Chapter 12

Xu Yinghuai didn’t understand why Zhou Zirong had assigned her such a simple task.

For a moment, she even wanted to complain that Zhou Zirong wasn’t even sincere in saying goodbye to her.

But given the current situation, with Zhang Qiuwen and Xu Zhikang looking utterly exhausted, Xu Yinghuai knew that if she stayed any longer, she wouldn’t be able to hold back her tears. To avoid losing composure, she turned and left.

She walked to a table draped in black cloth and covered with red roses, then stopped.

Typically, white flowers were used to mourn the deceased.

Zhang Qiuwen choosing red roses for her funeral, however, was something that truly resonated with her.

Xu Yinghuai had always had the habit of buying roses to keep at home, and red roses were what she bought the most.

She liked the passionate, thorny nature of red roses.

She used to think that life should be lived to its fullest—one should bloom boldly, recklessly, like a rose in its peak season, in order to not have lived in vain.

Now that she had died once, she finally realized how precious life was.

It would be best if life flowed like a gentle stream, steady and endless, allowing her to have all the time in the world to journey through places filled with blooming roses.

Xu Yinghuai reached out and picked up a rose, examining it casually.

She quickly noticed that all the thorns had been trimmed off—each stem smooth, damp with dew.

In the past, she never liked dealing with these details, nor did she allow others to remove the thorns.

But with so many people around today, preventing injuries was the right thing to do.

Realizing that these flowers were meant for her, Xu Yinghuai took extra care in selecting two perfect ones. She turned to find Zhou Zirong, only to discover that he was already standing behind her.

“Have you chosen?” Zhou Zirong looked at her.

Xu Yinghuai felt that his emotions didn’t seem as heavy as before.

“Yeah.”

“Let me see.” Zhou Zirong reached out his hand.

Xu Yinghuai handed them over, muttering, “Can you even tell the difference?”

Zhou Zirong glanced at them briefly. “As long as I can recognize that they’re roses, that’s enough.”

Xu Yinghuai: “Anyone with eyes can do that.”

Zhou Zirong: “Not necessarily.”

…

Not in the mood to decipher his cryptic words, Xu Yinghuai walked towards her crystal coffin.

When her body had been brought back, it was in a terrible state. The car accident had left her crushed and twisted, with a long wound across her face.

But Zhang Qiuwen knew how much Xu Yinghuai loved her beauty. He had hired professionals to reconstruct her appearance, even commissioning a designer to prepare an elegant funeral dress for her.

Now, she lay quietly in the transparent coffin, surrounded by the plush toys she used to keep beside her bed.

She looked like a sleeping princess, as if a prince’s kiss could awaken her.

Even though Xu Yinghuai had once imagined her funeral as extravagant and beautiful—with fiery red lips, a farewell ceremony full of laughter and toasts—seeing what her parents had carefully arranged for her now still left her speechless with grief.

She placed the roses down and immediately heard a voice close behind her.

“Xu Yinghuai, if you turn into a ghost, remember to come find me.”

The sorrow weighing on her heart shattered instantly at those words. Xu Yinghuai turned around, looking at the person behind her as if he were insane.

Unexpectedly, she met Zhou Zirong’s deep, dark gaze.

The seriousness in his eyes made her momentarily forget to retort.

Zhou Zirong didn’t look away either, keeping his eyes fixed on her.

“I will definitely believe it,” he said.

Although Zhou Zirong’s gaze made Xu Yinghuai waver for a moment,

she certainly wasn’t about to reveal the truth to him.

She knew actors like him—always looking at everything with deep affection, even a stray dog.

She wandered around with Zhou Zirong for a while until she suddenly felt a dull ache in her lower abdomen. A warm sensation rushed downward.

Her period had arrived.

For a while, in order to lose weight, Xu Yinghuai’s cycle had been irregular, often staining her clothes.

To prevent such embarrassing situations, she had developed the habit of keeping sanitary pads in her bag.

She instinctively unzipped her bag, but after turning it upside down, she couldn’t find what she needed.

She came to one conclusion:

Chi Yi didn’t have the same habit as her.

Left with no choice, she stuffed everything back into her bag, feeling a little frustrated. She sat on the toilet, then pulled out her phone, considering who to ask for help.

Out of everyone in her WeChat contacts, the only person she could rely on at the moment was Zhou Zirong.

But…

Asking him for help?

Xu Yinghuai bit her lip and decisively opened a delivery app instead, selecting a supermarket and adding the necessary items to her cart.

Then a red notification popped up:

[Your selected address is outside the delivery range.]

Xu Yinghuai was at a loss.

Chi Yi’s periods were heavy. Her underwear was already soaked, and her skirt had faint dark stains. Luckily, it was black, so the blood wasn’t too noticeable.

But if it got worse—if clots started forming, and considering her cropped top—it would be hard to hide.

Sitting on the toilet, striking a “Thinker” pose for five minutes, Xu Yinghuai finally caved. She clicked on Zhou Zirong’s contact, mentally preparing herself before typing a message.

Chi Yi: [Boss, are you there?]

Five seconds later.

Zhou Zirong: [?]

Now that she had his attention, Xu Yinghuai started panicking, unsure how to phrase her request.

To him, she was just an assistant who had been working for a few days.

Asking her boss to buy her pads? That sounded weird no matter how she framed it.

And she’d probably get rejected.

Maybe even scolded and fired.

Without his 20,000-yuan monthly salary, she’d be in serious trouble.

But if she didn’t ask him… she’d have to use tissue and make a mad dash to the nearest store.

She reached for the toilet paper—then froze.

A sharp wave of pain ripped through her abdomen.

Xu Yinghuai lowered her head.

The cramps had started as mild discomfort, but now they were unbearable.

She gritted her teeth, pulled out her phone, and began typing with trembling fingers.

Chi Yi: [Dear Boss, I have always believed that kindness and love exist in this world. Seeing how emotional you were for your friend today only confirmed that your heart is purer than most, your soul shining brightly.]

Chi Yi: [So I believe that if someone needed your help, you wouldn’t hesitate to lend a hand, because you are the epitome of righteousness.]

Zhou Zirong’s typing indicator appeared and disappeared.

Finally, he responded with a single character:

Zhou Zirong: [?]

Zhou Zirong: [Did you take medicine on an empty stomach?]

Xu Yinghuai, her face twisted in pain, had only meant to soften the request.

She recalled how Xu Zhikang once taught her a trick for asking favors:

“If you need a small favor but aren’t sure they’ll say yes, ask for a big favor first. If they refuse, scale it down—it’ll be harder to reject the smaller request.”

So, she went for it.

Chi Yi: [Boss, buy me a house.]

Zhou Zirong (instantly): [Spit out whatever pills you took.]

…

In the end, she sent the real request.

Chi Yi: [I have my period. Can you buy me some pads? Also, there’s painkillers in your car. Can you bring them?]

Two seconds later—

Zhou Zirong: [Wait there.]

Xu Yinghuai sighed in relief.