When Sang Lu arrived at the hospital, the rain had lightened slightly.
Her steps were hurried, her pants splashed with dirty water, but she paid no mind as she closed her umbrella and strode through the hospital doors.
Doctor Ji was visibly surprised when he saw Sang Lu appear. He began organizing the items on his desk to stand up, but Sang Lu had already pressed the elevator button without waiting for him. She stepped inside, poking her head out to ask, "Which floor? Which room? I’ll go up myself."
The elevator stopped at the VIP floor.
A nurse, having received a call from downstairs, was already waiting by the elevator doors.
Sang Lu followed the nurse’s lead toward the innermost room, its door slightly ajar.
The nurse pushed it open and announced with a soft smile,
"Mr. Feng, your wife is here..."
Feng Yan, sitting on the hospital bed lost in thought, abruptly curled his fingers at the sound.
His eyes lifted in a daze, meeting Sang Lu’s face, etched with tension.
He froze for a moment, a flicker of astonishment passing through his deep gaze.
The nurse gently closed the door behind her.
Sang Lu sat on the sofa beside him, staring straight at him.
Her gaze swept over him from head to toe, as if scanning him with X-ray vision.
Earlier, Fang Assistant’s phone call had been vague—only telling her that Feng Yan had no external injuries, nothing serious, but needed to stay for observation for a day or two.
If it wasn’t serious, why the need for observation?
The explanation had struck her as odd.
Sang Lu scrutinized him again.
The room was comfortably warm. Feng Yan wore a dark gray T-shirt and casual pants, his black hair slightly disheveled.
She studied him silently for a full half-minute, confirming with her own eyes that he looked just as strong and robust as before, before finally exhaling in relief.
"What brought you to the hospital so suddenly? Are you feeling unwell?" she asked.
She had jogged into the hospital after getting out of the car, her chest still rising and falling slightly. Now, she pressed her palm against the soft sofa, steadying her breath.
Feng Yan remained silent.
He picked up a bottle of mineral water from beside him, twisted it open, and handed it to her.
"Drink some water first."
Sang Lu took it but didn’t drink, her anxious expression fixed on him.
Feng Yan’s gaze darkened, his tone calm yet leaving no room for refusal. "Drink."
"..." Sang Lu relented.
She took a sip, her breathing gradually settling, before Feng Yan finally answered her. "Just an old issue. I’ll be going home tonight."
Silence followed his words.
Then, suddenly, they spoke at the same time:
"Yesterday—"
"You—"
Both paused.
Feng Yan yielded. "You first."
Sang Lu pressed her lips together. "Did you stay here last night? Were you feeling unwell? What exactly caused this? Have you eaten lunch? Hospital food must be terrible, right? And why didn’t you tell me the truth yesterday? You lied and said you were at home."
Her mother’s advice echoed in her mind: If you want to ask something, just ask directly.
So she asked everything.
Once the words were out, she fixed her gaze on Feng Yan.
Opposite her, silence lingered.
Then, abruptly, Feng Yan let out a short, quiet laugh and looked at her. "So many questions. Which one should I answer first?"
"..." Sang Lu blinked, only now realizing how scattered her questions had been.
She smiled faintly. "Say whatever comes to mind. It’s not like I’m quizzing you in class."
Feng Yan’s dark eyes were unfathomable, but as he watched her smile, a trace of warmth seeped into his gaze. He answered slowly, deliberately:
"I stayed here last night."
"I wasn’t unwell. My condition is fine."
"The heavy rain reminded me of some things from the past."
"I’ve eaten lunch. It wasn’t bad."
He paused.
"I didn’t want you to worry."
With each patient, gentle reply, Sang Lu’s fingers tightened imperceptibly around the water bottle.
He had remembered every fragmented question she couldn’t even retell herself—responding to each one in order.
The contrast of his cool, detached demeanor paired with such attentive answers gave his words an unexpected weight.
She was momentarily stunned, unsure how to respond, and could only stare at him blankly.
"What are you thinking?"
The man who had just answered all her questions suddenly turned the question back on her.
Sang Lu snapped out of her daze, blinking once.
Meeting Feng Yan’s sharp, composed gaze, she realized there was one question still bouncing around in her mind.
After a long pause, she rested her hands on her knees, rubbing them lightly.
She took a shallow breath and asked:
"I really want to know... what exactly happened in your past? What’s the reason you’ve always been reluctant to talk about it? Can you... tell me?"
Her clear, straightforward voice hung in the quiet room.
Then—
A long, heavy silence followed.
Feng Yan’s gaze on her grew deeper.
In the twenty years since that accident, not even his grandfather had ever asked him these questions so directly.
It had become a topic the entire family avoided.
He never brought it up, and no one dared to ask.
But now, Sang Lu’s expression was calm and steady.
There was no pity in her eyes, no heaviness—just a simple desire to understand his past.
Her clear eyes, shimmering with flecks of light, held his gaze so intently that even Feng Yan, usually unshakable, felt his breath hitch for a split second.
He looked away, his voice low, almost negotiating.
"Let’s talk about it when we get home. Alright?"
Sang Lu froze for half a second before her face brightened with a smile. "Of course! That’s perfectly fine~"
He was willing to talk. No resistance at all.
When and where he wanted to share it—of course she’d respect his wishes.
Delighted, she repeated cheerfully, "Okay, okay, okay~"
The atmosphere in the room instantly lightened.
Sang Lu’s worry faded as she finally took in her surroundings. Her eyes swept over the room’s furnishings before her brows suddenly furrowed.
"Why is there only mineral water here?" she muttered under her breath. "How can they treat a patient under observation like this? Unacceptable."
Feng Yan watched as she pulled out her phone, her tone brightening. "Let me order you some milk tea. And some snacks too~"
His lips parted slightly.
He had been about to refuse, but then it occurred to him—maybe she wanted some. So he didn’t stop her.
Sang Lu added an extra tip for the delivery driver. Fifteen minutes later, the milk tea arrived first.
She poked a straw into one cup and handed it to Feng Yan.
"Try it. It’s delicious—the kind of flavor that lifts your mood."
Feng Yan accepted it, his long fingers gripping the cup with an almost comical incongruity.
He held it without drinking, his gaze drifting absently to the stack of documents on the table.
The papers were placed facedown. On top was the file about that woman—Guan Shiqing.
Just as Sang Lu happily took a sip of her own milk tea, Feng Yan’s voice cut through the quiet.
He called her name, suddenly solemn.
"Sang Lu."
