Chapter 20
Jing Ciying was lucky. He found a ride to the airport from the ski resort and booked the earliest flight back to China.
Before boarding, he wanted to call Ji Shuhuai for an update on his sister, but he hesitated, then backed out.
He was avoiding the truth, as if not hearing the news would somehow prevent anything bad from happening.
His sister would be fine.
She had always been fine, albeit unconscious, but she still responded occasionally.
She opened and closed her eyes, moved her fingers, blinked.
She was just trapped in a dream.
And what if she wasn’t?
His bottom line seemed to be constantly shifting. He had always wished for her to wake up, but now, he just wanted her alive, even if she remained unconscious forever.
As long as she was alive, he could endure anything, even caring for her for the rest of his life.
The long flight back was a blur.
Time seemed to slow down, each minute stretching into an eternity, then melting into a sticky, suffocating mass.
He gasped for air, but his lungs felt constricted.
The feeling persisted until he arrived at the hospital.
The familiar route suddenly felt alien, the world disorienting.
He forgot about the elevator, taking the stairs two at a time.
He saw Aunt Liu sitting by his sister’s bed, weeping, as soon as he reached the ward.
“Aunt Liu,” he said, pushing open the door, his voice weak, his body suddenly heavy.
Aunt Liu looked up, surprised, then relief washed over her face, her voice trembling. “Xiaoying! You’re back so soon?”
“Where’s my sister?” he asked, ignoring her question.
“Your sister… your sister…” She couldn’t seem to say the words, just looked at him, her eyes filled with tears.
He understood, yet he didn’t want to understand. “Where is she, Aunt Liu? Where is she?”
“Xiaoying?” a voice said from behind him.
He turned to see Ji Shuhuai entering the room.
He looked exhausted, having likely been here since Jing Ciying’s call, over ten hours ago.
“Mr. Ji, how is she?” he asked, his heart filled with gratitude, but he didn’t have time for pleasantries. He needed to know.
Ji Shuhuai looked at him, unable to speak.
“What’s wrong?”
The answer was evident, but he refused to accept it, clinging to a sliver of hope.
“Why isn’t anyone answering me?” he looked at them, his voice filled with desperation.
But they remained silent.
“Is she still in surgery? Where? I need to see her.”
He turned to go, but Ji Shuhuai stopped him. “Xiaoying, calm down.”
“I am calm.” He didn’t understand. He was perfectly calm. He just wanted to see his sister. “Where is she? I just want to see her, from outside, I won’t go in.”
But Ji Shuhuai wouldn’t let him go. “Xiaoying, listen to me.”
“I’m listening. Just tell me where she is. Don’t stop me, Mr. Ji.”
“Xiaoying.”
“I just want to ask the doctor how she is. Why are you stopping me?”
“I just want to see her! Let me go!”
“Xiaoying…”
“What?! Just tell me! What happened to my sister? Why won’t you let me see her? What are you doing?!”
He pushed Ji Shuhuai aside and ran out of the room.
Ji Shuhuai chased after him, catching him.
Everything became a blur.
Ji Shuhuai’s voice echoed in his ears. “You need to accept this. Your sister wouldn’t want you to see you like this.”
What a cruel thing to say. She wouldn’t want to see him like this, so he should… accept it?
“Xiaoying, you need to calm down,” Ji Shuhuai kept saying.
Why did everyone keep telling him to calm down?
He had always been calm.
Even when his sister had first been injured, he had remained calm, calmly waiting outside the operating room, calmly giving his statement to the police, calmly hiring a lawyer, calmly pursuing justice, calmly working to pay her medical bills.
Why did he need to calm down?
The world seemed to recede, and he felt detached, as if floating above himself.
He saw another version of himself, a frantic, desperate stranger.
He was struggling against Ji Shuhuai, tears streaming down his face, yelling something he couldn’t hear.
Other patients and their families emerged from their rooms, drawn by the commotion. Doctors and nurses rushed forward, helping Ji Shuhuai restrain him and pull him back into the room.
Then…
Everything went black.
He was pulled into a long, vivid dream. He dreamt of his childhood, his parents away at work, his sister and grandparents taking care of him. His sister always played with him, watched cartoons with him. They were inseparable.
Later, when she went away to boarding school, she always brought him gifts when she returned.
One year, he missed her so much he walked all the way to her school.
But he didn’t know her class, so he sat on the curb outside the school, waiting.
He saw her emerge for lunch.
She was surprised to see him, rushing over to ask him what he was doing there.
“I missed you, Sis,” he had said.
She had scolded him, both amused and exasperated, telling him never to wander off alone again. She took him to a nearby restaurant, bought him steamed buns, and then took leave from school to walk him home.
It was a long walk, and they didn’t have much money, so they walked hand in hand.
But he had already walked a long distance and was tired. He wanted to rest.
His sister had knelt down and offered him a piggyback ride.
He had clung to her tightly.
“Sis, can you stop living at school?” he had asked.
“No, I have to study.”
“Do you have to?”
“Yes. I have to study hard so I can find a good job and earn a lot of money, so Mom and Dad don’t have to work so hard.”
“I don’t have a lot of money, but I have my New Year’s money. I can give it all to you.”
“But that’s not enough.”
He had fallen silent, disappointed.
His sister, sensing his sadness, had adjusted his position on her back. “I know you don’t want me to leave, but you have to wait a little longer.”
“How long?”
“Until I can earn enough money. Then we’ll go find Mom and Dad, and we’ll buy a big house and live together forever. We’ll never be apart again.”
“Pinky swear?”
“Pinky swear.”
As a child, time seemed to move slowly, everything felt permanent. But he later learned that everything was fragile, transient, nothing stayed the same.
After their parents’ death, his sister had become quiet, withdrawn, as if she had grown up overnight, shouldering the responsibility of their family.
He had also been forced to grow up quickly.
Under the weight of their circumstances, he had almost forgotten those childhood promises.
But after her first year of work, she had shown him a bank card with almost 100,000 yuan.
“Did you win the lottery?” he had asked, surprised.
“No, this is your New Year’s money, my New Year’s money, and everything I’ve saved.”
“You actually saved my New Year’s money? I thought you spent it.”
“Do you think I’m like you?” she had said, playfully hitting him. “I have a plan.”
“What plan?”
“To buy a house near Mom and Dad. So we can live together. I’ve been thinking about it for a long time. It’s not enough yet, but I’ll keep saving. We’ll get there one day.”
He remembered that night, his sister carrying him home, making promises.
“You still remember that?”
“Of course. Even though Mom and Dad are gone, we still need a home.”
“But it’s not enough to buy a house here, Sis.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it. It’s only my first year of work. I’ll save enough.”
“Hey, why the long face? Don’t worry, I’ve got this. Your big sister is here.”
She had been so confident, so full of hope.
They both had such bright futures ahead of them.
Surely fate would be kind to them, just once.
Surely their luck would change.
Things were getting better.
They had worked so hard.
Why did it end like this?
Why?
He dreamt a long, vivid dream, sometimes aware it was a dream, sometimes not.
It felt too real.
He saw his sister, his parents, his grandparents.
They finally had a house of their own in the city.
It wasn’t big, the furnishings simple, but it felt like home.
It was his first time visiting. He opened the door and saw his parents busy in the kitchen.
His sister was watching TV with his grandparents in the living room.
Hearing him enter, his sister turned and smiled.
“You’re home.”
Jing Ciying opened his eyes.
The room was dark.
He felt disoriented, his mind foggy after a long sleep.
He didn’t know where he was, what time it was. Was it night already?
He must have slept for a long time because his throat was parched, but he didn’t move, just lay there, clinging to the warmth of the dream.
But even the most beautiful dreams had to end.
He had to face reality.
His sister was gone, leaving him alone in the world.
It had been so sudden.
But then again, all the major turning points in his life had been sudden, unexpected.
What time was it?
He didn’t know.
Time seemed to have lost all meaning. He felt an overwhelming exhaustion, unable to move, wanting only to lie there in the darkness.
He had lost.
Lost to time, to fate, all his chips gone. He was alone.
The light flickered on, and the room brightened.
Someone approached, helping him sit up.
“Xiaoying,” a voice said, “you need to be strong. She’s gone, but life goes on.”
He focused his gaze, seeing Ji Shuhuai and Aunt Liu, holding a thermos.
“Xiaoying, eat something. You’ve been asleep for a day and a night,” Aunt Liu said with a strained smile, pouring him a bowl of soup.
He took the bowl, his hand trembling.
The pork rib soup was freshly made, the warmth seeping through the bowl and spreading through his cold hand.
It was like a switch, reawakening his senses.
He felt his body again.
“Tha…” his voice was a raspy whisper.
“Here, drink some water,” Aunt Liu said, handing him a glass of warm water. “You must have been crying. Drink some water.”
He drank the water gratefully, the moisture soothing his parched throat.
“Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it. We’ve known each other for years.”
Her words triggered a flicker of memory. How long had they known each other?
He tried to calculate, but his mind was sluggish.
“Eat something,” Ji Shuhuai said gently, seeing his distraction.
“Okay.” He nodded and started eating slowly.
The soup smelled delicious, but he couldn’t taste anything.
His taste buds must be malfunctioning.
He finished the soup. Aunt Liu offered him more, but he declined.
“I’m not hungry. I have things to do,” he said, trying to get up, but his body felt weak.
“Xiaoying, don’t rush. Rest a little longer. I’ll help you with the arrangements for your sister,” Ji Shuhuai said quickly.
“No,” he shook his head. “I have to do it. It’s her final journey. I have to be there.”
Ji Shuhuai’s eyes reddened, perhaps remembering his own loss.
“Alright. You do it.”
He helped Jing Ciying stand up. His legs were shaky, and he had to lean on Ji Shuhuai for support.
He went to the morgue to see his sister one last time, completed the discharge procedures, contacted the funeral home, and watched as they took her away. When she returned, she was in a small urn.
She had been so thin, her weight constantly decreasing due to the liquid diet. He could easily lift her.
But the urn was even lighter, almost weightless, easily held in one hand.
He had to buy a burial plot, arrange the funeral.
But he couldn’t bear it. He took the urn home.
Ji Shuhuai didn’t pressure him, visiting regularly, making sure he ate and drank. Those visits were the only times he felt truly alive.
He was grateful but couldn’t express it, storing his gratitude deep within his heart, intending to thank him properly when he had regained his composure.
But Ji Shuhuai didn’t seem to expect anything in return, just continued his quiet support.
One day, as Ji Shuhuai was visiting, making him eat, Jing Ciying suddenly spoke.
“It must have been so hard for you back then.”
Ji Shuhuai understood. He gave a sad smile. “It was, but I survived.”
“How?” Jing Ciying asked.
Ji Shuhuai thought for a moment. “Because I realized… no matter how painful, how difficult, life goes on. And those we lose… they don’t truly disappear. The memories, the habits, the dreams we shared… they become a part of us, and they stay with us.”
Jing Ciying listened quietly, continuing to eat.
He had a surprisingly good appetite today, finishing everything Ji Shuhuai had brought.
As Ji Shuhuai was about to leave, Jing Ciying stopped him. “Mr. Ji.”
“Yes?”
“I want to buy a burial plot for my sister.”
Burial plots in Lincheng were expensive. After the purchase, his bank account was almost empty.
If Pei Songji saw his balance, he would be shocked, considering the generous salary he paid him.
But he didn’t care.
He had even used the money his sister had saved for a house.
After all these years, they hadn’t managed to buy a house.
But he knew a house wasn’t what they truly wanted.
They just wanted to be together as a family.
Now, that dream was gone.
He had to move on. It was difficult, but he had to take that first step.
But even that first step took a long time.
He remained in a daze, lost in grief.
After a while, he finally regained some semblance of normalcy, remembering he had a job.
How long had he been away?
He checked his phone, seeing countless missed calls and unread messages.
From his aunt, Ruoruo, colleagues, but mostly from Pei Songji.
He scrolled through the call log. Over a hundred missed calls from Pei Songji.
He hadn’t answered a single one.
No one had ever ignored Pei Songji like this. He could only imagine his boss’s fury.
In the past, he would have rushed to apologize. He needed this job. But now, he didn’t care. He felt strangely calm.
He called Pei Songji back.
The call was answered immediately.
“Jing Ciying,” Pei Songji’s voice thundered, “you better have a good explanation for this.”
Pei Songji’s world had been turned upside down again.
His always reliable, always obedient, always meticulous secretary had abandoned him in Colorado, leaving without a word, returning to China without even taking his luggage.
Then, he had disappeared for a month, not answering calls, not replying to messages, not showing up for work.
Initially, he had been furious. But after the hundredth unanswered call, his anger had turned to worry. Had something happened to him?
He had gone to Jing Ciying’s apartment, but no one was there. He had knocked repeatedly, but no one answered.
He continued calling and messaging, but there was no response.
He had been so angry, especially after the incident in Colorado. He had planned a romantic dinner at a meticulously prepared restaurant.
But he had ended up dining alone.
He had stared at the exquisite food, the beautiful flowers, listening to the soft music, his heart filled with rage.
He had called Jing Ciying, but he hadn’t answered.
He hadn’t realized it was just the beginning of a month-long silence.
“I’m sorry,” Jing Ciying said, knowing he was in the wrong. He hadn’t requested leave, hadn’t answered calls. It was all his fault. He offered a sincere apology.
But Pei Songji wasn’t appeased. “Is that all you have to say?”
“I’m sorry. It was my fault. Please deduct my salary.”
He knew most people would understand if he explained about his sister.
But he couldn’t bring himself to expose his vulnerability, his family’s tragedy, to Pei Songji.
He was being stubbornly secretive, even to himself.
“Jing. Ci. Ying.” Pei Songji’s voice was laced with disbelief. “You disappear for a month, and you think a simple apology is enough? I’ll ask you one last time, give me a reasonable explanation, or…” he hesitated, then delivered the ultimatum, “or don’t bother coming back.”
He didn’t actually intend to fire him. He just wanted an explanation.
It wasn’t just about anger, but about his desire to be a part of Jing Ciying’s life, to understand what he had been through.
He knew Jing Ciying needed the money, needed this job. He would surely comply.
But to his surprise, Jing Ciying remained silent.
A sense of unease settled in his stomach. He wanted to retract his threat, but it was too late.
Before he could speak, Jing Ciying replied.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Pei. I resign.”
