Qiao Jin returned to the ward, placed the chilled lilies in a vase, and set it by the window.
Qiao Jin fiddled with the flowers, arranging the larger blooms toward the bed: “Can the nurse really shortchange you on food and drink?”
Qiao Jin smiled at him with his back turned, then turned around and stopped smiling, fed him some water, and said seriously, “It’s so late, why aren’t you sleeping? The doctor told you to rest early.”
Lu Pingzhang spent all day sleeping, and even signing the contract was done entirely by Qiao Jin because his right hand was injured.
“Watch your attitude,” Lu Pingzhang sighed. “It’s one thing to be busy with work every day, but now the secretary listens to you more than he listens to me. If your attitude keeps up, I’ll think you’re trying to usurp my position.”
Lu Pingzhang paused, looking at him, while Qiao Jin innocently returned his gaze.
“He’s right,” Lu Pingzhang sighed. “I’m a bit tired.”
“If you’re tired, go to sleep. You don’t have to wait for me anymore.”
This phrase sounded familiar to Lu Pingzhang; he had said it countless times in the past.
Now the tables had turned, and Lu Pingzhang sighed again, “I’ve decided to reform myself and start anew. Mr. Qiao, please don’t keep reminding me.”
Qiao Jin shrugged and sat down in the chair.
Lu Pingzhang looked at his empty hands, “Where’s the new book you bought?”
Qiao Jin reached out and took the manuscript from the table: “It’s too late, the bookstore is closed. I’ll buy it tomorrow. You haven’t finished listening to this one yet.”
Lu Pingzhang stared at him intently.
Qiao Jin said confidently, “You’re the kind of person who can fall asleep after listening to a book for three minutes, yet you’re still picky about the content?”
“Of course,” Lu Pingzhang said.
Lu Pingzhang reached out to hold him, closing his eyes and saying, “Sleep with me tonight. Don’t go to the other bed.”
“Alright.” Qiao Jin nodded, opened the book to the marked page, and continued reading from where he left off last night.
This page was titled “The Wind Rises,” a biography of a certain phase of Sui Ran’s life that he had mentioned earlier.
Lu Pingzhang, whose breathing had already slowed, closed his eyes and said expressionlessly, “Skip it.”
Qiao Jin: “…”
But he had indeed given Qiao Jin the utmost freedom to handle the matter on his own, without interfering.
He lay on the pillow with his eyes closed, the soft blanket draped halfway over his intact arm, with his exposed hand resting against Qiao Jin’s leg.
Usually, his voice was a bit lower, and he spoke at a moderate pace, a calm, composed, and mature voice that was very suitable for negotiating contracts.
This businesslike voice now sounded very soft under the warm night light, especially warm in the cold night, making one want to stretch out their limbs and sink into a sound sleep.
Qiao Jin flipped to the last page, where the author had written a few lines of English poetry by hand.
He read it twice, placed Lu Pingzhang’s hand back under the blanket, and softly recited two lines to the person breathing deeply on the bed in the warm night:
“If equal affection cannot be
(If there is no equal love)
then let me love you more”
(Let me be the one who loves more)
After Lu Pingzhang could finally sit up, Qiao Jin took him to Fenglin Park to pay respects, with Xiao Chang driving as usual.
Xiao Chang had been knocked unconscious at the time and woke up in the hospital, where he received a large sum of compensation. Qiao Jin had originally planned to let him rest for a longer period, but Xiao Chang refused and returned to work after just one week.
Lu Pingzhang wasn’t someone who overthought things, but after this incident, he did become more cautious.
When traveling, there were cars following him from all directions, striving to ensure security as tight as iron, so that Qiao Jin had no cause for concern.
Qiao Jin looked back out the window and saw the cars following closely behind. While feeling reassured, he also realized one thing: he and Lu would never be able to appear alone in a crowd again.
With his secret hopes dashed, Qiao Jin sighed.
Lu Pingzhang thought he was feeling car sick: “Are you okay?”
Qiao Jin waved his hand, maintaining his gaze out the window, watching the scenery fly by.
Lu Pingzhang reached out and touched the ring on his finger, pondered for a moment, and then took it off.
Qiao Jin finally shifted his gaze to him, looking at him in confusion.
Lu Pingzhang raised the ring he was holding in his hand: “The alarm function has already been used, so to be on the safe side, we should replace it with a new one.”
Qiao Jin watched as he took out a velvet ring box to put the ring back inside.
Qiao Jin pursed his lips and turned his gaze back to the outside.
The next moment, he felt a chill at his fingertips, which then spread all the way to the base of his finger, tightly encircling his ring finger.
Qiao Jin turned his head to look. It was a ring similar to the previous one, but its surface was smooth and plain, without any decorations. It resembled a ring of black ice, discreet and composed, fitting Qiao Jin perfectly.
Lu Pingzhang held it up for him to see. Qiao Jin took it and glanced at the inside of the ring, where he saw the neatly engraved letters “More.”
Lu Pingzhang reached out and motioned for him to put it on. Qiao Jin said nothing, but lowered his head and let him put it on.
Qiao Jin looked at the ring, unsure of what to think.
Lu Pingzhang gripped his hand and continued, “If anything unexpected happens in the future, you should run. Don’t worry about me.”
Qiao Jin lifted his eyelids to look at him, opened his mouth but said nothing, then turned his head toward the car window: “Hmm.”
“What does ‘mhm’ mean? Turn around.” Lu Pingzhang reached out and gripped his sleek jaw, turning him back to face him. He stared into his eyes and said, “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re thinking. You agree with your mouth, but in your heart you’re probably thinking, ‘Forget it, I’m not going to argue with him. It’s a waste of time. We’ll deal with it later.’”
Not a single word was out of place; that was exactly what Qiao Jin was thinking.
But Qiao Jin would never admit it: “I’m not, I didn’t.”
Lu Pingzhang let go of him, leaned in to kiss him, and pressed his chest, whispering a promise: “There won’t be any more accidents like that in the future. Don’t be afraid.”
Qiao Jin wasn’t afraid when he rushed back then. His emotional responses were slightly delayed, which manifested in his calmness when facing sudden events and his ability to repeat the same task daily without growing bored.
For a time, he wouldn’t let Lu Pingzhang leave the house. Later, Lu Pingzhang hired more bodyguards in front of him, and he gradually let go.
“I’m not afraid,” Qiao Jin responded to his kiss, his dark pupils like flowing ink. “I’ve never been afraid.”
The car drove for a while and reached the previous fork in the road. Qiao Jin called out to Xiao Chang: “Can we take the back road?”
Lu Pingzhang didn’t say anything, so Xiao Chang turned the car onto the small road. The several black cars of bodyguards following behind also drove over, keeping a distance neither too close nor too far.
When they reached the wild river, Qiao Jin told Xiao Chang to stop and opened the door to get out.
“What are you doing?” Lu Pingzhang asked.
“Something to do,” Qiao Jin said, getting out of the car.
After several months, the traces of the fight had been covered by new grass and dust, and the scattered bloodstains had been obscured by the spring breeze. The place resembled a hidden, abandoned rose garden, and no one could imagine the love songs that had once echoed across this land.
Qiao Jin paced back and forth, while Lu Pingzhang watched him occasionally crouch down to search, then quickly straighten up, revealing a hint of disappointment.
Qiao Jin paused: “Cufflinks.”
The whale-tail cufflinks from last time were lost during the fight, and Qiao Jin had been thinking about it, hoping to find an opportunity to come back and look for them, just in case.
Lu Pingzhang watched him bend down again to search through the grass, then waited a moment before saying, “… Don’t look for it. I’ll buy you a new one.”
Qiao Jin furrowed his brows slightly, continuing to search while considering the feasibility of the idea.
Qiao Jin picked it up and was quickly disappointed. The once exquisite cufflink had a chipped corner, and its shape was slightly deformed.
Qiao Jin put the cufflink away, intending to repair it and show it to Lu Pingzhang later.
It’s not like we’re getting married. Why wait for an auspicious day to visit our parents’ graves? But he only thought this to himself and replied aloud, “Alright.”
Qiao Jin didn’t say he’d found it; he just nodded and pushed him into the car.
The wheelchair sank into the soft grass, and even Lu Pingzhang, sitting on it, didn’t feel as cold and ruthless anymore. This severe injury must have opened up some meridians in him, as his patience had grown, and he could now speak words of comfort effortlessly.
He had indeed changed a lot. Every text message Qiao Jin sent, every call he made, every note he left—each one received a response.
When he was busy with official duties outside, he would proactively tell Qiao Jin he wouldn’t be coming home for dinner. If he was certain he could return home, he would notify Qiao Jin in advance or decide on the dinner menu.
Most of the time, he would bring Qiao Jin a bouquet of flowers when he returned home, because Qiao Jin liked them.
Whenever he did this, Qiao Jin would smile, his eyes sparkling.
Lu Pingzhang liked Qiao Jin’s smile.
Fenglin Park was more crowded than usual, perhaps because it was close to Qingming Festival, or maybe just because it was the weekend.
Qiao Jin pushed Lu Pingzhang to a stop in front of Qiao Mu’s tombstone, where her face was calm and gentle, just like Qiao Jin under the night lights.
Qiao Jin placed a bouquet of flowers, while Lu Pingzhang, sitting in his wheelchair, bent down to place his own flowers. Midway through, Qiao Jin reached out to help, but Lu Pingzhang raised his hand to stop him.
“Auntie,” Lu Pingzhang straightened up, looking at the photo, “I heard you liked carnations and daisies. Qiao Jin brought daisies, so I took the liberty of bringing carnations.”
A chilly spring breeze blew by, lifting Qiao Jin’s hem. Lu Pingzhang reached out and pressed it down, making it lie flat.
Lu Pingzhang looked at the person in the photo, smiled, and said casually, “I’m sorry for sitting like this, but I’m recovering from an injury. Please don’t hold it against me.”
Qiao Jin stood there for a moment, saying nothing.
He wasn’t someone who was good at expressing himself. When Qiao’s mother was alive, he showed his love through actions, providing her with the best experts, caregivers, and medications he could.
After his mother passed away, he visited many times, but he would stay for a while and then leave, saying nothing and not doing anything extreme.
Qiao Jin reached out to push Lu Pingzhang’s wheelchair, but Lu Pingzhang raised his hand and said humbly and politely to Qiao’s mother, “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of Xiao Jin. Everything will be fine.”
Qiao Jin gazed at the photo of his mother for a moment, then lowered his eyes and smiled.
In his heart, he said, “Mom, he’s right.”
Lu Pingzhang’s family was on the other side, separated from Qiao’s mother by two aisles.
Qiao Jin pushed him over and placed the flowers together in front of them.
Lu Pingzhang looked at them in silence, and Qiao Jin had nothing to say either.
The pink and white petals trembled slightly in the air. The breeze on their faces was not cold; after all, it was already spring.
Qiao Jin was startled. Lu Pingzhang reached behind him, pulled him forward, and held his hand to show the rings on both their fingers.
Qiao Jin let him hold his hand. Passersby occasionally walked by, their faces filled with sorrow, hurrying to and fro, none of them noticing their intertwined fingers.
Lu Pingzhang tugged at him, urging him to speak.
“I…” Qiao Jin hesitated for a moment, then forced himself to say, “Uncle and Aunt, with me taking care of Pingzhang, he’ll recover soon. Also, I want to thank Baiyang for letting me see the people I want to see. From now on, I’ll come visit you with Pingzhang every time.”
After hesitating over the first few words, he regained his usual composure, and his icy hands began to warm up.
Lu Pingzhang interrupted him at this point, clearing his throat.
Qiao Jin paused and looked at him.
Lu Pingzhang: “Continue.”
Qiao Jin opened his mouth but forgot what he was going to say next.
Lu Pingzhang sat upright in his wheelchair, guiding him comfortably and relaxed: “Explain in detail how to take care of Pingzhang.”
“…”
Lu Pingzhang: “From now on, Pingzhang will be the one to decide. If Pingzhang says no overtime, then no overtime. Follow this rule.”
“…”
Lu Pingzhang raised his eyebrows and looked at him, pretending to be a big shot: “If Pingzhang says to read a certain book, then read that book. If Pingzhang says to go to bed at a certain time, then go to bed at that time…”
“Stop,” Qiao Jin felt a bit embarrassed, “Don’t talk nonsense here.”
“I’m not talking nonsense,” Lu Pingzhang didn’t look away, demanding a guarantee from him, “In front of my parents, my younger brother, and your mother, just say whether it’s okay or not.”
Qiao Jin opened his mouth, but Lu Pingzhang cut him off: “Is my request unreasonable?”
For a moment, Qiao Jin felt like several pairs of eyes were watching him, waiting for his answer.
“…It’s not unreasonable,” Qiao Jin said.
Lu Pingzhang: “So it’s okay?”
Qiao Jin: “Yes.”
Lu Pingzhang smiled contentedly, tilted his head, and pointed to the area between the two aisles, saying, “When we’re gone, can we live here?”
The distance was roughly the same as the distance between the two families, which was very fair.
Qiao Jin glanced at it and said, “Yes.”
Lu Pingzhang was even more satisfied and asked, “Can we be buried together? Use one tombstone, with your photo on the left and mine on the right.”
Qiao Jin smiled this time as well, nodding in the breeze and saying, “That’s fine.”
-The End-
Leave a Reply