The Person I Love Who Has Been Missing For Three Years - Chapter 25

Chapter 25: It’s Like a Role Reversal

Dazed, she seemed to be awake, yet not quite, the light before her eyes slightly overlapping.

Song Xiangwan forced her eyes open, looking around. The familiar environment was her bedroom at Clear Water Bay.

She got up and put on her slippers, her legs feeling weak. She stumbled to the bedroom door.

In one glance, she saw the person busy in the kitchen.

Song Xiangwan couldn’t cook at all, but Ming Jin knew how to make a few quick dishes.

Tall and slender, her dark silk shirt was rolled up to her forearms, revealing sharply defined wrist bones. Her medium-length hair fell over her shoulders, and the curling steam blurred her silhouette.

“Time to eat.” She walked out of the kitchen, holding bowls and chopsticks.

Song Xiangwan felt like her head was as heavy as a sandbag. Her lips were dry and her throat parched, unable to speak.

The food was set on the table. Ming Jin took off her apron, walked closer, and gathered her into an embrace.

The hug was light and faint, seemingly lacking in warmth, yet conveying a sense of softness.

Song Xiangwan couldn’t help but hug her back, rubbing lightly against her in the embrace.

She closed her eyes and leaned on Ming Jin’s shoulder for a moment, then struggled to open her eyes again, only to be instantly shocked, wanting to cry out.

Blood… so much blood…

Her hands were covered in blood, and so was Ming Jin’s body. The dark shirt was soaked with bloodstains, patches of black, heavy marks.

She wanted to speak, wanted to scream, but it was as if her throat was being choked. She couldn’t utter a single syllable.

She gripped her phone, wanting to dial 120, but those simple three numbers, she couldn’t press them at all. Press wrong, re-enter, press wrong, re-enter…

Her palm was cold and clammy, and the surroundings began to spin.

Ming Jin.

A-Jin.

A-Jin.

You can’t die.

What about me?

What should I do?

Boundless terror, like a hand, suddenly seized her heart.

She wanted to do something, yet she could do nothing. She couldn’t scream, she couldn’t even dial an emergency number.

The heavy sensation of dizziness continued to assault her, pressing her eyelids down, down. She tried hard to keep her eyes wide open, wanting to hold her, but it was futile.

The surroundings were pitch black. The faint light from the corridor shone in, reflecting the stark white of a hospital room.

She gasped for air, and the heavy feeling in her mind slowly dispersed—everything that had just happened.

Her entire head was throbbing, especially her forehead, like it had been struck by a blunt object, a dull, aching pain.

She was very, very tired, her eyelids too heavy to lift. Uncontrollable sleepiness swept over her.

She didn’t stay awake for long before falling asleep again.

But it was like falling into a recurring nightmare. She woke up again with a heavy head, got out of bed, and walked out in a daze…

Waking up in a fright again.

All her limbs felt utterly devoid of strength, but Song Xiangwan still struggled to sit up.

She couldn’t sleep anymore. If she did, the dream would return.

Eyes full of blood, where she could do nothing, and even breathing became difficult.

On the accompanying bed beside her, Cheng Cheng turned over. The metal bed frame creaked, making Song Xiangwan tremble slightly in fright.

It was too quiet. In the middle of the night, there were no calls from the nurses’ station outside. Everyone was deep in sleep.

Song Xiangwan sat on the bed, bent her knees, wrapped her arms around them, and curled up into a ball.

She lightly pressed her lips together, yet she could still feel them slightly trembling. Her head ached terribly, and the dream kept looping.

She didn’t sleep at all the second half of the night. The consequence was that her entire face was pale the next day, with dark circles under her eyes.

Cao Xin was startled when she saw it and rushed to press the call bell, but Song Xiangwan stopped her with a casual remark, saying she just hadn’t slept well.

The doctor checked her over but found nothing abnormal; her physical indicators were normal.

Cao Xin tentatively asked in a low voice, “Did you… have a nightmare?”

Song Xiangwan didn’t speak, her eyelashes softly lowered. She neither denied nor admitted it.

Probably, Cao Xin sighed, putting the chopsticks into Song Xiangwan’s hand: “It’s alright, but you still have to eat.”

It’s normal to have nightmares after being nearly sexually assaulted.

Now, should she tell Ming Jin about this situation?

But before she could figure out what to say, Xu Zhiyan came in person. She wasn’t alone; she brought several lawyers.

A new contract was placed in front of Song Xiangwan and Cao Xin. Xu Zhiyan said, “Miss Song, you can take a closer look at the contract…”

Cao Xin picked it up and flipped through it. When she saw the terms, her pupils widened slightly in shock. This distribution ratio, this resource allocation—wasn’t Rongxing making any money?

Not only did the largest share of the split go to Song Xiangwan personally, but it also granted a great degree of freedom. The supplementary clauses were all restrictions on the company.

Even if Song Xiangwan unilaterally breaches the contract in the future, she wouldn’t need to pay any compensation.

In the entire entertainment industry, there absolutely wouldn’t be a second contract this outrageous.

“I won’t sign it.” The Ancestor spoke up at this moment.

“Miss Song, is there anything you’re dissatisfied with?” Xu Zhiyan’s tone was flat. “The lawyers are here; we can redraft the contract on the spot.”

“Whether it’s the distribution ratio or the resource commitments, we can negotiate further.”

Cao Xin no longer knew how to express her shock. This kind of contract—could it still be negotiated?

Cao Xin nudged Song Xiangwan, meaning to take the good offer and settle it. If they missed this opportunity, they really wouldn’t get another one.

But Song Xiangwan seemed to completely ignore her hint. She just looked up at Xu Zhiyan: “I want to see Ming Jin.”

Xu Zhiyan was silent for a moment, her eyebrows slightly furrowed. The words that were about to spill out were ultimately held back.

She didn’t dare to conflict with Song Xiangwan right now.

She spoke gently: “Miss Song, I can represent President Ming to sign today’s contract. If you have any questions, you can discuss them with me.”

“I won’t discuss it with you.” Song Xiangwan lifted her chin, her phoenix eyes filled with stubborn determination. “If she doesn’t come, I won’t sign this contract.”

“You…” Xu Zhiyan’s voice deepened, but she restrained herself and gave a look to the people beside her.

Song Xiangwan then stopped speaking. If it wasn’t Ming Jin, there would be no cooperation or communication.

When this ancestor got stubborn, eight donkeys couldn’t pull her back.

She stuck her neck out, looking defiant of everyone.

But when she heard the sound of a wheelchair being pushed in, she turned around in a panic, her eyes immediately turning red, looking like a pitiful abandoned kitten.

Ming Jin’s wheelchair stopped beside the bed. At such close distance, she saw the poor color of Song Xiangwan’s face and the grievances in her eyes.

“A-Yan, I came to have you sign the contract,” Ming Jin’s voice carried a hint of coldness.

Xu Zhiyan was dumbfounded. Good heavens, had she said anything impolite since she walked in?

How did Song Xiangwan’s reddened eyes make it seem like she was being a bully?

“If you insisted on seeing me, is there a problem with the contract content?” Ming Jin took the copy of the contract. Her long, slender fingers rested on the paper, gently turning the pages.

She quickly scanned a few key points. No changes. It was the same one she had approved earlier.

She figured Xu Zhiyan wouldn’t dare to change a contract she had seen.

“No…” Song Xiangwan opened her mouth, reached out, took the contract and the pen, and hurriedly flipped to the back, her pen tip poised over the blank space for Party B.

“You can look at it again,” Ming Jin reminded her. “It’s not a small matter, after all.”

“No need to look.” Song Xiangwan turned the pen tip and signed her name smoothly and skillfully.

She couldn’t help but look at the space for Party A: Rongxing’s company seal and the signature of the person in charge, which was not Ming Jin’s signature.

On the previous contract with Rongxing, Ming Jin had signed here.

Their two names next to each other, gentle and deeply connected, like a marriage certificate.

She closed the contract quickly and abruptly, but she couldn’t hide her slightly red eyes.

Ming Jin leaned over, taking the contract from Song Xiangwan’s hand. Her demeanor was calm, but as she turned back, her spine stiffened imperceptibly for an instant.

But her breathing was normal, her expression was normal, and her eye color was normal: “Your complexion doesn’t look good. Let’s do a full body check-up again today.”

Cao Xin finally found a moment to speak, and she quickly said, “She’s been checked; there’s nothing wrong. She just didn’t sleep well last night.”

“She had a nightmare.”

Hearing Cao Xin’s words, Ming Jin’s eyes clearly darkened.

Her tone was gentle, but her gaze contained a chilling, decisive authority: “Don’t worry, Liu Tianming won’t appear in front of you again.”

“In the future…”

Ming Jin’s voice paused but continued with steady certainty: “Something like this won’t happen again.”

“You knew all along.” Song Xiangwan looked up, meeting those light brown eyes, and said softly, “You knew all along that he had ill intentions, didn’t you?”

“The first time we met, you wanted to save me, didn’t you?” Song Xiangwan was like a drowning person grasping at a life raft.

The first time they met, at the celebration banquet for The Pearl of the Deep Sea, Zhao Rui said Liu Tianming could drop her off at school since it was on his way. Before she could get into the car, Ming Jin intercepted her.

Ming Jin didn’t speak. She looked up at Xu Zhiyan, who understood and quietly led the others out.

Cao Xin was also sharp. She pulled Cheng Cheng and left.

Only the two of them remained in the hospital room.

Those phoenix eyes, reddened with grievance, were as beautiful as rose petals dipped in a moisturizing tint, making one want to kiss them, or… lift a hand to wipe away the tears.

Ming Jin’s arm only lifted slightly. She roughly assessed her own condition and subtly lowered it again.

Her tone was slow: “You were young then and didn’t realize that many people in this world harbor malicious intentions.”

“So, you did it to save me?” Song Xiangwan repeated the question.

Heaven knows how much resentment she had held in her heart over this matter.

She always thought Zhao Rui was her discoverer, Liu Tianming was her benefactor, and that The Pearl of the Deep Sea not being broadcast was all Ming Jin’s doing.

Ming Jin didn’t speak. Song Xiangwan asked another question: “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“There was no need.” Ming Jin’s tone was flat, as if there was no emotional fluctuation.

Indeed, there was no need. She used to be able to protect Song Xiangwan well. Song Xiangwan didn’t have to face the filth of this industry; she could just enjoy the glamorous side.

Now, there was even less need.

“There was a need.” Song Xiangwan’s tone was serious, enunciating those three words.

She had always believed that their beginning was a twisted relationship of coercion and capture, but now, it was completely different.

A beginning shielded by a layer of protection allowed her to examine this relationship more closely.

“No need.” Ming Jin’s fingers on the armrest of the wheelchair tightened slightly. She said slowly, “I am no different from him.”

“What I did and what he wanted to do are no different.”

“You don’t need to take it too much to heart.”

“In the future, something like this won’t happen again.”

Song Xiangwan’s lips moved slightly, but no sound came out. Her fingers on the quilt tightened inch by inch into her palm.

Were their past together… really that unimportant?

“You rest well. I will arrange for a psychologist to provide counseling for you. I won’t arrange any work for you recently. Take a good rest for a while.” Ming Jin’s tone was detached.

“What about you?” Song Xiangwan asked.

Ming Jin seemed a little puzzled by the meaning of her words. She looked up, her clear eyes gazing at her.

“Are you resting well?” Song Xiangwan continued to ask. “Aren’t you afraid? Don’t you need psychological counseling?”

“I’m not afraid, I don’t need it.” A momentary ripple flashed through Ming Jin’s eyes, but no one caught it.

“I heard them say, a second surgery…” Song Xiangwan’s fingers were almost digging heavily into her palm.

“Who told you that?” Ming Jin’s tone sank, and displeasure crossed the depths of her pupils. “Don’t listen to Xu Zhiyan’s nonsense.”

“It’s a routine surgery. Don’t worry about it. Rest well. You don’t need to worry about the aftermath of the incident. Zhao Rui and Liu Tianming will pay the price they deserve.”

Ming Jin was changing the subject. Song Xiangwan immediately caught her intention.

Ming Jin didn’t want her to know.

She was pushing her away.

Again and again.

She didn’t know if Ming Jin’s composure was genuine indifference or a facade.

President Ming was a person whose emotions were inscrutable, making it impossible to read her.

“Will you still be in the hospital for the next couple of days?” Song Xiangwan asked softly.

“Yes.” Ming Jin nodded, not intending to deceive Song Xiangwan. “I’ll go back to Haicheng in a few days.”

“Then…” Song Xiangwan’s throat tightened. She looked at Ming Jin and asked, “Can I come see you for dinner tonight?”

Ming Jin didn’t speak, which was a refusal. Song Xiangwan understood instantly.

“I have nightmares at night and can’t sleep well, so…” The kitten exposed her softest belly, attempting to rub against a human’s fingers.

“If seeing me can make you feel safer…” Ming Jin seemed to sigh lightly. “Then come.”

Ming Jin originally didn’t want to allow this boundary-crossing relationship to reappear.

But when Song Xiangwan looked at her pitifully, with dark circles under her eyes and a haggard appearance, she couldn’t refuse.

She was soft-hearted. This conclusion made Song Xiangwan’s heart flutter slightly. Ming Jin, she didn’t seem so heartless after all.

Dinner was served in Ming Jin’s hospital room.

When Song Xiangwan came in, she looked around. It looked like a regular patient room, with no medical equipment set up, simple and ordinary.

The food was all set out. Ming Jin was sitting in a chair, a thin blanket covering her lap.

She wasn’t wearing a hospital gown, but a cool gray top. She was looking down at documents on a screen. Her light gaze lent an air of cold elegance.

Her lower body was covered by the blanket. Apart from her slightly slender frame, she seemed no different from a few years ago.

Hearing Song Xiangwan’s footsteps, she closed her laptop and pushed it towards her assistant: “See if you like the dishes?”

“Are you still busy with work right now?” Song Xiangwan sat across from her, her tone slightly dissatisfied.

Such words often occurred between them in the past.

Even when President Ming returned to their love nest, she still had endless documents to read, emails to reply to, and calls to take.

It was fine before, but with her current physical condition… why was she still constantly busy?

“I just looked at a few documents. Most of the work is handed over to A-Yan now.” Ming Jin picked up a piece of fish with her chopsticks and placed it in Song Xiangwan’s bowl. “Fish is high in protein and won’t make you gain weight. I know you’re afraid of breaking out, so there’s not much salt.”

Song Xiangwan picked it up and ate it. Then, a shrimp appeared in her bowl.

One person picked, one person ate. They ate in silence for a while until Song Xiangwan realized that Ming Jin had barely eaten anything.

“I don’t want any more.” Song Xiangwan quickly used her hand to block her bowl.

Ming Jin’s chopsticks paused. She said softly, “Okay, understood.”

Seeming to have misunderstood something, Song Xiangwan quickly explained, “I’m not saying I don’t like it. I mean you should take care of yourself too, and not just me.”

Ming Jin didn’t have much of an appetite, but meeting Song Xiangwan’s gaze, she simply nodded and said, “Okay.”

Song Xiangwan was very attentive, but in the end, Ming Jin didn’t swallow more than a few bites.

She was clearly sick, yet she wasn’t eating properly. How could she boost her immunity and get better?

Song Xiangwan served a bowl of yam porridge and placed it in front of Ming Jin: “At least drink this bowl of porridge.”

The moment she spoke these words, even Song Xiangwan herself was stunned.

It was like a role reversal.

Ming Jin often used to say things like this. Song Xiangwan always felt Ming Jin was controlling her, which made her impatient.

But now, putting herself in Ming Jin’s shoes, she realized it was an underlying anxiety and concern, a hope for the other person’s good health.

Since Song Xiangwan had served the porridge, although she felt a blocked appetite, Ming Jin still ate it spoon by spoon.

After the meal, someone naturally came in to clear the dishes and then pushed the wheelchair next to Ming Jin.

Song Xiangwan quickly stood up: “Do you need my help?”

“No need.” Ming Jin looked down, her tone pausing for an instant before she called out, “A-Yan.”

Song Xiangwan stood still, feeling somewhat at a loss.

She watched Xu Zhiyan approach, put her arm around Ming Jin’s waist, and provide a bit of leverage, steadying her onto the wheelchair.

Xu Zhiyan squatted down to adjust the thin blanket on Ming Jin’s lap, smoothing out the wrinkles in her clothes created by the movement. All the movements were skilled and natural.

Ming Jin’s hand rested on Xu Zhiyan’s upper arm—her pale, cold fingers in physical contact with Xu Zhiyan’s skin, without avoidance, completely naturally.

Song Xiangwan’s eyes suddenly felt a little sore again. She pressed her teeth against her lip, tightly pursing it to hold back.

It felt a little late, as if when she realized how important Ming Jin’s presence was to her, Ming Jin already had someone else by her side.

Song Xiangwan felt like she floated back, like a wandering soul, her mind filled with chaotic thoughts.

After taking a shower, she came out and saw Cheng Cheng busy tidying up.

An orange nightlight was plugged in by the bed. Her favorite capybara plush toy was placed on the bed, and the air was filled with the faint aroma of lavender from the diffuser.

Cheng Cheng turned around and said with a smile, “Sister Wan, I slept too soundly last night. If you have a nightmare tonight, just call out to wake me up, and I’ll stay with you.”

“Thank you, for preparing all this…” Song Xiangwan felt a warmth in her heart.

“It wasn’t me,” Cheng Cheng quickly said with a smile. “It was Sister Cao who prepared it. She’s thoughtful.”

Cao Xin wouldn’t have had the time to prepare all this… The contract signings and terminations of the past two days were enough to keep her busy.

Besides, Cao Xin didn’t know she liked capybaras.

Her public persona was that she liked Hello Kitty because it looked pink and cute. Capybara didn’t match her image.

The moment the management company helped establish her persona, the idea of liking capybara was vetoed.

It was Ming Jin…

Song Xiangwan hugged the capybara and rubbed it, leaning in to sniff it carefully. She did indeed smell that faint spice scent.

Song Xiangwan belatedly realized that in the past, she had never paid much attention to such details. She never knew how precious it was for a person in the midst of a busy schedule to do these things.

But now, was everything too late?

Song Xiangwan couldn’t sleep. She leaned against the bed and scrolled through Weibo. She had recovered her Weibo account and had a pile of private messages.

Flipping through a few, she found a message from “less_ice_less_sugar” a few days ago.

When the CP fervor was high, she had asked if Song Xiangwan wanted help to suppress the trending topic. It was read but not replied to.

At that time, even the fan club was arguing loudly, but how did she…

Song Xiangwan thought for a moment and replied: Sister, how did you know I wanted to suppress the trending topic?

She clicked on the avatar of “less_ice_less_sugar,” which was gray, with no posts, like a newly registered default account.

However, she keenly noticed the IP display on the homepage: Shancheng.

When she logged in last time, was she in Shancheng?

Song Xiangwan’s fingers gripping the phone tightened slightly. A very ridiculous guess suddenly formed in her mind.

Why did this person know her so well?

The last time she offered five hundred thousand, the IP was in Haicheng. Recently, it was in Shancheng… The timing also matched up.

When she jumped back to the chat box, the other person had already replied: Guessed you probably wouldn’t like it.

Song Xiangwan thought for a moment, her fingers quickly typing a response: Mhm, I don’t like it. I don’t like hyping up CPs.

Because…

Her fingers paused, and she sent the message more quickly: I have someone I like.

Song Xiangwan: Aren’t you going to ask me who it is?

less_ice_less_sugar: No.

Song Xiangwan: “…” Why didn’t this person follow the script? But this tone…

Song Xiangwan: She is my first love, and so far, my only relationship.

Her blazing phoenix eyes stared at the screen, seemingly trying to gauge the other person’s thoughts from the limited words.

If the other person was Ming Jin, she would definitely know that the person she was talking about was her.

If it was Ming Jin, did it mean that Ming Jin was still paying attention to her, and she still had a chance?

But the other party didn’t give her room to speculate: Mhm, got it. I’ll keep it a secret for you.