Chapter 21 (3)

  There is a magnetic field between people, I know that's Qin Mo.

  I just don't understand why he would come at such an absurd moment, just like I've never figured out China Mobile's unpredictable pricing standards. I remember him having a lecture in the school auditorium this afternoon, and it was really not suitable for him to appear in the hospital room, but he held me in his arms, carefully as if holding a little girl who had been ambushed a hundred times and was on her last breath.

  His breath was right next to my ear, and I had already begun to calm down slowly, but with his chest so close, I suddenly felt a pang of sadness for some reason. In an instant, I lost the momentum from just throwing the IV bottle, and my two hands reached up to grab onto him like I was clinging to a rock in a turbulent river. He held me even tighter, patting my back soothingly, and whispered in my ear, "It's okay, I'm here, it's okay." And I had been holding it in for thirty seconds before finally bursting into tears with an even more painful cry than the one earlier.

  This cry is really suffocating, and the mountains and rivers are changing color. At a time when I was isolated and helpless, one person actually held on, but out of a lucky psychology that took advantage of the situation, I still hoped someone could pull me up, and when I had this wish, there really was such a person appeared, for the first time in five years.

  I wiped away tears on Qin Mo's coat while looking over his shoulder to see Lin Qiao tightly clutching the hospital bed. In our youth, he was a presence like Liuchuan Feng on the basketball court, sweating profusely, and with good grades, he was like Akira Senku during exams, plus he could play the piano, making him a presence like Shinichi Kudo at that time. He had so many presences, each one dazzling and reliable, already unable to be described as simply a proud son, but a treasure among proud sons, and that was the youth Lin Qiao in my memory, the seventeen-year-old Lin Qiao who never faded from my memory. But now, this twenty-four-year-old Lin Qiao in front of me showed an appearance I had never seen before - disheveled, pale face, empty eyes, purple lips from the cold, Han Meimei busily helped him wipe his hair with a towel, but he gently pushed her away, staring at me unblinkingly.

  The entire ward could only hear my sobbing, slow and urgent, if it were midnight, in such an empty hospital, it would be a different kind of horror. My hand seemed to hurt a bit, with the inexplicable sense of grievance in my heart multiplying, getting more and more scorching hot. I cried while gasping for air, Qin Mo pulled me away slightly, softly asking: "What's wrong?"

  I was crying so hard that I couldn't speak, he glanced around the hospital room and stopped at the glass shards on the floor, froze for a moment, then turned back to me, took my hand, furrowed his brow and asked seriously: "What's going on?"

  I sniffled, looking at him holding my right hand, not knowing how to respond. I didn't want to hurt him, but his dark eyes locked onto me, as if he wouldn't let go until I explained, forcing me into a corner where I had no choice but to hurt him.

  I pulled back the hand he was holding, shaking it: "Not this one." I handed him the other one and pointed to the swollen back of my hand: "It's this one." After searching for half a day: "You see, there's still blood here, and the needle hole is also here. It really is this one."

  He raised his head and observed his reaction. He raised an eyebrow, expressionless, looking at me. The two of us looked at each other for a while, then he said, "Did you pull out the needle yourself?"

  I hesitated for a moment and nodded.

  "Did you break the bottle yourself?"

  I nodded again.

  He just quietly looked at me, my hand placed in front of him, he didn't even hold it, neither in a Jade Drama nor a Korean Drama had they ever acted like this before, I didn't know what to do, couldn't possibly take the initiative to hold his hand, just about to pull back, when suddenly he stretched out his finger and pressed heavily on the back of my swollen hand: "Doesn't hurt?"

  I let out a loud cry of pain.

  "Lin Qiao Dao: 'Don't touch her wound.'"

  Qin Mo ignored him and continued to raise an eyebrow at me.

  I had never seen Qin Mo angry before, and I didn't know what he looked like when he was angry. But in this situation, I instinctively felt that he was angry, but I didn't understand what had triggered him off. The world is unpredictable, just a moment ago I was rejoicing that I finally had an ally, but no more than three minutes later, this ally was going to betray me. Everyone remained still, in an atmosphere that was impossible to describe, Qin Mo walked over and pressed the hospital bed's call button before coming back to put me on the bed and tucking me in. As he covered me with the blanket, his fingers brushed against my cheek, I nervously said: "Qin Mo..."

  "He finally spoke up: 'Since you know it hurts, why are you still doing something that harms yourself?'"

  I was stunned for a while, reacting to what he was saying, and hurriedly defended: "This cause-and-effect relationship is not right, it's only after being hurt that you know it hurts." As soon as I finished speaking, I suddenly realized it was inappropriate, and quickly made amends: "Besides, this isn't harm, it's just..." I hesitated for a long time, instinctively feeling the need to use a sentence that could shift responsibility. After thinking about it, I replied: "It's just...uncontrollable emotions..."

  He looked at me for a while with his eyes down, his gaze puzzled, without saying anything. Instead, he turned around and ordered the other two people in the ward to leave: "Song Song has always been careless, I heard that she fell into the water today and was rescued by Mr. Lin, I'm really grateful. But now she needs a good rest, so please go back first, and I'll bring her to visit you another day to thank you for saving her life."

  The ward was quiet for a moment, and there was no other sound for a long time.

  I glanced at Lin Qiao, and our eyes met. He moved his lips, hoarsely saying: "Then you rest well." Then he turned around and left. Han Meimei followed him out, and when she reached the door of the ward, she suddenly turned back: "You two are really together?" Qin Mo glanced at her lightly.

  Han Meimei sneered: "I really don't understand, she has another child, she doesn't even know who the father of the child is, what's so good about her?"

  This sentence once again accurately stimulated my pain point, but made it impossible to refute. Qin Mo said lightly: "It's normal for you to think so, if you also see her like I do, then you should be my love rival."

  Lin Qiao stretched out his hand to hold the door frame, paused for a moment, and didn't turn back. I vaguely felt that Qin Mo's words had deep meaning, but it was too late to distinguish. He tilted his head to see Lin Qiao's wet and shaky figure, and in the corner of his memory, there was a sudden shadow, like a well-structured photo that was accidentally overexposed. This is a cruel thing, originally found such a good angle, but due to technical reasons, it became a defective product, and because this was actually a blind cat hitting a dead mouse, it was destined that there would be no second chance to capture the perfect moment, leaving only a pair of scissors to cut the past into a mess.

  The nurse finished the remaining injection within five minutes and pulled out my other hand to prepare for another shot. This was all my own fault, even if the young nurse's hands were shaking, I couldn't complain. I wanted to endure it silently, but the little girl's skills were really unbearable, she didn't even find the vein after three injections. Qin Mo stood by and watched coldly, I gritted my teeth and smiled at the nurse: "Can you try again before injecting, this is going to make my hand a lotus root."

  Qin Mo's voice was cool and gentle: "Don't bother with her, just let her try, and let her remember the lesson."

  The nurse was encouraged, the fourth needle stabbed particularly hard, I trembled a little, as if something cold suddenly flowed into my heart, wanting to say something, but having nothing to say. It's like fighting with someone and losing, calling for help, only to find that the helper is drooling over the opponent's beauty, switching sides at the last minute. Faced with this situation, what else can be done besides upholding justice and eliminating the traitor?

  But compared with Qin Mo on the gas head, after all, in terms of momentum, slightly inferior, not being destroyed by him is already a rare thing.

  I thought I had found someone to whom I could entrust the burdens that have weighed on me for five years, and then I could be carefree like girls of my age. How wonderful it would be! But in the end, it was just a dream, something to think about when there's nothing else to do, leaving one with empty joy.

  The ward had become brightly lit at some point, making it seem empty and desolate all around. I looked at Qin Mo, feeling disheartened and said: "Are you angry? What are you angry about? Never mind, I know even if you don't say anything. It's not that I intentionally hid it from you. You can go now, my heart aches when you're angry in front of me, making me feel even more uncomfortable. I'll finish the IV drip and head back myself, I need to rest, so just leave."

  He clearly knew it, but pretended not to know, and had to make me say: "What did you hide from me?"

  I counted on my fingers the things I had deceived him about, but couldn't bear to watch him say these words, so I turned my head and gazed out the window: "Me and Lin Qiao... I told you he was my first love, but didn't tell you that what happened between us far exceeded the category of 'first love'. You never asked me, and I thought I should have taken the initiative to tell you, but I just didn't want to think about it. And Han Mei Mei also said something right earlier... when I was 16, I gave birth to Yan Lang, but didn't even know who his father was. I've always been thinking, what do you like about me? Is it because I look especially simple and innocent, unlike those fashionable girls you've met? Actually, I'm not simple at all, maybe even more fashionable than them... perhaps I had relationships with multiple men at the same time, took drugs, got into fights... who knows. I just can't remember, after that car accident when I was 16, I forgot everything."

  I heard Qin Mo pull out the chair, the legs of the chair scraping against the floor, making a harsh creaking sound. I thought that by the time I finished saying all this, Qin Mo would definitely dislike me, but it was something that couldn't be avoided, like a timed bomb that wouldn't not explode, just waiting for the right moment, and rather than letting it go off unclearly, I'd rather detonate it myself.

  Outside the window, the tree shadows are swaying, and I hear my own voice calmly echoing in this vast space: "What kind of girl can have a child for a man at the age of 16? What was she thinking? What kind of man is he? Many things even I myself cannot accept, but when I wake up, the past is a complete blank. These are all facts that happened to me. I am 16 years old, and I have a son. To be honest, I'm really scared. But I still have to move on, can't stay in place because of fear, can't stay in place because of mistakes. Everyone is moving forward, and so must I. Look, am I not walking well?"

  It seemed like a long time had passed, yet it also felt like just an instant. Time showed its powerful elasticity, as if it was something that could only be created in literature. Qin Mo's low voice sounded: "Right, Song Song, you're doing great."

  I choked back a sob, shook my head and said, "It's all lies, I'm not doing well at all. There are too many things that scare people, it's just that I've been shielding them. From time to time, I still have nightmares at night, you must think I'm very strange, after all, nightmares aren't life, there's nothing to be afraid of, but these dreams always remind me that Yan Lang has a father, what kind of person is Yan Lang's father? I often wonder." Today was really heartbreaking, tears were about to fall again, I quickly looked up at the ceiling, but a tall shadow loomed over. Qin Mo had one hand on my ear, his expression was more serious than ever before, his fingers brushed past the corner of my eye, and the tears that had been held back for so long burst out instantly. I actually love to cry. He said softly, "You don't know why I'm angry."

  I gazed at him with tearful eyes.

  He continued to help me wipe away my tears: "You don't know what I felt when Zhou Yue called and told me you fell into the water. To put it simply, Song Song, do you think anyone can bear to lose something precious that they've finally gotten back? You never knew how to cherish yourself, and this is what makes me angriest."

  I stared at him in confusion.

  He sighed: "If you want to scold Lin Qiao and the others, you can press the nurse call button and ask them to be kicked out. Look what you've done? Song Song, no matter what happens, you can't hurt yourself. Only physical pain can't be borne by anyone else, although I'd like to, even I can't."

  Although I want to, even I can't.

  This is the most pleasant thing I've ever heard in my life. I stared at him blankly and said, "You don't dislike me, you know what kind of person I am, how come you still don't dislike me?"

  He brushed the hair off my face: "I've always known what kind of person you are, I'm so old now, do you think I'm like a young punk playing with you? Or did you just say that to make me let you go, Song Song, I won't let you go."

  I stared at him: "What if Yan Lang's father is a rascal, and one day he'll take me away?" I shuddered as I spoke: "Not just take me away, but also take Yan Lang away!"

  Qin Mo stiffened for a moment, then said, "A real father wouldn't be a rascal. Why do you think he must be a rascal? Maybe he's a talented and outstanding person." He paused before continuing, "No matter what he is, I won't let him take you away."

  He was massaging my hair, and under the lamplight, I vaguely heard the sound of waves crashing thousands of miles away. The wind blew over, lifting the curtains, revealing a small piece of red skirt. Suddenly, such an illusion appeared in my mind, and I shook my head. His hand remained on my head.

  "You always treat me like a kid."

  He slid his hand down and pinched my cheek, pulling it outward: "What are you if not a kid?"

  I struggled to pull his hand: "After all, I'm twenty-four years old."

  He suddenly smiled and bent down to kiss my forehead, saying: "Right, you're a woman now."