Chapter 117: No Need to Thank Me, Bro |
Dawn.
Zhang Shutong stared at the hospital room ceiling.
It was just past eight in the evening. Last time at this hour, he'd ridden his bike home, and shortly after, Gu Qiumian called to invite him to dinner on Sunday.
Back then he'd been exhausted, ate something simple, and went to sleep.
Then he received the news of her death.
Zhang Shutong had always felt an inexplicable dread toward that Sunday dawn checkpoint.
Counting the time, there were still over four hours until dawn.
He had four hours to rest, but life could be so theatrical—in the past he could fall asleep easily without a care, but now though drowsy, he didn't dare close his eyes. He worried that something might happen in between and he'd miss it.
It was like this with Old Song, and the same with Gu Qiumian.
All he could do was believe. What else could he do? Just then, the young nurse finally came over with her medicine tray.
"Give me your hand."
Oh right, he could give his hand.
Zhang Shutong obediently extended his hand.
"The veins in this hand are swollen, switch to the other one."
He watched the needle penetrate his skin, then heard the nurse say:
"Don't go running around again this time, be good and finish the whole IV."
Zhang Shutong nodded, watching her walk away.
He stared at the liquid dripping drop by drop from the little gourd. His body was still cold. Zhang Shutong had had the foresight to bring the down jacket—the one from the villa—which he'd loaded into his car this morning.
He'd said he'd find time to return this jacket to Gu Qiumian, but never managed to find that time. Now he draped it over himself. It gave off a faint fragrance. Zhang Shutong wasn't particularly sensitive to scents, but he'd gradually become familiar with this one. The fragrance crept strand by strand into his nostrils, as if its owner were right beside him.
But she wasn't.
He was just in a hospital getting an IV, and the ward was livelier than home. He watched the people coming and going, sneezing from time to time.
Zhang Shutong had to thank Old Song. When leaving the villa yesterday, he'd originally planned to just go, but the teacher had helped him dig it out—though he had no idea how the teacher had managed that.
Time felt both fast and slow. It seemed like just a moment ago he'd been in that villa—the peaceful morning, snow like a blanket over the earth, the living room spacious and warm.
Another sneeze.
Sorry, sorry.
Zhang Shutong said silently to Gu Qiumian in his heart, I got your clothes dirty, but I'm really cold and had to use it for now.
She probably didn't even know he'd worn this jacket out, since she'd already gone upstairs when he left.
He could see it now—Gu Qiumian didn't really want him worrying about her. If that was the case, then he'd only report good news. But was there actually any good news?
Zhang Shutong thought in a daze.
Didn't seem like it.
At this point he was too lazy to worry about whether any of this had meaning. True, there were people guarding the villa; true, one shouldn't be too arrogant; true, Gu Qiumian's personal safety didn't need his concern. But that inner voice kept telling him—persist, persist, keep running.
Of course he'd persist, but he wasn't actually a sheepdog who could run energetically all day long.
He was really getting tired.
Zhang Shutong's eyelids began to fight each other. He still couldn't figure out why Gu Qiumian had changed her attitude that day. She meant well, didn't want to see him running around everywhere, but in reality, no matter what she said, as long as Sunday dawn hadn't passed, he'd keep doing the same thing.
What a stubborn fool.
Zhang Shutong silently pulled the down jacket tighter. It really was short—if it covered his neck it couldn't cover his waist, if it covered his waist it only reached his collarbone. He didn't have the mental energy to think about who the culprit was anymore. He only knew that tonight he could catch them. If he couldn't stop them... honestly, if all these people still couldn't stop them, Zhang Shutong had no idea what to do.
It felt like two voices were arguing in his head:
One said: There really is nothing you can do, it's not your fault. You wanted to take her away, you tried to persuade her so many times—she was the one who wouldn't leave.
The other said: She was safer at the villa than with you. What a rational, level-headed decision. Who else would be stupid enough to run around outside like you? And she's a rich young lady—her recent behavior was what was abnormal. Did you really think the world couldn't turn without you?
Gu Qiumian was actually a smart girl.
This time the two voices stopped arguing and agreed unanimously.
Zhang Shutong used to think she was foolish.
Actually, he was the foolish one.
Or using Old Song's words: foolish girls will become shrewd one day, and this transformation happens silently, always catching you completely off guard.
He felt the cold liquid flowing bit by bit into his veins. Half his arm felt numb. His consciousness was sinking—without realizing it he was about to fall asleep. He quickly shook his head.
It was still very noisy around him. This was the hospital's evening rush hour. Zhang Shutong really couldn't maintain his usual composure about children crying anymore.
He wanted to say: Little friend, please stop crying. It's just one injection. You've got a long life ahead of you. I'm not trying to lecture you, but I used to be afraid of injections too. I thought the scariest thing was being tricked by my mom into going to the hospital, then lying on the bed with a cold sensation on my butt... But later I discovered there were far more bitter things than that.
That's right—he remembered his past life trapped in regression, always the same, or rather identical. Each time exhausted from running, each time in utter disarray. Time and again he thought he could break free from this damn thing, when in reality he'd been fighting it all along.
Just then, a middle-aged guy nearby had his phone ring. For some reason his ringtone was incredibly loud, making the already chaotic ward even more chaotic.
"Dedicating youth to the brilliant city behind us..."
Zhang Shutong found it familiar. The next moment he realized it was "Elopement"—he'd last heard it on Friday, on the way home from school. It had been quite a while.
This was so inappropriate—who plays "Elopement" in a hospital ward?
Zhang Shutong thought groggily, just like how a Ford Focus once played this kind of music too. A man driving slowly, a young girl blushing in the passenger seat, rain falling that day, a light fog over the city, himself curled up sideways in the back seat...
But now the Focus was totaled, the man in the operating room being resuscitated. He could only gather fragments of the past from the song and the fragrance of the down jacket. They were fragments because grasping them made your hands bleed.
Really so inappropriate.
Zhang Shutong thought silently. He used to think the easiest thing was pulling Gu Qiumian off the island—his escape route, his backup plan. Now it was exactly the opposite.
In the end he decided to close his eyes and rest for just a bit, really just a bit. But the next moment, a phone call came in.
Du Kang's call.
Zhang Shutong's spirits lifted. When he came back, he'd arranged with Du Kang to contact him once Old Song was out of surgery.
His heart beat uncooperatively faster. Zhang Shutong took a deep breath and pressed accept.
"How is he?"
"He's fine. The doctor said the surgery was successful, he's out of danger."
Hearing this, his heart finally settled back into his chest.
Zhang Shutong raised his face to survey his surroundings. For a moment he felt as if he'd lived through another lifetime. He clenched his fist hard, but this really wasn't a good place to talk. He grabbed his phone, removed the IV, and step by step made his way to the corridor.
"Don't worry, I'm watching him, nothing will happen. I'll contact you immediately if there's any news." Du Kang said quietly, "I'm in the hospital room now. Auntie seems to have pulled some strings—she arranged a four-person room. It's quiet enough, has a private bathroom, and there's even a TV on the wall."
"How will you sleep tonight?" Zhang Shutong belatedly asked. "Should I have my dad book you a hotel?"
"Hey, no need. I've been idle all day, I can stay up. Oh, let me tell you something funny—I was waiting outside the operating room, and Auntie saw my back and called out 'son,' thinking you'd come. She wanted to give you a hug, but got the wrong person. Pretty awkward."
That was definitely something his mom would do. Zhang Shutong tried to smile:
"Where are they now?"
"Auntie wanted to take me out to eat. I said not to go to such trouble, we ate in the cafeteria. She drove out to buy daily necessities, and Uncle seems to be handling the admission paperwork. Right now it's just me in the room."
"When will Old Song wake up?"
"Probably around midnight." Du Kang added, "You should stop staying up. I can hear you're a bit congested—where are you, it's so noisy. Don't tell me you went back to the hospital for an IV?"
"A bit of a cold." Zhang Shutong added, "Don't tell my mom, she'll nag."
"Now I'm feeling kind of guilty. Forget it, just go home after your IV. I'm watching here, no problem. If Old Song wakes up I'll message you on QQ?"
"Mm, thanks."
"What kind of talk is that? He's my teacher too. Shutong, you're being too formal."
Du Kang joked, then hung up.
This was a four-person premium ward. Each bed had a curtain between them that could be pulled to create a small private space. He was sitting by the window. As expected of the city hospital—well-funded. There was even a pothos plant on the windowsill. Du Kang idly twirled the leaves with his finger.
He could tell his buddy was forcing himself to hold on, but things weren't as easy as he'd made them sound either.
Du Kang felt his current situation was a bit awkward.
In terms of help, he hadn't really helped much—it was Shutong's parents doing the work. Having him stay here would only make them worry about one more person.
In terms of emotions, it would be better to have Shutong here keeping watch. The three of them would be together as a family.
The boy scratched his head, slightly regretting it. He shouldn't have run over here on impulse.
Whatever, he was already here. He'd always been carefree anyway. Since he couldn't go back, he'd just try to find a few chances to actually be useful.
And then that chance really came.
Du Kang saw the man's eyelids suddenly move.
Wait, could it be...
"Teacher, you're awake?" Du Kang said excitedly.
But to the other person, those words seemed to arrive a beat late. Du Kang wasn't even sure if Old Song had heard him.
Several seconds passed before the man weakly opened his eyes. His gaze emerged from its scattered state. He struggled to turn his head, silently opening his mouth, but couldn't even manage to make a sound.
Song Nanshan blinked his heavy eyelids. The surprise in his eyes proved he was still fairly lucid.
Du Kang said urgently:
"Teacher, it's me, Du Kang. How are you? We're at the city hospital now. You really scared us this time. My aunt happened to run into your car accident, and then Shutong he..."
But before he could finish, the man seemed to catch a certain keyword. Those eyes that had just cleared immediately became dim, like dead ashes.
Song Nanshan spoke his first words after waking, his voice hoarse as if from another world:
"It's my fault..."
What fault? Did he think his car accident troubled everyone, so he woke up and apologized first? You're quite polite.
He saw Old Song lift his hand slightly toward him and quickly responded:
"It's fine, it's fine, no one blames you. Do you want water, or are you uncomfortable somewhere? Should I call a nurse?"
"Phone." Song Nanshan mumbled instead.
"Phone, oh, here it is." Du Kang picked up the phone from the bedside table. A nurse surnamed Li had given it to him. "Are you calling someone to report in? Your parents, or the principal? Oh right, what's the password?"
"1212." Song Nanshan spoke word by word. His eyes fixed unwaveringly on Du Kang. "Send the... first photo in my album to Qiumian, then tell Shutong, go to..."
"What?" But the man was too weak. Du Kang instinctively leaned his ear closer. The man's eyelids were barely hanging on, then finally closed again and he lost consciousness. Du Kang froze, then turned and ran out. "Nurse, my teacher passed out again—"
A few minutes later.
"He woke up already? Usually the anesthetic effects last several hours. How did he wake up?"
The nurse was also very surprised.
"So is that good or bad?" Du Kang asked.
"Good, of course it's good." The nurse clicked her tongue in wonder. "This kind of situation is just uncommon. Normally he should sleep until late at night before waking. To regain consciousness this early, he must have something he can't let go of. A strong will to live is definitely good. By the way, did your teacher tell you anything?"
"He did, he told me to get his phone and..."
The nurse nodded and interrupted:
"Then quickly contact his family. I'll go now, call me at the nurse's station if anything happens."
"Oh, okay..." Du Kang watched her jog out of the room.
He thought: Nurse, you guessed wrong this time. My teacher wasn't trying to contact family.
Earlier he'd unlocked the phone and opened the album. The first photo was of a motorcycle. To be precise, it was a photo of Shutong standing next to a motorcycle, and he was wearing a face mask, looking utterly exhausted.
Sending this picture to Student Gu Qiumian was also very strange. It wasn't even a particularly handsome shot. Wearing a mask, looking completely worn out.
Old Song's attitude like he was making a deathbed confession was even stranger.
Thinking of this, Du Kang glanced at the man on the bed. His breathing was stable.
Hey, Teacher, what kind of important matter is this? You're in this condition and still thinking about playing matchmaker. That nurse said your will to live was especially strong. I was quite moved too, thinking you had some obsession you couldn't let go of. But this...
Du Kang didn't know whether to laugh or cry.
But he had one good quality—when he couldn't figure something out, he'd just do as told. So he found Gu Qiumian's QQ, clicked on the photo, and clicked send.
He also added a message:
"So, Shutong's been running around outside these past few days and even got a fever..."
No need to thank me, bro.
...
Moonlight poured down.
Gu Qiumian stood quietly before the floor-to-ceiling window.
The courtyard was noisy.
The bodyguards were conducting their final search of the area.
Actually there was nothing left to find. In a moment, just as agreed earlier, this grand search would come to an end.
The two police officers had already returned to the station. The rest would sleep in the living room tonight.
Auntie Wu was coming over carrying bedding. Gu Qiumian saw her and wanted to help, but the woman smiled indulgently:
"You don't need to do this kind of work, and we're almost done anyway."
"But I'm the one who had Dad bring all these people back."
"No one's blaming you. Chairman Gu is probably secretly happy, thinking his precious daughter finally remembered her father."
"If I don't think of him, who would I think of?" Gu Qiumian huffed.
Seeing her like this, Auntie Wu felt relieved. At least she wasn't like last night:
"Still not going upstairs to rest? It's about to get noisy. You don't like it when there are too many people, right?"
Hearing this, Gu Qiumian glanced once more out the floor-to-ceiling window:
"I just want to stay a bit longer."
"Still worried?"
"A little, I guess. He made it sound so scary."
"Oh, I know. It's still because of what your classmate said. He meant well, but if it becomes something weighing on your heart, that would be worse instead. Since you're worried, just call and ask him. Maybe he's already overthrown his own judgment."
But Gu Qiumian shook her head:
"If I call him, he'll get all nervous again."
"What's wrong?"
"You saw him too, what he was like that day at the house."
"Oh." The woman laughed. "I remember—like a little adult, looking here and there, all serious. What was it, detective? Never mind that little detective, but Mianmian really is different from yesterday. Last night you deliberately didn't mention him. You think I didn't notice?"
"Oh, Auntie Wu." Gu Qiumian wrinkled her nose.
"Alright, alright, I won't say more." The woman smiled. "So now you're not hesitating anymore?"
"What hesitation was there?" Speaking of this, Gu Qiumian became calm instead. "You're listening to Zhiruo's nonsense. The way she talks, it's like I've lost my soul. She's too dramatic."
"You should still listen to your father. Stay home these two days. Piano, Lego, singing, movies... so many things to do, definitely better than running around outside. You sang so much today your voice is hoarse."
"Of course I know. I wouldn't be unreasonable."
"Then I'll get back to work. Don't stand too long."
Gu Qiumian nodded, standing by the floor-to-ceiling window.
It was already 9:30 PM.
Only two and a half hours remained until the dawn that Zhang Shutong had emphasized so many times.
She didn't know what would come after those two and a half hours.
Perhaps sudden changes.
Perhaps a night with nothing happening.
Gu Qiumian just remembered the dream mentioned that night.
She didn't know why she'd dreamed of an unfamiliar body of water.
She tried hard to recall but couldn't remember the details clearly. It was all covered in a layer of fog, nothing visible.
It had actually been a nightmare.
She should have been at home, but somehow ended up at that body of water.
What exactly happened there? Why did he always think the villa was so dangerous?
Thinking back on everything from this day, the people she'd met and words spoken.
Teacher Song said he'd take them out for a good time.
Dad said to put her mind at ease.
Auntie Wu told her not to keep everything bottled up inside.
Zhiruo said not to be impulsive or hot-headed.
Looking out the window again, the commotion was gradually dying down. Only the Doberman barked from time to time. She heard it and smiled softly—these past two days the house had been full of "strangers," which really got the dog worked up.
This matter should end here.
She was getting sleepy now. She stretched slightly. She'd sweated some while singing today and planned to take a bath soon, then sleep.
This was good. Everyone was happy. She looked at the courtyard one last time. The moonlight was lonely, and on the snow-covered wilderness, many things might happen.
Gu Qiumian returned to the sofa and turned on the TV.
She didn't carefully select a movie—whichever one came up, she'd watch. She kicked off her slippers and curled her legs to one side, holding a cup and slowly drinking water. She'd laugh at funny parts, fast-forward through boring parts, purse her lips at clumsy parts, and if her patience ran out she'd just switch to another one.
Until the door was pushed open.
Gu Qiumian had just turned her head when the man in front spoke:
"Why aren't you asleep yet?"
"Waiting for you all to come back."
Gu Jianhong handed his teacup to the housekeeper and changed his shoes before sitting on the sofa:
"Can you relax now?"
"Mm—"
She drew out a long tone.
"They'll come back later, around ten." Father Gu habitually explained. "Tonight I'm leaving two people in the car to keep watch. Right now they're out buying food, probably coming back around ten to switch shifts..."
"You just arrange it. You're talking like you're delegating work assignments. I don't even know who those two people are."
Father Gu laughed:
"Dad's having a bit of trouble understanding you. Do you care or not? You were the one who asked me to bring people back, and now you're the one who doesn't want to hear about it."
"I cared back then." Gu Qiumian propped her chin, watching TV. "But nothing's wrong now, is there?"
"Not caring is good, that's how it should be. The car will park downstairs. Tell me if it's too noisy, but it shouldn't be. I'm going to the study for a bit. As for you, go upstairs and rest easy."
He half-joked:
"With so many people guarding the living room, no one's taking you away tonight."
Gu Qiumian nodded and said okay, focusing on the screen. She was watching a horror movie—the ghost was about to appear, but her dad's nagging completely ruined the atmosphere.
Gu Qiumian simply turned off the TV. The man showed a helpless smile. The girl huffed, smiled and said goodnight to him, then got up to get a box of milk, planning to heat it and take it upstairs.
This was a girl like a princess, a genuine rich young lady, protected very well by her super-wealthy father. The earth wouldn't stop rotating if it lacked anyone, and she wouldn't lose her soul over lacking anyone either.
Gu Qiumian put the milk in the microwave to heat. While waiting, she was idly scrolling through her phone when ding—the milk was ready. She was bringing the cup to her lips when a new message appeared on her phone.
From Teacher Song.
He'd sent a photo.
In the photo was a motorcycle.
Standing beside the motorcycle was a person she knew all too well, even though he wore a face mask.
This was a photo that would definitely disturb anyone who saw it.
Because she almost instantly connected it to the motorcycle the bodyguards had discovered on the mountain road last night.
Then came another message.
"So, Shutong's been running around outside these past few days and even got a high fever. He still hasn't gone home. I don't know what he's busy with either."
This was a question that puzzled the person on the other end, but Gu Qiumian immediately had the answer.
She stared blankly at her phone screen. One photo with one sentence, then sinking like a stone into the sea. It seemed like nothing was said, yet everything was said.
So she exited that interface and opened their chat.
Always the same few phrases back and forth. Actually, she could almost recite them by heart.
The boy over there was always saying:
"How are you?"
"Be careful."
"Lock your doors and windows."
"Watch out tonight."
"...had a big meal at noon, but I was too busy having fun and barely ate anything..."
"I'm doing great over here."
Was he really doing great?
Now the meaning of all these sentences completely reversed, surging over her like an avalanche. They'd been hiding things she didn't know all along. Gu Qiumian suddenly understood everything.
He's an idiot, really an idiot. I already told him—nothing will happen, nothing will happen. Dad came back, there are bodyguards at home, hurry up and go home and rest, you don't need to protect me... but why won't you just listen?
She didn't know how long she'd been standing in front of the microwave until the housekeeper gently came over:
"Did you burn your hand? Why are your eyes a bit red?"
"No." Gu Qiumian's voice was a bit hoarse today. She covered her mouth and yawned. "Just getting sleepy."
"Friends messaging you again?"
"They're still worried about me."
"I see." The woman smiled. "Then tell them—don't worry, you're home tonight and won't go anywhere. Get to bed early."
"Mm, I know."
When she turned around again, the girl's expression had already returned to calm.
She picked up the cup and slowly came to the elevator, slowly pressed the elevator button.
The elevator slowly descended, and the metal doors slowly opened and closed.
On that corridor carpeted with wool, it was so quiet she could only hear her own heartbeat. Walking through it felt like traversing a deep tunnel.
Upstairs and downstairs were like two different worlds.
Everyone outside had returned, inevitably somewhat noisy.
But on the second floor, she was alone. She'd said she would lock her bedroom door when sleeping tonight, so no one would disturb her all night.
Gu Qiumian locked the bedroom door.
The moon hung high in the sky. A thin layer of fog had formed on the glass, like moonlight turned to frost.
She wore a wine-red nightgown, preparing to take a bath. She should get to bed quickly, but an interlude disrupted her plans.
She unbuttoned the nightgown one button at a time. The bedroom had the heating on—it definitely wouldn't be as cold as outside. Barefoot, she walked into the dressing room and came before the vanity mirror.
She used to think the best solution was to have bodyguards come to the house.
But how could an idiot understand what she was saying?
Now she pulled open all the closets and grabbed out the thickest clothes, stubbing her toe on the corner of a closet in the process.
The room had a floor-to-ceiling window.
Gu Qiumian also knew that beyond the window was a terrace, and below the terrace was the wilderness bathed in moonlight, empty of people.
So she quickly dialed that number. Though she tried hard to keep herself composed, her breathing still became rapid.
Finally the call connected, and she said—