The doctors and nurses arrived and immediately lifted Chu Luyu onto a stretcher and into the ambulance.
Chu Fanyin was crying and insisting on getting in as a family escort, but Jiang Hezhou kept holding Chu Luyu’s hand the entire time, his gaze fixed on the girl lying unconscious on the stretcher. He seemed to hear Chu Fanyin’s tearful pleas, or maybe he didn’t—in any case, he didn’t move at all, not even when the medical staff tried to urge him. Fortunately, Chu Fanyin also understood that her daughter’s condition couldn’t afford delays, and seeing that her son-in-law wasn’t about to give up his spot, she relented and let the ambulance take her daughter to the hospital first.
The piercing sound of the ambulance siren echoed through the entire journey, grating and urgent, but Jiang Hezhou seemed not to hear it at all. From the moment he got on the ambulance, he stayed in the same position, holding Chu Luyu’s hand without moving a muscle.
The young nurse beside him couldn’t help but steal glances at him.
From what she could tell, the patient and this man had been a couple rehearsing a wedding at a hotel. The veil was still pinned to the patient’s head, its ends stained with blood.
The man hadn’t moved or spoken since getting on the ambulance. Unlike other family members who would frantically ask about the patient’s condition, whether there was any danger to her life, or whether something terrible would happen—he sat as still as a statue. His appearance was striking, nearly perfect, but the aura around him was cold and deathly still.
He must be deeply worried about his beloved, the young nurse thought. Though he showed nothing outwardly and seemed relatively calm, she could see that the hands holding hers were trembling with the force of his grip.
The ambulance soon arrived at the hospital. The doctors and nurses quickly transferred Chu Luyu from the ambulance to a gurney and wheeled her through the emergency hall and into the operating room.
Those who had been watching the rehearsal on the rooftop gradually made their way to the hospital.
The first to arrive were Ji Chen and Zhang Jiting, who had driven over with Chu Fanyin and Chen Mian. When they reached the operating room doors, they found Jiang Hezhou standing there alone and rushed over.
“Brother-in-law! What’s going on with my sister?! What did the doctors say?!” Chen Mian asked, his face full of anxiety.
Jiang Hezhou leaned against the wall, staring down at his own palms. The blood from wiping Chu Luyu’s nose earlier still lingered between his fingers. In his eyes, the red was blinding, making him feel dizzy and sick.
Seeing that he wouldn’t respond, Chen Mian grew anxious and wanted to ask again more loudly, but Ji Chen held him back.
“Your sister just went into the OR. Your brother-in-law probably doesn’t know the details yet. Don’t panic—let’s wait for the doctors and nurses to come out, and we’ll ask them.”
“But—”
Chen Mian still wanted to speak, but Chu Fanyin called out to him, “Xiaomian, let’s wait.”
Throughout the journey, Chu Fanyin had managed to calm herself down considerably. She remembered the days after her divorce when she had raised Chu Luyu alone—her little girl often fell sick, and she would carry her from clinic to clinic for shots and medicine. Now, faced with a similar situation, she couldn’t let herself collapse under fear and worry.
She had to stay strong—her baby girl still needed her.
Jiang Hezhou’s mother also arrived shortly after. Seeing the anxious, somber faces of everyone gathered outside the operating room, she could guess that there was still no news about Chu Luyu.
Two hours later, the doctor finally emerged from the operating room. The people at the door immediately crowded around him—all except Jiang Hezhou, who remained leaning against the wall, his gaze fixed coldly in that direction.
“Based on all the tests we’ve run on the patient…” The doctor’s expression showed clear regret and hesitation. “She likely has a rare form of organ failure. If nothing unexpected happens, she will probably die within about a month as her organs progressively fail…”
At those words, Chu Fanyin was the first to break down, fainting on the spot. Chen Mian was too stunned to react, standing there frozen as he instinctively held up his collapsing mother—otherwise completely unresponsive.
Zhang Jiting and Ji Chen were both deeply shocked. Their thoughts immediately turned to their brother.
Jiang Hezhou loved Chu Luyu so much. He had crashed his car chasing after her, bleeding and broken, yet still refused to give up. Now that she had been diagnosed with such a rare terminal illness, with so little time left… they couldn’t even imagine how unhinged Jiang Hezhou would become.
They exchanged a look and began searching for him.
But strangely, the man who had been standing by the wall just moments ago had vanished. His spot was now empty.
—
Over three hundred li outside Jingzhou, in the city of Shi, Meng Wantian was undergoing her training.
Today’s instructor had run late, delaying dinner. After the session ended, Meng Wantian and her colleagues went out for a big meal together, and by the time they made their way back to the dormitory area, it was nearly 9 p.m.
It had been raining all day in Shi City, leaving the streets slick and shining. The neon signs from storefronts reflected off the wet pavement in patches of red and blue.
Meng Wantian and a colleague each held an umbrella as they walked back to the dormitory area. They had been staying in a residential complex close to the training site—several apartments the hospital had temporarily rented for them.
As they approached the alley entrance near the residential area, the colleague suddenly nudged Meng Wantian’s arm.
“Wantian, look over there…”
Meng Wantian followed her gaze and saw a man standing at the end of the alley. He was wearing a black coat, holding no umbrella, and was completely soaked through. His wet hair hung over his forehead, and his face—even under the dim night—looked deathly pale.
At a glance, his figure resembled a wandering spirit, a ghostly presence, surrounded by an aura of utter lifelessness.
Her colleague grew frightened and stopped in her tracks, her voice trembling as she whispered to Meng Wantian, “Wantian, maybe we should take a detour. Who would just stand there in the rain at this hour? It’s really creepy…”
Meng Wantian was thinking the same thing, but before she could say anything, the man suddenly turned around.
The moment she recognized his face, Meng Wantian froze—
—
Ten minutes later, at a nearby snack shop.
Because the training location was in the old part of town, there were almost no cafés or dessert places around. After searching for a bit, Meng Wantian could only bring Jiang Hezhou to a relatively quiet snack shop.
She ordered a bowl of hot soup rice, carried it over from the counter, and placed it in front of him.
“Jiang… Mr. Jiang, you’re completely drenched. It’s freezing outside—please have something warm to drink first.”
As she spoke, her eyes studied him.
He was dripping wet from head to toe, his hair plastered against his scalp, his face pale and damp, his lips devoid of color. His eyes were as deep as ever, but upon closer inspection, one could see how hollow they were.
Just two days ago, she had received a call from him and Chu Luyu asking again when she would be back in Jingzhou. She had given them a specific date, wondering what they could possibly want from her. She never expected him to show up here in person today.
Jiang Hezhou was clearly not in a normal state. Meng Wantian waited for a while, but when the man across from her showed no sign of speaking, she spoke up again.
“Mr. Jiang, coming all the way to Shi City to find me at this hour—is there something urgent?”
She waited a long time, so long that she began to think he wouldn’t respond—when he finally spoke.
“Before… why did you keep approaching me? And why did you always say those strange, inexplicable things?” His voice was dry and raspy. He wasn’t looking at Meng Wantian—his gaze was fixed somewhere vaguely, his eyes drifting and vacant.
Meng Wantian understood what he was asking. If these words had been spoken a few months ago, she would have told him everything about her rebirth. Back then, she had been fully confident that she and Jiang Hezhou would end up together—they were destined lovers. As long as she didn’t repeat the mistakes of her past life, they would be happy forever.
But now… faced with a Jiang Hezhou who was completely unfamiliar with her, and who had already drawn clear boundaries with her many times, Meng Wantian hesitated.
Given their current situation, if she told him about her rebirth, would he have her committed? The whole thing was so unbelievable—if she hadn’t experienced it herself, she wouldn’t have believed it either.
While she was still hesitating, the man across from her spoke again.
“You also know that this is a fictional short-drama world, right? And that you and I are the male and female leads of that drama? That’s why, even though you didn’t really know me at first, you kept coming around and saying all those vague, suggestive things.”
This time, when Jiang Hezhou spoke, he finally looked at Meng Wantian—but after he finished, there was a hint of scrutiny in his otherwise calm, unreadable eyes.
Meng Wantian didn’t even have time to study his expression. His words left her completely stunned.
Her mouth slightly open, she blinked twice, staring blankly at him.
After a two-second gaze, Jiang Hezhou calmly dropped two conclusions: “It seems you didn’t know about this.”
It took Meng Wantian a couple of seconds to snap out of it. She nodded at him.
“I didn’t know any of what you just said. The reason I approached you and said things like ‘we were meant to be together’ is because… I’ve been reborn.”
She looked straight into his eyes, fully focused. “In my memories of my past life, we were together.”
So—this person had only been reborn. She hadn’t glimpsed some divine truth. She had no idea how to save his beloved.
—
A few minutes later, they parted ways at the entrance of the snack shop.
The rain was still drizzling outside. Looking at Jiang Hezhou’s drenched figure, Meng Wantian couldn’t help but call out, “Mr. Jiang, why don’t you take my umbrella?”
His back view was utterly desolate—tall and lean, his black coat clinging wetly to his frame.
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