebellious to the core, and hated being ordered around. Yet, he couldn’t resist Pei Jingchen’s commands, especially when the word “be good” was laced with affection. No matter how reluctant he felt, he’d obey those two words, unable to bear rejecting the comforting sensation of being coaxed.
He soon drifted off on the sofa. When he awoke, the sun was setting, its magnificent glow filling the living room. Su Qingci caught the scent of cooking. Rising, he looked toward the open kitchen, where the stove had never been lit before. Standing tall and straight at the counter, a man bustled about.
In a daze, Su Qingci felt a fleeting illusion—as if everything that had happened until now had been nothing but a nightmare. But the dream had ended. They were still in their cozy little nest. Pei Jingchen bustled about preparing dinner in the kitchen while he sat clutching a sketchbook, scribbling on the paper. With just a few strokes, he captured that unforgettable silhouette. Satisfied, he then beckoned Pei Jingchen over to look.
Pei Jingchen would protest that he was too busy cooking, but Su Qingci wouldn’t take no for an answer. He insisted on showing Pei Jingchen his quick sketch of a nude figure. Pei Jingchen’s face flushed crimson, his embarrassment turning to anger. Su Qingci kept adding fuel to the fire. Cornered, Pei Jingchen momentarily forgot his gentlemanly manners and whispered in his ear, “Need a good fuck?” His goal achieved, the kitchen would soon witness their familiar, wholesome exercise.
They didn’t break up, didn’t face terminal illness, didn’t experience earth-shattering drama. Only the quiet, day-to-day rhythm of life remained.
Su Qingci rose and shuffled his steps. The thirty-odd paces took him nearly a full minute.
Pei Jingchen turned and saw him. “Did you sleep well? Dinner’s ready. Come eat.”
Su Qingci glanced at the table: millet and red date porridge, stir-fried water spinach, egg and shrimp meatballs, cold-tossed beef. Pei Jingchen was still serving the last dish—steamed sea bass. Su Qingci couldn’t help asking, “When did you…”
Pei Jingchen replied, “You slept so soundly you didn’t even notice me going out to buy groceries.”
Su Qingci felt rather dazed. Sitting down at the table, he looked at the spread—fish, meat, both savory and vegetarian dishes, plus the nutritious porridge—yet he couldn’t muster any joy. “Thanks.”
Pei Jingchen handed him chopsticks, but Su Qingci didn’t take them. He stared at him blankly. “Didn’t you say you’d tell me after I woke up? Go ahead.”
Pei Jingchen replied, “Eat first.”
Su Qingci, impatient by nature, couldn’t stand this slow pace: “Tell me first.”
Pei Jingchen repeated: “Eat. The food will get cold.”
Su Qingci held back this time, drinking half a bowl of porridge and picking at a few bites of food. When Pei Jingchen urged him to eat more, Su Qingci said he was full.
After Pei Jingchen also set down his bowl and chopsticks, Su Qingci couldn’t wait for him to wash the dishes. “Not only did you tidy my bedroom, but you also prepared this lavish dinner when I wasn’t looking. What exactly are you trying to do?”
Su Qingci curled his lips in disdain. “Be my caregiver? I couldn’t possibly afford Mr. Pei’s rates.”
Pei Jingchen replied, “It’s free.”
Su Qingci couldn’t help but laugh. “Having the pillar of society who boosts Beijing’s GDP every year serve a patient for free? That would make me a criminal against the national economy!”
Pei Jingchen remained silent. Su Qingci didn’t want to banter with him anymore. “Alright, you can go now!”
“Wait,” Pei Jingchen said. Su Qingci wondered what he was waiting for. He watched as he rose to wash the dishes, tidying the kitchen until it gleamed like new. Returning to the table, he stood before him and declared, “This isn’t about repaying a debt. I simply want to care for you.”
Su Qingci thought he must have misheard.
What did Pei Jingchen say? Want to take care? Take care of whom? Take care of me?
The tip of Su Qingci’s right finger twitched, as if stung by a bee. A tingling, numbing pain shot up his nerve endings, searing straight to his heart.
“What did you say?” Su Qingci asked.
Pei Jingchen looked deeply into his eyes and repeated, “I want to take care of you.”
Su Qingci burst out laughing. “Pei Jingchen, are you out of your mind? What game are you playing? I don’t have the energy or patience to play along right now. Cut it out, okay?”
Unbelievable. Who would’ve thought one day he’d get to use one of Pei Jingchen’s own lines against him: Stop messing around.
Pei Jingchen crouched down, meeting Su Qingci’s gaze as he sat in the chair. “Qingci, I’m serious.”
“Then you must be seriously ill.” Su Qingci looked away, his voice tinged with irritation. “I recommend you see a psychiatrist. There’s a Professor Li who’s an authority in the field. He’s quite skilled—he treated my mother.”
What nonsense about wanting to take care of him? What kind of joke was that?
As Su Qingci tried to stand, Pei Jingchen gripped his shoulders and pressed him back into the seat. “Don’t get worked up.”
How could I not be worked up? Su Qingci laughed bitterly through his anger. “Are you mocking me?”
Pei Jingchen: “Qingci.”
“What gives you the right to take care of me? And what gives me the right to be taken care of by you?” Su Qingci stared at Pei Jingchen, suddenly calming down. He repeated the words he’d said countless times before, calmly and deliberately, one by one, “We’re already broken up. You really want to abandon Lingyue’s IPO planning and come here to be my free caregiver? Stop joking around, okay? Pei Jingchen, I’ll say it again. If you don’t understand or can’t remember, I’ll keep repeating it. We. Are. Already. Broken up. We. Are. Done. We’re nothing to each other. What right do you have to take care of me?”