Cross the Boundary GL - Chapter 19.2

The man in bed recovered and stubbornly continued to speak. “…Dad should have… brought you home sooner… should have done it sooner…”

“What are you talking about?” Ye Wanqing said, her face very pale and tear-stained. “Lele never blamed you. She never did.”

Qin Zhen shook his head slightly. “If… if…”

Before he could finish, the machine beeped. Ye Wanqing’s tear-filled face became panicked. She hurried to press the bell.

The doctor arrived quickly and rushed in past Qin Song. After a quick check, the nurse began to clear the room. “Family members, please step out. The patient needs surgery right away.”

The white coats, carrying a mix of scents, moved back and forth. Qin Song was bumped, and she stumbled backward like a block of tofu on a cutting board.

The wall was painted perfectly smooth. She managed to stop herself with her elbow. The bed being pushed hit the door with a clang. The gap widened, and a warm light from outside shone in, bringing color back to the room.

Qin Song followed the light and looked out. Li Chu was kneeling in front of the bed across the hall, half-leaning on it, talking to the person under the covers.

The light here was too dim. Even with all her focus, Qin Song could only make out parts of Li Chu’s face.

Her eyes were in the shadows, but her lips were illuminated, moving as she spoke. But there was no smile.

Hearing the noise, Li Chu looked back.

Both were in the dark. They looked at each other across the hallway light for a moment. Li Chu said something to the person on the bed, stood up, and started walking toward Qin Song.

“Qin Song.” The shadow at the door flickered, and then she let out a long breath. “Do you want to see Director Hu?”

Qin Song gripped the wall, not moving.

Li Chu walked closer. The warm light hit the corners of her eyes, which looked like washed, high-quality glass beads from her crying. Even the pure light in them was mixed with some tenderness. She said weakly, “Let’s go eat something.”

Some people were just not inherently bad. Even at a time like this, Li Chu was still like a rabbit. Her sadness was hidden in the corners of her eyes and brows, but her kindness and purity came from her heart.

She took a few more steps forward, finally closing the distance between them in the dark corner behind the door.

Qin Song’s hunched back was thin and frail. The dim light made her look especially pale, with a restless, morbid vulnerability.

Li Chu saw that her distinct hands were clenched tight. A piece of white paint had been chipped off the wall and was stuck under her fingernail.

Li Chu felt that Qin Song shouldn’t be like this. Qin Song should be slow and steady, as calm as a still pond.

But she was now unnaturally heavy with stillness, like a ticking bomb counting down its last few crucial seconds.

“Don’t be sad. Uncle Qin will get better.”

Qin Song let out a short, hurried laugh. She slowly straightened up, her face completely drained of color. “He won’t.”

She had seen the medical report and had asked the doctor. He had survived until now purely on his strong will.

The words of comfort felt weightless. Li Chu was silent for a long time before she said softly, “Let’s get something to eat. You need to have the energy to take care of him. He wouldn’t want you to be like this.”

Qin Song looked up at her, and for the first time, her vulnerability was so clear and jarring, a kind of teetering fragility.

Li Chu’s heart ached. She couldn’t help but step closer.

“Can we go eat, please?”

Qin Song looked at her face, which was so pure it was captivating. She suddenly felt that she was living too lucidly, lucidly enough to know that Qin Zhen would not make it.

And Li Chu might still be fooling herself into believing in a miracle.

For a patient in a seventh-floor VIP room, just getting in was a miracle.

With Li Chu standing there, Qin Song’s sinking heart found a place to rest. She didn’t have to do anything here, and she could still feel something spreading, collapsing, and burning.

The nurse who had taken Qin Zhen away came back, and Ye Wanqing also returned. She looked at Li Chu with a bit of surprise. “Who is this?”

She looked at Qin Song.

Qin Song moved her lips, searching for the right word, and said faintly, “A friend.”

Ye Wanqing raised her eyebrows, looking genuinely surprised. “You made a friend? Oh, that’s wonderful, good girl. What’s your name?”

The nurse turned on the lights. The room suddenly became bright. Li Chu, exposed in the center, clasped her hands together nervously. “My name is Li Chu.”

She couldn’t tell who this woman was. She didn’t look like Qin Song; they had two completely different faces.

Qin Song was sharp and severe. The curves of her eyes were pointed and angular. The line of her nose and the corners of her mouth were sharp. She was like a sword or a rose thorn, full of aggression.

In contrast, Ye Wanqing was gentle, almost childlike. Her features were soft, and you could see she had been a beautiful woman in her youth.

She actually looked a little like Li Chu.

Ye Wanqing noticed it herself. She tilted her head and carefully studied Li Chu.

The nurse finished tidying the bed and was about to leave with some things. Ye Wanqing quickly turned her face and followed her out.

It looked like Qin Zhen had stabilized.

Qin Song belatedly realized there was a taste of blood in her mouth. She had bitten her tongue stud too hard, scraping the delicate tip of her tongue. She swallowed the warm, salty tang, her heart pounding as if blood was returning to her body.

A weak, old voice came from the room across the hall. Li Chu responded, seeming no longer afraid. She took Qin Song’s hand. “Come on, let’s go eat.”

Her hand was very soft, her five slender fingertips intertwined. Her fingernails were short and round. If you only looked at her hands, you would think she was a child.

Qin Song was suddenly pulled into room 703.

It wasn’t as cold as 704 and felt a bit more lived-in. The old woman on the bed wore reading glasses and was holding a ball of sky-blue yarn. Her features weren’t Asian, and her eyes were the same color as the yarn.

Qin Song blinked, recognizing Director Hu as the lawyer Hu Muwan, who had been famous in the city of Nancheng in her youth.

“And this is…?” She pushed her glasses up, her voice kind. “Is this Little Chu’s friend?”

Li Chu poured a cup of warm water from a thermos and handed it to her. “Yes, she’s a friend!” Qin Song had said so earlier; they were friends.

Director Hu pointed to the chair by the bed. “Please, sit.”

Qin Song sat down without a word. The old woman on the bed suddenly leaned in closer, and her gaze… was as if she was looking at someone else through Qin Song.

“What a pretty girl.” She pulled herself together and smiled, patting the other side of the bed. “Come sit here, Little Chu. Didn’t you say you made crucian carp soup today?”

The food box was still steaming when it was opened. Qin Song was handed a pair of chopsticks in a daze. She just held them, looking out of place.

Li Chu fed a spoonful to Director Hu. Her dimples appeared at the corners of her mouth. “Is it good? I made it just the way you taught me!”

The old woman and the young girl chatted about everyday things. In this unfamiliar environment, Qin Song found herself unconsciously finishing the meal.

Afterward, Director Hu took up her knitting, and Li Chu rested her head on her arms by the bed, watching her quietly.

Qin Song wanted to smoke. Looking at the silent, meaningful scene between the two, she rubbed her hands in her pocket and then silently closed the cigarette box.

Qin Zhen’s surgery was finished at eight p.m. When he was wheeled back, Qin Song was resting her chin in her hand, listening to Director Hu talk about a friend named Tang.

The bed was about to pass the room. Qin Song nodded slightly, a sign that she was leaving, and returned to 704.

Li Chu watched her back disappear into the door crack.

“Is that the person you like?” Director Hu tidied up her yarn, her voice low and gentle. “She reminds me so much of a friend I once had.”

Li Chu felt a little shy. “Is there anyone as aloof as her?”

Director Hu seemed to be reminiscing. The wrinkles at the corners of her eyes deepened with a smile. “Not quite as aloof as her. We could talk normally, but she was also uninhibited and always broke the rules.”

“She went through a lot of hardship, and her health was poor. She’s been gone for nearly twenty years now. I visit her grave every year, but I’m afraid I can’t this year.”

Li Chu’s nose and eyes stung, but she stubbornly refused to cry. Her hand unconsciously picked at the bedsheet. “Who says? If you want to go, I’ll go with you, even if it’s pouring rain or snowing!”

Then, as if afraid the other would refuse, she grabbed a pen and paper, imitating the way Qin Song signed contracts. “Let’s make a deal now. Sign it, and you can’t go back on your word. Whoever breaks the promise is a little pig!”

Director Hu, as usual, indulged Li Chu, smiling kindly as she was “forced” to sign her name.

The two rooms, one bright and one dark, had different atmospheres, but the sadness was the same. After midnight, only one family member was allowed to stay. Ye Wanqing stayed for Qin Song, and Lin Zhiyan stayed for Li Chu.

They got into the elevator together and stood in silence for a long time. Li Chu secretly glanced at the person beside her, wanting to say something but not daring to.

Qin Song’s trench coat hadn’t been washed in days and was smudged with a few inappropriate stains. They shouldn’t have been on her, but it seemed she hadn’t had the time to care for such things due to Qin Zhen’s illness.

Li Chu looked away and up at the floor numbers. As the elevator neared the third floor, it made a few rattling noises and suddenly went dark.

They were stuck on the third floor. The announcement seemed to lack power, cutting in and out before falling silent.

Li Chu was so scared her heart pounded wildly, nearly knocking herself out. “What happened?! Why did it stop?!”

Her voice was truly pathetic and filled with panic. In the pitch black, only their two breaths could be heard. One was panicked and hurried; the other, pathologically, went from weak to… heavy.

Li Chu pressed the alarm button, but there was no response.

Qin Song, who had been silent, suddenly moved, making a loud noise. Li Chu turned on her phone’s flashlight and saw that she was sitting on the floor, her knees red, as if she had fallen to her knees hard.

“What’s wrong with you?”

Qin Song didn’t respond, trying to reach up and grab the elevator rail. Li Chu noticed that her hand was so pale it looked as if the tattoo had faded.

The beautiful bones on the back of her hand were slick with sweat. Li Chu shined the light on her entire body. Sweat had soaked the hair at her temples, turning the pink hair to a deep rose color. Several droplets slid down her long collarbone and into her collar.

Qin Song’s face was extremely pale, and her brows were tightly furrowed. She was scared of something and was trying her best to suppress it. Her lower lip was bitten, leaving a red mark that ruined her composure.

Li Chu felt she was holding back. She was always so composed. How could she let herself fall from her pedestal and become one with a mere mortal?

Her incompatibility was so unnatural that Li Chu completely forgot her fear. Compared to being afraid of the dark, Qin Song was the more pitiful one.

But Qin Song moved again, anxiously tearing at her collar. The buttons came loose with the violent movement, clattering into the corner of the elevator.

Li Chu squatted down to pick up the buttons and used her sleeve to wipe the sweat from Qin Song’s face, searching for words of comfort in her heart. “We’ll get out soon.”

Qin Song’s chest was rising and falling heavily. Her lips were parted as if she couldn’t breathe through her nose.

“Are you feeling unwell?” Li Chu also broke out in a sweat. Her damp bangs stuck to her forehead. The air was getting thin because the elevator wasn’t running, and she had to take off her jacket.

Seeing that Qin Song’s jacket was turning a darker color, Li Chu blinked. Carefully, and with a great deal of daring, she reached out and slowly peeled off the filthy jacket, tossing it aside.

The shirt underneath was almost stuck to her skin, vaguely revealing the colorful tattoos. Four or five buttons on her collar were broken, leaving a wide opening. A brown strap hung down her arm, and a talisman was tattooed on her abdomen.

The blood-colored talisman was designed to look like an arrow feather that pierced her entire upper body, with the arrowhead meeting the floral pattern on her chest.

It was the first time Li Chu had seen such a complete tattoo. If she hadn’t looked carefully, she might have mistaken it for a gaping wound.

She remembered she had a bottle of mineral water in her bag, so she bit down on her phone to get it out. She unscrewed the cap and held it to Qin Song’s lips.

Qin Song couldn’t drink it and choked. Her thick eyelashes fluttered. Water dribbled from the corner of her mouth and wet the silver ornament on her collarbone.

The scene carried an indescribable, shattered charm. Li Chu felt both agitated and flustered.

“Drink it!” She couldn’t care less about the strange flutterings in her heart and tried to pour more water. In her panic, her mind became clearer.

She used to be curious about everything, looking things up on Baidu just for fun, like a form of self-education. So, in Li Chu’s not-so-vast sea of knowledge, one term was perfectly clear: claustrophobia.

It wasn’t a fear of the dark but a fear of small, enclosed spaces that were also dark. The reason Qin Song wasn’t afraid of a haunted house was that the haunted house in the misty forest was spacious. She could get into an elevator because she could see, which didn’t amplify her fear.

Another way to put it was that it was within a tolerable range.

Li Chu’s eyes widened with excitement. She felt so clever. Her curiosity, which was often dismissed, had come in handy at a critical moment.

However, the elevator was still silent. Qin Song was icy cold. Her vision was blurred by sweat. A chill crawled from her spine, spreading throughout her body like an insect.

Li Chu was right in front of her, her voice and face seeming to be in and out of reach. Qin Song’s breathing was blocked. She wanted to tell her in a cold voice to stop talking. The moment she opened her mouth, a sense of suffocation swept over her like a tidal wave.

She opened her lips uncontrollably, taking small, suppressed, and restrained gulps of air. But the more she focused on it, the harder it was to overcome.

Li Chu was quiet beside her. Qin Song wanted to look up to see what she was doing when her head was suddenly plunged into darkness. Li Chu had covered her with her jacket.

The last time they kissed was when Li Chu was suffering from an asthma attack. She had to breathe for her. It was awkward, but it was just enough to give Qin Song some air.

Her nerves were caught between resistance and forced fear. Li Chu pulled back her lips, her soft body collapsing as if she were embracing a doll.

“Don’t be nervous.” Her hand went to Qin Song’s left ear, moving the damp hair behind it. The left ear was closer to the heart and could hear many sincere things.

“I’ll keep this a secret. I won’t mention it after we get out.”

Qin Song’s arrogance, composure, and cold indifference probably couldn’t allow something like this to happen. Her restraint said it all.

Just as Li Chu was about to say something more to comfort her, the emergency alarm, which had been silent, let out a screech. The operator’s voice came through the speaker, sounding urgent. “Are you two alright? Can you speak?”

Qin Song, with a sliver of strength left, tore the jacket from their heads and leaned back slightly.

Li Chu rushed to the speaker. “How long until it’s fixed?!”

After five or six minutes, the lights came back on, and the elevator slowly descended to the first floor.

The injury on Qin Song’s knee was red and swollen. She reached down to brush off the dust, then bent over to pick up her jacket. A strand of pink hair fell onto her chest.

Since her shirt was missing buttons, this action revealed almost her entire half-hidden interior, a sight of unspoken feelings.

Qin Song put her jacket on meticulously, but her hand trembled as she tried to zip it up, almost getting her hair caught several times.

The moment the elevator doors opened, she quickly regained her cold composure. She strode out, her eyes stern as she scanned the crowd.

The repairmen saw them and rushed over. “We’re so sorry. Did either of you get hurt, miss?”

Li Chu was about to say something but glanced at Qin Song and shook her head. “No, we’re not hurt, but this is too dangerous! The rescue was so slow!”

The workers apologized repeatedly and went back to their repairs.

Qin Song and Li Chu quickly walked out of the hospital entrance.

The fresh, cold air hit them in the face. Compared to the cramped, sealed-off elevator, it felt like being reborn.

Sister Qin: This nickname makes me want to die.

I made you wait .

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