Twenty

After sending Song Jiakai off, Zhang Momo sat on the bed, clutching her stomach and laughing heartily. The door to the hospital room swung open again. She thought, could it be that he discovered his trousers had been sewn together and came back to settle accounts with her? In a flash, she hurriedly rolled onto her side and feigned sleep, eyes squeezed shut.

Yet the measured, steady footsteps that followed instantly erased every trace of laughter from her lips. Zhang Momo froze, tense as a stretched cotton string, not daring to move a muscle.

Night had deepened. In the quiet of the ward, only two people’s breaths could be heard—and the sound of their heartbeats.

Xiang Zuo paused for a moment, then silently pulled a chair to her bedside and sat down. There was an uncharacteristic fatigue on his face; it might have been a trick of the light, but she fancied she could see a shadow of stubble on his chin. This man—his work was not easy. Shenglian was a vast conglomerate; even the daily matters requiring just his nod were countless. After a day spent battling with tireless vigor, what was he doing here instead of resting? Had he gone mad?

Lying on her side, Zhang Momo’s head swirled with a dull ache, but she dared not move. The more anxious she felt, the more she berated herself for not falling asleep sooner. If she were asleep, he would leave, and all would be well.

But the more one longs for sleep, the more elusive it becomes. At the point where she almost wanted to kick the chair by her bed, her fractured leg started throbbing in protest. The pain came so abruptly that she couldn’t help but recoil slightly. She frowned but stubbornly kept her eyes shut, gritting her teeth. Suddenly, she felt a warmth on her leg—a pair of large hands had settled there.

In that instant, her already taut nerves snapped tight as steel wire. Her entire body stiffened, the fine hairs on her skin standing on end. Still, the hands did not leave; instead, they began to knead and massage her leg gently, deliberately finding the spots she could not bear, tracing everywhere except where the bandages lay. Her whole body felt as if hundreds of ants were biting her, and she wanted to shout, “You might as well break my leg again—anything is better than this torment!”

Xiang Zuo had arrived laden with fatigue, but now, seeing Zhang Momo’s face go pink and pale in turn, her eyes squeezed shut like twisted cords, he inexplicably smiled. “Alright, relax a little. If you don’t move your leg, the muscles will atrophy.” The corners of his mouth quirked up, his gaze grew resolute, as if he wanted to say something more, but after a long hesitation, he remained silent. Only his hands grew gentler, massaging in slow intervals, until at last, when the tense muscles had softened, he finally stood up.

For reasons she couldn’t name, Zhang Momo suddenly felt a faint loneliness. Her hand, hidden beneath the covers, twisted into a knot.

“Momo…” The sound of footsteps she’d been waiting for did not come. Instead, his voice sounded quietly at her ear, startling her and filling her with a strange mixture of gratitude and unease. His voice was so weary, “I’ve thought of you all day. I’m really tired. Open your eyes and look at me. Just one look, and I’ll go.”

She pretended not to hear, so he remained, gazing at her from close by. His breath, warm and intense, brushed her cheek, burning right through to her heart.

“Aren’t you supposed to have amnesia?” he teased, his rich voice drawing ever closer to her ear, muddling her thoughts. “But I’ve never heard of ‘playing dead’ being a symptom of a car accident! If you don’t open your eyes by the count of three, I’ll just kiss you… One, two, three…”

The countdown was so swift there was no time to react before “three” was uttered. No matter how strong her will, Zhang Momo could no longer hold out against the intensifying presence of the man before her. With a sudden gasp, her eyes flew open. At that very instant, the hospital door slammed open, banging against the wall, and Dong Fei burst in, two bags of sundries in her hands, flustered.

“Director Zhang, I’m sorry I’m late… I couldn’t get… a cab…”

Any explanation sounded hollow. Xiang Zuo’s rare moment of tenderness was ruthlessly interrupted, and he shot her a glare so fierce it seemed he might burst into flames. Dong Fei, unnerved by the glare, fumbled and dropped everything in her hands. She looked as though she might laugh or cry, desperate to escape but unable to move, Xiang Zuo’s powerful presence nearly pinned her to the spot. As she stood there, distressed, Zhang Momo suddenly shouted—

“You there! Do you think you’re earning a white-collar salary? Late at this hour—get over here!”

Dong Fei had never felt so happy to be scolded before! It didn’t even feel bad; instead, she felt deeply grateful. Zhang Momo relished the scolding, grabbing Dong Fei and yanking her to her bedside, clutching her sleeve and refusing to let go.

“You still claim you’re not interested in my boyfriend? When Song Jiakai was here earlier today, you were hovering around and I couldn’t drive you away! Now it’s your turn for the night shift, and you’re nowhere to be found. Let me warn you one last time—if you dare covet my boyfriend again, I’ll fire you on the spot! Fire you!”

Her accusations were full of spirit and authority, but still not enough to appease her. She gave Dong Fei a hearty shove onto the empty chair by the bed. Only then did she look up, feigning surprise, “Oh, Mr. Xiang, you’re still here?”

With a clatter, the hapless designer-turned-nurse was nearly toppled over. Fortunately, Xiang Zuo, broad-minded as ever, sighed and steadied Dong Fei before she could hit the floor.

He looked on helplessly. “Get some rest and stop making a scene.” With that, he picked up his car keys and left the ward.

Poor Dong Fei was still reeling from the barrage of blows! Wasn’t her boss only suffering from amnesia? Could a car accident also bring on violent tendencies? And was it really Xiang Zuo who had just helped her up? He had touched her—he, himself!

Her shoulders suddenly felt precious; she almost wished she could forgo bathing for days, just to preserve the sensation. But then, catching sight of Zhang Momo looking off into the distance, her frustration returned.

“Director Zhang! Zhang Momo!”

“Hm?” The patient on the bed was startled awake, finally returning to herself, mouth open in innocent confusion. “What is it?”

Dong Fei, exasperated, shook out her clothes, stalked to the bedside, and put her hands on her hips. “I’m your employee, not your love rival! Who’s coveting your boyfriend? I only looked at him a couple of times—must you go on about it all day? And why did you shove me? I have dignity! I’m a designer, not a masochist! I demand to be transferred back to the company! Back to the company!”

“Oh,” Zhang Momo replied, thick-skinned, smiling as she clung to Dong Fei’s arm and made her sit at the bedside, patting her back consolingly. “Sorry, I forgot you don’t like my boyfriend. If you don’t like him, that’s easy. I won’t push you again. Don’t be angry…”

So soothed, Dong Fei could only lower her head and snicker. Transferred back to the company? Not a chance! Right now, being a nurse earned her an extra five thousand a month from Xiang Zuo; in comparison, being mistaken for a rival and shoved a few times was nothing! She’d have to persuade Momo to stay in the hospital a few more months…

Downstairs, Xiang Zuo paused, called his assistant Yu Nianyuan, and instructed him to send two people to keep Zhang Momo’s advertising agency running. No matter how small the company, it wouldn’t do to have no one holding the fort. Whether she chose to dissolve it or keep it after getting out of bed would be her choice, but until then, he couldn’t let it simply collapse.

The words of the neurologist and psychiatrist still echoed in his mind: the trauma from the accident, combined with certain psychological cues, could well have led the patient to selectively forget people and events she wished to avoid. It was obvious, whatever her reasons, that he now belonged firmly in the category of those she did not wish to remember or face.

In the landscaped garden of the inpatient wing’s west side, the neatly arranged roses were in full bloom. Looking up at the third window from the north on the sixth floor, he knew that from inside, the view would be of this very garden.

His gaze fell upon the pane of glass, as if he could see every corner of that hospital room. But in the end, he could only sigh deeply. He could take care of everything for her, but as for the woman herself, she remained a mystery he could not solve.

Zhang Momo, the car accident took more from you than just your memory—it took your wits as well.