The Person I Love Who Has Been Missing For Three Years - Chapter 42

Chapter 42: Easy to Invite, Difficult to Send Away

“Will you lie down with me, please?” Song Xiangwan pleaded softly, holding onto Ming Jin’s hand.

“The bed is very narrow,” Ming Jin said with a sigh of helplessness. “Be good, don’t bother me.”

As she spoke, she slightly closed her eyes, leaning against the chair back. Her brow furrowed gently, and her suppressed breathing was slightly erratic.

If she weren’t genuinely uncomfortable, she wouldn’t show it in front of Song Xiangwan. But her head was spinning, and with Song Xiangwan shaking her just now, she felt so dizzy she could barely sit up.

Song Xiangwan immediately panicked, reached out, and pulled out the IV tube. Ignoring the bead of blood that followed, she crouched down and lifted Ming Jin entirely.

Her strength wasn’t immense, but Ming Jin was incredibly thin, so it didn’t take much effort to lift her.

“You…” Ming Jin’s eyes snapped open, but they held visible pain, lacking focus.

“Go ahead and scold me,” Song Xiangwan mumbled, sounding quite self-deprecating.

She carefully turned around, slowing her movements as she gently placed Ming Jin on the bedding, and asked softly, “Does that hurt? I’ll be slower…”

Even so, she felt the person in her arms tense slightly. The pressure of her lower back against the bedding instantly magnified the pain.

Watching the restrained endurance in Ming Jin’s eyes and her gently furrowed brow, Song Xiangwan’s heart ached and tightened.

This person, dragging such a frail body, stayed here to watch over me all night?

After settling Ming Jin, Song Xiangwan squeezed onto the bed herself. The bed was very narrow, forcing them to practically embrace.

“Wanwan…” A voice lacking significant strength sounded.

“Hmm?” Song Xiangwan hugged Ming Jin’s arm, rubbing against her shoulder, and complained softly, “Don’t scold me anymore. No one is nice to me. They all bully me, and you’re going to scold me too…”

Ming Jin sounded helpless: “Who bullied you?”

Before, maybe there was, but this time she had personally instructed the production team. They wouldn’t dare bully Song Xiangwan.

“Just them,” Song Xiangwan vaguely replied, lifting her head to look at Ming Jin’s face. “Did you not sleep at all last night?”

“No, I slept for a bit.” This was a lie. She had lain down for a while but hadn’t slept at all. Her mind was entirely focused on Song Xiangwan’s condition.

Song Xiangwan reached out, touched Ming Jin’s lips, and gently pressed. A faint bean paste red was left on her fingertip. It was indeed lipstick.

Her fingertip hovered in front of Ming Jin’s face for a moment, then her own lips gently approached, her tongue lightly touching.

“Song Xiangwan, you…” Ming Jin’s chest heaved violently.

“What is it?” Song Xiangwan propped up her chin, looking at her expectantly. “It’s sweet.”

“Call the doctor to re-insert the needle,” Ming Jin saw the streak of blood on her hand and felt so angry that the blood vessel in her temple was throbbing.

She closed her eyes and ignored the person. She was absolutely… deadly…

But even with her eyes closed, the previous scene flashed through her mind. That light, agile tongue felt like it was licking her lips, making her heart feel restless.

This was a VIP room. When the nurse entered and saw two people lying on the bed, she paused, but said nothing. She simply inserted the needle, then left.

“Sleep for a while. I’ll watch the IV drip myself,” Song Xiangwan nestled beside Ming Jin, carefully avoiding pressing her arm against her.

“Does it still hurt?” A faint voice.

“Mmm, a little,” Song Xiangwan nodded, whispering, “Don’t make me go next time. I really don’t like drinking anymore.”

“Drinking less is indeed good for your health,” Ming Jin seemed to let out a small sigh of relief, saying softly, “I apologize. I was being obstinate.”

“Ah-Jin, I’m just a bastard…” Song Xiangwan hugged Ming Jin’s arm, saying sullenly, “I didn’t like drinking. Before… I just wanted to oppose you… I didn’t like being controlled by you, so the more you disliked something, the more I would go, but I didn’t actually like it that much…”

“You were clearly doing it for my own good,” Song Xiangwan’s voice dispersed faintly into the air, light and soft, filled with deep regret. “Why did I only realize it now?”

“Don’t idealize me too much.”

“I told you long ago, what I wanted to do from the start was no different from people like Liu Tianming.”

“Now, it’s only because I’m disabled that your sympathy and pity mask your anger. My injury covers up my past transgressions.”

“If you must blame someone, it should be me. I was never a good person to begin with.”

Ming Jin spoke plainly. There was a subtle sadness in her tone, but it was mostly calm, as if she were narrating something irrelevant to her, without emotion.

“No…” Song Xiangwan wanted to explain that it wasn’t sympathy or pity.

But she was interrupted by Ming Jin, who said slowly: “I’m tired. Let’s sleep for a bit.”

Ming Jin kept her eyes closed, concealing the struggle of her emotions. She was losing control of herself.

She was close to falling for Song Xiangwan’s attempts to reconcile, but she knew in her heart that this would be bad for both of them.

Her breathing was steady, as if she were asleep. Song Xiangwan knew that Ming Jin was consistently avoiding this topic.

A momentary flicker of sadness appeared in her eyes, but it was instantly replaced by determination.

At least, she was lying next to Ming Jin now. That was very good news.

The hand without the IV needle reached over, the base of her palm gently massaging Ming Jin’s waist. The pressure was light, as if she were just using the warmth of her palm as a compress.

Ming Jin’s closed eyelashes trembled slightly, but she didn’t open her eyes or push Song Xiangwan away.

Since she was “asleep,” she would temporarily allow her sleeping self to briefly indulge in this gentleness.

After massaging for a while, feeling the stiffness beneath her hand ease slightly, Song Xiangwan quietly reached for the phone on the bedside table.

The phone was still on silent. There were no urgent messages to reply to.

However, in the group they had formed yesterday, Lu Peiling was gathering everyone’s availability to coordinate rehearsal times.

They only had seven days until the next performance, so time was truly tight.

The choreographers had sent them the demos of all the dances last night. The group chat was bustling with discussion about the groupings this morning.

In the time Song Xiangwan looked at her phone, the groupings were complete. Fortunately, Lu Peiling had secured a spot for her in the same group beforehand, otherwise, she would have had to dance Korean Pop.

When Song Xiangwan entered the small group chat for the “Mountain Water Ink” group, she was surprised to see Zhou Xintong was also there.

She was surprised, having expected the girl group member to choose Korean Pop first.

Lu Peiling: The dance isn’t very difficult. I think we can schedule a concentrated learning session for about three hours to go through it once.

Lu Peiling: Then everyone can go back and self-study using the dance video. We shouldn’t have any problem if we meet up for rehearsal two days before the competition next week.

Lu Peiling’s arrangement was very reasonable, considering that the participants of this show were artists who had other work commitments and couldn’t dedicate all their energy to this show.

With team support, the rest depended on individual effort.

Zhou Xintong: Okay! I’ll follow Teacher Lu’s arrangements. I’m free tomorrow and the day after, waiting in Haicheng. (Little rabbit salute emoji)

Chen Mengyi: Ah? Only three hours of learning? I’m so scared. I can’t dance at all QAQ

Chen Mengyi: I’m worried about holding everyone back. You are all professionally trained, but I’m completely amateur.

Among the four people in this group, only she had absolutely no dance background. She was purely an actress who had never danced—a complete amateur.

Her 30-second individual solo yesterday looked like calisthenics.

Lu Peiling: It’s okay. If you’re worried, I can guide you during my personal practice sessions.

Zhou Xintong: Teacher Lu, look at me! I want a master class too! (Little rabbit raising hand emoji)

Lu Peiling: You don’t need one, do you?

Zhou Xintong: Yes, yes, yes, of course I do. I can’t dance either. (Little rabbit hugging legs emoji)

Song Xiangwan couldn’t help but smile. The atmosphere in this group was quite good, and Zhou Xintong somehow had so many adorable emojis.

Song Xiangwan: Count me in for the master class too.

Zhou Xintong: Sister, you finally spoke up. I thought you had gone off-grid.

Song Xiangwan took a photo of her IV drip and sent it: Sorry, I wasn’t ignoring messages. There was a little accident.

Zhou Xintong: What happened? Are you hospitalized?

Zhou Xintong: It looks so serious? (Little rabbit frightened emoji)

Song Xiangwan: It’s nothing. I had a bit to drink last night, minor gastric bleeding.

Lu Peiling: Then I will practice with the other two first.

Song Xiangwan: It’s okay. I can join the rehearsal tomorrow.

Zhou Xintong: Go, Sister! (Little rabbit cheering emoji)

Lu Peiling: No rush. You have a good foundation, you can practice on your own first. I’ll send you the practice video tomorrow.

Lu Peiling: As for the two of you, if you’re free tomorrow afternoon, come to the Central Dance Academy for rehearsal. The dance studios are all set.

Zhou Xintong: Received (Little rabbit received emoji)

Chen Mengyi: Thank you, Teacher Lu!

Lu Peiling: Don’t call me Teacher Lu anymore. It makes me sound old.

Chen Mengyi: Thank you, Sister Ling!

Chen Mengyi was one of the newly popular young stars these past two years, just slightly less popular than Su Chenxing, but her personality and attitude were worlds apart.

Having met her over the past two days, Song Xiangwan felt she was a polite, gentle, and easygoing young girl.

Chen Mengyi: Sister Wan, did you see this?

She sent a photo.

It was a shot taken from the first floor looking up at the second-floor viewing platform of yesterday’s studio. It was very far away, and the zoomed-in image was blurry.

But it was still clear that there were two people: one sitting in a wheelchair, and a person in a red dress crouching in front of them, leaning into their embrace.

It was very blurry. Too blurry to clearly see either person’s face, only vague outlines.

Chen Mengyi: I didn’t take it. A staff member sent it to me this morning.

Chen Mengyi: Here’s the link.

She forwarded a link to a forum. The photo was pinned in the forum’s first post.

The title was attention-grabbing: An Investigation into the Rise of the Female Artist surnamed S: How many sugar daddies she relied on along the way.

It used many cryptic terms, but it clearly traced Song Xiangwan’s path to fame.

It included the first web drama that hadn’t aired, claiming that the female artist surnamed S got the role because the producer fell in love with her at first sight and she sold her body.

The subsequent shows and dramas were all laid out, clearly stating which producer and which director favored her at each stage.

It credited the female lead’s success to a string of casting couch instances.

Song Xiangwan quickly scanned it and messaged Chen Mengyi: Thank you, I know.

This familiarity with internal information was clearly the work of an insider.

Perhaps even someone from her former company.

This Su Chenxing was truly relentless.

Song Xiangwan didn’t take it too seriously. She forwarded the link to Cao Xin. Within two hours, using Rongxing’s resources, the link was completely obliterated.

The photo also completely disappeared from the internet.

It was the first photo of her and Ming Jin since their reunion.

Song Xiangwan put down her phone and quietly snuggled closer to Ming Jin.

She would be rehearsing tomorrow, so she wouldn’t have time to cling to Ming Jin.

Ming Jin had a faint scent of spices that made her feel safe. Song Xiangwan, who had slept all night, actually drifted off to sleep again peacefully.

The curtains weren’t fully drawn. A beam of sunlight streamed through the gap, landing on the figures embracing on the bed, enveloping them in a hazy, faint warmth.

Waking up and realizing Ming Jin was still beside her gave her an even stronger sense of psychological security.

The IV needle in her hand had been removed, perhaps by the nurse during rounds.

Ming Jin was still asleep. Perhaps she was genuinely exhausted from being worried sick all night.

The sunlight was gone. The hospital room was dim. She could vaguely see the outline of Ming Jin’s features and her long, gently lowered eyelashes.

Her bloodless skin was like cool jade. Her jawline was exquisite and clear, and her nose was elegantly cold. With her eyes closed, she seemed less cold and distant, and more quietly gentle, making Song Xiangwan unable to resist…

Song Xiangwan reached out, but her fingertip hovered over Ming Jin’s nose bridge, stopping an inch away. She was stopped by reason, quickly retracting and clenching her hand.

She mustn’t disturb her rest. Just watching was enough.

But she couldn’t help herself… She moved her head closer, her nose lightly touching Ming Jin’s jaw.

Just a little higher, just a little more, and she could kiss her…

“What are you doing?” The faint voice made Song Xiangwan instantly freeze.

She instinctively tried to retreat, completely forgetting that the bed was very narrow, and moving backward would make her hit the rail.

The person in front of her quickly pressed her hand against Song Xiangwan’s head, stopping her from rolling back, cushioning her head between her hand and the rail.

Her brow slightly furrowed almost imperceptibly, but Ming Jin’s face showed no emotion. She said softly, “Be careful.”

“You’re the one who needs to be careful. Won’t twisting like that hurt your old injury?” Song Xiangwan’s brows were knitted together.

“It doesn’t hurt,” Ming Jin shook her head. There was a faint softness in her eyes that she herself hadn’t noticed.

She pushed Song Xiangwan’s hand away and supported herself with the bedding, struggling to sit up.

When she leaned down to pull the wheelchair, she saw that Song Xiangwan had already scurried down and pushed the wheelchair next to the bed.

Meeting Ming Jin’s gaze, Song Xiangwan lifted her foot defensively: “I remember putting on my shoes.”

She was obedient, but her obedience was limited. Sometimes she was very naughty.

When Ming Jin reached out to rest her hands on the wheelchair, that naughty hand moved over and circled around her waist.

“Song Xiangwan,” she called her full name.

Song Xiangwan froze, looking at her aggrievedly: “What’s wrong?”

A headache. Ming Jin simply couldn’t resist Song Xiangwan’s coaxing tone, but she still maintained her composure: “I’ll do it myself.”

She had intended to get up while Song Xiangwan was asleep, but unexpectedly, the cold stiffness in her waist was slowly massaged away, and she had genuinely fallen into a deep sleep.

She didn’t like to show her vulnerability in front of Song Xiangwan.

It was true the night she stayed at Clear Water Bay, and it was true now.

She didn’t expect to oversleep.

Perhaps understanding Ming Jin’s stubbornness, Song Xiangwan didn’t push her luck. She simply steadied the wheelchair, looking at her with concern.

Ming Jin moved the blanket off her knees. Beneath the long pants, the outline of her legs was faintly visible, appearing exceptionally thin compared to a normal person’s legs.

If she could do physical therapy regularly, the rate of muscle atrophy could be slowed, but her severe back injury forced her to reduce the frequency of even that.

The consequence was a faster rate of atrophy.

She averted her eyes, trying to ignore them, trying to pretend they weren’t there, but she couldn’t.

She supported herself on the armrest of the wheelchair, moving to sit on it. Thump. Her knee hit the wheelchair. Song Xiangwan sharply gasped.

“It doesn’t hurt,” Ming Jin’s voice was flat, cutting off her alarm, carrying a subtle desolate quality.

She expertly unfolded the thin blanket and placed it over her knees, as if everything was commonplace.

But Song Xiangwan distinctly heard a profound sense of disappointment in her words. She crouched down and gently hugged Ming Jin: “It’s okay. Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

“I can take care of you, Ah-Jin. Please let me stay by your side, okay?” Her voice held a light plea.

But this plea failed to move Ming Jin. Instead, hearing those words made her voice colder: “Alright, let go.”

“You only become gentle with me when I’m sick,” Song Xiangwan said softly. “Sometimes I think, as long as my sickness doesn’t get better…”

“No,” Ming Jin said flatly. “We won’t start over, and I won’t stay by your side forever.”

“We were very clear before. You are just a companion, for three years, and that’s it.”

The proximity they had just achieved was instantly pushed away for some unknown reason.

She didn’t want Song Xiangwan to take care of her. She didn’t want Song Xiangwan’s memories of her years later to be nothing but endless trouble.

She also realized that she was somewhat paranoid, even more so after the car accident…

Someone this physically and mentally unhealthy could not build a normal relationship.

Ming Jin picked up her phone and made a call. After a moment, someone came in from outside, bringing dinner.

But it was only a single serving.

Ming Jin said: “I’ve called Cao Xin to come and look after you. If you have nightmares, you can call me.”

“I’ve already scouted a new psychologist. They will come to see you tomorrow. Don’t overthink things. Focus on recuperating.”

“Are you… not staying together tonight?” Song Xiangwan was surprised. She had thought she was finally allowed into her life.

“No,” Ming Jin said plainly. “I didn’t go back last night. I need to go home tonight.”

“Ah-Yan is still at home. If I don’t go back, she’ll worry.”

Ming Jin’s gaze fell on her. She didn’t say anything, but the meaning of refusal was clear.

Ming Jin entered the house and saw Lin Rong lounging on the sofa in casual clothes, her legs crossed comfortably, a fruit plate beside her. Her posture was languid, like the lady of the house. She lifted her chin toward Ming Jin: “You’re back?”

“Ah-Yan isn’t home. Did she specifically hire you to watch me?” Ming Jin’s tone was flat as she wheeled herself to the sofa.

“Hardly. I want her to experience what it’s like to find it easy to invite a god, but difficult to send them away,” Lin Rong speared a piece of honeydew melon, put it in her mouth, and made an expression of enjoyment.

The butler brought a steaming hot cup of tea and placed it on the table, asking softly, “Shall we start dinner now?”

“Mm,” Ming Jin nodded. “Next time, don’t wait for me. Don’t let Dr. Lin starve.”

“It’s fine. I’m not hungry. I’m half-full,” Lin Rong lifted her chin. There were not only fruit plates but also several dessert plates on the table.

Lin Rong truly didn’t treat herself as an outsider.

She glanced around the doorway. Ming Jin asked: “Why? Are we expecting another guest?”

“No, didn’t the little bird come?” Lin Rong was surprised.

“She has a name…” Ming Jin frowned slightly.

“Alright, alright. Why didn’t Song Xiangwan follow you back?” Lin Rong propped her chin on her hand, looking at her with interest. “Did you chase her away?”

“Why bother? You were the one who rushed to the hospital to take her when you found out she was sick, and now that she’s better, you’re the one throwing her aside.”

“CEO Ming, people have hearts. After going back and forth a few times, even the warmest heart will grow cold.”

“Whether it’s cold or not is secondary. Right now, I just want her to recuperate well,” Ming Jin’s expression shifted slightly.

Doesn’t she crave that tenderness?

When Song Xiangwan lay beside her, she always slept well, not just psychologically, but physically too.

The cat was very compliant now, massaging and cuddling, providing a warm and comfortable temperature all night.

But the cost of this was that the cat would be tired, probably not sleeping well all night while taking care of her, the patient.

Since her body was weak these past two days, she needed to refuse sleeping together first, allowing her to rest properly…

Before the thought fully settled, the lock on the door clicked open, and a fluffy head peeked in.

Looking at Ming Jin, the long eyelashes of her phoenix eyes fluttered slightly, and she said softly: “If you’re worried about the house, I can follow you back.”

“Can I come in?” Although she asked this, she had already obediently stepped inside and changed her shoes.

Lin Rong burst into laughter.

The “easy to invite, difficult to send away” concept that Xu Zhiyan hadn’t experienced yet was being experienced by Ming Jin first.

Song Xiangwan took two quick steps, crouched in front of Ming Jin, and grasped her fingers. Thankfully, they were warm now.

“I spoke with the doctor. They said I don’t need to stay hospitalized, just need to come back for the IV drip on time tomorrow.”

“I need to practice dancing. There’s no space at the hospital, and Clear Water Bay is very small. The space here is huge.”

“Please let me stay. I have nowhere to practice. I can’t possibly rank last in the next episode, can I?”

She looked at Ming Jin pitifully, her eyes filled with stubbornness.

Once she latched on, she would never let go.

Truly, easy to invite, difficult to send away.