The moment Xu Lize opened the car door, the reserve of tears in Ren Sijia’s eyes finally broke and a tear slid down her cheek.
“Third Brother.” Her voice trembled; her cheeks were tinged with color—she couldn’t tell if it was from relief or from fear.
Xu Lize nodded once. He bent slightly in the rain, holding the umbrella, and asked if she could move.
Ren Sijia shifted a little, then curled her left shoulder inward. “My left arm… I think I twisted it.”
“If you can walk, get in the car. I’ll drive you to the hospital,” he said.
She fixed her left shoulder with her right hand and gingerly stepped out. He angled the umbrella over her head but kept most of his body outside its shelter, maintaining a deliberate distance.
When she looked up, her expression dimmed for a heartbeat; worry slipped into her voice. “You’re getting wet, Third Brother.” She leaned in as if to close the gap.
Xu Lize shook his head, said it was fine, and remained apart.
Her heart dropped. She started to move, then turned back. “Third Brother, my bag’s still in my car. Wait—”
“I’ll get you into the car first. The bag can wait,” he said evenly, but there was a hard edge beneath the calm.
Her feet stopped. She was about to protest, but his cold gaze met hers and she shut up.
After making sure she was safely in, Xu Lize went around to speak briefly with the traffic officers who hadn’t yet left, then took the clutch bag from her car and climbed in.
“Third Brother…” Ren Sijia called timidly as he started the engine and turned on the blinker.
“Have you eaten?” he asked without looking at her.
Her face brightened. “No, not yet.”
“I’ll take you to the hospital first. If everything’s fine, we’ll eat afterward.”
“Okay, Third Brother, I—”
“We’ll talk over dinner, Sijia.” He cut her off with a look, and his tone left no room.
She let out a small, private sigh of relief and tried to open up as they drove, but he glanced at her once and interrupted again.
She blinked, clutching the seatbelt and asking quietly, “Third Brother, what do you want to talk about?”
He was blunt. “About why you really came back this time. Sijia, I’ve told you before—we can’t be together. I treat you like a sister. In my heart you’re no different from Yingying. I’m glad Mom likes you; I admit you and our family have a connection. But that comes with boundaries. You know where my line is.”
“You’re mistaken!” Ren Sijia turned away, panic flaring. “I came back for orchestra auditions. The tour overseas was exhausting and I thought—maybe I could come home and sign with a domestic orchestra—”
“Sijia.” He drew his gaze away and his voice flattened into something unreadable. “You chose the violin. You’re talented, and Huaizhou has resources in the industry. Your starting point is higher than most. People envy what you have. And now you tell me you want to quit because it’s too hard?”
He had seen it—just then the dress she wore was the same one he’d watched Su Yang take off the night before. He didn’t call that out, but suddenly a lot of things aligned for him.
Ren Sijia’s right hand clenched into her left shoulder, a burst of pain making her eyes water; a faint mist came to her lashes.
“But Third Brother, I regret it. I regret promising I’d stop. If I’d kept fighting back then—” she began.
“Sijia!” He snapped her off sharply. “I said don’t make those little moves anymore. When you fought with Tang Ning before, I ignored it because I thought it was girl stuff—petty rivalries. Outsiders didn’t need to get involved.”
He paused, then his voice dropped and each word landed like a stone. “But Yangyang is different.”
“Why?” Ren Sijia protested, stubbornness flaring though she dared not push too hard. Years of knowing him taught her that Xu Lize didn’t bend to force; arguing would only backfire.
“Because she’s my wife.” He looked at her again, and in his eyes was a tenderness she didn’t understand.
…
In the security room on the first floor of Ren’ai Hospital, the head nurse sat with Su Yang in front of the monitor, rewinding footage.
“What time did the visitor arrive? Do you remember?” the head of security asked as he rifled through file folders.
“Around three o’clock, I think,” the nurse said. “It was just after the afternoon rounds started; I was getting ready to do the medication rounds.”
“Okay, one moment.” The security chief was polite with the nurse and quick to pull up the right recording. When he found it, he showed them how to fast-forward and rewind, then left them to watch.
There weren’t many people on the single-room ward corridor, so after ten minutes Su Yang froze the image. She’d spotted the familiar figure at once.
“Do you know her?” the nurse bent over to look when Su Yang paused the video.
Su Yang nodded slowly, a cold smile ghosting her lips. “I do.”
“Who is she? A friend?” The nurse wasn’t sure why Su Yang had requested the footage, but she felt the tension in the room.
Su Yang downloaded the clip, emailed it to herself, then closed the player. She asked quietly, “When she visited, was my mother awake?”
The nurse nodded. “Yes. I brought your mother her meds that afternoon; she was awake. I watched her take them.”
“And when did she leave?” Su Yang’s voice was thin.
“I didn’t pay strict attention to that,” the nurse admitted. “She was only there maybe half an hour.”
“Was my mother—how was she when the woman left?” Su Yang gripped the armrests until her knuckles went white.
The nurse sighed. “Your mother’s breathing monitor went off around five. She’s had an episode like this earlier in the month—we were able to save her then. But this time…” She crouched down and softened her voice. “Xiao Su, I’ve been caring for your mother for years and I’ve watched her health decline. I know it’s hard for you now, but sometimes…for someone in her condition, it might be a relief.”