Chapter 60: The Winter Month
Wen Bairan was discharged from the hospital that same night.
Zhou Lin was admitted to her now vacant ward.
If it weren’t for Xiang Sun’s first question upon arriving: “Did he make it?” Wen Bairan wouldn’t have known that Song Xu’s fighting skills were already at a professional competition level.
She gasped, whirled around, and manhandled Zhou Lin into the examination room.
Waiting for the results outside the isolation door, he, lying on the gurney, was in so much pain that cold sweat beaded on his face, yet he gritted his teeth and said, “Don’t look at me like that, I’m totally fine. That guy’s flashy moves were all for show; they couldn’t hurt me at all.”
Wen Bairan knitted her brows.
Although Zhou Lin had always been a troublemaker, he had rarely actually gotten into fights. For one, whenever trouble arose, there were always people lining up to solve problems for him. For another, his young master’s body was delicate, and he was a neat freak—he always thought fighting was dirty and utterly beneath him, never deigning to roll around on the ground with anyone.
But today was different. Not only did he start a fight in the hospital room, but now, afraid she would worry, he was stubbornly insisting that after a short rest, he could still go another round with Song Xu.
Wen Bairan’s high fever had just subsided to 37.6°C, but upon hearing this, it instantly spiked back to 38°C.
“Fight again? Do you think you’re still 18 or 20? Even if you were, could you beat him? Zhou Lin, you never learn, but at least have some self-awareness!” She rarely spoke so harshly, but when Zhou Lin got worked up, he was like a spinning top—if you didn’t whip him, he wouldn’t learn his lesson.
“I…”
Zhou Lin frowned, deeply dissatisfied with such an evaluation. What self-awareness? He just hadn’t been prepared earlier.
But seeing that Wen Bairan was truly angry, he pursed his lips and swallowed his words.
His eyes and the corner of his mouth were bruised, blood trickling down his chin and dripping onto his collar, leaving mottled brown stains that looked terrifying. Now, scolded and not daring to make a sound, his mind was still fixated on Song Xu’s cheap shot, completely forgetting that he had also taken advantage of a distracted moment to throw a punch.
If it weren’t for Xiang Sun stepping in, the hospital security would have hauled both of them off to the police station.
Wen Bairan saw his aggrieved, stubborn expression—both pitiful and defiant—and couldn’t tell whether she felt more heartache or anger. “I’ve told you over and over, stay calm outside, stay calm. Acting impulsively solves nothing. And you? You put on a martial arts show for me here. Have you really been treating everything I said as if it went in one ear and out the other?”
He had finally made some progress recently; even Father Zhou had begun to see him in a better light. How rare was that? Others might not understand, but how could she not?
Zhou Lin was different from Song Xu. Outsiders saw him as having everything he wanted, but in truth, he had very little that truly belonged to him.
Now that he finally had the awareness and ability to stand on his own, this wasn’t meant for him to use to pick fights.
“You know how hard it is to get any approval from your father. You were almost there, and now you’re going to ruin it all over a moment of impulse?” The more Wen Bairan thought about it, the angrier she became, wishing she could punch him a couple more times.
“It wasn’t a moment of impulse.”
Zhou Lin struggled to sit up, but his breathing accidentally tugged at his injuries, instantly turning his face pale. A hoarse, wheezing sound escaped his throat.
Wen Bairan quickly pressed down on his shoulders, saying urgently, “Stop moving around! The doctor said you need to lie down. Lie back down, now!”
Zhou Lin was in too much pain to argue, so he obediently lay back and quieted down for a while.
Wen Bairan watched as cold sweat dripped from his forehead, her frown deepening.
Since childhood, aside from her slaps, no one had ever laid a finger on him. Song Xu knew he was no match, yet he still struck so ruthlessly. What if he had seriously injured him?
As she thought this, she instinctively glanced around, looking for Song Xu.
The hallway was empty.
Xiang Sun had gone to pay the fees.
He and Xu Lanjun had been enjoying themselves at a nightclub when they received the call and rushed over. Xu Lanjun was completely baffled—how did two people who were perfectly fine during dinner end up fighting in the hospital just hours later?
During the back-and-forth examinations earlier, Wen Bairan had been too busy taking care of Zhou Lin to pay attention to anyone else. Out of the corner of her eye, she seemed to see Xu Lanjun leaving with Song Xu.
She wondered if he had gone to treat his wounds. His face was also badly injured.
Wen Bairan felt so exhausted she wished she could be in two places at once.
In her moment of distraction, Zhou Lin on the gurney caught his breath and suddenly grabbed her hand, urgently saying, “I didn’t do it for myself!”
She was stunned. “Then why did you do it?”
A momentary fit of pride?
Or a burst of hot-headedness?
Neither was a good reason for his impulsiveness.
Wen Bairan sighed helplessly. “Don’t be so childish, okay…”
“That Song guy doesn’t love you!”
She fell silent abruptly.
Zhou Lin frowned, his dark eyes burning intensely.
The pain from his injuries left less of a mark on his expression than the way he was looking at her now.
Wen Bairan was momentarily speechless. “A Lin…”
“I admit, on paper, he’s not inferior to me. If you really loved him, and he loved you, then I… I’d have nothing to say. But he doesn’t love you—at least, not the way I love you!”
“I can’t stand by and watch you be deceived. Do you understand?”
If only, if only Song had looked at her with even a little more love in his eyes.
If only he weren’t so calm.
Zhou Lin wouldn’t have felt such an intense urge to snatch Wen Bairan back from him.
She was so wonderful, so wonderful that every day without her, he regretted it so much he could’ve killed himself.
How could it be? How could that Song guy not love her as much yet still end up with her?
Zhou Lin admitted he was jealous, insanely jealous.
No matter what, he wanted another chance.
A fair chance, one that would let her see his determination.
Gritting his teeth against the sharp pain in his chest, he clutched her hand tightly.
Wen Bairan’s hand felt almost crushed. She frowned slightly, seeing his stubborn, clenched-jaw expression, so familiar from the past.
She paused.
“Ran Ran, I don’t want to see you get hurt again. Please give me a chance, let me start over.”
“I promise, I’ll love you even more than before.”
"I love you more than he loves you."
/
Late at night.
The wind in the parking lot stung their faces.
Xu Lanjun, who was sensitive to cold, sat in the car watching the man outside smoke cigarette after cigarette.
She had just learned that Zhou Lin and Wen Bairan had already broken up, and even more surprisingly, Wen Bairan was now with Song Xu.
No wonder—no wonder their conversation tonight had been so strange.
Before coming to Shenjiang, Guang Peiliang had constantly praised Song Xu at home. He extolled his exceptional abilities, steady personality, and outstanding appearance, insisting she spend more time with him. Even if they didn’t become a couple, he said, being friends would be immensely valuable.
Xu Lanjun was thirty-five this year and had met all kinds of people. She knew full well that even the best man was still just a man.
If it weren’t for the upcoming magazine feature on emerging medical technology companies—and Song Xu and P&T being prime examples—she might not have made this trip.
As for her first impression of him, Song Xu had indeed made a positive impact.
But only professionally.
She admired his vision and approach, but personally, he couldn’t compare to Zhou Lin—Song Xu wasn’t lively, came across as distant, and was too aloof to be passionate. Anyone dating him would surely feel suffocated.
And she couldn’t stand feeling suffocated.
In that sense, Wen Bairan’s calm nature actually suited her well.
But earlier, outside the imaging room, the way she had focused entirely on Zhou Lin seemed to suggest unresolved feelings.
Tsk.
Even as an outsider, Xu Lanjun could sense the unspoken tacit understanding and intimacy between the two—how could Song Xu not?
Sure enough, he had been standing in the cold wind for over an hour, his face as cold and hard as iron.
Cold enough to freeze someone to death.
Xu Lanjun watched as the man leaning against the car finished half a pack of cigarettes. When he reached for the last one and found the pack empty, he crushed it in anger. The cold winter moonlight spilled over his shoulders, casting a frosty, chilling glow.
He wasn’t even wearing a coat.
Old Guang said he was steady.
But what kind of steady person gets into a physical fight with his current girlfriend’s ex-boyfriend?
Noticing his coat still in the driver’s seat, Xu Lanjun wondered whether to bring it out to him when a figure emerged from the darkness nearby.
Hearing footsteps, Song Xu looked up.
Wen Bairan was still unwell.
In the howling wind of the dark night, her frail figure appeared even more gaunt. Her dark beige coat, like dry leaves, looked as if it might be blown away at any moment.
He straightened and faced her.
Only as she drew closer did he see she was holding medical scans.
His narrow eyes narrowed further.
“Hairline fracture, pneumothorax.”
“He’s been hospitalized—in the room I was in earlier.”
Unaware that Xu Lanjun was still in the car, Wen Bairan stepped forward and shoved the scans into Song Xu’s arms. Her voice was cold and weary. “Are you satisfied now?”
The strong wind made it hard to stand steady. A corner of the scans slapped against Song Xu’s jaw, and his expression darkened instantly.
“So?”
“…So what? He’s already hospitalized. What more do you want?”
Wen Bairan didn’t want him to think she was blaming him. She had always considered him reasonable, but his icy demeanor now was another extreme form of irrationality.
Though it lacked the burning intensity from earlier in the hospital room, cold anger still lingered clearly in his eyes.
She had never seen such extreme negativity from him before.
The fierce wind carried a chilling atmosphere spreading beneath the night sky. The ocean, its waves frosted with foam, shimmered brightly like a mirror.
The sea used this illusion of stillness to lure those who fell into its depths into eternal doom.
A sudden chill crept up Wen Bairan’s spine, inch by inch, rising from the back of her collar.
She instinctively tightened her stance.
“Song Xu, I thought you were more mature than Zhou Lin.”
“This isn’t how you should handle things.”
Song Xu’s brow twitched slightly.
Then how should it be handled?
Logically, he knew her words wouldn’t change anything.
But for the first time in his life, being hurt had clearly overwhelmed his rationality.
Irritation—an inefficient, destructive emotion—was detrimental to any learning or work. His upbringing had always taught him that people should channel their limited energy into more meaningful pursuits. Yet, though he had tried to respond with calm earlier, he couldn’t ignore the concern in her eyes when she looked at Zhou Lin.
Outside the imaging room, Wen Bairan’s complete disregard for him had stirred a strange and complex feeling within him.
And this complexity intensified under her disappointed gaze now.
No amount of cold wind could extinguish this fire that left him distraught.
What exactly was this?
Silence stretched between them like quicksand.
This evening had been unbearable.
Wen Bairan could barely withstand the wind any longer and lacked the energy to decipher whether his deepening gaze sought help or confrontation.
All she wanted now was to go home.
Just then, a sound came from the car behind him.
Wen Bairan’s surprised gaze shifted past him. “…Ms. Xu?”
She's still here?
Xiang Sun has already left, and she thought they had gone back together.
Xu Lanjun hopped out of the car and ran a hand through the short hair at the back of her head, as if afraid Wen Bairan might misunderstand, and explained, "Mr. Song refused to see a doctor, and I couldn't persuade him. It's too cold outside, so I waited in the car until you arrived."
She stepped forward, picked up the X-ray film near Song Xu’s feet, and shone her phone's light on it to examine. "Looks good—no broken bones. Given Zhou Lin’s physique, he’ll recover in a couple of months."
She echoed exactly what the doctor had said.
If she remembered correctly, she also came from a medical background.
Wen Bairan cast her eyes downward and said yes, the doctor mentioned no surgery was needed—just needs proper rest and recovery.
"Okay, then I’ll go check on him. You two talk."
Xu Lanjun clutched the X-ray under her arm, rubbed her hands together before slipping them into her pockets.
As she passed Wen Bairan, she paused and said suggestively, "You're still not well, and it looks like Mr. Song is coming down with something too. He’s also injured. Both of you should take care of your health."
She seemed to be implying something.
Wen Bairan was momentarily stunned, and by the time she regained her composure, Xu Lanjun had already quickened her pace toward the building behind her.
The walk from the parking lot to the inpatient building was short. The dark spaces between the widely spaced streetlights soon swallowed Xu Lanjun’s figure. About thirty seconds later, she reappeared under a streetlight not too far ahead.
Xu Lanjun was from the north, taller than average for a woman, but the way she buried her face in her collar against the cold made her appear somewhat vulnerable.
Remembering that Xu Lanjun had come today to meet Song Xu for a blind date, Wen Bairan averted her gaze and returned her attention to the man before her.
The streetlight provided insufficient light; most of its glow was absorbed by Song Xu’s deep eyes, turning into gray shadows that faintly spread under his eyes.
His expression remained cold.
The deep purple wound at the corner of his lips marred his fair complexion.
Wen Bairan hesitated.
Since they’d met, Song Xu had always appeared impeccably groomed, pale, and refined—restrained to the point of repression. No one had ever seen him injured, and no one knew his weaknesses. He lived like an impeccable machine.
She had instinctively disregarded what he might be feeling and instead criticized his cold exterior.
But what if—just what if—
he was also in pain,
also in emotional pain—
what then?
With a quiet sigh, Wen Bairan took half a step forward and raised her hand. In the still-bright moonlight, she carefully touched the wound at the corner of his mouth.
"Does it hurt?"
Song Xu, unlike Zhou Lin, never complained of pain or showed weakness—usually, he was the one hurting others.
For the first time, she found his cold indifference so unappealing.
Even if putting on a brave front was seen through, it was better than him staying silent like this.
Frowning, she cupped his face, trying to peer into the depths of his eyes, to fathom the secrets buried in their depths.
"Song Xu, tell me."
"Have you really fallen in love with me?"
He said, yes.
I think so.
As the words fell, the light in Song Xu’s eyes suddenly died.
He reached out to embrace her slender waist,
drawing her tightly against him.
The softness of her lips mingled with the sting of his wound.
Song Xu said with a hint of defeat,
"Wen Bairan,
I think I’ve really fallen in love with you."
…