CHAPTER 22: BROWN SUGAR WATER

Perhaps due to fatigue from work these past few days, combined with her restless thoughts, Ruan Zhizhi woke up feeling dizzy and unsteady.

Knowing her anemia was severe, she pressed a hand to her temple and slowly got out of bed, heading to the living room to grab a few jujubes from the coffee table as a quick snack.

But, dizzy as she was, she accidentally bumped her hand against the glass corner of the diamond-shaped table. Without thinking, she put her hand up to block it—only to feel piercing pain.

Ruan Zhizhi was fully awake now. She shook her head and looked down: her palm had been cut deeply by the sharp glass edge. Blood oozed slowly, and she frowned, trying to resist crying out. She took a deep breath and began tending to the wound herself.

Used to living alone, she could handle minor injuries, but… as she disinfected the cut with iodine and wrapped it with a bandage, she realized she couldn’t manage this one.

The cut was deep; she needed to go to the hospital.

Throwing on a coat haphazardly, without even putting on lipstick, Ruan Zhizhi stepped out into the world with a bare face.

By the time Ruan Zhizhi arrived at A City’s most renowned military hospital, the pain was almost unbearable. Gritting her teeth, she forced each step forward, enduring the discomfort as she registered, queued, and finally saw the doctor. By then, even her lips had lost all color.

The doctor in the white coat, who had been writing notes, looked up in surprise. Seeing her pale face, he straightened immediately and gestured for her to sit. “What happened? You look awful.”

“Nothing serious, doctor. I just accidentally cut my hand this morning. I bled a little… and I’m a bit anemic, so I probably look worse than usual,” Ruan Zhizhi explained weakly, sitting cautiously across from him.

The doctor quickly arranged for someone to bandage and stop the bleeding. After the wound was treated, Ruan Zhizhi stepped out of the consultation room, her vision still blurry. She reluctantly made her way to the waiting area to rest.

Just her luck.

She buried her head into her turtleneck sweater. The sharp pain in her palm had eased, but her brain still felt foggy from the lack of sugar.

Sitting on the hospital’s cold chair, Ruan Zhizhi bit her lip, debating whether to call Gu Nian for help. Her phone was already in hand, but she remembered it was Gu Nian’s honeymoon, so she decided not to disturb her.

“It’s okay… a nap should help,” she murmured to herself, sinking deeper into thought, eventually burying her head in her collar and drifting into a drowsy sleep.

She had no idea how much time had passed—

“Zhizhi, wake up.”

Someone was calling her, over and over. The voice was low, slightly hoarse, calm at first but growing increasingly anxious when she didn’t respond.

Ruan Zhizhi frowned, moving reluctantly at the sound, and gradually opened her eyes.

Her vision was still hazy. Before she could lift her head, she noticed a cup of brown sugar water in front of her. Licking her dry lips, she grabbed the glass and drank it all in one go.

“Feeling better?”

The same voice, only clearer this time.

Ruan Zhizhi set down the glass and let her gaze slowly travel upward—from the deep blue jeans, along the white sweater, until finally landing on those familiar dark eyes.

They usually held a casual, indifferent expression, but now, they were tinged with concern.

She looked at the man she knew so well, momentarily unsure if she was in a dream or reality.

After a long pause, she managed to croak weakly, “Shi Yan… what are you doing here?”

The man before her had black hair, wearing a white sweater and jeans, looking far too young for a twenty-eight-year-old university professor—he could easily pass for a finely featured student.

Shi Yan studied her pale face for a moment, then bent slightly, crouching before her. From his pocket, he pulled out an orange-flavored candy, unwrapped it, and placed it at her lips. “Eat this.”

His movements were gentle, his voice tender—a tenderness that made her eyes sting.

“Thank you,” Ruan Zhizhi whispered, alone in the empty waiting area, struggling to suppress the quiver in her voice.

Shi Yan didn’t reply. He reached out lightly to stroke her hair, and after a moment said softly, “Finish the candy, then I’ll take you home.”

His fingers still carried the faint, lingering scent of tobacco. His palm rested warmly atop her head.

Ruan Zhizhi realized that, at certain moments, having someone by your side could truly make you feel dependent.

It had been a long time since she had leaned on anyone.

After drinking the entire cup of brown sugar water and sucking on the candy, she pressed her fingers to her temples, finally feeling a little more lucid.

Shi Yan’s gaze fell on the bandaged wound on her left hand. He picked up her medical record and said, “I’ll go get your medicine. Wait here.” He paused, then added softly, “Be good. Don’t wander off.”

“Okay,” she nodded instinctively. Once Shi Yan walked away, she remained still, touching the glass with residual warmth, feeling as if none of this were real.

He had appeared—just when she needed him.

Like fate.

Shi Yan drove her home in silence. His eyes were focused on the road, and Ruan Zhizhi quietly sat in the passenger seat, her mind a whirlwind.

At moments like this, she found herself worrying whether she had folded the blankets in her bedroom properly or tidied the living room before leaving.

But when she finally opened the door and let Shi Yan in, she felt a pang of despair. The living room was a mess. A white bra she had brought in from the balcony that morning lay on the sofa.

Ruan Zhizhi muttered, “…The house is a bit messy. Don’t mind it.”

Shi Yan’s eyes glanced at the small, thin piece of clothing, then meaningfully shifted toward her chest, before returning his gaze.

Ruan Zhizhi changed into slippers at the entrance, and Shi Yan, though visiting for the first time, moved around with ease. He went to the water dispenser, poured a cup of warm water, and took out the medicine from the bag, handing it to her. “These are anti-inflammatory and painkillers. Take one pill, three times a day. Don’t forget.”

Ruan Zhizhi looked up at him, silently wondering if his actions meant he had forgiven her for missing their last appointment.

“And the doctor said you need your wound dressing changed today,” Shi Yan continued, scanning the room before raising an eyebrow at her. “Sit on the sofa.”

“Ah? Now?” Ruan Zhizhi blinked, a little confused.

“Yes, now,” the man replied, his gaze falling on the first-aid kit that had been left on the coffee table that morning. He walked over and began preparing to change her bandage.

Ruan Zhizhi sank passively onto the sofa, watching him work with gauze and other supplies with practiced ease. For some reason, the space felt more like his home than hers.

Shi Yan finished preparing, then turned to kneel on one knee on the cold floor, gently placing her injured left hand on his knee.

“It might hurt a little when I touch the wound. Try to bear it.”

She lowered her head to look at him. His long eyelashes drooped gracefully, partially shading his eyes, giving his gaze an inscrutable quality. Bathed in the sunlight streaming through the balcony, his skin looked so fair it almost seemed unreal.

Time seemed to pause in that moment. Ruan Zhizhi, staring down at him, momentarily forgot about the pain in her hand.

Perhaps, at this very moment, Shi Yan himself was the best painkiller.

He carefully disinfected the wound with iodine, then gently wrapped gauze around her palm in slow, precise circles, finishing with a neat knot at her wrist. “Remember to change this tomorrow night, so the wound doesn’t get infected.”

No sooner had he spoken than Ruan Zhizhi’s phone vibrated urgently in her pocket.

Her heart skipped a beat. She slowly retrieved the phone, revealing the name she had expected: Li Sicheng.

Shi Yan straightened as if he hadn’t noticed, then walked toward the balcony.

Was he giving her the space to take the call?

Ruan Zhizhi pursed her lips and answered.

“Zhizhi, I’ll be back the day after tomorrow. You’ve been alright on your own, right?”

Li Sicheng’s voice was still as warm as ever. Ruan Zhizhi glanced at her heavily bandaged left hand, hesitated for a moment, and replied, “I’m fine. Everything’s okay.”

“Good. Then I can relax. When I get back, I’ll take you to eat well. You’re far too thin right now—I worry that the wind might blow you away if I don’t fatten you up a bit first.”

On the other end, Li Sicheng’s voice rambled with concern, every word dripping care. But for Ruan Zhizhi, it no longer stirred the wholehearted feelings it once did three years ago.

“Li Sicheng… please… don’t be too good to me,” she said after a pause. “I’m afraid I can’t give you the answer you want.”

His voice on the line faltered briefly, then responded with a laugh: “Nonsense. Being good to you is my choice. Zhizhi, you waited for me four years; now it’s my turn to wait for you. It’s fair. There’s nothing to feel guilty about.”

…

After the call ended, the brief relief Ruan Zhizhi had felt vanished again, replaced by heaviness.

If she couldn’t reciprocate his feelings, perhaps it was better to cut this tie now.

After all, it should have ended three years ago.

Ruan Zhizhi stood from the sofa and slowly walked toward the balcony. As expected, Shi Yan was leaning against the wall, smoking.

The sunlight highlighted the precise curve of his profile. Stray hairs fell across his forehead. Smoke curled around him, casting the same disheveled, aloof aura as the first time they met, as if he were detached from the world.

For some reason, she felt an urge to tell him to quit smoking, but she quickly suppressed it. She knew well that smoking was like a temporary painkiller for Shi Yan—something he couldn’t let go of until he found a better substitute.

Unsure what to say, she stood quietly beside him. The atmosphere was serene, almost as if even the air had slowed its movement.

Finally, Shi Yan broke the silence. “Does he treat you badly?”

‘He’? Was he talking about… Li Sicheng?

Ruan Zhizhi froze, unsure how to answer. She looked up at him, only to see him casually stub out his cigarette and toss it accurately into the balcony trash. “Why didn’t he come with you to the hospital?”

Her mind short-circuited. She paused before realizing that Shi Yan might have misunderstood her relationship with Li Sicheng. Anxiety welled up in her chest, and without much thought, she immediately tried to explain: “Between Li Sicheng and me—”

Before she could finish, Shi Yan turned to her, speaking slowly and deliberately: “Ruan Zhizhi, if three years ago and three years later he still treated you badly, why can’t you open your eyes to someone else?”