Hospital

At six in the morning, the corridors of the private hospital were completely silent.

Zhuang Yifan anxiously paced back and forth at the door of the hospital room. The dark circles under his eyes made it obvious he hadn't slept all night. Although Xue Miao was sitting on a nearby bench, looking down and fiddling with his phone, a closer look revealed his brows were tightly furrowed and his expression was grave.

Seeing this, Zhuang Yifan couldn't help but say irritably: “Stop playing with that stupid phone. I took five bodyguards to block his door yesterday and he still wouldn't see my brother. You think a phone call will get him to come?!”

Xue Miao sighed and turned off his phone screen. “We have to try, whether it works or not. He probably won't be that heartless.”

Zhuang Yifan was so angry he nearly fell backward. “He already sent me to the police station! Is there anything he wouldn't do?!”

'Who told you to be so meddlesome, insisting on provoking him?' Xue Miao thought to himself. If he hadn't urgently taken people to bail Zhuang Yifan out, the guy would still be in a cell getting ready to spend the night. However, before Xue Miao could speak, he suddenly saw a familiar figure at the other end of the corridor and quickly stood up, nudging Zhuang Yifan's arm. “Hey, Chen Shu is here.”

Chen Shu had rushed over by car. He saw Zhuang Yifan and Xue Miao standing at the door of the hospital room. His gaze passed through the glass on the door to look inside, and his face darkened slightly. “How's your brother? How did he suddenly get into a car accident?”

Zhuang Yifan, who held a grudge, snorted coldly and ignored him.

Xue Miao secretly kicked him and explained aloud, “Yihan got into the car accident last night. At the time, only he and Yan Kai were in the car, but now they're both lying in the hospital room, unconscious. We don't know the specific details, only that it seems a brake problem caused the vehicle to lose control. It's still under investigation. Fang Yiting is abroad; he's catching a flight and will probably only arrive this afternoon.”

Chen Shu frowned imperceptibly and asked in a low voice, “Are the injuries serious?”

Xue Miao shook his head. “A concussion. It's not life-threatening, he just hasn't woken up.”

He then said hesitantly, “I know you two have broken up, but Yihan has never really been able to get over you. The situation is special right now. Could you go in and stay with him? Maybe he'll feel a little better if he sees you when he wakes up.”

Chen Shu did not refuse. He was silent for a moment, then finally pushed the door open and walked into the room. The heating inside was ample, bringing some relief to his frozen limbs, but Zhuang Yihan was still lying unconscious on the bed.

His forehead was wrapped in gauze, and his exposed hands had various scrapes. His long, thick eyelashes cast a shadow beneath his eyes. His skin was pale and translucent, which made the dark red scabs look even more terrifying. His brows were tightly knitted, as if he were trapped in a disturbing dream.

'He was so lively just this afternoon,' Chen Shu thought.

He tugged lightly at the corner of his mouth, originally wanting to sneer, but he couldn't form the expression. In the end, he could only sit down on the chair by the bed. Then he touched Zhuang Yihan's hand, the one with the IV drip; it was ice-cold.

That madman, Jiang Xi.

When a person's anger reaches its peak, they can no longer feel angry. All the terrible emotions are hidden beneath a calm surface, like the prelude to a storm.

At that moment, no one knew what Chen Shu was thinking. He closed his eyes and lowered his head, using his right hand to press his throbbing temples, concealing the flash of violent emotion in his eyes. He waited quietly by the side for Zhuang Yihan to wake up.

Time passed, drop by drop. Chen Shu had barely slept for almost two days, and now, in the heated room, exhaustion washed over him like a tide. He didn't know how long he had been sitting there, only that his eyelids grew heavier and heavier until he fell asleep, slumped over the side of the bed. During this time, Xue Miao came in once, probably to call him for a meal, but seeing the situation, he quietly closed the door again.

At night, it was cold enough for dripping water to turn to ice.

Chen Shu was slumped over the side of the bed. Even in his sleep, he could feel the poor circulation in his limbs. Just as he frowned, imperceptibly moved his fingertips, and was about to wake up, a low, hoarse voice suddenly came from above his head:

“You're awake?”

Zhuang Yihan was leaning against the headboard; it was unclear when he had woken up. He hadn't called for the doctor, nor had he called for Xue Miao and the others. With red-rimmed eyes, he just stared at the side of Chen Shu's sleeping face, as if gazing at something he once possessed but ultimately lost. His entire being had shed its daytime thorns and unruliness, and the emotion revealed in his eyes was so painful it was unreadable.

Chen Shu hadn't realized he had fallen asleep. He sat up a beat too late, frowning and pinching the bridge of his nose. His muddled brain took a few seconds to clear. “When did you wake up? Why didn't you call me?”

As he spoke, he reached for the call bell but was stopped by Zhuang Yihan's hand. “It's fine. It's the middle of the night; calling the doctor tomorrow will be the same. I don't feel any discomfort right now.”

He seemed to have changed a lot. If before he had at least some of the sharpness of youthful arrogance, now he had a steadiness that came with age, which for a moment felt both dissonant and familiar to Chen Shu.

Chen Shu didn't think much of it and withdrew his hand a beat later. “Then you should rest well. I have things to do, so I won't stay at the hospital with you.”

He paused, then added, “Stay in your room for the next few days. Try not to go out.”

The two of them had already broken up, so it wasn't really appropriate for them to meet. He had only come today because he was worried about the other's safety. Now that Zhuang Yihan was awake, Chen Shu felt it was time for him to leave.

After speaking, he pulled back his chair, stood up, and walked toward the door. But a low, hoarse voice suddenly sounded from behind him, carrying an indescribable pain: “Chen Shu—”

Chen Shu subconsciously turned back. “What is it?”

He thought Zhuang Yihan would ask him to stay; after all, he probably wouldn't be willing to let him go so easily. Or, he would deliberately say a few sarcastic words, hurting them both in the process.

However, what Zhuang Yihan said was: “I'm sorry.”

He looked at Chen Shu earnestly and spoke softly in the silent hospital room, every word clear. “Chen Shu, I'm sorry...”

Chen Shu was stunned. “Why are you saying that?”

Zhuang Yihan's lips moved, but he hesitated to speak. The words on the tip of his tongue just wouldn't come out. In the end, he could only manage a bleak, self-deprecating smile. His eyes were red, and if one listened closely, his voice was trembling slightly. “It's nothing. I just feel that I've always wronged you.”

He was clearly smiling, but the sorrow in his eyes was so thick it was almost tangible, making one wonder what could have happened to him to produce such an expression.

Seeing this, Chen Shu, who had been about to leave, paused. He hesitated for a moment, then walked back to the bedside. “Did something happen?”

Zhuang Yihan shook his head. “Nothing happened to me. It's about to snow outside. You should leave soon.”

He urged softly, “Go on, leave. I'm going to sleep some more.”

After speaking, Zhuang Yihan lay down, then turned his back to Chen Shu. He closed his eyes and wrapped himself tightly in the blanket, his expression hidden from view.

However, as the minutes ticked by, not only did Chen Shu not leave, but he silently sat back down by the bed. He felt that Zhuang Yihan had been a bit strange since waking up, but he couldn't put his finger on what it was. This thought made it impossible for him to simply turn and leave.

Zhuang Yihan heard him sit down and paused imperceptibly, asking in a low voice, “Why aren't you leaving?”

Chen Shu: “I'll leave when you're ready to talk.”

Zhuang Yihan laughed, his eyes red. “You're really strange. You used to beg me to let you go, but now that I'm letting you go, you refuse to leave.”

Chen Shu frowned slightly and asked in a low voice, “Zhuang Yihan, what on earth happened? Tell me.”

...

Zhuang Yihan remained silent. He didn't turn around, nor did he speak, simply remaining motionless with his back to Chen Shu. Just as Chen Shu's legs had grown stiff from sitting and he was beginning to suspect the other man had fallen asleep, a low, hoarse voice suddenly sounded in the silent room, seeming both abrupt and strangely enlightening:

“Chen Shu, I just had a dream...”

He said,

“I dreamed that you died... that you jumped into a river and died...”

Chen Shu's head shot up at these words, his mind going blank with shock. He clearly didn't understand how Zhuang Yihan could dream about the cause of his death in his past life. He clenched his fingertips, alarmed and uncertain, for a moment suspecting that the other man had also been reborn. However, Zhuang Yihan didn't turn around, so Chen Shu couldn't observe his expression. In the silent room, only the sound of Zhuang Yihan's voice remained, numb, as if recounting someone else's story:

“In that dream... you liked me a lot... but it seems I didn't like you at all...”

“I always felt that our meeting was terrible...”

Having a one-night stand with a male model from a bar after getting drunk—for Zhuang Yihan's otherwise flawless life, this was like an indelible stain, one he couldn't let go of for nine whole years.

“You were very good to me... willing to learn piano, etiquette, cooking for me... to learn everything you weren't interested in... but I always felt you had ulterior motives... and never accepted your feelings...”

“You learned to paint to make me happy, and you painted so, so many pictures, but I locked them in a drawer and never once looked at them... On my birthday, you flew all over the world every year to carefully choose a gift for me, but I was always cold and distant to you... You also cooked many meals for me... but I refused to eat them... and after that, you never cooked again...”

“Before you died, you gave me a watch... the exact same model as the one I bought from you last year... I actually really liked it, but I just refused to wear it, keeping it locked in a drawer... I always felt that if I wore that watch... I would have lost...”

The Zhuang Yihan of that time was proud and conceited; how could he ever admit that he had developed feelings for someone like Chen Shu?

“In those years, to retaliate against my indifference... you deliberately fought with me... deliberately stirred up trouble... deliberately did everything to make me angry... but my attitude was always cold... and then you became even more hysterical...”

“Chen Shu, in that dream, we argued, we fought... but we were never apart...”

“I selfishly thought you would always stay by my side...”

“But the last time, you didn't...”

Zhuang Yihan paused, his throat so hoarse he couldn't speak, as if he still hadn't emerged from that dream.

“You just jumped in like that...”

“Before you died, you kept hoping I would turn back and save you, but I never once looked back...”

What Zhuang Yihan dreamed of was surely more than just this; it was so long it was as if he had lived an entire lifetime in another world. And yet, in all the content related to Chen Shu, not a single trace of warmth could be found. Every last detail was of his indifference toward Chen Shu.

In that long dream, Zhuang Yihan almost obsessively revolved around Jiang Xi, silently protecting him from the shadows even after he got married. In contrast was Chen Shu, who adored Zhuang Yihan, seeing him as a savior, as the most important trace of warmth in his bleak life, for which he was willing to fly into the flame like a moth.

But Zhuang Yihan always felt their first meeting was full of schemes and conspiracies, and consequently, he held an unshakeable complex about Chen Shu. He minded the other's rustic vulgarity, his subservience, and his selfishness. Therefore, no matter what Chen Shu did, in his eyes, it was all just a calculated attempt to curry favor.

In the end, his love unrequited, he jumped into the river on a cold winter's night.

At that time, Chen Shu had money and status. Zhuang Yihan couldn't imagine how desperate a person would have to be to throw all that away. And yet, the him in the dream left by car, without a single glance back.

If only he had looked back then, even just to lower the car window for one last glance at the person with whom he'd been entangled for nine whole years, Chen Shu might not have died at all.

Zhuang Yihan couldn't even remember if, in that pain-filled dream, there had been a single day he had treated Chen Shu gently. If there had been even one day when the other looked at him that his gaze hadn't evasively looked away.

Winter was so cold, and when Chen Shu died, he didn't even get a single kind word from him.

By the end, Zhuang Yihan couldn't speak anymore. His throat felt as if it were blocked by something immensely heavy, aching with a painful sorrow. He buried his head deep into the pillow and let out a low laugh, laughing until tears streamed down his face. Only then did he ask, gasping for breath:

“Chen Shu, do you think this dream is real?”

Utterly desperate, he asked again in a hoarse voice:

“Chen Shu, do you think this dream is real?”

...

Chen Shu didn't speak. At this moment, it was as if someone had mischievously turned back the hands of fate, causing time to quietly rewind, parting the most hidden, painful memory in his heart. Even his breathing carried a heavy, dull ache.

As Zhuang Yihan spoke in fragmented sentences, Chen Shu couldn't stop recalling the scattered fragments of their past life together—trivial things, like an occasional glance from Zhuang Yihan, or the scene of them sitting together in an office meeting. But more often, it was the two of them arguing and hating each other, their retreating figures growing further and further apart in the end.

Chen Shu suddenly found it hard to breathe. He stared blankly outside, instinctively looking for a window, only to discover that it had started snowing at some point.

Outside the glass window, the night was long and dark. The harsh winter is always the hardest to endure. Even when spring comes the following year, many people remain trapped in that memory, unable to move on, forever left behind in that desolate winter.

Chen Shu didn't know how he eventually left the hospital room. A sentence Zhuang Yihan had said before he left echoed repeatedly in his mind:

“Chen Shu, I deserve what's happened today. Go forward, and don't look back...”

“In this life, I won't let anyone get in your way. Not me, and not Jiang Xi...”

Chen Shu's mind felt blank, numb and confused. After closing the door behind him, he lost all his strength and had to steady himself as he slowly sat down on the bench in the hallway. It wasn't until a Black Snake slowly crawled onto his knee that he came back to his senses.

The Black Snake flicked the tip of its tail and greeted him cheerfully. Perhaps nourished by pain, its body and scales looked even more beautiful than before:

[Long time no see, my dear Host.]

Chen Shu looked down at it and said blankly, “Zhuang Yihan knows how I died in my past life...”

He was lost and confused, revealing a rare trace of vulnerability. He didn't even have the heart to be confrontational with this Black Snake. “Why?”

The Black Snake slithered up, slowly climbing onto Chen Shu's shoulder. As it cheerfully devoured the pain surrounding its Host, it explained in a low voice: [Perhaps it was influenced by the lingering obsession of a departed soul.]

Chen Shu repeated in a low voice, “A lingering obsession of a departed soul?”

[If a person has an obsession that is too deep when they die, their soul cannot find peace, and many unpredictable things can happen.]

It casually dropped a shocking piece of news,

[Zhuang Yihan died an unnatural death in his past life. His obsession was too deep, so it invisibly affected his soul in this life.]

Chen Shu's body jolted at these words, and he whipped his head around to look at the Black Snake, suspecting for a moment that he had misheard. “What did you say?”

How could Zhuang Yihan have died an unnatural death?

This Black Snake didn't have a helpful personality, but it was always happy to do things that caused pain. Its cold head pressed intimately against the side of Chen Shu's face, its voice low and distant, yet carrying a faint, imperceptible trace of amusement:

[Do you want to know what happened after you died in your past life?]

[I'll help you...]

As the sound of its last word faded, the air in front of Chen Shu suddenly trembled violently. Scenes from his past life slowly unfolded before his eyes, prying open that sealed memory.