Chapter 133: I Said No Need

Gu Shiyan averted his gaze, his brows furrowed with a cold intensity. “I thought at least you…”

At least you would understand me.

“The doctor should be here soon. I’ll take you back afterward,” Gu Shiyan said lightly, though even he might not have realized how forbiddingly deep his voice had become.

This left Luo Xing momentarily stunned.

She rose, slipping off Gu Shiyan’s coat and draping it gently over the armrest of the nearby sofa. “No need.”

The atmosphere grew subtle and heavy.

Perhaps both were fragile and bewildered; even when their eyes met and their mouths parted, neither spoke a word.

“I’ll go first.”

Luo Xing lowered her head and made her way to the entrance.

“I’ll see you off,” Gu Shiyan said, clutching the car keys in his hand.

“I said there’s no need.” Luo Xing had already opened the door and, once outside, closed it firmly behind her.

She gave no glance back.

The door coldly severed the tenuous connection between them.

Standing at the doorway, Luo Xing clasped her hands, rubbing her thumbs against the webbing between her fingers.

Her head was dizzy—dizzy beyond bearing.

She longed to lie down, to sleep and think of nothing at all.

Yet she did not want others to see her as a helpless beggar with nowhere to go.

In the end, she endured the discomfort and stepped aside to hail a car.

Perhaps because of the biting cold, it took a long time before someone accepted her request.

Once inside the car, warmed by the heater, Luo Xing leaned back with her eyes closed, emptying her mind.

“Miss, we’ve arrived.”

Luo Xing was roused softly.

Though the journey was only minutes, it felt as if she had slept through an endless, shadowed day and night.

Maybe the medicine was ineffective; her throat ached unbearably.

“Could you take me to the hospital?” Luo Xing pulled out her phone.

The driver restarted the engine and set off again.

At the hospital, Luo Xing supported her weak limbs as she registered.

No matter how she counted, this was the first time she had fallen ill without anyone to care for her.

Yet now, she strangely found a kind of masochistic comfort in focusing solely on her bodily pain, rather than the chaotic, muffled void deep within her heart.

Her phone rang, and mechanically, Luo Xing answered.

It was Yun Cai on the other end, asking, “Where are you now? I’m coming to find you.”

“What’s wrong?” Luo Xing’s voice startled her with its hoarseness.

“Are you sick? A cold? Fever?”

After several persistent questions from Yun Cai, Luo Xing finally gave her the address.

As she had expected, Yun Cai’s arrival brought a noisy commotion like a gust of wind, distracting her from spiraling thoughts.

“How did you end up like this? Why come alone to register? Even if Uncle, Aunt, or Luo Zhou are busy, you should have told me.”

Luo Xing shook her head. “It’s nothing. Didn’t you say you were coming? Why?”

“Oh, Shen Que asked me to bring something to you. Strange, he couldn’t give it himself, and he wouldn’t tell me what it was or let me open it.” Yun Cai produced a small object wrapped in brown paper, no larger than a palm.

Luo Xing frowned as she took it, recalling Shen Que’s flustered expression at the tea shop and his hesitant words.

He couldn’t deliver it himself, so he made Yun Cai do it.

She pinched it lightly—it felt thin and empty.

Holding it between her fingers, she began to peel back a corner, when suddenly it vanished from her hand.

Looking up, she saw a small child snatch it away, already running off.

Yun Cai, who detested such unruly children, dashed after it before Luo Xing could react.

Luo Xing struggled to stand, dizziness hitting her anew, and then sank back down, messaging Shen Que to ask what the object was.

“A child took it. Is it important?”

The reply took a long time.

“I don’t know.”

Luo Xing was stunned.

She hadn’t expected Shen Que to respond with such cold, baffling indifference after typing for so long.

If it was something he sent, how could he not know?

“Shen Que, have you been staying with Team Two lately? Is the competition tiring you? Too much pressure?”

Only this could explain his recent strange behavior.

He quickly replied with a simple “Hmm.”

Luo Xing offered a few words of comfort.

But then, no more messages came.

Luo Xing knew he must have seen them.

Panting, Yun Cai returned and stood before Luo Xing, hands on hips. “Damn it, whose kid is that? No brains, no common sense. I’m going to check the cameras. Today, I’m really going to catch that brat and make him apologize to you.”

“Forget it. I asked Shen Que, and it’s probably nothing important.”

“This isn’t about importance anymore. I want to teach him a lesson—” Yun Cai began, but just then Luo Xing’s number was called.

Looking at Luo Xing’s pale lips and flushed cheeks, Yun Cai instantly forgot about scolding the brat. No one was more important than her dear Xingxing.

“Come on, let me help you.” Yun Cai moved closer, supporting Luo Xing’s waist with one hand and offering her shoulder with the other.

“You’re telling me your brain isn’t working well to start with. What if this fever fries it?”

Luo Xing gave her a speechless glare, prompting Yun Cai to quickly amend, “It’s fine. Maybe the fever will burn away your silly love-struck brain.”

Yun Cai chattered on relentlessly, regardless of whether Luo Xing responded. “Maybe heaven thinks your life’s too perfect and deliberately threw a man in your path to give you a taste of hardship. People like us don’t even have time for men. I’m telling you, my thesis got rejected again. They said they couldn’t understand how I came up with such a dull, illogical topic using a human brain.”

“Hmm…” Luo Xing barely registered her words, replying absentmindedly.

“Are you a pig?”

“Hmm.”

“...”

Once Luo Xing was steadied, Yun Cai suggested the doctor check if her brain was really fried.

***

Silence engulfed the apartment, the clock on the white wall ticking steadily yet oppressively.

Gu Shiyan sat cross-legged on the floor, the reflective glass of the skyscrapers outside the floor-to-ceiling window flickering faintly with white light.

Observing winter’s arrival in Beicheng from indoors felt peaceful and gentle.

Yet stepping outside the warm room, the biting cold wind instantly awakened one’s senses; the calm, mild scene was but an illusion. Only by truly venturing out could one realize how harsh the frost was—unforgiving and inescapable.

Suddenly, a drip echoed softly; his long black lashes fluttered.

Silence lingered until the room’s heating gradually faded, and the tile floor grew icy. Gu Shiyan raised his eyes and glanced around.

The power had gone out.

A notification on his phone indicated the outage would last until eight the next morning.

He glanced briefly, then looked away, his mind continuing to dwell elsewhere.

His gaze remained fixed outside, sweeping over the outlines of buildings, slowly sketching the silhouette of Luo Xing in the darkness.