The Person I Love Who Has Been Missing For Three Years - Chapter 26

Chapter 26: She Was Asked to Leave

The familiar nightmare swept over her again. Song Xiangwan woke up with a start, the violent gasping for breath unable to overcome the sense of suffocation.

What met her eyes was the warm yellow glow of the small nightlight, and the scent of soothing lavender incense mixed with the smell of disinfectant.

Cheng Cheng was asleep. Song Xiangwan didn’t wake her up. She quietly got out of bed and walked to the bathroom to wash her face.

Looking up, she saw her face in the mirror frame. Water clung to her eyelashes. Her entire face was pale, and the lingering terror in her phoenix eyes had not completely dissipated.

Her arms pressed against the edge of the sink were trembling slightly. She had dreamt again that she had completely lost Ming Jin.

Lying back on the bed, she stared at the ceiling for a long time. She checked the time: 11 p.m. She had only slept for just over an hour.

Never mind, she wouldn’t sleep. She tiptoed out of bed, put on a mask, and took the elevator upstairs.

She already knew Ming Jin’s room number, but when she stood at the door, she regretted it. She shouldn’t disturb Ming Jin’s rest at this hour.

Just as she was about to leave, the door opened with a click.

“Oh my…” Xu Zhiyan rushed out, narrowly avoiding bumping into Song Xiangwan.

“What are you doing standing here?” Xu Zhiyan frowned.

Not seeing Ming Jin but seeing the “new love,” Song Xiangwan pressed her lips together, unwilling to show any distress in front of Xu Zhiyan: “Just passing by.”

Instinct was faster than thought. She pushed Xu Zhiyan aside and rushed inside.

The lights in the room were on. Ming Jin was semi-reclining on the bed, her upper body slightly twisted. She was leaning out, her hand pressed onto the bedside table. An open book had rolled onto the floor.

Her fingers pressed onto the bedside table were gripping tightly. Her hair fell, obscuring half her face, but a slightly strained sound of breathing could be heard.

Song Xiangwan rushed to Ming Jin’s side in a few steps. Seeing her slightly trembling shoulders, her heart fiercely contracted.

She half-knelt down, supporting Ming Jin’s arm, yet not daring to use force. She didn’t know what to do, so anxious that tears were about to fall.

“Are you okay?”

“Do you want me to get this book?”

“Do you want me to help you lie down?”

Ming Jin endured the moment of splitting, tearing pain. The sound in her ears gradually became clear. How could it be… her…

She closed her eyes tightly, seemingly suppressing the emotional storm in her heart. Her voice, when it came out, was steady: “A-Yan.”

Xu Zhiyan took two steps forward, instantly pushing Song Xiangwan aside. She supported Ming Jin’s arm and waist. Waiting for her to recover from the spasm, she helped her turn her body.

Her force was meant to help Ming Jin lie down, but Ming Jin gently shook her head: “No, I’ll sit for a bit longer.”

Xu Zhiyan’s eyes moved slightly. She didn’t say anything, helped her sit up, and pulled a lumbar pillow from the side to place behind Ming Jin, then smoothed the blanket over her.

Song Xiangwan stood by the side, her teeth gently biting her lower lip, feeling somewhat helpless. She felt like an outsider who had been pushed away.

The book was right by her feet. She lowered her head and picked it up, catching a glimpse of the title on the cover: The Complex Trauma Survivor’s Healing Handbook.

“Thank you.” Xu Zhiyan took the book from her hand and placed it on the bedside table.

“Why are you here now?” It was Ming Jin’s voice, her light brown eyes resting faintly on Song Xiangwan.

“I couldn’t sleep…” Song Xiangwan murmured softly.

Seeming to understand something, Ming Jin asked: “Had a nightmare?”

Song Xiangwan lowered her head and nodded. She squeezed her two hands together and quietly asked: “Can I stay here for a while?”

With her pitiful appearance, Ming Jin’s heart softened immediately: “Alright. I’ll stay up with you for a bit.”

Hearing Ming Jin say this, Song Xiangwan regretted it.

If she stayed here, Ming Jin would have to sit up and accompany her, unable to rest.

Ming Jin didn’t give her a chance to back out and immediately continued: “A-Yan, bring a chair over.”

“It’s getting late. You’ll miss your flight soon.”

“Text me when you land in Haicheng to let me know you’re safe.”

“Understood.” Xu Zhiyan moved a chair next to Song Xiangwan.

She had an executive meeting at Ming’s first thing in the morning tomorrow and had to rush back overnight. Although reluctant, she left, looking back three times as she went.

“Did you talk to the psychologist today?” Ming Jin asked slowly.

“Mhm.” Song Xiangwan nodded.

“If it’s not working, you can try switching to a few others,” Ming Jin said, with unconcealed worry in her eyes.

She was truly worried that the Liu Tianming incident would leave Song Xiangwan with psychological trauma. This was a lifelong matter.

“No need, this doctor is very good.” Song Xiangwan shook her head immediately.

It was useless because she hadn’t told the psychologist the truth. The psychologist thought her trauma was due to attempted sexual assault, but she was afraid of something else.

Switching to other doctors seemed pointless.

Only seeing Ming Jin alive and well in front of her allowed her heart to slowly settle down.

But it hadn’t completely settled. Xu Zhiyan’s and Dr. Lin’s words that day were like a stone pressing on her chest.

It instantly crushed her childish temper and any desire to throw a fit.

She realized with unprecedented clarity that the consequence of continuing to argue, give the cold shoulder, and throw tantrums for the sake of dignity this time was something she might not be able to bear.

Seeing her looking dejected, Ming Jin couldn’t help but feel a pang of sympathy: “It’s alright. Things will get better slowly in the future. They definitely will.”

“Mhm.” Song Xiangwan nodded, but she felt a slick wetness running down her eyes, which instantly dropped to her jawline.

Will things get better? Really? Her heart felt empty, devoid of any security.

A hand reached out in front of her. A soft tissue gently pressed against the tear streaks at the corner of her eye. Ming Jin’s voice was gentle: “There, stop crying.”

“What will you do if you cry your eyes out?”

She leaned over. This posture was already a strain. The hand pressed on the bedding was slightly trembling, but her voice was as smooth as usual, betraying no sign of abnormality.

Song Xiangwan immediately noticed her difficult posture and quickly took the tissue to wipe her eyes twice: “Don’t… You sit properly…”

She anxiously wanted to help Ming Jin sit back, but she felt a slight resistance.

She turned her eyes, meeting the gaze of those light brown eyes.

There seemed to be intense, turbulent emotions churning in those eyes, which ultimately dissipated, leaving only a faint remark: “It’s fine. It’s not that exaggerated. You’re being too careful.”

Even so, the moment her spine touched the lumbar pillow and she relaxed, her eyes visibly tightened, and her eyelashes fluttered down suddenly.

Her breathing didn’t change at all, except for her lips, which seemed to be subtly paler.

Song Xiangwan no longer felt like lingering. She stood up straight: “I’ll go back now. Get some sleep early. I’ll come back tomorrow morning.”

“Alright.” Ming Jin nodded slightly and said softly, “Sorry, I can’t walk you out.”

“It’s okay.” Song Xiangwan quickly said, “Do you want me to help you lie down?”

“I can do it myself.” Ming Jin interrupted her. “Go on. Don’t worry about me.”

She said not to worry, but it was impossible not to. However, Ming Jin’s words allowed no room for refutation. Her tone was commanding and decisive.

Song Xiangwan didn’t dare to look back too much. She opened the door and left. Just as she stepped out, her phone in her pocket vibrated.

It was Ming Jin calling. She turned her head to look.

Ming Jin held her phone, looking up at her, her pale face slightly softened: “If you’re scared, you don’t have to hang up this call tonight.”

Song Xiangwan held her phone, walked all the way back to her room, lay back on the bed, and carefully listened with her ear pressed to the speaker.

She heard the slight rustling of turning book pages, the occasional light and heavy breathing, and then a click, as if the lights had been turned off.

“Are you going to sleep?” Song Xiangwan asked.

“Mhm.” The voice on the other end was faint. “It’s late. You should sleep too.”

The phone was placed right next to her ear. She seemed to hear the faint breathing on the other side. In the dim light of the nightlight, it provided a subtle sense of comfort.

Song Xiangwan didn’t know when she drifted off to sleep.

She didn’t have any more nightmares.

When she woke up, the call had already ended because her phone’s battery had died, and it had automatically shut down at some point.

She had a good night’s sleep.

When Lin Rong came in the morning to check Ming Jin’s various vital signs, she couldn’t help but frown.

“This heart rate, this blood pressure…” Lin Rong clicked her tongue. “President Ming, are you determined to ruin my reputation?”

“I just didn’t sleep well last night.” Ming Jin said lightly, but if one looked closely, they could clearly see that her light brown eyes, though focused on Lin Rong, had lost their sharpness.

She couldn’t see clearly. Low blood pressure caused dizziness. She felt as if she was swinging in the air, and her vision was swimming.

However, her tone suggested she didn’t take any of this seriously.

“Didn’t sleep well? You didn’t sleep at all,” Lin Rong pouted. She took out a pile of colorful pills from a medicine bottle.

She hesitated for a moment and didn’t hand them to Ming Jin but to the assistant: “Let her eat something first, and then make sure she takes her medicine.”

“Come in,” Lin Rong called out.

The door was pushed open, and Song Xiangwan walked in like a gust of wind, carrying something in her hand.

Only when Song Xiangwan’s voice was heard did Ming Jin confirm the identity of the person who entered. Her lips curled slightly as she asked, “Did you sleep well last night?”

“Pretty well,” Song Xiangwan said. “Keeping the phone connected with you, I didn’t have any nightmares.”

Lin Rong pursed her lips. Alright, case closed. She knew it wasn’t just “not sleeping well,” she hadn’t slept at all.

This person, even in her condition, was worried all night about whether her canary would have nightmares.

The morning light streamed through the window, a soft golden hue enveloping Ming Jin, but this warmth didn’t seem to melt the coldness around her.

Whether it was an illusion or not, Song Xiangwan felt her complexion was even worse than yesterday.

She didn’t eat much breakfast. Seeing the colorful pills the assistant handed to Ming Jin, Song Xiangwan couldn’t help but frown: “So much medicine…”

No wonder she couldn’t eat much; these pills alone would fill her halfway up.

Ming Jin quietly swallowed the medicine. As if she hadn’t heard Song Xiangwan, she asked, “Are you going back after eating?”

“I brought scripts.” Song Xiangwan immediately showed the items beside her, testing the waters: “Can I read scripts here?”

As she spoke, she handed them over to Ming Jin: “Sister Cao just brought a few new scripts. Do you want to take a look first?”

Three years ago, when they were still together, all of Song Xiangwan’s scripts would pass through Ming Jin’s scrutiny.

Ming Jin was very strict: too many intimate scenes were not allowed; mediocre production teams were not allowed; roles with too few scenes were not allowed; and roles with too many strenuous action scenes were also not allowed.

“No need, you look at them,” Ming Jin slowly wiped the moisture from the corners of her lips with a tissue, with no intention of taking the scripts from Song Xiangwan.

“Okay…” The disappointment in Song Xiangwan’s voice was something she herself didn’t realize.

Song Xiangwan quickly scanned the scripts, not looking at the details, just making a rough selection.

Although brief, it was clear that these were all major production teams, and several had the potential to become huge hits.

She hadn’t had access to such scripts in the past two years.

So many scripts, free to pick and choose—few people in the entire entertainment industry had such treatment.

She was reading, but not very attentively. She couldn’t help but glance at Ming Jin from the corner of her eye.

Ming Jin was reading the book from last night, very intently. She sat quietly by the window, head down. The sunlight passed through the pages, leaving faint light and shadow between her brows.

Her fingers were pressed into the crease of the pages, moving with her gaze, slowly turning the page, her posture calm and natural.

It was as if only she and the book remained in the world, and everything else became her backdrop.

At first, 80% of her attention was on the script. Later, it was only 20%. Song Xiangwan’s focus couldn’t help but be drawn away, subtly swaying with Ming Jin’s every movement and expression.

For some reason, Song Xiangwan was actually a little jealous of that book, which could occupy all of Ming Jin’s attention.

She stood up, walked to Ming Jin’s side, leaned in, and looked over.

“What’s wrong? Are you tired of sitting?” Ming Jin’s hand rested casually on the book, and she looked up.

“Go out and play. You don’t have to stay here with me.” How could Ming Jin not understand this cat? She had no patience, and sitting still for this long was already rare.

“The weather is nice today. Want to go for a walk together?” Song Xiangwan said, pulling the book from Ming Jin’s hand.

She closed it and placed it on the table. Her gaze swept over it—it was the book from last night: “This book…”

It seemed to be a psychological work. Most of the books she had previously seen with Ming Jin were related to investment and finance.

“It used to be necessary for work. Now that I’ve slowed down, I can read things I’m interested in. Speaking of which, I like literature, philosophy, and psychology.”

Ming Jin subtly shifted her attention away from the book: “Let’s go. Let’s take a walk.”

People came and went in the hospital. Song Xiangwan wore a mask and slowly pushed Ming Jin forward. The assistant and bodyguards followed a few steps behind them.

In late spring, the sun was warm, but there was a slight breeze.

It ruffled Song Xiangwan’s hair and carried the scent of Ming Jin: a woody spice, mixed with a hint of bitter medicine.

There was a small pond in the hospital grounds, with two willow trees planted beside it. Groups of red koi swam beneath the willow shade.

The wheelchair stopped on the stone path by the pond. Song Xiangwan crouched down, reaching out to straighten the thin blanket on Ming Jin’s lap, just as Xu Zhiyan had done.

Her wrist was suddenly loosely circled. Ming Jin stopped her and said, “Stand up. You don’t need to do these things.”

In all the years they were together, she had never allowed Song Xiangwan to bend or lower her head.

But Song Xiangwan seemed to misunderstand, her eyes darkening slightly: “Is it only President Xu who can do it…”

She had misunderstood. Ming Jin instantly heard it, but the direction of this misunderstanding was one she had deliberately fostered, and she didn’t explain.

Song Xiangwan sat down on the stone bench next to the wheelchair. With no one around, she took off her mask and smoothed her hair.

In the dappled shade of the trees, sunlight passed through the leaves and landed on her shoulder, like scattered gold foil. The wind gently moved the hem of her clothes, and light and shadow flowed across her fair face. The two days of rest had treated her well. Her fair skin was tinged with pink, and she looked light and radiant.

Ming Jin’s eyes paused slightly, then her eyelashes fluttered gently, and she looked away.

Song Xiangwan didn’t continue the previous topic. She simply reached out and adjusted the thin blanket on Ming Jin’s lap.

She couldn’t be stopped. She was stubborn and looked sullen, as if she were arguing with someone.

But when she looked up, the sulkiness in her eyes subsided, replaced by a brilliant smile: “Is it too windy here? Is the sun too bright?”

Ming Jin’s lips moved slightly, and she said softly, “No. This place is good.”

She naturally saw Song Xiangwan’s carefulness.

Song Xiangwan had clearly understood in the past two days that Ming Jin must value Xu Zhiyan highly, to hand over the Ming Corporation to her, and to be so intimate with her.

Their relationship seemed to be even closer than that of lovers.

But Song Xiangwan wasn’t the type to cry and then walk away. She had cried enough. Now, she felt she had to step forward and fight for it.

Surrendering without a fight was not Song Xiangwan’s style.

After sitting for a while, Song Xiangwan saw Ming Jin’s face turn slightly pale. Involuntarily, her fingers pressed against her waist, seemingly pushing heavily inward.

Song Xiangwan crouched down and reached out to loop her arms around Ming Jin’s waist, her palm resting against the lumbar spine: “Is it here…”

The spot she lightly pressed was exactly the most stiff and sore place. When pressed, the dull ache immediately intensified.

Ming Jin’s hand suddenly pulled back, pressing tightly onto Song Xiangwan’s forearm. She clenched it for an instant, her breathing slightly heavy: “Don’t.”

“Did I hurt you?” Song Xiangwan’s heart tightened, her voice trembling slightly.

Just this light touch hurt so much. How had she endured it normally?

Song Xiangwan didn’t dare to move recklessly anymore. She just said softly, “I learned a few techniques from the doctors these past two days. Let me try, okay?”

She couldn’t do anything about the old injury to her lumbar spine, but perhaps massaging the muscles that had stiffened from sitting for too long would make her feel better.

Ming Jin’s eyebrows furrowed instantly. She leaned back slightly, increasing the distance from Song Xiangwan: “Who told you to learn that?”

For a moment, Song Xiangwan felt as if she saw President Ming from a few years ago.

Her light eyes lifted, her faint, oppressive gaze making people afraid to breathe. Despite her slightly pale face, she carried an unspeakable authority.

“I… I learned it myself…” For some reason, under Ming Jin’s gaze, Song Xiangwan felt a little guilty.

When she had nothing to do at the hospital these past two days, she had run to the Orthopedics and Rehabilitation departments several times. A few of the attending doctors were her fans. They happily took her autographed photos and happily taught her. She had previously practiced on mannequins and on the doctors themselves.

This was the first time she had tried it on Ming Jin, but it seemed… she had made her unhappy.

Ming Jin pulled Song Xiangwan’s hand away. Fine beads of sweat dotted her temples. Her tone was indifferent and cold: “Don’t learn it again in the future. You won’t need it.”

“Let’s go back. It’s lunchtime.” The person who had just been gentle suddenly became stern.

Song Xiangwan was about to say something when she saw Ming Jin slightly raise her hand. The assistant and bodyguards nearby walked over.

The assistant crouched down, listened to what Ming Jin said, and then pushed the wheelchair. Ming Jin looked up at Song Xiangwan and said slowly, “Let’s go. Back to eat.”

For some reason, the walk, which started so well, suddenly created a significant distance between them.

Song Xiangwan ate her meal very slowly, dawdling as if counting grains of rice, slowly finishing it.

She had a premonition, and it proved correct. As soon as she put down her bowl, she heard Ming Jin say, “I’ll be busy this afternoon. You should go back.”

She was being asked to leave.

Song Xiangwan wanted to say something, but the moment she looked up, she was stung by the aloofness in those light brown eyes.

“Okay,” she replied faintly. She didn’t know what she had done wrong. Was it because she was too intimate? Could they not be that close now?

She had planned to take a nap, but she tossed and turned, unable to sleep. She simply lay on the bed and continued reading the script.

It was a script that suited her very well, so well that it seemed tailor-made.

With such a good script in front of her, she didn’t want to film it anymore. She just wanted to stick to Ming Jin and win her back.

Was this too much like a lovesick fool?

Song Xiangwan didn’t know. She just felt her mind was a mess.

In the hospital room without Song Xiangwan, it was more crowded. Lin Rong was bustling about, watching the nurse connect Ming Jin to the cardiac monitor.

She stared at the values for a while and said, “The rest from the past two days is gone again. If you want to go back to Haicheng, wait two more days.”

“Let’s leave tomorrow,” Ming Jin said calmly. “It’s fine. I know what I’m doing.”

“The journey will be tiring. That’s not a responsible decision for your own health,” Lin Rong pouted. “Mainly, if something happens, how am I supposed to explain it to the young girl? If she gets angry, what if she punches me?”

“What is the earliest time?” Ming Jin didn’t argue further and asked slowly.

Lin Rong raised her eyebrows, hugging her chest as she watched her: “I was wondering what was so strange. What’s going on that you’re so eager to leave?”

Her eyes flickered, seeming to understand something. Lin Rong continued: “Didn’t your little canary act quite well? Warm and solicitous.”

“Look how much she likes you. If you nod, she’ll come back.” Lin Rong chuckled. “So, President Ming, what are you thinking?”

“Is what I’m thinking important to you?” Ming Jin’s tone was flat.

Ming Jin had always been polite to Lin Rong, maintaining the respect a patient should have for a doctor.

But at this moment, her attitude was somewhat cold.

Fortunately, Lin Rong wasn’t one to take offense. Her thought process was also not ordinary.

“True,” Lin Rong tilted her head. “It has nothing to do with me. It’s not like she’s the one paying my salary.”

“The earliest is the day after tomorrow. Rest well these two days. You can’t stay up at night, otherwise, I won’t allow you to be discharged.” Lin Rong pointed to the monitor. “President Ming, you can’t trick me.”

“Understood.” Ming Jin closed her eyes, signaling that the conversation was over.

Lin Rong straightened her cuffs, turned around, and gently closed the door as she left.

Hearing the door close, Ming Jin slowly opened her eyes. She stared fixedly at the ceiling for a long time, her breathing somewhat uneven.

Song Xiangwan’s desire to reconcile, and her carefulness, were all apparent to her.

It was just that she had suffered outside, gone through the Liu Tianming incident, and was experiencing the suspension bridge effect.

Of course, in a tense situation, she would mistakenly believe she was in love with the person by her side.

She would protect Song Xiangwan as before, but she didn’t want Song Xiangwan to exchange herself with certain favors or actions, as she did in the past.

Once that cat started living a good life, she would gradually forget her.

This was good. She could go dancing, become a big star, and shine brightly, without having to learn how to serve people for the sake of a patient.

The person she held dearest in her heart never needed to learn such things.

She wanted to leave because she was worried that she wouldn’t be able to resist, that she would be drawn into Song Xiangwan’s attempts to please her, dragging Song Xiangwan down into the bottomless abyss as well.