Seasonal changes often brought colds, and despite Su Qingci’s caution, he still caught one.
On the first night of his fever, Su Qingci thought some medicine would suffice. But in the dead of night, he developed breathing difficulties. Pei Jingchen gave him no chance to refuse the hospital; he called an ambulance immediately.
After three days in the hospital, with Wen Mengmeng personally overseeing his care—administering injections and medication—the mild virus quickly subsided, and his cold soon cleared up.
On a clear day, Wu Lü visited with a fruit basket. Since he had to return to work, he stayed only about ten minutes before leaving. Just as Su Qingci was about to lie down, another visitor arrived: Vivian, whom he hadn’t seen in nearly a month.
A month prior, Vivian had worn a vibrant red Chinese-style gown, her hair elegantly pinned up, adorned with sparkling jewels and pearls. She had laughed and chatted cheerfully, lively and adorable like a fairy. She was still beautiful now, but her face was haggard, her body gaunt. Gone was her former liveliness and cheerfulness, replaced by a world-weariness unbecoming of her age.
“She said she wasn’t good enough for me, that she didn’t want to hold me back,” Vivian covered her face, rubbing it hard. “Why would she think that? She knows exactly what I need. I’ve been fighting so hard, striving for our happiness. Why couldn’t she just try with me?”
Su Qingci replied, “You’ve hit the nail on the head. She didn’t want to try with you.”
Vivian lifted her exhausted little face, her eyes brimming with heartbroken tears.
Su Qingci continued, “Relationships are a two-way street. One-sided devotion never leads to a good outcome. Struggling on against the odds only ends in mutual destruction.”
Vivian wiped her tears and said, ” I don’t want to be a burden to her. If that’s the case, I’d rather we part ways and each find peace.”
Vivian sobbed quietly, crying silently for a long time. Her tears wouldn’t stop. She used half a roll of tissue, her face wet with tears, and laughed bitterly, “I used to think nothing but death could separate me and Junjie.”
The ward door opened as Pei Jingchen entered, carrying a peeled red-fleshed pomelo. Vivian had cried herself out, her eyes swollen like walnuts. She glanced at Pei Jingchen, then turned to Su Qingci, her voice tinged with envy: “I was so arrogant. Because true love transcends even life and death.”
Su Qingci: “Vivian.”
“Rest assured, I won’t do anything foolish.” Vivian lowered her head, a self-mocking smile touching her lips. “She hasn’t asked for my portrait again either. Junjie said it should stay with the person it truly belongs to.”
Vivian rose to her feet. “Teacher Su, I’m preparing to return to Russia. Tonight’s flight.”
Su Qingci wished her a safe journey. Vivian smiled, pulled sunglasses from her clutch, and in turn wished Su Qingci peace, joy, and a long life.
Su Qingci finished his honey pomelo just as the IV drip ended. Freed from the tubing’s hindrance, he settled into a solid afternoon nap. When he awoke, Pei Jingchen was gone, but he spotted Annelise playing with her phone on the sofa.
Su Qingci rubbed his sleepy eyes, confirming it wasn’t a hallucination before asking Annelise when she’d arrived.
“Half an hour ago,” Annelise replied. “I practically had to swear on the entire hospital staff’s lives that they’d watch over you. Only then did Mr. Pei reluctantly leave—looking back every few steps, as if reluctant to go.”
Su Qingci: “…”
Su Qingci said he wanted to go for a walk, so Annelise pushed the wheelchair over.
The early winter air was crisp and clear. The afternoon sun was warm, its rays comfortable and pleasant on the skin, though after a while it made one feel drowsy.
Annalise bought two hot drinks—a snow-topped milk tea for herself and hot orange juice for Su Qingci.
Seeing other patients wheeled out by attendants to bask in the sun, their legs covered with blankets, Annalise suddenly remembered that sitting in a wheelchair meant poor circulation in the lower limbs, making them susceptible to the cold. Annalise offered to fetch a blanket from the ward, but Su Qingci declined. Annalise exaggerated her expression: “If you catch a chill, your boyfriend will tear me apart.”
Su Qingci froze at the remark. When Annalise returned with the blanket, he clarified, “We haven’t gotten back together.”
“Huh?” Annelise blinked, momentarily dazed before sinking back in disbelief. “You two…” She searched for words, finally stammering, “The whole world thought you got back together. So now you’re roommates? The kind who don’t even split rent?”
Su Qingci gave a forced smile: “I sincerely apologize for causing such a misunderstanding to the whole world.”
Annalise didn’t take the joke, her tone serious: “Teacher Su, what are your thoughts?”
Su Qingci: “What?”
Annalise continued, “I know he’s always been on your mind. If that’s the case, why force yourself to pretend you don’t care? Life is short—seize the day.” She glanced meaningfully at the wheelchair. “None of this matters.”
Before Su Qingci could respond, Annalise added, ” Self-torturing melodramas aren’t your style. That cliché romance plot—‘terminally ill, refusing a lover’s confession to spare them, hoping they find happiness elsewhere’—is utterly trite. Besides, it doesn’t suit you at all. Our brooding, obsessive Young Master Su should be the epitome of self-interest, shouldn’t he? If you’re going to take a script, it should be one where ‘in our final moments together, we have a passionate, unforgettable romance. I become your eternal Pure Yuan Empress, etched into your memory forever. Even if you find new love, she’ll always be my Wanwan Lvqing.’ Right?”
Annalise winked playfully, tossing a flirtatious glance his way.
Su Qingci: “…”
Annalise knew she was deliberately provoking him, so Su Qingci rewarded his thoughtful agent with a dismissive roll of his eyes.
Annalise laughed until she was shaking: “Truly a manga-ripping heartthrob—even your eye rolls are this electrifying.”
Su Qingci couldn’t be bothered to respond.
Annelise crossed her arms. “I won’t use myself as an example. After all, my wild nights out are just for fun. Unlike you two, entangled in genuine feelings for over a decade.”
Su Qingci snorted. “You’re surprisingly self-aware.”
“Flattery aside,” Annelise waved dismissively, setting her bubble tea cup on the nearby bench. She propped her chin on her hands and hummed a tune, pausing mid-hum to say, “I don’t know what you’re thinking, but for me, precisely because time is running out, it’s all the more reason to cherish it. And it’s not just for you—it’s for him too.”
Su Qingci had intended to focus on sipping his hot orange juice, savoring the monotonous afternoon, but Annelise’s cryptic words left his heart racing and forehead sweating.He muttered, “What?”
Annalise: “The sky was bluer than today’s, and the sun felt more intense. Even though it was the height of winter, the sun was unusually strong, burning hot on your skin—more scorching than July or August.”
Su Qingci was confused. “What are you trying to say?”
“You’d been hospitalized for a month by then and were recovering well. I thought I’d see you one last time before you were discharged, and grab a cup of milk tea from the hospital’s third-floor cafeteria. Their snow-topped milk tea is just too good, hehe.” Annalise flashed a charming smile before turning serious. “After buying the milk tea, I saw Pei Jingchen. He was sitting in his car, his whole body slumped over the steering wheel. I thought he was napping with the windows closed and the AC on? Ha, what a fool I was. I was terrified and rushed over to bang on the window and call out to him.”
Su Qingci gasped in horror, unconsciously gripping the wheelchair handles.
“I was banging on the window and yelling when I suddenly noticed the passenger window was actually open—he does have some basic safety sense. He woke up from my commotion and asked what was wrong. I’m not exaggerating—I was genuinely terrified by how deathly pale his face looked.”
“I asked him what was wrong, if he felt unwell. He said he was fine, but when he got out of the car, the scorching sun beat down on him.” Annelise looked toward Snowtop Café. “He was like ice cream under the blazing sun, about to melt.”
Her description was abstract, yet it struck a chord deep within.
Annalise continued, “You know I’ve met many painters, calligraphers, artists—all with wildly different personalities. Seeing so many has sharpened my eye. I can spot at a glance who’s normal and who has psychological issues.”
Su Qingci’s fingertips trembled slightly. “What do you mean?”
Annalise smiled with some reservation. “He’s a very reserved person. If you don’t ask him, he’ll never speak up on his own. For the sake of his mental and physical health—if you don’t want him to break down—you’d better pick an appropriate moment to interrogate him.”