I Woke Up And My Girlfriend Was Gone - Chapter 40

Chapter 40

The heavy, resonant chime of the hospital’s vintage grandfather clock struck the hour. The golden hour hand settled slowly onto the Roman numeral ten.

With about half an hour left before the scheduled ward rounds, Zuo Yin pulled the car into the hospital lot, successfully returning Shen Qingzi from the cemetery. Shen Qingzi checked her phone; it had remained quiet throughout the journey. The heart that had been hovering in her throat finally settled. It seemed their secret excursion had gone unnoticed.

“We weren’t caught, were we?” Zuo Yin walked side-by-side with Shen Qingzi. Perhaps it was a guilty conscience, but the quiet corridor made her feel uneasy.

“No,” Shen Qingzi replied, pushing open her ward door.

The room looked exactly as they had left it in the early morning—untouched. However, as they stepped inside, they saw a young nurse sitting on the sofa, a medical trolley parked beside her. Seeing that Shen Qingzi wasn’t in her hospital gown, the nurse’s brow furrowed instantly.

“Miss Shen, you went out?”

Suppressing a cold sweat, Shen Qingzi pointed calmly to a note on the coffee table. “Didn’t I leave a message? I went for a walk with Xiao Yin.”

The nurse spotted the note but remained skeptical. “I came by thirty minutes ago to give you your injection and you weren’t here. You’ve been gone much longer than thirty minutes, haven’t you?”

Shen Qingzi knew the “injection” was likely a pretense—someone had probably asked the nurse to check up on her. “This hospital is so big, and even though I’ve been here many times, I’ve never truly explored it. Xiao Yin hadn’t seen it either, so we thought we’d take advantage of the good weather to wander around. Right?”

As she spoke, Shen Qingzi naturally draped an arm around Zuo Yin’s shoulder.

The sudden weight caused Zuo Yin’s shoulder to dip slightly, and the high-speed switch in her heart was instantly flipped on. They had just come from the freezing outdoors; though the room was warm, their bodies still carried a chill—except for the spot where Shen Qingzi touched her. That warmth was radiating through the iris scent.

Zuo Yin nodded cooperatively, her vision filled with the smile Shen Qingzi directed at her. Cold and heat alternated within her, mirroring her internal struggle: the desperate need to pull away from Shen Qingzi versus the agonizing reluctance to let go.

The nurse looked at Zuo Yin dubiously. “Really?”

“Mhm,” Zuo Yin replied. “We went to the lake at the back.”

There was indeed a lake behind the hospital, and a round trip would take at least twenty minutes. Zuo Yin had been mentally preparing an alibi the whole way back; luckily, Zuo Lan had mentioned exploring the hospital grounds during her stay.

As Zuo Yin spoke, she used the gesture of pointing the nurse toward the lake as an excuse to slip out from under Shen Qingzi’s arm. She knew the move was blatant, but she couldn’t help it. Her ears were filled with the thump-thump of her own heart. Now that she was fully aware of her feelings, she was terrified of losing control again. If she did, she wouldn’t be able to stay by Shen Qingzi’s side or paint for her.

Shen Qingzi’s arm fell into empty air. She looked at the seemingly indifferent girl, and a strange sense of loss washed over her.

The nurse did the math, believed Zuo Yin, and said to Shen Qingzi, “Well, get back into bed. It’s time for your IV.”

Shen Qingzi retracted her gaze from Zuo Yin and followed the nurse to the bed. A thin purple needle pierced the pale skin of her hand, and a small amount of red blood flowed back into the tube. Zuo Yin felt a sharp pang of sympathy. She had never been afraid of needles, nor was she someone with high empathy for others.

Except for Shen Qingzi.

The nurse skillfully set up the drip, gave a few instructions, and wheeled the cart out. Zuo Yin watched the steady drip of the medicine, pulled up a small chair by the bed, and asked, “Want an apple?”

“Sure,” Shen Qingzi nodded, watching her.

Zuo Yin held the bright red apple, the sharp knife looking like a natural extension of her hand. In moments, a long coil of red peel spiraled downward. Shen Qingzi noticed how slender and fair Zuo Yin’s fingers were. The sunlight caught her knuckles, highlighting the delicate skin.

Vibrate, vibrate…

An abrupt ringtone broke the silence. Zuo Yin felt the vibration in her pocket.

“Sorry,” she said, setting down the knife. She stepped aside and put on her headphones to take a video call.

The screen showed an oil painting classroom. Yuan Yuan’s voice came through: “Xiao Yin, is it okay if I save this spot for you?”

Zuo Yin blinked, suddenly remembering she had a class this morning. She nodded. “Yes, that’s fine.”

Seeing the nod, Yuan Yuan placed her backpack and water bottle on the chair. “It’s good to be early; the room is empty.”

Zuo Yin checked the time. Yuan Yuan wasn’t just “early”—she was thirty minutes ahead of schedule. “Aren’t you a bit too early?”

“Teacher Xu needs to see me and Xu Xu for a bit, so I came to save our seats first. She’s going to find the teacher now, and I’m heading there too.” Yuan Yuan smiled at the screen, her dimples deep and bright. “See you later, then!”

Zuo Yin felt that Yuan Yuan’s dimples were her most infectious feature. She nodded and ended the call.

Shen Qingzi wasn’t one to pry, but seeing it was a video call, she couldn’t help but ask, “Who was that?”

“Yuan Yuan.”

Shen Qingzi remembered that name—the girl who constantly referred to “Our Xiao Yin.” An inexplicable sense of wariness rose in her. “Does she need something?”

Zuo Yin shook her head. “She’s at the classroom saving seats for our next lecture. She wanted to know where I wanted to sit.”

Shen Qingzi felt that a seat was hardly worth a video call. “She… do you two always do this?”

Zuo Yin, oblivious to the undertone, answered honestly. “Yes. She handles the seats, and I bring her things.”

Shen Qingzi gave a flat, emotionless “Oh.” She added, “You two are quite the partners.”

The coolness in her tone caught Zuo Yin’s attention. She picked up the apple again and added casually, “She’s a good person. She often brings me breakfast and snacks.”

A complicated light flashed in Shen Qingzi’s eyes. She didn’t know how to describe what she was feeling. She tried to suppress the uncharacteristic emotion, forcing herself to mimic Zuo Yin’s praise. “I see. She sounds very nice then.”

“Very nice indeed.”

At that moment, the apple peel snapped and fell to the floor. Zuo Yin felt a hollow sensation in her chest; she hadn’t gotten the reaction she (perhaps subconsciously) wanted. Of course, she thought. Why would she be rattled by such an ambiguous description? She doesn’t like me like that…

Zuo Yin picked up the peel, feeling her own little schemes were foolish. She tossed it in the trash and checked the time. Class started in twenty minutes; she had to leave. “I have another class. I have to go.”

She placed the peeled apple on Shen Qingzi’s fruit plate. “Remember to eat it.”

“Mhm.” Shen Qingzi nodded. Her hand fidgeted under the covers before she pulled it out to wave. “Goodbye, Xiao Yin.”

“Goodbye, Teacher.” Zuo Yin waved back, put on her coat, and left.

Despite the response, Shen Qingzi didn’t find the peace of mind she sought. The girl’s departure took the last trace of warmth from the room. Even though it was a rare sunny day outside, Shen Qingzi felt empty. She got out of bed and stood by the window, watching the perfectly peeled apple. The long IV tube cast a lonely shadow behind her.

“She handles the seats, and I bring her things.”

The girl’s cool voice echoed in her ears. A simple sentence, yet it tied the two of them together with such unspoken understanding. It was a mundane detail, yet it made Shen Qingzi frown.

Yuan Yuan.

She stared aimlessly out the window, tracing the name in her mind, her calm gaze slowly changing color. Then, a small black figure appeared below—Zuo Yin was walking out of the building. She didn’t look back.

Shen Qingzi felt a sudden, terrifying premonition that she was losing her.

During their “cover-up” earlier, Zuo Yin had been deliberately keeping her distance. This was exactly what Shen Qingzi thought she wanted, yet it caused her an unavoidable sense of loss.

In truth, this feeling had been building for a long time. Ever since the fever began, ever since she opened her eyes and saw Zhou Lin instead of Zuo Yin. In just a few short months, Shen Qingzi’s emotions had become like vines breaking through the winter soil—growing wildly, tangling, and invading her mind.

She was no longer calm or objective regarding anything related to Zuo Yin. She had broken her own principles time and again, ignoring the ambiguity of their night in Dunhuang and choosing to “forget” the girl’s confession.

Shen Qingzi looked through the glass. The world outside began to blur, the colorful points of light expanding. Amidst the shifting shadows, she suddenly realized that the girl had, at some unknown point, taken up residence in her heart.

“Shen Qingzi.” “Teacher.” “Sister.”

Zuo Yin’s voice, calling her by different names in that flat, cool tone, drifted through her mind. That expressionless face, those pure dark eyes that could hold both a smile and a pout… they were profoundly moving.

Shen Qingzi’s hand tightened on the window frame. She realized that what she felt for Zuo Yin wasn’t just “appreciation.” It was much more.

It was the love one feels for a partner.