Zhou Qishen turned his head slightly, his peripheral vision catching the darkness of the master bedroom. It was as if his heart sank along with it, feeling both powerless and heartbroken.
He had a check-up before the Chinese New Year, and the doctor advised him to have a follow-up check-up if he felt unwell. Unexpectedly, his headaches worsened significantly as the New Year approached. After returning from Xi'an, the doctor recommended that he undergo surgery immediately.
Zhou Qishen could see that Zhao Xiyin was sincere and really wanted to remarry.
He had considered delaying it until the surgery was completed and everything was confirmed, then he would never let her go. But every time he met Zhao Xiyin's expectant eyes, he felt he deserved to die, and he couldn't bear to make her wait even a second longer.
Let's remarry!
He thought.
That prenuptial agreement, which involved risking his life and fortune, was the greatest sincerity he could offer.
If something goes wrong, at least Zhao Xiyin will have a way out.
The new CCTV building, within sight, displayed LED lighting effects that rapidly shifted from dark purple to bright yellow, the light dazzling and glaring. Zhou Qishen was momentarily dizzy from the glare; in that instant of loss of balance, a sudden wave of regret washed over him—
Am I being too selfish? She should be innocent, but now she's forced to bear so much pressure and constraints.
The time it takes to smoke a cigarette.
Zhou Qishen's headache had been relentless since last night, and it had reached its limit. Judging that Zhao Xiyin was already fast asleep, he quietly entered the bedroom and turned on only a very dim nightlight.
The lamplight, like the soft glow of an old red candle, cast a fuzzy reflection on the pale gray walls. Zhou Qishen took two bottles of painkillers from the bottom drawer, unscrewed the caps, and was about to pour them when Zhao Xiyin's voice rang out softly, "Will I die?"
Zhou Qishen's hand trembled.
She repeated, "Will I die?"
The tone was too calm, like the sky before a blizzard, waiting for a westerly wind to tear open the snow.
When Zhou Qishen turned around, he realized that Zhao Xiyin was already in tears.
"Xiao Xi." His heart clenched, and the thought of being twisted and turned made him even more at a loss. He hurriedly climbed onto the bed, carefully pulled her into his arms, and explained over and over again like coaxing a child: "The doctor said it's most likely benign, and very small, and it was discovered in time. Many people have this, some neglect checkups, and it just goes on and on without any problems, but the headaches are really bad."
Zhou Qishen said in a serious tone: "I am more sensitive to pain than the average person. If it were someone else, most people would not take it seriously."
It was half true, half false, mostly meant to make her happy. Zhao Xiyin clutched his collar, her sobs, which she had held back all night, finally broke down and spilled over.
"You liar, you liar!" she muttered incoherently, her voice trembling with sobs and grievance. "Why did you keep this from me for so long? Why didn't you tell me sooner? Why did you have to bear it all by yourself? Do you think you're a hero? You stinking coward, Zhou Qishen, you bastard, you're not human."
Zhou Qishen chuckled, amused by the conversation, "Sometimes a bear, sometimes a tortoise, sometimes a human, what species am I anyway?"
Zhao Xiyin cried even louder, clenching her fists and hitting his shoulder. "I, I," in her desperation, she even cursed herself, "I'm such an idiot."
"Damn it," Zhou Qishen was really unhappy, hugging and kissing him, "You're not allowed to curse yourself. If you don't like it, you can call me worse than a pig or a dog."
She sobbed, "No need to scold me, you are!"
"Alright, this is the last night. I have to go to the hospital tomorrow. Let me see my wife looking beautiful." Zhou Qishen coaxed her, patting her back.
"What do you mean, 'last night'?!" Zhao Xiyin was furious. "Can't you say something auspicious?!"
"Alright, alright." Zhou Qishen pretended to slap himself. "You made your wife worry."
Zhao Xiyin couldn't bear to part with him, so she grabbed his hand and covered her face with it. The crying gradually subsided, and then all was quiet. Zhao Xiyin remained motionless in that position for a long while, and Zhou Qishen felt the heat flowing between her fingers. Like red-hot iron, it branded his heart.
This was Zhao Xiyin's last cry of the night. Afterward, she returned to normal and, with her eyes still red, helped Zhou Qishen pack his things.
Clothes, pants, razor, skincare products—everything, big or small, was taken care of perfectly.
“You go first tomorrow. I’ll drive here myself. Don’t worry about home. Xu Ge will handle things at the company. Don’t take any chances. I’ll only give you seven days at most, no, five days.” Zhao Xiyin’s voice was hoarse, but her tone was still very serious. “Zhou Qishen, let me tell you, you’re born to be a workaholic. You have to keep working day and night. I won’t allow you to lie down for too long, I won’t allow you to sleep in, and I won’t allow you to close your eyes and slack off on that broken operating table.”
Zhao Xiyin sniffed, continuing to tidy up, "Try it if you don't believe me. If it doesn't get better in more than five days, the company will take it away and you won't have your wife anymore."
Zhou Qishen lay half-reclined on the bed, resting against the headboard. He laughed upon hearing this, "I don't care about the company, but my wife must be mine."
"Do you think you're some domineering CEO from a book?" Zhao Xiyin teased him. "There aren't that many devoted people in the world who abandon each other when disaster strikes. If you were crippled, I guarantee I'd take your money and go find some pretty boys and young hunks outside, all younger than you, living a life of revelry every night."
As she spoke, her nasal tone became more pronounced, and she threatened in a muffled voice, "Try it if you don't believe me."
Zhou Qishen's headache seemed to have eased considerably. A slight smile played on his lips, and the corners of his eyes turned up, adding a touch of allure to the three faint lines on his face. He said nothing, but as he watched Zhao Xiyin's busy figure, a slight moisture welled up in his eyes.
That night, Zhou Qishen slept holding Zhao Xiyin.
Zhao Xiyin stood with her back to him, her body like a relaxed bow. The man's chest was hot, his heartbeat steady and strong.
They didn't speak to each other after that; their breathing was the only form of communication.
Zhou Qishen's headache came and went, fluctuating between bouts, but he eventually slept soundly. He didn't notice anything amiss while he was asleep. Zhao Xiyin, with her eyes closed, moved his hands, which were wrapped around her chest, slowly down to her lower abdomen.
She moved forward, pressing her abdomen closer to Zhou Qishen's palm.
It was late at night, and all was quiet.
In the very end, our heartbeats became one.
The following morning, Zhou Qi went to the hospital to conduct pre-operative preparations.
Gu Heping and Lao Cheng arrived. Secretary Xu, dressed in a suit and tie, still maintained the image of an elite secretary. He reported on the documents one by one, completely disregarding Zhou Qishen as a patient. The nurse was drawing blood, but missed twice, making Zhou Qishen irritable. He said to Xu Jin in a bad mood, "Can't you make your own decisions?"
Xu Jin closed the document. "If you're in a position, you should do your job. President Zhou, that's your responsibility."
Zhou Qishen laughed in exasperation, "I'm the kind of person who's going to be on the operating table this afternoon."
Xu Jin: "To me, you are nothing. You will always be the helmsman of the company and my direct supervisor."
Zhou Qishen was silent for a few seconds, then waved his hand dismissively, "I don't want to see you, it gives me a headache."