The Twilight Does Not Stain the Rose - Chapter 5

Jiang Muchen’s reaction was something Zhuang Baiwei had completely failed to anticipate.

The words she was about to say—”How did the style change so drastically all of a sudden?”—became stuck in her throat, uncomfortable as an irritating thorn. The other woman’s resistance was too obvious, and Zhuang Baiwei, not being one to overstay a welcome, let the smile fade from her face. She curved her lips slightly and replied, “Alright.”

The atmosphere in the private room instantly fell into a dead silence, so quiet that even the sound of Zhuang Baiwei picking up her chopsticks again felt jarringly loud. She took two more bites of the noodles; they had already gone cold, and the crab roe had taken on a fishy smell that made it hard to swallow.

In her peripheral vision, Jiang Muchen was still trying to eat with her head down, but it was clear her movements were mechanical. Zhuang Baiwei put down her chopsticks once more. “Excuse me, I need to use the restroom.”

The restroom was a pretext. She didn’t actually want to go; she simply took a slow walk around the restaurant and went to the counter to settle the bill. When she returned to the room, Jiang Muchen’s bowl was empty. Zhuang Baiwei felt a subconscious prick of guilt for having wasted food earlier.

However, she quickly noticed the other woman’s complexion. It was even paler than when they had set out. Despite her lingering annoyance, she was more afraid that Jiang Muchen had made herself sick. She grabbed her coat. “Let’s go.”

Jiang Muchen stood up and followed her out. As they passed the counter, Jiang tried to pay, but the waiter said the bill had already been settled.

Creak—

Zhuang Baiwei pushed open the glass doors of the Crab Manor. As if she hadn’t heard the exchange behind her, she walked straight outside. It was now past 8:00 PM. Without the sun, the late autumn temperature had plummeted, and the icy night wind whipped against her face.

She gradually calmed down, feeling that her flare of temper had been quite inexplicable. The sound of the door opening came from behind her, followed by footsteps. Zhuang Baiwei let out a quiet breath, turning around as she said, “Let’s go, I’ll drop you—”

Her words cut off abruptly. Seeing Jiang Muchen clutching her stomach in pain, she instinctively rushed forward, only for the other woman to collapse at the same time. “Hey—!”

She shouted while reaching out to catch her, the weight pulling her down until she was sitting on the ground.

“Miss Jiang?” Zhuang Baiwei was terrified, her lips trembling for a few moments before she could find her voice. “Jiang Muchen!!”

After a period of frantic chaos, it was already late at night. Zhuang Baiwei returned to the ward after paying the fees, listening to the doctor recount the patient’s condition with a frown: “This is severe exhaustion and physical collapse.”

“Furthermore, she clearly hasn’t eaten properly in a long time. Why would you have her eat so much crab and drink alcohol all at once?”

As the instigator of the crab feast, Zhuang Baiwei felt innocent yet had no way to explain herself. She could only remain silent, offering a faint smile.

“If her stomach is in bad shape, she shouldn’t be pushed like this,” the doctor warned. “As her friend, you need to supervise her better. You can’t let her be so reckless.”

Zhuang Baiwei pursed her lips, following the advice readily. “Alright, doctor. I will definitely supervise her.”

“Observe her for the night. We’ll see about discharging her tomorrow.”

The doctor left, and the single ward fell into silence. Jiang Muchen remained unconscious on the bed, her face pale and her brow furrowed, looking far from comfortable. Zhuang Baiwei’s heart still hadn’t settled; the events of the last few hours felt like a revolving lantern—vague and surreal. To put it bluntly, she felt like she had been fighting the Grim Reaper for a life.

The phone in her pocket vibrated, startling her. She quickly stepped out of the ward and answered Zhuang Wenlan’s call once the door closed.

Zhuang Wenlan and Shen Shuhao had already reached the ground floor. After giving them the ward number and hanging up, her mind finally anchored. She slumped into a chair, drained of energy. In all her years, this was the first time she had seen someone faint in front of her and the first time she had brought an unconscious person to the hospital. She lifted her hand and noticed it was shaking violently. She let out a long sigh, silently trying to adjust her mental state to move past the shock.

Soon, Zhuang Wenlan and Shen Shuhao arrived. She immediately stood up. “Auntie Shen, Mom.”

“What happened to Xiao Chen?” Shen Shuhao’s eyes were full of panic, her face as white as a sheet—looking even more frightened than the woman inside.

Filled with guilt, Zhuang Baiwei hurriedly said, “Auntie, don’t worry. The doctor said Miss Jiang has acute gastroenteritis. She fainted because of low blood sugar and over-exhaustion. Once the IV is done and she gets some rest, she’ll be fine.”

Hearing this, Shen Shuhao let out a sigh of relief. Her legs went weak, and she nearly fell, but Zhuang Baiwei and her mother caught her and helped her to a bench. Shen Shuhao patted her chest, murmuring twice, “As long as it’s not a major illness.”

The three were silent for a moment before Zhuang Wenlan sensed something was off. She asked suspiciously, “How could Xiao Chen be so exhausted that she fainted?”

Upon hearing this, Zhuang Baiwei couldn’t help but think of that white rose ornament. The panic she had just managed to soothe came rushing back. Holding back her racing heartbeat, she spoke with difficulty: “Could it be… because of the gift she gave me?”

Shen Shuhao nodded, then shook her head. “No, Weiwei, it has nothing to do with you…” She sighed deeply, her eyes reddening with a look of helplessness and sorrow. “Xiao Chen has been suffering from insomnia for a long time.”

“Ever since returning to the country three months ago, she has hardly had a single good night’s sleep. In truth, her brand was taken by her partner before she returned. She was likely triggered by that; her inspiration dried up, and she could no longer draw design drafts.”

Shen Shuhao looked at Zhuang Baiwei. “But after coming back from that blind date, Xiao Chen locked herself in her studio, drawing drafts without sleep or rest, modifying and perfecting that white rose ornament over and over again.”

“It was inspiration she had fought hard to find, so she didn’t dare sleep. Even time for eating was a luxury. She spent nearly a week like this, forgetting food and sleep, to create that white rose ornament.”

Shen Shuhao smiled. “Weiwei, you are Xiao Chen’s muse. Thank you.”

Muse?

Zhuang Baiwei froze, unsure how to react, but the truth of the situation filled her with a new wave of guilt. “No, Auntie,” she managed a weak smile. “It should be my honor.”

Zhuang Wenlan saw her daughter’s emotional state and pulled Shen Shuhao up. “Shuhao, let’s go inside and wait for Xiao Chen to wake up.”

Zhuang Baiwei spoke up: “Miss Jiang needs to stay for observation. Auntie, if you trust me, I can go pack some changes of clothes and toiletries to bring back.”

Zhuang Wenlan added, “Yes, Weiwei has experience accompanying patients in the hospital. Leaving it to her is no problem.”

Shen Shuhao felt very apologetic. “This is far too much trouble.”

“It’s fine, Auntie,” Zhuang Baiwei shook her head. “I bear some responsibility for Miss Jiang falling ill. Doing this is only right.”

Since Crab Manor was in the eastern suburbs, they had chosen the East Campus of the City Hospital, which was a thirty-minute drive from the city center. Shen Shuhao didn’t drive and had come by taxi with Zhuang Wenlan; it would be a torment to make her travel back and forth in her current shaken state. With Shen Shuhao’s permission, she took the address and the house key and drove to Jiang Muchen’s home.

The residential complex was relatively new for the Central District, with wide, smooth roads. Zhuang Baiwei first stopped at a supermarket near the gate to buy some new towels and storage bags, then drove into the complex and parked under Jiang Muchen’s building.

The elevator went up to the tenth floor. She opened the door and found the wall switch. With a click, the interior brightened instantly. Because Jiang Muchen needed a separate studio for her designs, the apartment was a three-bedroom unit. The decoration was left by the previous owner—a minimalist modern style, clean and comfortable.

Following Shen Shuhao’s directions, Zhuang Baiwei walked toward the room on the west side facing south. She pushed the door open and saw a bedding set in beige and light coffee colors. The furniture was made of solid wood in a light walnut finish, complemented by beige and black ornaments. It was clean, tidy, and stable—very much like the impression Jiang Muchen gave.

She picked up the Christmas Cactus in her hand, looked around, and finally placed it on the top left corner of the desk. The green and red weren’t out of place in the space; they became a vivid accent.

Opening the wardrobe, she was met with a literal wall of darkness. She saw a flash of white at the bottom and picked it up—it was a set of autumn/winter sports hoodies and pants. She found the underwear drawer and picked out two white pairs. Unable to find a suitable bag, she took a small 16-inch suitcase from the closet and went to the attached bathroom to pack Jiang Muchen’s toiletries.

Seeing Jiang Muchen’s mug on the desk, she wrapped it in a towel and packed it into the suitcase as well. On her way to collect a pair of slippers, Zhuang Baiwei noticed a half-open door opposite. She glanced inside instinctively and was drawn by a glow.

She thought a light had been left on, but as she stepped closer, she found the source of the light—another white rose ornament. She hadn’t expected Jiang Muchen to have made two.

She stepped into the room. The door was wide open now, letting in the bright light from the living room. Countless sketches and drafts lay before her. There was her white rose latte art, the red maples and osmanthus by the moat, “Today is Good,” and the white rose ornament itself. Beside these were many discarded drafts, where the chaotic lines, color blocks, and crumpled paper all spoke of the author’s anxiety and pain during creation.

In the center of the table was a sketch of a person’s back by the river. Zhuang Baiwei recognized it instantly—it was her. At the bottom right of the paper, two words and a question mark were written: Muse?

In this moment, Zhuang Baiwei felt she could see the tentative curiosity and confusion Jiang Muchen felt when writing those words.

Although the brand “Twilight” was officially established in Jiang Muchen’s senior year of college, her designs had already become somewhat famous among her classmates as early as high school. Furthermore, Shen Shuhao had once been a jewelry designer herself. This genetic inheritance meant Jiang Muchen had been something of a prodigy on the path of jewelry design since childhood. “Twilight” was the crystallization of her life’s work, a testament to years of study and countless instances of self-refinement. Yet it had left her, taking her inspiration along with it.

Zhuang Baiwei stood silently before the drawings. While sensing Jiang Muchen’s pain and struggle, she felt a strong sense of bewilderment. How had she, by some strange twist of fate, become Jiang Muchen’s muse? Was it because of her latte art? The beauty of the maples and osmanthus by the moat? Or because of “Today is Good” opening so vibrantly this autumn?

Thinking back repeatedly, Zhuang Baiwei couldn’t find a clear answer, but it must have been one of them, or perhaps all of them combined. These chaotic guesses and her own confusion converged, quickly solidifying into a definitive decision.

When she returned to the hospital, Jiang Muchen still hadn’t woken up. She pulled Zhuang Wenlan and Shen Shuhao aside to consult quietly outside the ward.