If they didn't stay overnight, how could they be called caregivers?
But she didn't think much of it. The town's hospital did look rather shabby, so it seemed plausible.
"Actually, I feel much better. I should be fine without someone staying overnight."
"No!" Chu Lulin shook his head, looking very serious. "The doctor said you've just broken a high fever. You mustn't take it lightly."
He looked so cautious that if she insisted on being fine alone, he might run off and bring back a doctor to persuade her.
Jian Ran: "..."
Fine. It seemed she had no choice but to owe him a favor.
It was already afternoon. Since caregivers couldn't stay overnight, there was no point in hiring one. Jian Ran accepted Chu Lulin staying.
Her fever had broken, and though she still felt a bit weak, she could manage basic tasks on her own. It shouldn't be too inconvenient.
And indeed, as Jian Ran expected, after the afternoon IV, she was able to get up and move around.
Following the doctor's advice, Chu Lulin bought light food for dinner: congee, steamed buns, and a bowl of chicken noodle soup. Jian Ran had little appetite and only managed half a bowl of congee.
At night, the small town hospital was nearly empty. It was quiet during the day, but after dark, the whole inpatient ward felt deserted. Every now and then, a draft howled through the building, making one's nerves tense.
Jian Ran's room was at the far end, separated from the nurses' station by most of the ward. She glanced at Chu Lulin lying on the accompanying bed and silently breathed a sigh of relief.
At least she wasn't alone in the room.
Maybe because she'd slept too much during the day, Jian Ran couldn't fall asleep. She tiptoed out of bed, not daring to turn on the light for fear of waking Chu Lulin.
With nowhere else to go at this hour, she took a stool and carefully sat down by the window.
There wasn't much to see outside—just a large empty lot with a few scattered Podocarpus trees. It looked decent during the day, but now it was pitch black. Only the moonlight revealed some swaying shadows.
As she watched, her thoughts drifted away involuntarily.
In the middle of the night, Chu Lulin groggily woke up. He glanced at the hospital bed and immediately snapped to alertness.
He scrambled up, his eyes scanning the room urgently before stopping at the window.
Under the cold moonlight, Jian Ran sat motionless, her side profile visible as she gazed outside. Her expression was calm and still, but her eyes seemed unfocused—lost in thought.
Chu Lulin let out a long, slow breath, the tension in his nerves easing. He didn't approach, just sat quietly behind her, his gaze fixed on her for a long time.
After an unknown period, Jian Ran's figure stirred as if she was about to turn around.
Chu Lulin's expression faltered. Before he could decide how to react, the next moment, she suddenly bent over, burying her face in her arms.
In the darkness, her shoulders trembled slightly.
Chu Lulin's heart tightened. Instinctively, he rose and started toward the window, but then stopped, as if something had occurred to him.
A flicker of visible melancholy crossed his eyes. His fingers unconsciously pressed into his palm, a faint pain signaling his tension.
After a long moment, Chu Lulin withdrew his steps and sat back down on the edge of the bed. His gaze, however, remained fixed on that slender, solitary figure in the distance.
In the darkness, his dark eyes were unfathomable, merging with the endless night—vast and without end.
Sometime later, rain began to patter against the window.
In the deep, silent night, only the white noise of raindrops hitting the glass could be heard.
*
Fortunately, the fever didn't return that night. The next morning, she was discharged and returned to the villa.
This illness had come out of nowhere. Jian Ran rarely even had headaches, let alone a fever serious enough for hospitalization.
She had to admit that the emotional turmoil of a breakup was incredibly draining. No matter how much she tried to appear unaffected, her body had given her the most honest response.
But after this ordeal, she felt that much of the pent-up frustration had dissipated.
She wasn't one to wallow in sorrow. Since she'd decided to let go, she wouldn't allow herself to be trapped in the past. Life had to go on.
Back at the villa, Jian Ran rested for a few more days. The mountain air was fresh, and opening the window brought the sounds of cicadas and birds. Life was leisurely and pleasant.
But lying in bed all day made her feel like her bones were about to fall apart. In the evening, she finally felt like taking a walk—the first time she'd ventured out.
The villa's scenery was beautiful, each spot more stunning than the last.
After walking for an unknown amount of time, Jian Ran felt like she'd just passed this place, but when she looked around, it seemed unfamiliar.
Without a doubt, she was lost.
For someone who couldn't tell east from west, this was a nightmare. She'd tried hard to remember the way, but the winding paths and twists had completely thrown her off.
In this situation, she had two options: call the villa staff for help, or keep walking and hope to run into someone to ask.
Because her sense of direction was so poor, even if someone gave her directions over the phone, she'd probably still get confused. After a brief hesitation, she chose the latter.
Summer evenings were the best time for a walk. Normally, many guests would be out, and she'd seen quite a few on her way. But now, after walking for a while, she hadn't encountered a single person.
Sigh—her luck was just terrible.
After wandering for what felt like ages, just as she was about to give up, she spotted a girl standing at a corner of the corridor ahead. She couldn't see her face, only her back.
Jian Ran was overjoyed and quickened her pace. But as she got closer, she realized the girl was facing someone.
As luck would have it, she knew that person.