Chapter 52 p1
“Mom, where are we going?” the girl in the wheelchair asked, bundled in a black down jacket, her face hidden behind a mask and hat.
Her mother, pushing the wheelchair, looked tired, her eyes red-rimmed.
“Just getting some fresh air. It’s not good for you to stay cooped up inside all day.”
Jian Ru’yin opened her mouth to protest, then closed it, falling silent.
She let her mother push her towards the small park near their home.
As they reached a bench, her mother suddenly seemed nervous, glancing around.
“Ru’yin, are you thirsty?”
“No, I’m not.”
“What? You are thirsty! Okay, okay, I’ll go buy you a bottle of water. Wait here.”
Jian Ru’yin: “Mom, I really don’t…”
But her mother had already dashed off, faster than she ever moved when rushing to the supermarket for a sale.
Jian Ru’yin sat there, alone, a puzzled expression on her face.
She had no choice but to wait.
She sat there in the chilly winter air, looking at the small, familiar park.
She was growing weaker each day, her body failing her, even breathing becoming a struggle.
It was winter, the snow melting and refreezing, the trees bare, their last few leaves falling in the wind.
Like her, their life was fading.
But Jian Ru’yin didn’t want to go back to the hospital.
She knew her illness was terminal, that there was no hope of recovery. Why prolong the suffering?
Her family had sold their car and borrowed money for her treatment, but she only had a few years left. Why burden them further with false hope?
So, despite their pleas, she had left the hospital, locking herself away in her room.
Today, her mother had tricked her into coming outside.
Jian Ru’yin sat there, watching the wind rustling through the bare branches of the trees, her thoughts filled with images of her father’s worried face, her mother’s tears, her own eyes welling up.
The cold wind made her tears flow faster, until she was sobbing uncontrollably, her hands covering her face.
People passed by, their curious glances a silent acknowledgment of her distress.
But few stopped to offer comfort.
But tonight…
As Jian Ru’yin sat there, overwhelmed by her emotions, a flower suddenly appeared before her eyes.
A bright red rose.
Its vibrant color, a stark contrast to the bleak winter landscape, its petals in full bloom, a symbol of life’s resilience in the face of adversity.
The flower, held by a gloved hand, was gently placed on her lap.
Jian Ru’yin looked up, her vision blurry with tears, and saw a person dressed in a fluffy white cat costume.
Probably a girl, judging by her small stature, the cat’s cheerful face a stark contrast to Jian Ru’yin’s sadness.
Jian Ru’yin, embarrassed by her public display of emotion, wiped her tears and tried to refuse the gift.
“Thank you, but I’m fine. I don’t need the flower.”
Beauty only amplified her pain now.
But the cat, surprisingly persistent, shook its head, placing the flower firmly on Jian Ru’yin’s lap.
Then, it rummaged through its pockets, pulling out a small packet of tissues and placing it beside the flower.
Jian Ru’yin, unable to refuse such kindness, her tears subsiding, took the flower and the tissues, her voice soft.
“Thank you.”
The cat tilted its head, then, after rummaging through its pockets again, pulled out a small white sign and held it up for Jian Ru’yin to see.
Jian Ru’yin looked down, the elegant handwriting clear in the soft light of the streetlamp.
[Spring will come soon.]
The words pierced her heart, a sudden ache in her chest.
But the pain quickly faded, replaced by a strange sense of hope.
She looked up, about to speak, but the cat, putting away the sign, simply waved and skipped away, disappearing into the night.
Jian Ru’yin watched her go, her gaze following the small, fluffy figure as it ran towards a tree.
A tall figure, dressed in black, a black baseball cap and mask obscuring their face, stood waiting beneath the tree.
As the cat approached, the figure reached out, pulling the cat into a warm embrace, their hand gently stroking its head.
Just then, Jian Ru’yin’s mother returned, holding a bottle of warm water, her gaze falling on Jian Ru’yin’s distant, unfocused stare.
“What’s wrong?”
Jian Ru’yin looked down at the flower and the tissues in her hand.
“Someone gave me a flower. They were so kind.”
Her mother glanced towards the tree, her lips twitching slightly before she spoke.
“They were indeed kind. Look, they’re walking that way. Shall we go for a stroll?”
Jian Ru’yin hesitated, her fingers tightening around the stem of the rose, then nodded, finally agreeing.
She had often visited this park when she was healthier, its small size and familiar paths a comforting presence.
Following the paved path, they rounded a corner, and a small grove of cherry trees came into view.
In spring, the trees would be covered in blossoms, a beautiful sight.
But it was winter now.
The deciduous trees were bare, their branches reaching towards the sky, waiting for the warmth of spring.
Jian Ru’yin didn’t understand why her mother had brought her here, especially on such a cold day.
Then, as they rounded the corner, entering the small grove, Jian Ru’yin, looking down at the bright red rose in her hand, felt a sudden shift in the atmosphere, a strange energy in the air.
And a cacophony of sounds, voices chattering, cameras clicking, people rushing towards them.
Confused, she looked up.
And as she saw the scene before her, she was stunned, her surprise even greater than when the cat had given her the flower.
Because spring had arrived.
The cherry trees, their branches usually bare in winter, were now covered in blossoms.
Red, pink, white, roses, camellias, a riot of color, tied to the branches with green ribbons, transforming the bare trees into a magical, otherworldly spectacle.
The colorful blossoms, illuminated by the park lights, swayed gently in the breeze, a sea of flowers stretching as far as the eye could see.
Jian Ru’yin sat there, her eyes shining brighter than the neon lights, the sweet fragrance of the flowers filling the air, her heart swelling with a sudden joy, as if she had been transported to spring.
And then she saw the person in the cat costume again, her gaze drawn to the small, fluffy figure amidst the crowd.
The cat stood beneath a tree, the tall, black-clad figure beside her.
Sensing Jian Ru’yin’s gaze, the cat stood on tiptoe, waving excitedly, then bent down and picked up a neon sign, holding it up for Jian Ru’yin to see.
[Let’s come see the flowers together next year.]
Tears streamed down Jian Ru’yin’s face.
And as she cried, the cat handed the sign to the person in black and ran towards her, its movements clumsy and unsteady, almost stumbling.
The figure in black reached out instinctively, as if to catch her, then, seeing that she was okay, stood there, watching her approach.
The cat, weaving through the crowd, its fluffy white fur a stark contrast to the dark winter coats of the other visitors, finally reached Jian Ru’yin and bent down, its breath coming in short gasps, lifting the head of the costume.
Xin Yao’s face, slightly flushed and damp with sweat, her hair a little messy, was revealed in the soft light, her smile bright and warm.
And the gentle breeze she brought with her, the scent of spring, washed over Jian Ru’yin, like a swarm of butterflies, their wings brushing against her skin, their beauty a balm for her wounded heart.
Tears streamed down Jian Ru’yin’s face, her voice a choked whisper. “Jiejie Xin Yao…”
Seeing the young woman’s tearful eyes, Xin Yao’s own heart ached.
The falling tear, like a raindrop, splashed onto Xin Yao’s cheek, triggering a memory—
Crash!
A glass shattered on the floor.
A thin, frail girl, her voice filled with despair, had cried out, “Jiejie! I don’t want to live anymore! I’m just a burden! Let me go!”
Xin Yao, her usual good nature replaced by a sudden anger, had grabbed her by the collar.
“Xin Ruyue! Are you crazy?! How can you say such things?!”
Xin Ruyue had clung to her, sobbing uncontrollably.
“I’m sorry, Jiejie! I’m so sorry!”
“Don’t apologize, A Yue! You’re sick! Why are you apologizing?” Xin Yao had held her close, her voice gentle. “It’ll be okay. Just hold on a little longer. You’ll get better.”
The tears in her memory mingled with the tears in Jian Ru’yin’s eyes, then, as reality reasserted itself, the memory faded, replaced by Jian Ru’yin’s tear-streaked face.
Xin Yao smiled gently, wiping away her tears.
“Winter isn’t forever. It will pass.”
“Just hold on a little longer. Go back to the hospital, take your medicine, and get better. Spring will come.”
“And next spring, we’ll come see the real flowers together.”
Jian Ru’yin nodded, her sobs intensifying.
Her mother, standing behind her, also on the verge of tears, was relieved. Her daughter, so sensible, so strong, had finally agreed to return to the hospital.
It wasn’t that Jian Ru’yin had suddenly changed her mind. It was this moment, this unexpected miracle, that had given her hope.
She had simply written a letter, expressing her feelings, offering a few words of encouragement.
And her favorite celebrity had come to her, in the middle of the night, bringing her a taste of spring.
Even if it was just for tonight, even if it was just this small, artificial spring, it was enough to give her the strength to keep fighting.
Xin Yao, understanding her thoughts, smiled and shook her head.
“Your words meant a lot to me. They were like a ray of sunshine in my darkness.”
Xin Yao’s understanding of the entertainment industry had been superficial.
She had thought that actors simply acted, and idols simply sang and danced.
But now, she realized it was more than that.
Standing on stage, or in front of the camera, loved and admired by so many, their adoration a source of strength and inspiration, she wanted to give back, to share her light with those who had given her so much.
That was the true meaning of fame, of being in the spotlight.
The original Xin Yao, who had helped Jian Ru’yin up at the fan meeting, had also been a kind and compassionate person, remembering the young girl who had almost cried from embarrassment.
So, when she received Jian Ru’yin’s letter, she had known she had to do something.
Fortunately, the letter had included an address, and Jian Ru’yin lived nearby. They had easily contacted her family.
And learning that Jian Ru’yin was refusing further treatment, Xin Yao had offered to visit her.
Jian Ru’yin’s family, desperate, and knowing how much she admired Xin Yao, had agreed.
Then, Xin Yao had contacted Liu Nuan Nuan, asking for help in creating this temporary spring.
It was Xin Yao’s gift to Jian Ru’yin, a small miracle she had performed with all her heart.
Jian Ru’yin looked at the beautiful flowers, wiping away her tears.
“Thank you, Jiejie Xin Yao! I will! I’ll take my medicine and get better! I’ll keep fighting!”
“And next spring, we’ll come see the flowers together.”
Xin Yao smiled and nodded. “Yes!”
Xu Jingyu, dressed in black, her face hidden behind a mask, stood beneath a nearby tree, watching as Xin Yao bent down, her smile warm and gentle, talking to the young woman.
The soft glow of the streetlights illuminated her face, her eyes shining with a gentle light.
How could Xu Jingyu not be captivated by such a sight?
She had been touched by Xin Yao’s warmth and kindness countless times, and she cherished her smile, her gentle nature, everything about her.
But sometimes, she wished Xin Yao wasn’t so kind, so generous with her affection.
Because that smile was too precious, too beautiful to be shared with others.
She often wondered: Why can’t that smile be just for me? If only I could keep it all to myself.
But such thoughts were dangerous, a possessive darkness she had to keep hidden, a secret Xin Yao couldn’t know.
As the night drew to a close, the temporary spring dismantled, and Jian Ru’yin, her heart filled with hope, returned home with her mother, Xin Yao and Xu Jingyu finally remembered they hadn’t eaten dinner yet.
It was late, so they opted for a simple meal.
They sat at a small wonton stall by the side of the road, the street quiet and deserted, the warm glow of the streetlights illuminating their faces.
Xin Yao, having discarded her cat costume in the car, eagerly stirred her wonton soup, the steam rising to meet her face, then took a sip.
The warm broth and the savory filling filled her mouth, a comforting warmth spreading through her body.
She swallowed, then spoke, her voice slightly apologetic.
“Sorry, I get carried away sometimes. I completely forgot about dinner.”
Xu Jingyu shook her head. “You don’t have to apologize. And I should be thanking you.”
“My life is so dull and predictable. I wake up at 6 am every day, eat at 6 pm, like a machine.”
“If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t experience such interesting things.”
“Hmm?” Xin Yao tilted her head, looking at her. “Eating dinner this late is interesting?”
“Perhaps you find it strange, but it is,” Xu Jingyu’s eyes softened. “Eating this late, at a small street stall, it’s different, unconventional.”
“It’s… life. Real life.”
“Since meeting you, I’ve finally started living, experiencing the world.”
“Ooh,” Xin Yao drawled, teasing her gently. “Xu Jingyu, you’re getting quite good at this whole romantic thing!”
Xu Jingyu thought for a moment. “I don’t think I can compete with you.”
“Okay,” Xin Yao smiled. “Then, as a reward for my romantic efforts, I’m having another bowl!”
“Grandma, one more bowl of wontons, please!”
The elderly woman running the stall smiled, her voice cheerful.
“Coming right up!”
They sat there, huddled together at the small table, the warm light illuminating their faces, the steam from their wonton bowls rising to meet them, their shared meal a simple yet intimate moment.
The next morning…
Xin Yao woke up in a good mood, having received a message from Jian Ru’yin’s mother. Jian Ru’yin had agreed to return to the hospital for treatment.
Xin Yao, of course, would cover the expenses. She just wanted Jian Ru’yin to focus on getting better.
So, as she got ready for work, a smile played on her lips.
Just as she stepped out of her room, she saw Xu Jingyu walking towards her.
Dressed in black, her long hair pulled back in a high ponytail, her expression cool and aloof, her aura powerful and intimidating, she looked stunning in the morning light.
My girlfriend is so beautiful, Xin Yao thought.
But Xu Jingyu seemed to be heading straight towards her, and as she reached Xin Yao, she grabbed her wrist, taking her phone and putting it in her own pocket.
Xin Yao: “Hey, what are you doing with my pho…?”
Xu Jingyu’s fingers tightened around her wrist, then slid down, intertwining their fingers, her hand warm and firm in Xin Yao’s.
“Let’s go out.”
Xin Yao: “Huh?”
She was surprised, twice in the span of a minute.
“So suddenly? Where? What are we doing? We have to film today. The director didn’t say anything about a day off.”
Xu Jingyu, already pulling her towards the elevators, replied, “I’ve already spoken to Director Gao.”
“And she agreed?”
“I informed her.”
This woman was so domineering!
