The gods1 do not answer. Her pleas have nowhere to go.
Light flooded the path, illuminating the world with clarity.
It also illuminated the fresh red blood that spilled into view.
The ticking time bomb of the countdown finally reached its end, exploding with a boom inside Shi Jinlan’s head.
She just stood there, staring at the body on the ground. The alcohol poured over her wounds finally began to burn, its sting seeping into her body, heart-wrenching and gut-twisting2.
It felt as if something was caught in Shi Jinlan’s throat, unable to go up or down.
She walked over to Chi Qian, unable to believe that the person before her—who looked exactly like Chi Qian—could actually be her.
How… how could she… end up like this?
Just moments ago, when they’d parted, she had been perfectly fine. Her face was clean, her hand soft and warm in Shi Jinlan’s grasp, without a single scratch.
It couldn’t be…
It couldn’t be.
Shi Jinlan staggered two steps, wanting to reach out and touch Chi Qian. But her hand froze before it could extend.
“Ah Lan, you… you have to go back…”
When all was deathly silent3, Chi Qian’s feeble voice whispered near Shi Jinlan’s ear, so illusory and ethereal it felt like an auditory hallucination.
Shi Jinlan froze instantly. A leaf resting by Chi Qian’s face suddenly stirred.
It was impossible to tell if it was the wind that stirred it, or Chi Qian’s breath.
No, it had to be her breath.
Shi Jinlan clung to this fact with an almost obsessive conviction and turned to the doctor beside her. “She’s still breathing.”
“…Yes, that’s right.” The doctor gave Chi Qian a simple check, not daring to move her. Based on the surrounding environment, he deduced, “When the young lady fell, many branches broke her fall. Her vital signs are currently weak, but she is indeed still breathing on her own.”
The doctor’s voice clearly lacked confidence, and it faltered by the end of the sentence.
He had never seen anyone like Shi Jinlan before, staring at him with bloodshot eyes like a ghost that had crawled out of hell. He felt that if he uttered the words “the chances of saving her are slim,” she would tear him apart and devour him.
Ah Ning noticed the doctor’s terror and stepped forward to add, “We’ve already called for several more doctors. They’re on the helicopter now and are expected to arrive in ten minutes.”
Hearing this, the doctor quickly added, “The young lady should be able to hold on until the helicopter arrives.”
At their words, Shi Jinlan’s tense expression relaxed slightly.
It was as if she had momentarily lost her usual sharp insight, failing to see the sigh of relief Ah Ning let out afterward. Or perhaps, her near-obsessive hope had actively sealed off her acuity.
Even with the obvious holes in their story laid bare before her, she refused to acknowledge their coordination.
Shi Jinlan only wanted one answer.
——That Chi Qian could still be saved.
In reality, Chi Qian hadn’t lost that much blood.
It was just the pile of leaves that made it seem like she was bleeding profusely. Her arm, her leg—it was all an illusion created by the surroundings.
Once the helicopter arrived and took her to the hospital for debridement and treatment, she would be in much better shape than she was now.
It had to be this way.
Reason became a treacherous accomplice, helping Shi Jinlan prove the answer she so desperately wanted, one point at a time.
She paid no more attention to the doctor’s words about cleaning her own wounds and simply stood at the closest spot to Chi Qian, carefully wiping the blood from her face.
See.
Once her face was clean and the sunlight fell upon it, she was still so fair and full of life.
The girl’s face always had a hint of soft plumpness, her long, thick eyelashes fanning out like a painted screen, as brilliant as ever.
Shi Jinlan watched Chi Qian intently, a layer of fervent hope shining through her grim pupils.
Don’t scare me.
This isn’t the freedom you wanted.
At this thought, Shi Jinlan’s downcast eyes looked as if they were about to laugh and cry at the same time.
Her expression was calm; she was still the steadfast and unmovable4 Miss Shi, the young Director Shi, but the hand she raised would not stop shaking.
From Ah Ning’s perspective, her Miss—who would never allow herself to appear so wretched—was now squatting among overgrown shrubs and gravel without a care.
Her spine was ramrod straight, but as the biting valley wind blew past her bamboo-like silhouette, her entire body trembled uncontrollably.
The weather bureau had called for a vast, clear sky5 and a beautiful day, yet an invisible storm now raged over her Miss’s head.
It was a dark, oppressive gloom, pressing down on her, crushing her until she couldn’t stand straight, couldn’t even breathe.
Rustle, rustle.
Ah Ning heard the sound of approaching footsteps. In the distance, two figures she recognized appeared——Yuan Ming was helping Chi Qingyan over.
Ah Ning’s eyes dimmed. Seeing how frail Chi Qingyan looked beneath his thin clothes, she went to meet them. “Old Chi, we’ve already contacted the best hospital. The specialists are all on standby. The helicopter will be here in eight minutes, and the onboard doctors are all department heads. You can rest assured.”
Chi Qingyan had already braced himself when Ah Ning sent someone to find him.
He raised a hand, enduring the sharp pain. “I… I need to take Ah Qian’s pulse first.”
“Of course.” Ah Ning nodded and quickly signaled for the people around them to make way.
With the crowd parted, Chi Qian’s condition was laid bare before Chi Qingyan and Yuan Ming.
A professional needs only a single glance to grasp the situation.
It was fortunate that they were both doctors.
It was cruel that they were both doctors.
And on this day, Yuan Ming, who was accustomed to seeing silent mentors6, witnessed the cruelest scene in the world.
The moment Chi Qingyan saw Chi Qian, his eyes reddened.
His aged hand gripped Yuan Ming’s for support. He stumbled, the veins on his own hand bulging as he fought to stay upright.
He forced himself to remain calm and took out the wrist pillow7 Chi Qian had recently made for him. He placed it under Chi Qian’s wrist, which was as limp as a hanging thread, and laid his own trembling hand upon it.
The instant he made contact, tears began to well in Chi Qingyan’s eyes.
This hand had taken pulses for over sixty years. What kind had it not seen? What kind did it not know?
Yuan Ming watched from the side, her heart sinking as she refused to let her last sliver of hope die. “Teacher… I’ve brought your pills. Look, which one should I give Ah Qian?”
With that, Yuan Ming brought the bag slung over her shoulder to the front and rummaged through it, searching for Chi Qingyan’s most potent pills.
But just as her hand closed around a small brown bottle, she heard Chi Qingyan’s flat voice. “There’s no need.”
His usually steady voice seemed to have aged ten years in an instant, thick with a terrifying fog.
Yuan Ming couldn’t believe her ears. She looked at Chi Qingyan, still holding the bottle. “Teacher…”
“Yuan Ming, pack up. We’re going home,” Chi Qingyan said.
“Yuan Ming, use your medicine to stabilize her breathing first,” Shi Jinlan cut in, her command a stark contrast to his.
Chi Qingyan finally lifted his gaze to meet Shi Jinlan’s. His aged eyes were filled with anger. He took a breath and said to her, “Miss Shi, since you failed to do what you promised me, I don’t think you need to interfere this time.”
“I’ll save her,” Shi Jinlan said, her calm tone laced with obsession, even hinting at an unseen, hysterical madness.
“Miss Shi, Ah Qian has never had control over her own life since birth. Why must you make her suffer even more now?” Chi Qingyan looked at Shi Jinlan, every word a knife stabbing into her heart.
“I’m not making her suffer,” Shi Jinlan denied, just as she refused to face the slim hope of Chi Qian’s survival.
She was her old self again—selfish, acting solely out of her own interests.
She couldn’t lose Chi Qian. She couldn’t bear the pain of it. So, selfishly, without regard for anyone’s feelings—not even Chi Qian’s—she would save her, even if it meant sacrificing everything.
She wanted Chi Qian alive.
She just wanted Chi Qian alive.
Chi Qingyan looked at the calm way Shi Jinlan was gazing at Chi Qian, and the anger in his heart could no longer be suppressed. He demanded, “What do you think you’re doing?”
“I’m saving her.”
“You’re harming her!”
The exchange was swift. The moment Shi Jinlan spoke, Chi Qingyan’s voice cut her off.
He had never wished he wasn’t a doctor more than at this moment. He even hated his past soft-heartedness. “Miss Shi, are your promises really that cheap? Did you really think anything good would come from Ah Qian being with you? Ah Qian has always been like this. She couldn’t bear to see people suffer since she was a child, let alone you!”
Chi Qingyan didn’t want to lose his composure in front of Chi Qian. He forced the words out through gritted teeth.
His words chewed at her, the direct accusations crushing her body, threatening to tear her apart.
He was right. This was her fault. The root of it all was her.
That night by the sea, she had saved Chi Qian. Tonight, by the cliff, she had destroyed her.
“Shi Jinlan, when did you start believing in feelings?”
A cold, harsh voice, wrapped in a fierce wind, scraped across Shi Jinlan’s ears, like a self-interrogation from the depths of her soul.
More than that, it was one of the last things Chi Qian had said to her before falling off the cliff.
She actually called out my full name. How did she know my name? Had she been pretending not to know all this time?
Why?
She never sought anything for herself, always thinking of me.
Why, even at the very end, did you have to deny my love for you?
Is this the freedom you spoke of?
How could you…
How could you…
Whir, whir, whir——
A turbulent gust of wind blew in, sending the surrounding branches and leaves into a frenzy.
The helicopter carrying the doctors had arrived, landing with difficulty on a patch of relatively flat ground.
Yuan Ming was the only one of the three who remained somewhat calm.
She watched several experienced, steady doctors disembark, clinging to a thread of hope as she tried to persuade Chi Qingyan. “Teacher, why don’t we let Miss Shen give it a try? Miss Shen can definitely contact better doctors. They say every field has its own experts. With Ah Qian’s condition, maybe surgery could offer a sliver of life? Even if she’s not as nimble as before, we’ll all be by her side. We’ll make sure she’s never unhappy, right?”
By this point, Yuan Ming’s voice was choked with sobs. She didn’t dare look at Chi Qian again, only clutching Chi Qingyan’s arm and begging him, “For Ah Qian to live a good life… that’s the most important thing to you, isn’t it, Teacher?”
The wind from the rotor blades whipped mercilessly across Chi Qingyan’s face. His expression finally broke, completely consumed by grief.
Who would want to give up on their own family? What doctor doesn’t want to save every patient they see?
In all his years of practicing medicine, everyone had called Chi Qingyan a miracle doctor.
He had saved countless patients who had been issued death notices, yet he was powerless to help his own granddaughter.
If he could, Chi Qingyan wouldn’t want to give up either.
He also wanted Chi Qian to live.
This was the child he had snatched back from the hands of Death once before!
“Miss Shi, the patient is—” a doctor began as he approached, but his words died in his throat.
The scene before him was self-evident.
At the same time, all the doctors, seasoned by a hundred battles, tensed up. They addressed the people standing around, “Everyone, please step back. The patient mustn’t suffer any secondary injuries. Give us enough room to work.”
Hearing this, Yuan Ming helped Chi Qingyan up, signaling for him to move away. “Teacher.”
Chi Qingyan had been persuaded. He followed Yuan Ming but kept his eyes fixed on Shi Jinlan. “I must be the first to know, no matter what.”
“You have my word,” Shi Jinlan promised.
She looked at Chi Qingyan with a steady gaze, seeming once again like the Miss Shi who was always holding a winning hand.
But when the sun rose and its light refracted in her calm pupils, the blackness within was a field of shattered pieces, piercing to the very soul.
Ah Ning was always thorough and meticulous. The two helicopters she had summoned were filled with top-tier medical personnel.
To ensure Chi Qian had enough space, only the most skilled bodyguards went aboard, leaving no room for Shi Jinlan.
As these were the only two helicopters that could be dispatched on such short notice, the rest of them would have to wait for the next trip.
Ah Ning checked the time and came over to comfort Shi Jinlan. “Miss, another helicopter has been dispatched. We’ll only have to wait here another hour.”
“Okay.” Receiving a definite time, Shi Jinlan gave a flat nod.
She kept her head raised, watching the helicopter take off until it vanished into the sky. Only then did she turn to leave.
Ah Ning didn’t understand what Shi Jinlan was doing now and hurried to catch up. “Miss, your wounds haven’t been fully treated yet! Where are you going?”
Without pausing, Shi Jinlan walked forward, her lips parting to utter a single word: “The ancestral hall.8“
“The ancestral hall?” The word was foreign and baffling to Ah Ning.
In all the years she had followed Shi Jinlan, she had never seen her go to such a place. And given her personality, she was the type who would never believe in or get involved with matters of supernatural forces9.
The sky gradually brightened. The trees in front of the ancestral hall grew ever more lush and green.
The densely interwoven leaves blocked the light at the entrance, shrouding the entire hall in a dim, hazy glow.
Incense burned silently in the censer, its three red embers releasing plumes of ethereal blue smoke.
High on the altar, the god statue wore a gentle smile, its compassionate gaze fixed on the person kneeling before it.
Not wanting to defile the clean ancestral hall, Shi Jinlan had simply bandaged her own lower leg.
She knelt there on the prayer cushion, her slender figure as straight and tall as it was the day she came with Chi Qian, her gaze deep as she looked upon Ling Ji.
Confucius did not speak of supernatural forces, and Shi Jinlan had never believed in them either, always keeping them at a respectful distance.
In the past, she never understood why so many people would kneel before gods and buddhas, praying for protection instead of seeking medical help.
But now, she pressed her palms together, shaking the divination blocks10.
The wood clacked together, the soft yet heavy sound striking her heart.
Anyone would do. As long as they could protect Chi Qian, help her turn misfortune into fortune.
Even if it meant trading my own life, I would offer my devout worship from this day forward.
“I’ll rebuild the temple and reforge the golden body.11“
Shi Jinlan clumsily followed her memory, making a promise to the gods with words she had heard from Auntie Zhou.
She only begged them to protect Chi Qian.
Even if it was just because she had played the role of Ah Qing12 in the parade yesterday.
Shi Jinlan let out a shaky breath, a faint mist clouding her downcast eyelashes in the halo of light.
It’s a fifty-fifty chance, she thought. It has to work at least once in three tries. That other time, the odds were so much smaller, but Chi Qian and I still made it happen, didn’t we? This time will work too. Just once. Just once is enough…
Shi Jinlan brought her clasped hands to her forehead, then, staking it all on one throw13, she tossed the divination blocks.
Clack!
The divination blocks landed with a crisp sound on the floor, the two crescent moons landing firmly face down.
A yin cup14.
Shi Jinlan’s eyes, which had been filled with hope, froze. Her breath caught in her throat.
She couldn’t believe it, wouldn’t believe it. Her hand trembling, she quickly snatched the divination blocks from the floor, wiping away the trace of this attempt as if it never happened, and immediately threw them again.
The divination blocks landed under the altar table, the two crescent moons facing each other.
The second time, a yin cup.
The third time, a yin cup.
Shi Jinlan’s pupils trembled with anger, with obsession, and with pain. She looked up at Ling Ji and Ah Qing.
But in the intersecting light and shadows, the dark silhouettes of the god statues fell over her like a shroud. No matter how frantically she erased the results and threw again, they simply cut her off from the world.
Clack.
Clack.
Clack.
…
The crescent moons on the floor were like a pair of curved blades, slicing into Shi Jinlan’s eyes.
She no longer cared for the gods, obsessively picking up the divination blocks, ignoring the previous denials, and throwing them again and again.
The tree shadows from outside fell across her kneeling form. The mottled light traced her silhouette as it went from ramrod straight to slumped and defeated, with each sound, over and over.
By all rights, it should have worked by now. Look how many times I’ve thrown them. It’s a fifty-fifty chance. A fifty-fifty chance! The next one has to be it. That’s right, the next one. Ah Qian will be fine. Her Ah Qian will absolutely be fine. Aren’t you gods supposed to be all about karmic retribution15? She has saved so many lives in her time. You should be repaying her now… Why won’t you repay her!
Shi Jinlan looked up fiercely at the statues of Ling Ji and Ah Qing, her crimson eyes filled with accusation.
But the gods did not answer.
Her pleas had nowhere to go.
The author has something to say:
Xiao Ge16 really, really loves this last line. (This pigeon is a weirdo, flying off with a pot lid for a helmet)17 (The pot lid is too heavy to fly high, getting my feathers plucked bald by readers)18
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