——
The hospital is in the east of the city, and there was another traffic jam on the road.
Zhao Xiyin regretted not taking the subway; the scorching 38-degree Celsius heat was almost scalding the cherries in her hands. The hepatobiliary ward was on the twelfth floor, and the door to the ward was ajar. She hesitated for a moment before knocking.
"Please come in."
Zhao Xiyin took a deep breath and pushed the door open to go inside.
There were other people in the ward. Dai Yunxin was leaning against the bed, her smile abruptly stopping when she saw her. Noticing the change, Zhou Qishen turned around and was also taken aback.
Their eyes met, and neither of them looked away.
Zhao Xiyin gripped the fruit box tightly, turned her gaze from Zhou Qishen to Dai Yunxin: "Teacher, I heard you were sick, I... I just happened to be passing by, so I came to see you."
Dai Yunxin presented a cold face, without the slightest hint of a smile.
Zhao Xiyin stood there, unsure whether to go forward or backward. After a two-second silence, she walked over, placed the cherries on the table, and said in a softer voice, "I bought some fruit. Would you like some now?"
Dai Yunxin said coldly, "Take it away."
Zhao Xiyin remained silent, and the atmosphere was awkward no matter what. It wasn't until Zhou Qishen stepped in to defuse the situation that Zhao Xiyin was shielded behind him as he stood up.
"Weren't you just complaining that I came empty-handed? What are you going to do with such good fruit?" Zhou Qishen smiled, his eyes slanting towards his temples, exuding composure. He said, "Once you come, you are a guest. There's no reason to send someone away."
Dai Yun glanced at him, feeling a sense of relief; Zhou Qishen was too protective of his own.
“You need to take good care of your health, but don’t be too serious about it. Everyone gets sick sometimes.” Zhou Qishen chatted casually, quickly changing the tense atmosphere. Suddenly, he turned his head and said in a low voice, “Please sit down.”
I haven't forgotten Zhao Xiyin.
Although Dai Yunxin still kept a straight face, she couldn't refuse Zhou Qishen's request, so despite her lack of interest, she managed to maintain a semblance of peace. Zhao Xiyin was about to leave after five minutes, but Dai Yunxin turned her head away, ignoring her.
Zhou Qishen didn't want to embarrass Zhao Xiyin. He glanced at her and said, "Teacher Dai should rest now. Let's go together."
After leaving the hospital, Zhao Xiyin didn't feel much relief. Zhou Qishen walked ahead of her, taking three or five steps at a leisurely pace, as if he had planned it all out.
Summer dusk is the latest of the seasons; around six o'clock, the sky is still a vibrant red. Zhou Qishen's back is handsome, with broad shoulders, a straight spine, and muscles well-defined on his frame. Today he wears a solid-colored short-sleeved shirt with a checkered belt around his waist, looking neat, clean, and very handsome.
When they reached the intersection, Zhou Qishen didn't give her a chance to speak, pointing to the car on the right, "Where are you going? I'll give you a ride."
The car lights flashed briefly, and Zhou Qishen had already opened the car door. Zhao Xiyin hesitated for half a second, then he called to her again, "Get in the car."
The car interior had a faint smell of genuine leather and a lingering fragrance. Zhao Xiyin was very familiar with this perfume; she had even complained about its strange name back then, saying that the words "Road to the Underworld" sounded unlucky.
Zhou Qishen had just finished showering, his hair still dripping wet, a towel loosely tied around his waist, and his bare feet leaving wet footprints with every step. Zhao Xiyin, feeling playful, stepped on his footprints to compare sizes, "Brother Zhou, your feet are so big, one and a half times my size!"
Her fair and delicate feet dangled gracefully, and Zhou Qishen, feeling a surge of heat, went over and hugged her, his manner incredibly roguish, "Only this big?"
I don't remember many things clearly, but for those two years, the definition of an embrace was the lingering scent of his body, faint yet very sexy.
Zhou Qishen fastened his seatbelt, warmed up the car, and said, "Teacher Dai is cold on the outside but warm on the inside. Don't take what she just said to heart. If she really didn't like you, she would just be polite to you, not throw a tantrum."
Zhao Xiyin didn't say anything, she just smiled.
Zhou Qishen's hands rested on the steering wheel for a while before he asked, "How long are you staying? Where would you like to travel next?"
Zhao Xiyin said, "I don't know, let's see. I'll spend some time with my dad first."
She paused, then turned to look at him, "I almost forgot to say thank you. Thank you for always keeping him company."
Zhou Qishen smiled and said, "You're welcome. Uncle Zhao has always been very good to me."
The conversation had been casual and lighthearted, like that of ordinary friends, but Zhou Qishen suddenly grew tired of this superficial peace. He stopped talking and didn't move the car; his entire being seemed to sink into silence. Zhao Xiyin looked out the window, and this simple turn of her head seemed to draw a clear line between them.
Her skirt draped over her legs, and her hands rested gently on them, her wrists turned inward, but the long scar on her arm was still visible.
Two years have passed, and the scar has faded to just a light pink layer, but every time Zhou Qishen looks at it, it's as if he's been thrown into boiling water and rolled around again.
His throat burned, and he couldn't hold back any longer, finally asking, "...Does it still hurt?"
Chapter 4 The Swallows Parting Ways (4)
Zhao Xiyin was stunned for a moment, then instinctively covered herself with her arm and said, "It doesn't hurt anymore."
Zhou Qishen's hand on the steering wheel trembled.
He served in the army in his early years, and his physical fitness and professional skills were top-notch. He was always the first to march hundreds of miles through barren mountains and traverse deserted grasslands. When he went to the United States to participate in joint military exercises, he played arm wrestling with Israeli soldiers during their free time, and he dislocated one of their joints.
Zhao Xiyin said it didn't hurt, but how could it not hurt when it was hit so hard?
The calmer she became, the more guilty and ashamed Zhou Qishen felt. Touched by an old wound that could not be spoken of, they both fell silent.
He remembered the route he took Zhao Xiyin home perfectly, including where she changed lanes, which intersection she turned at, and the waiting time at traffic lights.
Upon arriving at the residential compound, Zhao Xiyin said, "Thanks."
Zhou Qishen called out to her, "Wait a moment."
He got out of the car, opened the back door, took out a paper bag and handed it to him. "I was on a business trip abroad a while ago, and my friends there said these medicines are pretty good. They can fade any kind of scars. I brought some back for you since I was on the way anyway. You can try them out."
The brown paper bag was bulging; it was no longer just a casual remark like "I brought some along." Zhao Xiyin glanced at it but didn't take it. With that same nonchalant smile, she said, "No need, thank you."
She turned around, her figure disappearing into the twilight blue sky. Zhou Qishen's hands fell to his sides, his fingers loosening their grip, almost dropping the paper bag. He sat in the car for five or six minutes without moving when the property management knocked on the window. The old man's voice boomed, "You've been parked for too long! You're blocking the way behind you!"
Zhou Qishen didn't say anything, took out a pack of white-label special-supply cigarettes from the storage compartment and handed it over, then turned the steering wheel and drove away.