Chapter 4

Chapter 4

The phone was very old, with a chip of paint knocked off one corner.

I held it in my hand, my palm going cold.

When Zhou Yinghuai saw the notification on the lock screen, his entire body froze.

Xu Jianing stepped in front of my hospital bed.

“Mr. Zhou, would you mind stepping outside?”

Zhou Yinghuai looked at me.

“I’ll be right outside the door.”

I said, “No need.”

His eyes lowered.

“All right.”

After the door closed, Xu Jianing sat down beside the bed.

She looked capable and composed, but her eyes were rimmed red.

“Do you still recognize me?”

I shook my head.

She gave a small laugh.

“That’s fine. It’s okay if you don’t. I used to scold you all the time for being hopelessly love-struck.”

I asked, “Was I really that love-struck?”

“You used to be.”

She said, “Later, you weren’t.”

She told me that three years ago, Zhou Yinghuai and I had gotten married.

At the time, the Zhou family had just gone through a period of turmoil. Zhou Yinghuai’s father had passed away, and an emerald brooch left by his mother had disappeared.

At the same time, information on an important Zhou Group project was leaked, and a competitor released their proposal first.

All the evidence pointed to me.

A sum of money had appeared in my account.

My car had been seen near the competitor’s company.

And that brooch was eventually found in a drawer in my studio.

“Zhou Yinghuai believed it?” I asked.

Xu Jianing glanced toward the door.

“He never said he believed it. He never said he didn’t, either.”

I laughed.

“So he believed it.”

She didn’t refute me.

I asked, “What happened after that?”

“After that, you found evidence and suspected that Zhou Yinghuai’s younger brother, Zhou Yan, had set the whole thing up.”

Xu Jianing said, “The day of the car accident, you were supposed to meet me and hand the evidence over.”

I looked at the phone.

“What’s the password?”

Xu Jianing paused.

“Your wedding anniversary.”

I entered the date.

The phone unlocked.

Inside were only a few audio files, a backup from a dashcam, and a drafts folder.

I opened the drafts folder first.

Inside was an unsent email addressed to Zhou Yinghuai.

It began with only one sentence.

Zhou Yinghuai, if you’re reading this email, it means I can no longer tell you in person.

I kept reading.

She-the me from before I lost my memory-had written with great restraint.

There were no tearful pleas, no accusations.

She simply listed the evidence one item at a time, writing out how Zhou Yan had transferred the money, how he had forged the car’s route, and how he had bribed the assistant at the studio.

In the final paragraph, the handwriting suddenly turned messy.

I’m pregnant.

I was going to tell you today.

But you said that if the evidence was real, you would personally send me to prison.

I don’t know if you said that in anger, or if that is what you truly think.

Zhou Yinghuai, I don’t want to gamble anymore.

After I finished reading those lines, a sharp cramp twisted through my stomach.

The hospital room was very quiet.

Xu Jianing said softly, “The baby didn’t make it.”

I gripped the phone tightly.

For a moment, I felt as if I were looking at someone else’s life.

But when my tears fell, I realized I wasn’t.

My body had claimed the pain before my memories could.

I asked, “Does he know?”

Xu Jianing said, “He only found out after the accident.”

“And after he found out?”

“He sent Zhou Yan to prison.”

I looked up.

She added, “But before you fell into a coma, you said you didn’t want him staying by your side.”

I closed my eyes.

A voice slammed into my mind.

A rainy night.

I was covered in blood, clutching Zhou Yinghuai’s sleeve.

He said, “Qingyu, I’m here.”

But I pushed him away, crying.

“Don’t touch me.”

“Zhou Yinghuai, I will never forgive you in this lifetime.”

I opened my eyes. My throat ached.

Xu Jianing handed me a tissue.

“Do you want to see him?”

I shook my head.

But just then, the sound of something falling came from outside the door.

Xu Jianing pulled the door open.

Zhou Yinghuai stood in the corridor. The bag of medicine in his hand had fallen to the floor.

His face was as white as paper.

He must have heard everything.

I looked at him.

He looked at me, too.

A long time later, he bent down and picked up the medicine. His voice was almost inaudible.

“The medicine’s gone cold. I’ll go get it replaced.”

All at once, I understood. The cruelest thing about Zhou Yinghuai wasn’t that he never explained himself.

It was that even when he fell apart, he did it quietly.