Sunshine Filled with Thoughts

Linlin slept for three days straight. By nine o’clock the next morning, Momo was waiting at her door to wake her up. However, no matter how much she knocked, Linlin didn’t wake up.

At first, Momo thought Linlin simply didn’t want to get up, so she stopped calling her. But as time passed, she started to feel uneasy. When she finally entered the room, she found Linlin completely buried under her blankets, making her invisible. It wasn’t until she pulled back the covers that she saw Linlin’s face flushed and curled up on the bed, her skin that was once scraped now had a sickly reddish tint.

Momo called her name several times again, but there was no response; Linlin’s breathing was rapid, and it seemed like she had fallen into a prolonged nightmare, ensnared by something that kept her from waking up.

Without any hesitation, Momo screamed for Zhaozhao, who was downstairs making breakfast, to come up. She said, “Linlin is unconscious! We need to go to the hospital. You carry her, and I’ll drive!”

Both of them acted without a moment of doubt. Momo dashed downstairs to grab a pair of shoes and rushed to the garage. By the time she brought the car out, Zhaozhao was standing at the door, holding Linlin in his arms.

Despite their panic, they managed to remain somewhat composed. Even in this critical moment, Momo called An Jinmo. She knew it was best to have him around; if they wanted to keep Linlin’s parents in the dark, only An Jinmo could handle this properly.

Upon arriving at the hospital, Linlin was immediately taken to the emergency room. Momo paced back and forth in the corridor, while Zhaozhao sat nearby, frowning as he watched her without saying a word.

An Jinmo arrived quickly; when he reached the fourth-floor emergency room, he was still catching his breath as if he had run over. The usually meticulous man now appeared flustered, which was uncharacteristic of him.

Before long, Linlin was wheeled out. The doctor briefly explained that she had fainted due to prolonged fasting, low blood sugar, and mental stress, but the concerning part was that she was running a fever. Fortunately, there were no major issues.

When the doctor spotted An Jinmo standing outside, he looked a bit surprised but, being experienced, approached him and greeted him.

“Young Master Jin, long time no see…”

“Dr. Huang, it’s been a while.” An Jinmo smiled, maintaining an appropriate distance.

“I’m not sure who the patient is…”

“She’s the daughter of my grandfather’s old friend, and also… my current girlfriend. I hope Dr. Huang won’t inform Mr. Zhou about her condition.”

“Understood…” Dr. Huang nodded, realizing more than he let on. He had checked on other patients during the emergency and was curious about who would be bold enough to treat the Zhou Family’s young lady this way. If this man in front of him was the one involved, it made perfect sense.

In Beijing, if Young Master Jin wanted to know something, there was nothing he couldn’t find out, especially not the daughter of a chairman.

Perhaps it was the knowing look in Dr. Huang’s eyes that made An Jinmo feel sick. He didn’t linger for more small talk and walked straight over. Looking at Linlin, he saw that she was still unconscious. Her complexion was pale, devoid of color, and an IV needle was inserted into the back of her hand.

He accompanied Linlin to the intensive care unit and stood by her window, watching over her closely. Time seemed to stretch indefinitely; Momo had already come in and out several times, but she couldn’t manage to take Linlin from An Jinmo’s grasp. This frustrated her greatly. Meanwhile, Zhaozhao was responsible for going home to prepare some light meals to bring over. At this time, the only people Linlin could rely on were them. If even Zhaozhao and Momo faltered, Linlin would truly be all alone.

After some time, the sun had set, casting golden light through the window. A soft glow dusted Linlin’s pale cheeks, making her look so lovely, so beautiful. Especially since she had once been the only ray of light in his life, An Jinmo never envisioned their relationship turning into what it was now-filled with tension and hostility at every encounter.

Linlin’s eyes were sensitive to the sunlight, and she let out a few soft groans before awakening. Rubbing her eyes and glancing around, she found no one there. But suddenly, the smell of disinfectant flooded her senses. As her consciousness returned, Linlin’s face grew even paler, and she instinctively screamed.

Nightmarish memories surged forth from the depths of her mind, particularly the ghostly face of Xiao Zhi when he died, with eyes that would never open again.

Seeing Linlin show signs of waking, An Jinmo stepped outside. He knew he couldn’t face her just yet; he really didn’t know when they would meet again, or if they could return to the ease they once shared in Australia.

Momo, waiting outside, noticed An Jinmo leaving. She didn’t say anything but gently patted his shoulder, as if to convey that they all understood, even if they didn’t want to articulate it.

An Jinmo walked away slowly, his back a picture of sorrow and solitude.

Listening to the increasingly distant footsteps around the corner of the hallway, Momo sighed and turned back into Linlin’s hospital room. As soon as she entered, she saw Linlin trying to pull the IV out of her hand, her demeanor becoming somewhat hysterical. Once she got it out, Linlin, barefoot, raced crazily towards the exit, as if something terrifying lurked within the hospital walls.

At that moment, Momo suddenly remembered Xiao Zhi-he was Linlin’s nightmare! How could she have forgotten at such a crucial time? But the doctor hadn’t said that Linlin could be discharged yet. Momo was at a loss for what to do.

She hurried over to tightly embrace Linlin, wanting to prevent her from doing anything harmful to herself. Linlin was screaming and crying, clearly terrified, overwhelmed by pressure that she could no longer bear.

Just then, Zhaozhao walked in and, upon seeing the frantic Linlin, remembered all over again what had happened with Xiao Zhi.

He joined Momo in desperately trying to get Linlin to sit down and calm down. It took a long time, but eventually, she began to settle down, though she still looked around nervously.

Momo instructed Zhaozhao to keep an eye on Linlin while she went to find a doctor to discuss the possibility of discharge. They simply couldn’t leave Linlin here any longer; something could go terribly wrong.

Before long, Momo had completed the discharge paperwork, and they all went back to Momo’s villa. Linlin started to feel better. Once they reached Momo’s home, Linlin ate a little food and then went to rest.

The chaotic days seemed to have passed, but no one knew what awaited them in the future. Linlin stayed at Momo’s house for a long time and didn’t even return to school. Fortunately, An Jinmo had secretly helped her arrange a leave of absence from her studies without her parents knowing. Momo often updated An Jinmo about Linlin’s condition, with one exception-he never went to see her. Almost everything about Linlin was known to him, even the taboo that belonged to the hospital, yet he’d never considered the profound sorrow underlying her situation. It was his lack of foresight that made her suffer so deeply.

An Jinmo couldn’t help but think of this.

During this time, his mood had soured greatly; he often suffered from insomnia. He was living alone in a luxury apartment in the center of Beijing. On the top floor, with the best view, he would sit by the floor-to-ceiling windows every night, bottle in hand, gazing at the mesmerizing lights of the city.

His mind frequently replayed the moment he first met Linlin; the little princess in his memories, just twelve years old, had planted deep seeds in his heart, which had grown exponentially by the time they met again, much like Jack’s magic beans sprouting into a towering beanstalk.

Thoughts surged like a tide in his mind, and he was someone who usually navigated various people in both business and romance but had never imagined he would stumble because of such a pure girl. He gave himself a wry smile. Sitting on the floor, he poured cup after cup of the thick red liquid, which looked so beautiful in the glass, especially under the distant reflections of neon lights.

With his eyes slightly glazed, An Jinmo appeared dazed, particularly as he watched the lights start to sway and the objects around him become distorted.

This dream was mocking his foolish longing.

“An Jinmo! I wish you were dead! I would never marry you! Never!”

Suddenly, these words Linlin had spoken echoed in his mind, smashing everything back to reality. Ha… she did say she would never marry him, so what was the point of it all?

That night, An Jinmo spent an especially tumultuous evening. When he finally fell asleep in the dead of night, he had no idea how he would face the rising sun the next day, or how to confront Linlin. Although for the time being, she wouldn’t want to see him, he would have to face her eventually. Then what would he do?