She Seems to Struggle with Having a Wife - Chapter 8

At nine o’clock in the evening, the night was deep.

Scattered lights dotted the area outside the office.

In the darkness, the person slumped over the desk slowly twitched a finger, the bright red bloodstains long since dried.

Wei Qing’an awoke from her unconscious state. The clothes soaked with cold sweat had already been dried by her feverish body temperature.

She stared into the pitch-black space before her, with only faint traces of light seeping in from outside the window.

This scene felt eerily familiar.

Wei Qing’an glanced at her right hand, the wound had stopped bleeding, leaving only a sticky mess.

She let out a soft, bitter laugh, her face pale.

Lifting her left hand to brace against the edge of the desk, she sat up slowly. After a moment to steady herself, she rose and fumbled in the dark for the light switch.

Afraid the light would be too harsh, Wei Qing’an closed her eyes as she flipped the switch. Once adjusted, she turned and walked unsteadily back to clean up the tissues and bloodstains on the desk, not wanting to alarm anyone who might see it tomorrow.

After tidying up, she finally raised her hand to examine the wound carefully, it was a full 2 centimeters long.

Though it had stopped bleeding, she still needed to go to the hospital for treatment. She just wasn’t sure if she could hold out until she got there. She hoped she could.

Returning to her seat, Wei Qing’an used her phone to call a ride. Pale-faced and carrying a large bag, she walked out of the building.

The distance from the building to the entrance was only about five minutes, but Wei Qing’an took three steps and paused with each one, her vision still flickering with darkness. She couldn’t tell if it was the lighting or her own eyes, but she could barely see the path clearly.

Her mind felt like a muddled mess, so chaotic it made her nauseous.

But she couldn’t collapse here, she had to get to the hospital to treat the wound.

And she absolutely couldn’t let Qin Mu find out.

Outside the museum, a white car was parked by the roadside.

Inside, Qin Mu sat in the back seat, a laptop resting on the armrest as she typed away.

After the meeting this morning, she needed to prepare a presentation.

She had originally planned to work on it in the office, but for some reason, after receiving the letter of self-criticism, she left work early.

Leaving the company, Qin Mu started driving toward home, but before she knew it, she found herself at the museum.

Perhaps she had come here so often it had become a habit.

Finishing the last slide, her laptop was nearly out of battery. Qin Mu closed the computer and stretched her legs, stiff from sitting cross-legged in the back seat.

She leaned back, resting her head against the car window. Outside, the sound of rushing traffic roared by, while inside, it was quiet and peaceful, a tranquility she always felt whenever she came here.

But a large part of that was because she was here.

That was why she felt at ease.

“Wei Qing’an,” Qin Mu suddenly whispered her name.

After sitting in the car for a while, lost in thought, Qin Mu packed away her laptop and the armrest, opened the car door, and prepared to drive back.

As she reached the driver’s side and was about to open the door, her peripheral vision caught sight of a woman lying on the ground not far away. Out of a sense of humanity, Qin Mu walked over, pulling out her phone to dial for emergency services.

But the closer she got, the clearer the woman’s clothing became it was Wei Qing’an’s.

Wei Qing’an.

Qin Mu froze in disbelief. How could it be?

How could it be her.

Then, she rushed over, knelt on the ground, and lifted Wei Qing’an into her arms. Brushing the hair away from her face, she saw that delicate but deathly pale face, looking so fragile before her eyes.

“Wei Qing’an, Wei Qing’an,” Qin Mu cried out hoarsely.

But the woman in her arms showed no response.

Tears instantly streamed down Qin Mu’s eyes. She picked up her phone, slipped it into her pocket, and without a second thought, she scooped Wei Qing’an up in a princess carry, one hand supporting her back, the other tucked under her knees.

Wei Qing’an felt impossibly light in her arms, a result of prolonged malnutrition. Qin Mu looked down at her unconscious form, silent tears falling one by one, each drop landing on Wei Qing’an’s chest.

It was the first time Qin Mu had cried so uncontrollably.

Fear gripped her heart, tightening with every passing second.

After settling Wei Qing’an in the back seat, Qin Mu shut the car door and moved to the driver’s side. Once inside, she fastened her seatbelt, wiped away her tears, and took a few deep breaths. With red, swollen eyes, she started the car.

The roads were quiet at night, yet Qin Mu ran two red lights.

She couldn’t wait, she simply couldn’t afford to.

The moment she lifted Wei Qing’an from the ground and felt her icy-cold body, Qin Mu had feared the worst that Wei Qing’an was gone, that she no longer had the courage to even breathe.

For the first time, Qin Mu realized just how terrified she was of losing her. In that instant, her heart felt hollow.

So, Wei Qing’an, you must be okay.

Half an hour later, outside the hospital emergency room.

Qin Mu sat with her hands clasped tightly, fists pressed against her forehead, unmoving. Her dark, long hair veiled her expression.

She had been sitting there for as long as Wei Qing’an had been inside.

Beep, the light above the door went out.

Qin Mu sprang to her feet instinctively, her fists clenched tightly at her sides, not daring to relax.

The doctor removed his mask and said directly, “She’s fine now. It was low blood sugar combined with excessive blood loss that caused her to faint from anemia. However, she’s running a high fever, and her wound shows mild signs of infection. We’ll need to reassess her condition tomorrow.”

“Okay.” Relief washed over Qin Mu upon hearing she was safe, but then she asked, “What do you mean by excessive blood loss?”

The doctor raised his right hand, pointing to the area below the palm. “She had a cut here from a sharp object. It seems it wasn’t treated in time, which led to significant blood loss and subsequent infection.”

“But,” the doctor paused, a hint of confusion in his voice, “if the wound had been treated promptly, the blood loss wouldn’t have been this severe. It appears the patient went several hours from the time of injury until arriving here without receiving any care.”

No treatment at all?

Qin Mu frowned slightly. “Alright, thank you, Doctor.”

“Of course.”

Soon after, a nurse wheeled out the sleeping Wei Qing’an and transferred her to a standard ward.

Qin Mu followed closely, her gaze drifting from Wei Qing’an’s face down to her injured right hand, now neatly wrapped in white bandages, hiding the severity of the wound.

After a moment, Qin Mu averted her eyes, a wave of lingering fear washing over her.

If she hadn’t gone to the museum tonight.

Qin Mu didn’t dare imagine the consequences.

After confirming Wei Qing’an’s room, Qin Mu went downstairs to handle the payment and pick up the prescribed medication.

Worried that Wei Qing’an might wake up hungry the next day, she stepped outside the hospital to buy some fruits and snacks. She even found a rib soup shop, paid extra to reserve a portion for the next noon, arranging for delivery to the hospital.

Once everything was taken care of, Qin Mu returned to the ward.

Hospitals were never short of people, and the general wards were especially chaotic filled with chatter and the blare of televisions.

Finding the noise unbearable, Qin Mu drew the curtain around the bed.

The curtain blocked out the commotion outside but did little to ease the worry in her heart. The doctor had said Wei Qing’an likely wouldn’t wake until tomorrow, so Qin Mu had taken time off from work to care for her, informing Gao Jingchen of her absence.

Gao Jingchen had asked her what was wrong.

Qin Mu replied that a family member was ill.

He agreed to her request and thoughtfully expressed concern, but Qin Mu simply took it as politeness.

After handling everything, Qin Mu finally sat down.

She was much calmer now than she had been initially, though her emotions remained complex and filled with a sense of defeat.

Because when Wei Qing’an needed help, she hadn’t called Qin Mu instead, she chose to endure it alone.

If she had sent a message or made a call, Qin Mu would have shown up without hesitation.

If Xiao Xi were here.

Would Wei Qing’an have reached out to Xiao Xi?

Qin Mu suddenly found herself entertaining this self-deceiving thought.

Just like in the past, when Wei Qing’an would rush back from out of town just because Xiao Xi had mentioned something like the time she showed up, travel-worn and still in her work jacket, carrying a gift and a warm smile for Xiao Xi’s birthday.

In that moment, both Qin Mu and Xiao Xi had been moved.

It was through Wei Qing’an’s countless attentive responses to Xiao Xi that Qin Mu had fallen for her.

Does that sound calculating? Selfish?

Even when Xiao Xi, on her deathbed in the hospital, had asked Qin Mu to take good care of Wei Qing’an, Qin Mu still wondered: Was she just a substitute for Xiao Xi? Was it enough to stay by Wei Qing’an’s side like this?

Qin Mu lifted her gaze to the person on the bed and let out a bitter, helpless smile.

Perhaps in Wei Qing’an’s heart, the one she truly loved was still Xiao Xi.

This was Qin Mu’s first time caring for a patient, and she wasn’t very familiar with what to do. She hardly slept all night, following instructions to ring for medicine changes, fetching hot water to wipe sweat with a towel, and occasionally offering sips of saline attending to every detail with meticulous care.

The next morning.

After returning from breakfast, Qin Mu pulled back the curtain and suddenly met a pair of clear, lucid eyes.

Having calmed down overnight, Qin Mu walked over composedly and said in a neutral tone, “You’re awake.”

“Why are you here?”

Wei Qing’an asked in surprise.

She had just woken up, and her voice sounded weak.

Qin Mu didn’t answer her. Instead, she took out her phone and called the rib shop she had contacted the night before. The shop was probably busy it took a second call before the owner’s wife picked up.

“Hello, I’m the one who paid extra to order rib soup yesterday. You can start preparing it now, and contact me when it’s ready.”

“Okay, got it.”

The owner’s wife agreed quickly mainly because Qin Mu had paid generously the night before.

After hanging up, Qin Mu finally spoke to her: “Are you thirsty? Do you want water, or some fruit?”

“Water.” Wei Qing’an swallowed, her throat dry.

Qin Mu unscrewed a bottle of mineral water and bent down instinctively, about to help Wei Qing’an sit up to drink.

Seeing her so attentive, Wei Qing’an raised her uninjured left hand somewhat uneasily and smiled, saying, “I can manage on my own.”

“Mm.” Qin Mu handed her the bottle expressionlessly.

Wei Qing’an took it and drank a few sips.

After drinking, she tried to set it on the table, but Qin Mu suddenly reached over, took the bottle, and screwed the cap back on.

Wei Qing’an withdrew her hand, a little dazed.

After putting the water away, Qin Mu said, “I ordered rib soup from a shop. It’ll be delivered soon. If you’re hungry, I can go to a nearby convenience store to get you some instant rice balls or steamed buns and porridge to tide you over.”

“No need to trouble yourself. Anything to eat is fine.”

Wei Qing’an didn’t want her going back and forth on her account.

Qin Mu’s eyes dimmed slightly, and she gave a soft “Mm.”

After that, Qin Mu fell silent. A sudden quiet settled between them, yet Qin Mu’s throat ached with a raw, painful tightness.

Wei Qing glanced around. The white curtains were drawn tightly, and aside from Qin Mu, there seemed to be no one else.

She remembered collapsing at the entrance last night. Could it have been a colleague who brought her here and notified Qin Mu?

Wei Qing’an turned her gaze to Qin Mu, who was looking down, replying to messages. Though she felt it might be an imposition, curiosity got the better of her, and she asked, “Last night, was it a colleague who brought me to the hospital?”

“No,” Qin Mu replied, looking up with a calm expression as she lied. “I found you when I passed by the museum.”

Wei Qing was taken aback, her gaze lingering on Qin Mu. Only when she noticed that Qin Mu was still wearing the same shirt from yesterday did she realize that Qin Mu had stayed with her the entire night.

Wei Qing’an said gratefully, “Thank you.”

But what she wanted to say was more than just “thank you.”

After finishing her work messages, Qin Mu turned off her phone, sat up straight, and asked sternly, “What happened to the wound on your right hand? The doctor said you have low blood sugar. Have you not been eating properly every day?”

This was something Wei Qing’an had grown accustomed to, but Qin Mu’s sudden, forceful questioning made her unexpectedly nervous. She obediently explained, “The wound was from an accident at work. The low blood sugar has been an issue since I started working. I always carry chocolate with me, but I ran out recently and haven’t had a chance to buy more.”

Since she started working? Qin Mu suddenly frowned.

Wei Qing’an had been on the school’s tennis and table tennis teams back in the day, with excellent physical fitness, she even came in first in the girls’ 800-meter race.

How had her health deteriorated to this point?

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