The soft hum of hospital machines echoed faintly through the quiet room. Morning light spilled in through the pale curtains, turning the sterile walls golden. The scent of disinfectant still hung in the air, but it was warmer now — almost gentle.
Xu Ling's eyes fluttered open for the second time. Her throat felt raw, her lips cracked. When she tried to move, pain rippled through her body like lightning. The weight of exhaustion pressed on her chest.
She wasn't dead.
The realization came slow, like the memory of a dream she wanted to forget.
The water.
The storm.
The emptiness that had finally swallowed her.
But she'd failed — even death had rejected her.
Her vision blurred, then sharpened again. She stared at the IV line attached to her arm, the faint drip of saline a rhythmic reminder that she was still alive.
A figure sat by the window — tall, still, unreadable. His presence filled the space more than any sound could.
Wang Zheng.
His jacket was gone, replaced by a simple black shirt rolled up at the sleeves. A faint scar ran across his wrist, half-hidden under the watch he wore. He looked like he belonged to another world — one untouched by chaos.
When he noticed her gaze, he turned. His voice was calm, quiet.
"You're awake."
Xu Ling's fingers curled into the blanket. "Why… why am I here?"
He didn't answer immediately. Instead, he rose and poured a cup of warm water from the flask on the table.
"You were drowning," he said finally, handing it to her. "I pulled you out."
She stared at the cup, her reflection trembling on the surface. "You should've left me."
Wang Zheng's brow lifted, but his tone remained even.
"Then I'd have a corpse in my conscience — and that would ruin my week."
His bluntness startled her. For a moment, she almost smiled. Almost.
But the ache in her chest swallowed it before it could form.
"I didn't ask to be saved," she murmured.
He leaned back, crossing his arms. "People never do."
Silence settled between them. The steady beeping of the heart monitor filled it — soft, almost comforting.
After a long while, she whispered, "What's your name?"
"Wang Zheng," he said, his gaze meeting hers. "And you?"
Her lips trembled. "Xu Ling."
He nodded, as if confirming something he already suspected.
"I figured."
Xu Ling frowned slightly. "How… do you know?"
He held up the small jade pendant, now cleaned and glinting faintly under the light. "This. It's engraved with your name — and something else."
Her eyes widened as she reached for it. The smooth surface burned against her fingers, heavy with memories she had tried to bury.
"That was my grandmother's…"
Something cracked inside her voice.
She looked down, and tears spilled silently. "She… she's gone."
Wang Zheng didn't speak. He watched as her shoulders shook, as grief that had been buried deep finally found a way out.
When she wiped her tears with trembling hands, his tone softened — just slightly.
"You should rest. Crying won't bring her back."
Xu Ling let out a shaky laugh. "You're not very good with comfort, are you?"
His lips curved — almost a smile, but not quite.
"I'm better at reality."
She leaned back, exhaustion seeping into her bones. "Reality hasn't been kind to me."
"Then maybe it's time you fight back."
---
Meanwhile, in the Capital…
Thunder cracked over the skyline. Inside the glass tower of Lu Corporation, Li Wei sat in his office, his gaze fixed on the storm outside.
His assistant hesitated by the door. "Sir, the board is waiting."
Li Wei didn't move. The lightning reflected in his eyes — sharp, distant, haunted.
"Cancel it," he said. "All of it."
The assistant blinked. "All of it?"
"Meetings. Appointments. Everything."
When the door shut again, silence filled the room. He exhaled, gripping the edge of the desk.
He had spent two weeks convincing himself that Xu Ling's disappearance meant nothing — that she was just another woman who had tried to use him. That the betrayal, the lies, the headlines didn't matter.
But now, the thought of her body in the river kept flashing in his mind.
The guilt he'd buried beneath pride began to crawl its way out.
You called her a liar. You threw her out when she begged you to listen.
He slammed his fist against the desk, the sound echoing through the empty office.
---
Back in the Countryside Hospital…
Three days passed before Xu Ling was strong enough to walk.
The nurses adored her quiet politeness, her fragile gentleness that carried hidden pain. She thanked everyone with a small smile, even when she had nothing left to give.
Wang Zheng visited every morning, sometimes bringing food, sometimes only silence. He wasn't the kind of man who asked questions — but she could feel his curiosity.
He always stood near the window, hands in his pockets, speaking in that calm, controlled tone that made people listen without realizing it.
She found herself watching him when he didn't notice. The way he listened more than he spoke. The faint weariness in his eyes — as if the weight of a whole family sat on his shoulders.
"Do you live here?" she asked once.
He nodded. "For now. I own some land nearby."
"A businessman?"
"Something like that."
She tilted her head. "You don't talk much, do you?"
His gaze met hers. "I talk when there's something worth saying."
It made her laugh softly — the first real laugh since the night of the bridge.
---
When she was discharged, Wang Zheng insisted she stay at one of his countryside estates until she fully recovered. She refused at first, pride flickering even in her weakness — but the storm had ruined her belongings, and she had nowhere else to go.
The house was quiet, surrounded by misty hills and bamboo groves. The kind of place the city forgot existed.
She wandered through the halls, touching the old wood, smelling the faint scent of cedar and tea. For the first time in weeks, she felt… safe.
Sometimes, she caught glimpses of him outside — talking to his staff, or sitting under the eaves with a cup of tea, his expression unreadable.
Something about him felt familiar — not by face, but by soul. As if they were both people who had learned too early how to hide pain behind silence.
---
Nightfall.
Xu Ling sat by the window, staring at the moon. The world outside was peaceful, a stark contrast to the chaos that lived inside her.
She pressed her palm against the cool glass.
"I wish I could start over," she whispered.
A voice answered softly behind her.
"Maybe you already have."
She turned. Wang Zheng stood at the doorway, his shirt sleeves rolled up, his presence calm but commanding.
"Why do you keep helping me?" she asked quietly.
He hesitated before answering. "Because the first time I saw you, you looked like someone who wanted to disappear. And I don't want to watch another person vanish."
Her eyes shimmered, unshed tears glinting in the moonlight.
"Then maybe," she said softly, "you're the first person who ever really saw me."
For a moment, neither spoke. The air between them tightened — not with passion, but with something deeper. Understanding.
Wang Zheng looked away first, clearing his throat.
"Get some rest, Xu Ling. Tomorrow, we'll go into town. You need clothes and food, not ghosts."
She smiled faintly. "Yes… sir."
---
Far away, in a private mansion at the heart of the capital, Chen Heo sat in his study, holding an old family heirloom — a jade pendant identical to the one Xu Ling wore.
His fingers trembled slightly as he turned it over.
"Father," he said quietly, "the woman in the hospital — she looks just like Mother."