Chapter 163: Chapter 163: A Familiar Face
*Runze’s POV*
Not even ten minutes pass before the handle turns again.
The door opens slowly this time, a stark contrast to how I expected him to enter. Ling Yue steps across the threshold and stops dead in his tracks.
He simply stands there by the wall.
Hearing that someone survived a crash is one thing, but seeing them alive in a hospital bed is entirely different. His eyes move over me with a slow, cautious intensity. He takes in my pale skin, the blue hospital gown, the clear plastic tube running into the back of my hand, and the dark bruises on my arms that are only now beginning to turn a faint yellow.
Everything he must have imagined over the past week seems to settle into reality right in front of him. The usual loud, bright energy he carries in his shoulders is gone, replaced by a tight, fragile stillness.
I look at his wide eyes and find myself smiling first.
That small movement of my face breaks the awful tension in the air. Ling Yue lets out a sudden, ragged breath. He takes quick steps toward the bed, his arms twitching as if he wants to throw them around me, but he catches himself just in time. He freezes, looking down at me, clearly terrified that a clumsy touch might jolt my injuries or hurt the baby.
Instead of hugging me, he sinks heavily into the visitor’s chair beside the mattress.
"You..." His voice comes out small, rough around the edges. He forces a weak, breathless laugh that doesn’t quite clear the worry from his face. "You really scared me, Runze. I have been losing my mind."
"I’m okay," I say softly, turning my palm up on the sheet so he can reach it. "I’m healing."
Ling Yue reaches out, his fingers warm and slightly trembling as he grips my hand. He holds it tight, as if confirming that I am truly sitting in front of him. "I came almost every single day. The staff downstairs were like stone walls, they wouldn’t tell me anything except that visitors were not allowed. At first, I was so angry. I was ready to beg Jin Hao to pull some strings with Mr. Wuchen just to get the hospital to let me up."
He shakes his head, his eyes shining with a sudden film of tears before he swallows them down. "Then, after the third or fourth day, the anger went away. I was just desperate. I just wanted to know you were breathing."
"Bael told me just now," I say, my voice gentle. "I didn’t know until today."
"I figured it was his doing," Ling Yue says, glancing toward the door before looking back at me. As the minutes pass, the tight fear in his expression begins to ease, and a bit of his familiar self starts to return. He sits back in the chair, though he doesn’t let go of my hand. "But I couldn’t just sit in my apartment. Everyone out there has been asking about you."
"Everyone?"
"Elliot," Ling Yue says, nodding quickly. "He has been calling my phone literally every day. You know how he is—he acts like nothing moves him, but his voice was shaking. He kept asking if I had heard from the doctors, if you were awake. He even kept calling your number until it went dead."
Hearing Elliot’s name brings a sudden rush of memory. My phone. I haven’t seen it since I woke up from coma. I haven’t thought about it once. It must have been lost in the crushed metal of the car or left behind in the chaos. While I was floating in darkness and pain, the everyday routine of my life had kept trying to reach me.
"I don’t have my phone," I say quietly, keeping the sudden wave of emotion inside my chest. "I’ll have to find a way to thank him later."
"You definitely should," Ling Yue says, a small, genuine smile finally touching his lips. "He was an absolute wreck. And the DingShan committee sent a massive arrangement of flowers. The guards wouldn’t let me bring them past the elevator, so they are sitting in the main lobby, but they wanted you to know they are waiting."
I listen to him talk, the names and places washing over me. Until this exact moment, I hadn’t thought about anyone outside the walls of this hospital. My entire universe had shrunk down to the size of this mattress, the dull ache in my bones, the sound of Bael’s voice, and the steady heartbeat of the baby.
Hearing that people have been waiting for me, that my absence left a gap in the world outside, makes something deep inside my chest soften.
"Mrs. Zhou actually called me out of sheer panic," Ling Yue adds, his voice dropping into a softer, more familiar rhythm. "She said she tried calling Mr. Wuchen and the Old Madame directly, but no one would pick up. When she realized even they weren’t answering, she knew the accident had to be serious. She told the rest of the circle, and everyone has been incredibly worried about you, Runze. They’ve just been waiting for any sign that you’re okay."
A quiet warmth settles into my chest.
"Thank you, Ling Yue," I whisper, the words feeling small against the depth of what I am feeling. "For coming back every day. For not giving up on the front desk."
"Are you kidding?" He rolls his eyes, a flash of his old dramatic flair returning to his face. "I was ready to buy a doctor’s coat from a shop down the street just to get past the guards."
We both laugh, and the sound is the brightest thing that has happened in this room since I woke up.
Ling Yue reaches down into a small paper bag he had set on the floor. He pulls out a rectangular object and sets it carefully on the bedside table, sliding it right next to the water pitcher.
It is a black, hardbound sketchbook.
I stare at the textured cover. The binding is stiff, and the paper edge is clean white.
"I know you can’t eat any regular food or treats yet," Ling Yue says, scratching the back of his neck, looking suddenly self-conscious. "And to be honest, I didn’t even know how you were doing or if you’d be up for it. I just bought it hoping you’d be healthy enough to use it when you got bored of staring at the ceiling. Architects don’t do well with empty hands. I thought you might want to draw something, even if it’s just lines."
I look from the book back to his face. My throat feels thick, a sudden lump forming that makes it hard to swallow. The sketchbook isn’t expensive or rare. It is simply a piece of the life I had before the glass shattered. It is a reminder of who I am when I am not a patient.
"I love it," I say, my voice a little tight. "Thank you."
"Don’t mention it," he smiles, and this time the warmth goes all the way to his eyes, completely erasing the last traces of the fear he carried into the room. "Just fill it up so I can see what you’re working on next."
We talk for a little while longer about the design and small things, until Ling Yue glances at his watch and sighs. He stands up, smoothing his coat.
"I’d stay longer, but Mr. Wuchen gave me a strict twenty-minute limit, and I don’t dare test his patience," he says with a weak, half-frightened laugh. "But I promise to come back the moment he allows another visiting window."
By the time the door closes and Ling Yue leaves, the room feels different.
Nothing dramatic has happened. My injuries have not vanished into thin air, my legs still throb with a dull ache from the walk. The pregnancy is still a high-risk weight that everyone in this building has to watch with constant care.
But as I reach over, my fingers brushing against the rough texture of the blank sketchbook cover, the empty feeling in the room disappears.
For the first time since waking up in this bed, I feel as though I am slowly stepping back toward the rest of my life.
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