Chapter 9

In the second week, Zhou Xuan went to another city to negotiate a contract.

That morning, I saw Lin Xingyue’s new post on Moments.

It was a picture of distant clouds outside an airplane window.

“Off on a business trip with Senior Zhou!”

Zhou Xuan, who hadn’t spoken to me for three days, liked her post.

He commented below: “So noisy.”

Lin Xingyue replied to him: “Just the right complement to someone mature and steady.”

Before I could ask, she came to explain to me on her own: “Jiangjiang, don’t overthink.”

“I posted it on purpose to provoke the guy I like. He always keeps me hanging.”

“You and Zhou Xuan have known each other for over twenty years, and we’re also best friends. Do you think I would intentionally interfere?”

At this point, she paused, and her tone carried a hint of amusement.

“I’ve already taught him a lesson for what happened last time.”

“Zhou Xuan also promised me that once he finishes negotiating the contract, he’ll propose to you.”

The call ended.

I stood in the laboratory, feeling lost, until my senior sister called out to me from the front:

“Jiangjiang, the results from the school’s health check-up are out.”

…

The hospital corridor was bustling with people, and the smell of disinfectant was strong.

The thin sheets of paper in my hand felt as heavy as a thousand pounds.

Earlier in the consultation room, the doctor’s expression was grave:

“Li Jiangjiang, the tumor in your stomach needs to be surgically removed. After removal, a pathological examination is necessary to determine whether it’s benign or malignant.”

My throat suddenly tightened: “…What if it’s malignant?”

“If it’s malignant, you should prepare for chemotherapy with your family.”

Even though we were in a cold war.

My first instinct was to call Zhou Xuan.

Because three years ago, after my mom passed away from cancer.

He became my only family.

With trembling hands, I dialed the number, but all I heard was the monotonous, prolonged music.

No one answered.

The sudden fear of the unknown illness engulfed me entirely.

I choked up, barely able to form complete words: “Zhou Xuan…”

“Please pick up…”

As if possessed, I clicked into Lin Xingyue’s Moments.

Last night, she had posted a new update.

Through the tears blurring my vision, I saw Lin Xingyue in a beautiful red strap dress, leaning against a floor-to-ceiling window.

Her cheeks were flushed, and she held a glass of wine, clinking glasses with someone across from her.

“Congratulations to us.”

And the person across from her.

The glass window faintly reflected the bathrobe he was wearing.

And the red string amulet on his hand, which I had climbed thirty thousand steps to a temple to earnestly pray for.

It was Zhou Xuan.