Chapter 48 The Maze
The next day, Wen Bairan took Ding Benxuan with her to Shenda Medical.
Director Liu reintroduced them to the mother and her daughter.
The girl was named Ye Zi, nineteen years old. At first, Ye Zi’s mother thought they were reporters and refused to let them interact with her daughter. Director Liu had to do a lot of convincing before she finally looked at Wen Bairan with a skeptical look.
“Can you really help Ye Zi?”
Wen Bairan didn’t want to lie to her and said honestly, “Ms. Ye, actually, I’m here to talk to you.”
Ye Qian was taken aback. “Me?”
Behind the inpatient wing of Shenda Medical was a small garden where many patients and their families would take walks when the weather was nice.
Wen Bairan bought two cups of coffee and sat with Ye Qian in a pavilion.
Autumn in Shenzhen was short, and sunny, warm days were rare.
Today happened to be another sunny day.
Ye Qian faced outside the pavilion, the sunlight shining on her face making her reflexively close her eyes.
“The weather is so nice,” she said calmly.
Wen Bairan had learned from Director Liu that ever since Ye Zi fell ill, the mother and daughter had either been in the hospital or on their way to one. They had traveled all over the country and finally chose Shenzhen.
Unsurprisingly, she already knew what Ye Qian’s next words would be.
“If only Ye Zi could come out and enjoy the sun as well.”
As she spoke, Ye Qian opened her eyes and sat up straight.
As if staying in that peaceful moment of soaking up the sun for even a second longer would be a sin, she quickly retreated back into the shade, lifted the bitter coffee, and took a sip.
The hot black coffee without milk or sugar was extremely bitter, but it just so happened to ease the guilt she felt from the previous minute.
It had been exactly one year since Ye Zi was diagnosed.
In that year, she had dropped out of school and left her hometown to seek medical treatment.
Her condition deteriorated rapidly. The brain tumor caused early paralysis, making it impossible for her to sit up on her own by the second month after diagnosis. Before coming to Shenzhen, she began experiencing blurred vision. On the second day of her stay at Shenda Medical, she completely lost vision in her right eye, and the vision in her left eye was now only 0.2.
Director Liu said this was due to the tumor pressing on the optic nerve, and the only solution was to remove the tumor.
But unfortunately, her current physical condition wasn’t stable enough for surgery.
Ye Qian showed Wen Bairan photos of Ye Zi before she fell ill—a flower-like face, with long, flowing hair, a love for taking photos and plush toys, and a smile so bright it was dazzling.
Wen Bairan said she was very beautiful.
Ye Qian’s face couldn’t hide her pride: “If she hadn’t gotten this illness, Ye Zi would be in her third year of university now. I’ve always carefully nurtured her, and she lived up to my expectations. It’s a pity fate is cruel.”
When Ye Qian divorced, Ye Zi was just one year old. Despite her family’s objections, she insisted on keeping the young Ye Zi by her side. Over the years, the mother and daughter had relied on each other. Though life was hard, Ye Zi was very sensible. Besides studying, she would help with chores, and after starting university, the first thing she did was sign up for a work-study program to ease her mother’s burden.
“She tutored a middle school student. She stayed up too late preparing lessons one night, didn’t get enough sleep, and fainted at the student’s house the next day. The family was terrified and called an ambulance to take Ye Zi to the hospital. Actually, Ye Zi had been suffering from headaches for a long time by then. Afraid she might have an episode during class, she took a full dose of ibuprofen beforehand. The doctors performed gastric lavage and recommended further tests, but Ye Zi, worried about the cost, left on her own after regaining consciousness. She didn’t tell me anything. I only found out when she suddenly had a nosebleed in class that wouldn’t stop, and her homeroom teacher called to tell me to come quickly.”
Ye Qian sighed. “Life has never given me a single good day.”
Ye Zi’s symptoms were textbook. The school clinic referred her to the local people’s hospital, where the CT results basically confirmed the diagnosis.
Ye Qian immediately decided on surgery for her, but the results were not ideal.
Ye Zi was out of the operating room in less than forty minutes.
The doctors said the tumor was too deep, and the complexity of operating on the central nervous system was unimaginable. As they tried to remove the tumor, even the slightest impact on the nerves could have killed her at any moment during the procedure. In the operating room, the surgeons almost immediately decided to abort the surgery after opening her skull.
Ye Qian didn’t know how to break the news to her daughter. Ye Zi was so young—she had cried all night when she learned she would have to shave her head for the surgery.
Ye Qian begged the doctors to explore other options, and they suggested trying conservative treatment.
Radiotherapy was the most promising conservative treatment aside from surgery, but the brain damage it caused was just as serious.
At first, Ye Zi could still move her arms, but slowly, even lifting her hands became difficult. Her headaches grew worse, and ordinary painkillers no longer worked. Especially at night, to keep Ye Qian from worrying, Ye Zi would bite through the corner of her blanket rather than cry out. Her blurred vision symptoms improved somewhat after stopping radiotherapy, but the pressure from the tumor now made it impossible for her to see.
The most dangerous thing for her now was suppression of the respiratory center. Though Ye Zi had expressed more than once that she didn’t want to be put on a ventilator—if she could stop breathing in her sleep, it would be like a beautiful dream for her now.
But Ye Qian didn’t know this. Ye Zi had quietly told Director Liu during his rounds.
Over the past year, Ye Qian had tried her best to empathize with Ye Zi’s suffering. Ye Zi was afraid that if her mother knew how she felt, she might do something drastic.
Ye Qian said she knew about proton therapy—she had seen it mentioned in patient support groups. She very much wanted to take Ye Zi to try it, but there were too few hospitals in the country offering it, and the high cost was far beyond their means.
She asked Wen Bairan if the project would recruit volunteers once completed—Ye Zi could sign up, as long as they provided free treatment.
“What else can we do? We have no money,” she said coldly.
Wen Bairan didn’t tell her that the project would take at least three years to complete, and it was uncertain if Ye Zi’s condition would allow her to last even three more weeks.
Perhaps Ye Qian knew this too, which was why she fell silent after speaking.
They stayed in the pavilion for twenty minutes.
Ye Qian, worried about Ye Zi in the hospital room, decided to return.
Wen Bairan offered that if she agreed, her company could provide them with assistance.
Ye Qian refused.
“I don’t need help, and I don’t need donations. I still have money. If you really want to help her, then hurry up and finish your proton project so she can suffer less.”
Her voice trembled slightly as she spoke, but her face showed no expression, as if she had returned to the numb state she was in yesterday while peeling apples.
It took Wen Bairan a long time to recover from the intensity of Ye Qian’s gaze.
/
Wen Bairan did not return to the hospital room.
Downstairs in the car, Ding Benxuan brought her the recording of his conversation with Ye Zi in the room.
He had talked with Ye Zi about many things—her condition, her experiences over this period. After explaining Wen Bairan’s ideas and ultimate goal, Ye Zi immediately said she was willing to participate in their project and agreed to let him make the recording public.
After listening, Wen Bairan decided against it.
The look in Ye Qian’s eyes when she spoke about proton therapy was too intense. She clearly blamed the suffering Ye Zi endured on the limitations of technology—as if, had the technology been mature and affordable today, they wouldn’t have ended up like this.
While this was certainly true, her current state was one of resentment. Though the causes of Ye Zi’s illness were complex, Ye Qian couldn’t see past it. Whether it was heaven or anyone else, everything within her awareness had become a potential culprit in her mind.
A knot of emotions this deep couldn’t be untangled with just a few words from them—it required guidance from someone more professional.
The sunlight in the parking lot was so bright it made your eyes water.
Ding Benxian was rubbing his eyes hard with the heels of his palms.
Wen Bairan asked him if he was okay, and he shook his head.
“Ye Zi asked me earlier if the sky was very blue today,” he said.
It was only when he heard this that he realized she couldn’t see anything.
A nineteen-year-old girl, her adolescence not yet over, lying there like the protagonist from *Corpse Bride*—such large eyes, yet unable to see a thing. He had almost started crying right then.
Wen Bairan pictured the appearance of the female lead in that animated film and found his description fitting: emaciated, with sunken eyes and pale, dull skin, a far cry from the beautiful girl in the photos.
It was hard for an ordinary person to imagine how much suffering she must have endured to become how she looked now.
The atmosphere in the car turned heavy for a moment.
Wen Bairan was the first to break the silence. As she was thinking of how to lighten the mood, she noticed Ding Benxian looking at her with eyes that were red.
She hesitated.
“Sister Ran, can I take an hour off work this afternoon?”
“…What for?”
“She said she wanted to hear the school’s after-school broadcast. I’m going back to Shen Da to record it for her.” Ding Benxian clutched his backpack as if carrying out some important mission that had to be completed.
Wen Bairan felt the enthusiasm in his eyes was a bit much, but she agreed anyway. She reminded him to keep some distance, especially not to upset Ye Qian.
Ding Benxian nodded seriously. “Okay!”
//
The two returned to the company first, where Wen Bairan held a department meeting.
During the meeting, she presented all the materials and preliminary plans she had gathered over the past day and a half but temporarily didn’t share details about Ye Qian and her daughter.
The proposal passed unanimously. After assigning tasks, Wen Bairan emphasized that although Friday’s proposal meeting was tight on time, she hoped everyone would do their best. Overtime pay wasn’t a concern—the company, following foreign enterprise practices, would ensure everyone’s interests were maximized, and she’d cover any extra benefits herself.
Ding Benxian led the cheer: “Sister Ran is awesome!”
The others echoed together: “Sister Ran is awesome!”
The noise from the meeting room attracted the attention of those in the outer office area, curious about how Wen Bairan had motivated them. Everyone emerged energized and quickly got to work.
Xiang Sun happened to step out for coffee and saw Wen Bairan in the break room from afar. He was about to ask if she was confident about Friday’s product proposal and whether she needed him to get Song Xu to push it back a week.
But before he could take two steps, he noticed Ding Benxian.
They had just finished the department meeting and were taking a five-minute break.
Wen Bairan leaned against the island counter waiting for the water to boil, holding an elephant-gray mug that looked somewhat familiar.
Little Ding was in front of her, saying something—the break room felt cozy.
Soon the water boiled, and as Little Ding picked up the kettle to pour water for her, he leaned his hand on the counter next to her. They stood so close that Wen Bairan didn’t pull away; instead, she smiled slightly, and she seemed completely at ease.
Seeing this, Xiang Sun lifted an eyebrow, turned around, and bumped into Song Xu.
Well, what a coincidence.
He immediately crossed his arms, with a smirk. “Perfect timing.”
“What is it?” Song Xu said, walking past him without a glance. He paused after a few steps.
In the break room, Ding Benxian was demonstrating a trick he had just learned, his clumsy technique full of flaws. Wen Bairan clearly noticed but didn’t call him out.
She looked at the paper rose he had pulled from his pocket, its creases still visible, and sighed inwardly. Not wanting to discourage him, she nodded encouragingly and said it was good.
The gentle warmth in her eyes seemed to reach straight to the heart, and Ding Benxian’s gaze softened as he looked at her.
Song Xu’s brow twitched slightly.
“I told you yesterday he told her he liked her in the office, but you didn’t believe me.”
Yesterday, when Xiang Sun went to go over materials with Wen Bairan, he overheard her talking with Ding Benxian about “liking” someone. He had immediately gone to tell Song Xu, who responded dryly, “Eavesdropping is illegal.”
Well, now he had seen it with his own eyes.
Xiang Sun walked up from behind, pursing his lips with a hint of glee. “Little Ding is a good kid—handsome, has a good family, and most importantly, young. Right, Old Song?”
He deliberately emphasized the last two words.
Song Xu glanced sideways, the sharp light in his eyes like a cold blade. “What are you trying to say?”
“...”
A chill ran down Xiang Sun’s neck. He wanted to say, No need to vent at me.
He cleared his throat awkwardly. “I’m just reminding you to be a little worried.”
“Crisis?”
Song Xu’s tone was completely flat.
Extreme calm was the most cutting disdain.
Not disdain for any particular person, but rather that none of them understood Wen Bairan.
Anyone was possible.
But the one in the break room was the least likely.
Xiang Sun didn’t understand how he could be so certain. Although Song Xu had always been arrogant and superior, Wen Bairan wasn’t like those women who used to submit to him. Otherwise, why hadn’t he gotten her to like him after all this time?
“Old Song, acting too proud will backfire,” he said, massaging his forehead with a tone of earnest advice.
The two continued walking.
As they passed the break room, the people inside had their backs turned.
Wen Bairan’s voice drifted out. “…By the way, your jacket is in my office. Remember to take it later.”
Her voice was soft, and Xiang Sun didn’t hear it.
But the one who did hear turned his gaze toward her, his lowered brow cold as ice.
//
With direction and a plan in place, things began to move forward smoothly.
Ding Benxian went to the hospital again that evening, buying two Bluetooth speakers with his own money. He promised Ye Zi that from now on, he would record the school’s broadcast for her every day, for as long as she wanted to listen.
Ye Zi was ecstatic, some color actually returned to her cheeks.
Ding Benxuan called Wen Bairan excited to share the news, saying, "Sister Ran, I think there's still hope for her!"
He was still young, hadn't studied medicine, and had no experience with terminally ill patients, yet he still firmly believed in miracles.
Wen Bairan remembered how he had red-rimmed eyes in the car and couldn't bear to shatter his fragile optimism, so she said that was great.
After today, Ding Benxuan had developed a subtle, growing dependency toward her gentleness.
He couldn't explain why, but he really wanted to see her now, so strongly that he almost wished he could grow wings and fly to her side immediately.
"Sister Ran, are you off work yet? How about you wait for me at the company? I'll come pick you up."
"No need, I'm already off work," Wen Bairan said.
The office building was completely dark, the workspace completely deserted.
The open cubicles looked like bars emerging from the darkness, forming a maze where even a glance couldn't escape the dense shadows.
In the break room, the hard granite of the island counter was digging painfully into her. Suddenly, her long hair was yanked backward, forcing Wen Bairan to tilt her head back. A large hand snatched the phone from her ear and tossed it aside.
*Thud.*
"...Sister Ran? What was that sound?"
"......"
The man forced his knee between her legs, forcing them apart as he forcefully pressed against her. He lowered his head and captured the small crimson mole at the center of her collarbone with his mouth.
Sucking and releasing it repeatedly.
Wen Bairan felt her soul nearly leave her body from his series of actions.
Only soft, intimate sounds remained, unusually clear in the silent emptiness of the night.
"...Sister Ran?"
Ding Benxuan's concerned voice came through, and Wen Bairan finally found her own voice again, quickly saying, "It's nothing, I'm going to sleep. You should head home early."
She tried her best to keep her breathing sounding normal, but as soon as she finished speaking, she was kissed once more.
Sensing her urgency to end the conversation, the young man's enthusiastic voice from the phone was drowned out by the dripping water from the faucet, a damp, muffled quality coming through.
"Oh, alright then. Goodnight, Sister Ran. See you tomorrow."
The call ended.
Ding Benxuan hadn't noticed anything unusual.
In the whirling darkness, the person in front of her seemed intent on sucking away her very soul.
Wen Bairan, unable to withstand it, raised her hands and draped her limp arms over his shoulders. Just before passing out, she mustered her last bit of strength to cup his chin and push him away.
In the ambiguous interplay of their heavy breaths, the man's eyes were intense and dark, so dark they were frightening.
"So eager to see you, and now you're going to sleep?"
His chilling tone felt like a verdict.
Wen Bairan was so angry she almost choked. "Yes, I'm going to sleep. So what? Are you jealous?"
The arm locked around her waist tightened abruptly, and she instantly felt as though he might snap her in half.
It became even harder to breathe.
"......"
"You lied to me," he said, biting her hard.
Blood welled up.
Wen Bairan gritted her teeth, enduring the pain with a frown, refusing to make a sound.
His tongue tasted the metallic tang, and he finally released her.
Gently, he licked the wound.
The tenderness was stained with blood.
Harsh and violent.
He pressed his forehead heavily against hers, insisting, "Tell me, did you lie to me?"
Sensing the atmospheric pressure around him plummeting rapidly in the silence, she met his shadowed gaze in the dimness and let out a cold laugh.
"President Song, don't be petty."
"I didn't ask who you've been meeting these past few days, so don't ask me if I spent the night alone. That's not part of our arrangement."
Her bold provocation quickly earned her a kiss that sucked nearly all the air from her lungs.
After a long moment, she finally struggled free.
Or perhaps he let her go.
He slowed down, gently kissing the salty, coppery taste at the corner of her lips.
She felt like she was being grinded into exhaustion, so she ruthlessly dug her fingers into his jaw and pushed.
"Wait, Song Xu... I can give you a chance."
He stopped.
In the darkness, their locked gazes burned into each other's faces.
He didn't say a word, yet the raw intensity of his presence felt like it could drown her.
The fear of the deep sea probably stemmed from this kind of absolute pressure that could steal your breath away at any moment.
Wen Bairan's mouth went dry, and her heart hammered uncontrollably.
It took her a while to catch her breath before she heard her own weak, breathy voice say, "Let's go to my place."
…