STT – Chapter 39

Why Didn’t You Dare Tell Me That At Least I Still Had You?

Jiang Wang’s hand holding her phone hung limp at her side. She leaned against the closed door of the hospital office, head tilted back, brows tightly knit, her expression pained.

Why—after all these years, hearing her voice again—did she still find it so familiar, so yearning…?

            

Hadn’t she long wanted to forget?

Hadn’t she long forgotten?

Hadn’t the hatred long since outweighed the love?

            

For the first time, Jiang Wang discovered that she didn’t know herself as well as she thought she did…

A nurse passing by on rounds caught sight of Jiang Wang’s rare display of distress and paused, asking with concerned curiosity, “Dr. Jiang, are you all right? Are you feeling unwell?”

Jiang Wang opened her eyes. For a brief moment, confusion flickered in them before her usual composure returned. She shook her head lightly and said, “It’s nothing.”

            

Only then did she recall the last sentence she had caught from Xu Bohan: “Huaixi had an accident in Juzhou.” Her heart tightened. She raised her phone again, hesitated for a moment, then redialed Jiang Huaixi’s number. This time, the call was picked up quickly. From the other end came that same warm, gentle voice—unfamiliar yet inexplicably familiar to Jiang Wang: “Hello, this is Xu Bohan…”

Jiang Wang bit her lip, drew a deep breath, and forced the words out with difficulty: “Hello, I’m Jiang Huaixi’s personal physician, Dr. Jiang Wang. What happened to Huaixi in Juzhou?”

Xu Bohan sat alone in her wheelchair in the corridor outside the emergency room, the hand holding her phone trembling slightly, her heartbeat skipping as though missing a beat. For a fleeting instant, she was lost in a daze. This voice… it was so familiar. Yun Bo had chronic rhinitis, and whenever she spoke, she always carried a faint nasal quality. Over the years, in those midnight dreams that jolted her awake, Xu Bohan had heard that voice countless times crying “I love you, I hate you”—before her tears soaked the pillow. This doctor’s voice, like Jiang Wang’s, carried that same peculiar nasal tone she found so achingly familiar. But then she steadied herself and gave a bitter smile. It sounded like Yun Bo, but in the end, it wasn’t Yun Bo. Yun Bo’s voice had been clean and crystalline, whereas this voice was like a cello—melodic, yes, but deep and low. She composed herself and calmly relayed the facts: “Jiang Huaixi severed her wrist to save Zizheng. She’s currently being resuscitated at Baikang Hospital…”

            

When Lu Zizheng woke up in the hospital room, she stared at the blinding white ceiling, breathed in the pungent scent of disinfectant, and felt a moment of blank bewilderment. Then, in the very next instant, it was as though someone had pressed a button—she bolted upright from the hospital bed, swung her legs to the floor, and made for the door, only to be yanked back by the IV tube connected to her hand. The fluid bag hanging on the bed frame nearly tore free from her violent pull.

Lu Zizheng frowned and looked back. Without a second’s hesitation, she ripped the obstructive needle from her hand. Blood instantly welled up, droplet by droplet, falling to the floor…

Jiang Huaixi had been successfully resuscitated and moved to the ICU. Mother Jiang and Jiang Huaichuan had already rushed over from Linzhou. After Xu Bohan explained to Mother Jiang everything she knew about the circumstances that had brought Huaixi to the hospital, she hurried to Lu Zizheng’s room, uneasy about leaving her alone. The moment she entered, she found Lu Zizheng—hair disheveled, barefoot on the floor—having just torn out her IV needle.

            

Xu Bohan’s heart lurched. “Zizheng, what are you doing?!”

Lu Zizheng lunged toward Xu Bohan, both hands gripping her shoulders hard, eyes bloodshot, her voice so hoarse it was nearly inaudible—yet she strained to project, asking frantically: “Where’s Huaixi? Where is she? How is she?!” Her grip on Xu Bohan’s shoulders was so tight it hurt.

Xu Bohan looked at her blood-red eyes, her pale and cracked lips, and felt nothing but ache. She raised a hand and gently patted the hands clutching her shoulders, speaking in a warm, soothing tone: “Zizheng, don’t be afraid. Don’t worry. Huaixi was saved. She’s fine—she’ll recover in a few days. The floor is cold. Why don’t you put your shoes on first, all right?”

            

At those words, all the strength drained from Lu Zizheng’s hands on Xu Bohan’s shoulders. She simply stood there, a dazed smile curving her lips, the cracked skin of her mouth splitting with threads of crimson from the stretch. But in the blink of an eye, great tears rolled down her face… “Huaixi is fine, she’s fine… that’s good, that’s so good…”

Xu Bohan was about to coax her back to bed when Lu Zizheng lowered her head, fixing her with burning, bloodshot eyes, and asked: “Where is Huaixi now?”

Xu Bohan knew she could never talk her into resting. She bent down, picked up the shoes from the floor, and said: “Huaixi just came out of the emergency room. She’s been transferred to the ICU—last room at the end of the corridor upstairs.”

            

Before the words had fully left her mouth, Lu Zizheng was already running barefoot out of the room, without so much as a word of thanks. Xu Bohan stood holding the shoes, staring after her, and let out a helpless, wry smile.

Lu Zizheng couldn’t even wait for the elevator. She took the stairs two and three at a time, her barefoot slaps echoing crisp and clear through the quiet hospital, the sound lingering long after she had passed.

Mother Jiang and Jiang Huaichuan, seated in the corridor outside the ICU, heard the urgent, chaotic, and unmistakable patter of bare feet from far off. They turned to look and saw a woman—long hair wild and tangled, face deathly pale, clothes disheveled, barefoot—rushing toward them.

            

Jiang Huaichuan’s eyes widened. As the face gradually came into focus, he shot to his feet, stepped into the middle of the corridor, and thrust out an arm without hesitation, blocking Lu Zizheng’s path.

Lu Zizheng couldn’t stop in time and slammed hard into Jiang Huaichuan. Her desperate need to see Jiang Huaixi made her furious at whoever was standing in her way. She snapped her head up, ready to lash out—but the moment she recognized Jiang Huaichuan’s face, all the fire went out of her. She lowered her head in defeat and croaked, “Huaichuan…”

Jiang Huaichuan looked at the haggard woman before him, his anger beyond words. He had begged her before—even if she didn’t love his sister, please, at least don’t hurt her. And what had she done? Time and again, nothing but cause his sister pain. Hadn’t his sister sacrificed enough for her over the years? Did she really have to lay down her life before it counted as true love? Jiang Huaichuan decided: no. He could not let Lu Zizheng near Jiang Huaixi again.

            

His eyes brimmed with hostility. He opened his mouth to berate her—but Mother Jiang had also risen and quickly stepped behind him. She tugged at his arm and instructed, “Huaichuan, go outside the hospital and buy some food.” She paused, glancing down at Lu Zizheng’s bare feet, then added, “And pick up a pair of cotton slippers for Zizheng while you’re at it.”

Jiang Huaichuan turned his head with displeasure and growled, “Mom, why do you still bother with her…”

Mother Jiang shot him a sharp glare, her usual gentleness replaced by a rare sternness: “I told you to go, so go.”

            

Jiang Huaichuan cast one last resentful look at Lu Zizheng and left, unwilling and aggrieved.

With the obstruction gone, Lu Zizheng rushed straight to the ICU window. Through the glass, she gazed yearningly at Jiang Huaixi’s pale but serene sleeping face on the hospital bed. She reached out and clawed gently at the glass, murmuring, “Huaixi, Huaixi… dummy, you big dummy…” Tears streamed down her cheeks, falling in silent cascades…

Mother Jiang stood behind her, her voice heavy with exhaustion: “The doctor said Huaixi is out of danger. She just lost a lot of blood and is somewhat weak. You don’t need to worry so much.”

            

Lu Zizheng turned to look at Mother Jiang—her face weary, drained of its usual vitality—and was overwhelmed with shame. She raised a hand and slapped herself hard across the face, bowing her body, head lowered, apologizing in a raw voice: “Auntie, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, it’s all my fault.”

She raised her hand for another slap.

But Mother Jiang was faster. She caught Lu Zizheng’s hand before it could fall and let out a heavy sigh. “You did nothing wrong. Auntie doesn’t blame you.”

            

Lu Zizheng looked at Mother Jiang in alarm and bewilderment, momentarily unable to react. She had assumed Mother Jiang would be like Huaichuan—hating her to the bone, wishing she would vanish from sight this instant.

Mother Jiang explained calmly: “I know that everything Huaixi has done for you, she did willingly. I can’t blame you, because it would make Huaixi unhappy. Zizheng, you can’t be made to suffer any grievance in our home, because Huaixi couldn’t bear it. She loves you with her life—and how could I hurt her?”

Lu Zizheng’s raised hand fell powerlessly to her side. Then her legs gave way, and she dropped to her knees before Mother Jiang, apologizing over and over: “Auntie, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”

            

Mother Jiang crouched down, pulled Lu Zizheng up, and guided her to a chair beside them. She sighed and said, “Zizheng, you must have no idea how much Huaixi loves you.”

“On Huaixi’s birthday in her second year of college, the son of her father’s good friend had just returned from the United Kingdom, so our two families got together for dinner. That boy had liked Huaixi since he was little. He had waited for her for years. His parents had pushed him to go abroad for his studies, and the moment he finished his doctorate, he came rushing back to find her. Both Huaixi’s father and I liked the boy very much, so at the dinner table, both families kept making playful remarks, trying to set them up. The atmosphere was warm and convivial—until Huaixi suddenly erupted the next time we teased her. She stood up without warning and announced that she had something to declare: she already had someone she loved, and in this lifetime, it would only ever be that person. The table went a bit stiff. Her father’s friend tried to smooth things over, saying, ‘Which lucky young man is it? Bring him over so Uncle can have a look.’ But what she said next stunned everyone: ‘It’s not a young man. The person I love is a girl.’ No one knew where to look. As you can imagine, that dinner ended badly. Huaixi’s grandmother’s blood pressure spiked from the shock. Her father, unable to contain his fury, slapped her across the face. We had never had the heart to raise a hand to her or even scold her growing up—this was the first time her father had ever struck her. The moment he did it, he regretted it, his eyes instantly reddening. But Huaixi only looked at her father with an expression of perfect calm—neither grief nor joy—and said with solemn gravity, ‘Dad, in this life, I only want her. This resolve will never change.’ Her father was incensed. He roared at her to get out of the house and not disgrace the Jiang family name. That very night, she left home with nothing. The next day, she returned all her bank cards, car keys, and house keys—leaving with absolutely nothing, truly squaring off against her father. He was so furious he couldn’t sleep for days. Huaichuan, worried about her, sent her his own bank card, but she returned it unopened. She truly never came home, never asked the family for a single cent. She worked multiple part-time jobs, scraping by on meager wages, sometimes eating, sometimes not. Eventually, her father received a call from her college counselor saying she had been absent for several days. He sent Huaichuan to find her, and they discovered her collapsed in her dorm room, burning with fever, unconscious. The doctor said if she had been brought in any later, it would have been critical. When her father saw her lying on that bed, nothing but skin and bones, he broke down in tears. But the moment she woke up in the hospital and saw her father, she yanked out her IV needle, scrambled out of bed, and tried to leave. Her father was both furious and heartsick. In his entire life, he had never yielded to anyone—yet he lost to his own precious daughter. He growled at her to go back, that from now on she could love whoever she wanted, he didn’t care anymore. After that, our whole family tacitly accepted her earth-shattering love for you.”

Lu Zizheng listened, eyes wide, scarcely able to believe what she was hearing…

            

Mother Jiang paused, then continued: “We had assumed you and Huaixi were already together—that that was why she was so unshakable. But later, we realized she had never been with you at all. Huaichuan ached for her, called her a fool—sacrificing everything, suffering through hardship, for a love that might never even begin. Do you know what she said?”

Mother Jiang gave a bitter smile and went on: “Huaixi said, whether or not she could be with you was the result of her love for you. But whether or not she told everyone—that was her attitude toward loving you. She couldn’t let her love hide from the light and take refuge in darkness. She wanted to give you a love that was open and proud, one that needed no concealment of any kind.”

Lu Zizheng stood up abruptly and walked to the glass window, staring blankly at Jiang Huaixi’s tranquil face on the hospital bed, a thousand thoughts swirling through her mind…

            

That day, Jiang Huaixi’s resolute rejection was still vivid in her memory. And now, Mother Jiang said: “Zizheng, she was never a gentle person, yet for you she has done every gentle thing.”

So, Huaixi—tell me, do you truly love me? Why didn’t you dare tell me that at least I still had you?

Downstairs, at the entrance to the stairwell, Jiang Wang stood frozen, watching the frail figure of the woman in the wheelchair by the window at the end of the corridor, utterly bereft of spirit.

            

Wasn’t she the one who had dreamed of becoming a ballet dancer since she was a little girl? Hadn’t she said she would tour the world with her performances? Shouldn’t she be on a stage right now, dazzling and graceful, pirouetting?

Jiang Wang’s fists unconsciously clenched the fabric of her coat.

How could she? How could she have ended up like this? So defeated, curled up in a wheelchair, trapped in a world no larger than a few square feet.

            

How could Xu Bohan be so wretched—so wretched that it made Jiang Wang’s heart soften until she could barely sustain her hatred? No—in her imagination, the Xu Bohan who had abandoned her was not supposed to be like this!

Jiang Huaichuan, returning from outside the hospital, passed by and noticed Jiang Wang standing there, lost in a daze. He called out in confusion, “Jiang Wang, what are you doing here? Are the admission procedures done?”

“Mm, it’s nothing, they’re done. I’ll go up with you.” With that, she turned and walked away.

            

Xu Bohan, hearing the name “Jiang Wang,” felt her heart lurch. She immediately turned her wheelchair around, wanting to catch a glimpse of the person behind that voice so reminiscent of Yun Bo’s. But a wheelchair was cumbersome—by the time she turned around, all she saw was a tall, slender woman’s retreating back.

She felt a pang of disappointment, then something almost amusing, and mocked herself inwardly: “What are you still expecting, anyway?”

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Note: “She was never a gentle person, yet for you she has done every gentle thing” is quoted from the internet; the original source is untraceable.

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