Chapter 2: The Mischievous Little Furball, Advanced Stage

So beautiful.

In his previous life, Xia An had seen and tasted many things, yet he was still stunned by the woman before him.

Under the school wall, flowers bloomed in a riot of colors.

Pink roses, purple morning glories—vivid hues pressed into his eyes, yet none could overshadow her radiance.

Sunlight was shattered by the broad leaves of the avenue trees, but still paled in comparison to her brilliance.

Seeing Xia An, she walked barefoot, stepping in dark patent leather heels with a rhythmic click.

Her chestnut hair fluttered with each step, a pure white, knee-length oversized T-shirt caught the warm breeze.

Drawing closer, Xia An could clearly see a rare crescent-shaped gaze veiled by a misty layer of tears.

Confirmed—not a stranger.

He recognized her.

Tang Wan, six years his senior.

A legendary figure at Sixth High School.

Her photos circulated widely in the community.

Chosen by multiple cohorts of male students as the most beautiful schoolflower in the school’s history.

She had held the top spot continuously, unmatched.

Nearly two years ago, Tang Wan, freshly graduated from graduate school, returned to the provincial capital and opened a tutoring center outside Sixth High.

She was said to be the owner and also taught mathematics.

This attracted many young boys eager to openly beg their families for money, all in the name of admiring flowers and doing math.

But after six months of painstaking renovation of a two-story building, the business was transferred before it even opened.

That was the first time Xia An witnessed liberal arts students lamenting over missing math classes.

With her identity confirmed, Xia An grew even more curious.

Had they shared a fleeting romance last night?

But he had no recollection whatsoever.

In his previous life, he had crossed paths with Tang Wan a few times outside school while overseeing renovations.

Back then, she smiled brightly, glowing with a radiance that shook the heart.

Now...

Looking at Tang Wan’s sorrowful expression, her jade-white skin nearly colorless, exuding a different kind of exquisite, poignant beauty, Xia An still couldn’t recall the tender details of last night.

But... things were likely far more complicated.

Whether they had slept together was one matter; going to the hospital was another.

Judging by Tang Wan’s complexion and condition, Xia An was certain: she was ill, and likely gravely so.

Soon, he would learn he was right.

Xia An maintained a calm expression, deep in thought.

Tang Wan seemed unable to meet his gaze, lacking any trace of her former teacher’s poise, instead resembling a wronged young wife.

Hesitating, she handed Xia An a bottle of chilled electrolyte drink.

He accepted it naturally, saying nothing but a simple ‘thank you.’

Seeing the admission notice in his hand, Tang Wan tucked stray hair behind her ear and softly said, “Congratulations.”

Her gentle voice was tinged with fragility.

Xia An feigned indifference and thanked her again.

Reason told him not to speak first. One wrong word could easily pierce another’s heart.

Finally, Tang Wan could no longer hold back.

Biting her lip, she looked at him softly and said,

“Please come to the hospital with me. My head hurts so badly—I’m afraid I can’t hold on much longer.”

She stepped forward, the two nearly touching.

Xia An uttered her name quietly, then added, “It’s partly my fault—we both drank too much last night…”

He meant to probe the question of whether they had slept together.

But before he finished, believing he was excusing himself from going to the hospital, Tang Wan, eyes brimming with tears, shook her head and interrupted.

“Right now, please? I’ve finally made up my mind.

“Once I’m on the operating table, whether I live or die is none of your concern, just come with me.

“I’m too scared. I don’t want to be alone.”

Tang Wan grasped Xia An’s arm, as if afraid he might vanish in an instant.

Surgery...

Major or minor?

Xia An guessed a minor operation was likely an abortion.

But would one need to drag someone along for such a thing?

It made no sense. No logic.

Xia An stepped back; Tang Wan followed.

Trying not to jump straight to the worst diagnosis, he cautiously suggested,

“Why not ask a relative? Though relatives might be inconvenient... what about a friend?”

Tang Wan shook her head anxiously.

“How can you say that? You promised me last night.

“You said if I bought you a drink, you’d go with me to the hospital. Now the drink’s gone, and so is the phone credit.

“Oh, and you drank my water too...”

Had she topped up his phone credit?

Drank her water...

Xia An wanted to laugh but held back.

Seeing Tang Wan so anxious she even used such trivial reasons, acting like a child throwing a tantrum, it was clear she was desperate.

Not wanting to be seen by acquaintances at the school gate, nor able to abandon her, Xia An led her toward the street corner.

Among the flowers, countless butterflies flitted as they gathered nectar, dancing gracefully.

Seeing Xia An’s cold and indifferent demeanor, Tang Wan seemed to realize he might deny everything once sober.

Suddenly overwhelmed by sorrow, she crouched down, burying her head in her knees and sobbing.

“I’ve tried every way, truly—it’s surgery or nothing, Xia An…”

Through her tears, she lifted her face, rain-kissed and fragile.

“If I hadn’t met you last night, if you hadn’t promised to go with me, I’d wish to drown in a bar.

“Xia An, I don’t want to die. The doctors say I have to have surgery, or I won’t live past six months...”

—A sharp realization.

The case was cracked.

It really was a terminal illness.

Tang Wan’s tragic expression made Xia An frown deeply, pity and regret swelling within him.

She continued softly,

“I can sign a waiver for you. As long as you watch me go into the operating room, even if I die, you won’t be responsible. Is that okay?

“If—if it really comes to that…”

Pausing, she handed over a small pouch, as if making a firm decision.

“I still have some money in my bankbook. Help me buy an urn, to be buried at Lotus Mountain Cemetery, beside my parents’ graves—I’ve already purchased the plot.

“I don’t want a funeral; no one would come.

“The rest of the money is enough for your four years of college living expenses.”

What followed revealed the details to Xia An.

She was dying, utterly alone.

She was terrified. Since her diagnosis, fear had been her constant shadow.

She dared not undergo surgery alone, yet knew even surgery might not grant her survival.

For a whole year, she wavered constantly between self-destruction and clinging to life.

Yesterday was the World Cup final, the grandest event in all humanity.

She had resolved then.

To experience the bustling world one last time.

So she chose the bar.

Her thought was: even if she died drunk, it was better than agonizing while waiting for death’s knock.

As for Xia An...

Though he couldn’t remember, he could piece together a picture from her story.

Nineteen-year-old himself, yesterday, had met a desperate Tang Wan in a bar.

Perhaps drawn by her beauty, or overwhelmed by sympathy.

He first urged her toward surgery, clinging to hope of extending life.

Then... even if the surgery failed, he promised to handle her affairs afterward.

A youth’s fervor.

A beauty cursed by fate.

Xia An remained silent.

The ultimate loneliness must be undergoing surgery alone, right?

So pitiful.

It seemed time and space had shifted somewhat.

Tang Wan of the past life hadn’t gone so far as to top up his phone or block the school gate...

Could it be she truly died drunk last night?

Like the petals buried in the earth, beauty aging in a snap, crushed into dust?

Beyond life and death, only scars remain—indeed, it was true.

At that moment, Tang Wan suddenly felt dizzy and plopped down.

Xia An inhaled, exhaled slowly, and reached out to help her up.

Tang Wan held him tightly, feeling the warmth of his palm, gazing deeply into his eyes.

“Please come with me, okay?”

Xia An nodded, asking, “You drank too much last night and forgot—where did that little troublesome lump come from?”

“Glioma in the brain, late stage,” Tang Wan lowered her eyes, her voice lonely.