Chapter 333: Meet my wife
Some doctors stationed there seemed to have been expecting her arrival. They immediately pointed her in the right direction. She thanked them briefly and followed their directions.
As she walked further into the quiet, pristine corridor, she saw him—the tall, solitary figure of Fu Jingrong standing in the sterile white glow of the hospital lights. For some reason, a memory stirred inside her. She recalled that strange moment when her soul had returned to this world after transmigrating to the other one. At that time, she had secretly peered into a ward and seen Fu Jingrong lying there, weak and unmoving, surrounded by tubes and machines. The image of him then—pale against the white walls—was strangely similar to the way he stood here now, alone in the corridor.
As if sensing her presence, Fu Jingrong suddenly turned his head in her direction. Hua Jing quickly took off her cap and mask and hurried toward him. When she reached him, she saw the expression on his face and, without saying a word, wrapped her arms around his neck.
Fu Jingrong did not hesitate. Almost at once, his own arms came around her waist, pulling her in with a grip that tightened and tightened, so strong that she didn’t even try to move away. She understood—it was his way of letting out the grief that weighed heavily in his chest.
For a brief moment, Hua Jing thought she felt a single warm drop fall against her neck. A tear, perhaps. But when they finally let go, there was no trace of it on his face. His eyes were only red, but dry, holding all his emotions locked within.
Hua Jing stood there in the quiet corridor of the private wing, the white lights above humming softly as the world outside sank into the darkness of night. Her gaze moved from Fu Jingrong’s side profile to the closed door of the ward where Fu Sheng was being treated.
She knew this scene.
She had lived it before—only it had been in another world, in another time. Back then, Fu Jingrong’s father had not been a powerful businessman but an Emperor seated high upon a golden throne, revered by millions, yet brought low by his own wife.
The Empress.
Hua Jing could still remember the look on Fu Jingrong’s face when he had discovered the truth in that other life—how the man who had always stood straight and proud had knelt in despair at the bedside of a dying father, betrayed by the one he had trusted most. That memory had carved itself into her soul, and the same heaviness she had felt then now pressed on her chest as she looked at the silent figure standing so rigid beside her.
Without thinking, she stepped closer and slipped her arms gently around him again. Her chin brushed his shoulder as she whispered quietly, almost as if speaking to the man he used to be in that other world.
For a long while, they said nothing. The world outside the hospital kept moving—cars passed, the sky turned from deep blue to black—but inside the corridor, time itself seemed to slow, leaving only the two of them standing there.
Her arms around his waist, his hand resting lightly on her back, neither willing to let go.
She had seen him at his lowest once before, and she had promised herself she would never again leave him to face such pain alone.
"Jing Rong..." she murmured, barely audible.
His fingers shifted slightly against her back but he didn’t speak. His eyes remained fixed on the door ahead, as if through sheer will he could keep his father safe.
They stayed like that for a long time—through the deep hours of the night until the horizon outside the tall windows began to pale with the coming dawn.
It was only then that the door to the ward opened softly with a quiet click.
Dr. Liang stepped out, his white coat faintly wrinkled from the long night’s work. He looked tired but alert, his gaze immediately going to Fu Jingrong—and then halting for a fraction of a second when he saw the slender figure standing at his side.
For a heartbeat, a flicker of recognition passed through his eyes. Of course, he knew who she was. He had known for a long time that Fu Jingrong had harbored feelings for Hua Jing—he remembered the man’s awkward questions about courtship many years ago. And now, seeing her here, standing close to him, her eyes red-rimmed but steady, something warm stirred quietly in his chest.
But this was not the place or time for such thoughts. So Dr. Liang only allowed the faintest of smiles to flicker across his face before his expression settled back into the calm professionalism that had always defined him.
He approached them and spoke in a low, steady voice.
"Mr. Fu... Miss Hua," he acknowledged them both before continuing. "The worst is over. Mr. Fu Sheng has been stabilized. We’ll be moving him to a more private suite where he can rest and begin proper recuperation. The next weeks will be crucial for his recovery."
Fu Jingrong merely nodded, the tension in his shoulders easing just slightly.
"Thank you," he said simply.
The nurses came to wheel Fu Sheng out, their movements quiet and practiced. Hua Jing stepped back, letting Fu Jingrong walk alongside the stretcher, his tall figure a silent shadow of protection as they made their way down the corridor.
The private suite was serene, with soft lighting and muted walls. Machines beeped gently in the background as the older man was transferred to the clean white bed. After a few final checks, the medical staff withdrew quietly, leaving the room in a profound stillness.
Hua Jing stood by the window, her fingers brushing the cool glass as she watched the soft glow of the morning beginning to spread across the sky. Beside the bed, Fu Jingrong sat down slowly in the chair, his gaze fixed on his father’s sleeping face.
For a while, neither of them spoke. It felt as though even words would be too heavy for the moment.
Finally, after a long silence, Fu Jingrong turned his head slightly toward her and extended his hand.
"Come here," he said quietly.
Hua Jing hesitated only a second before walking over. She felt his fingers close gently around hers, warm and steady. He didn’t release her hand as he guided her to stand at his side.
"I want you to meet someone," he said softly.
She tilted her head toward him, her brows furrowing slightly in puzzlement.
Her eyes flicked instinctively toward the man lying unconscious in the bed.
Fu Jingrong followed her gaze. His expression softened, a rare warmth in the usually sharp lines of his face. Then, as if speaking to the sleeping man, his voice grew quieter, gentler.
"Father... this is Hua Jing," he said. "She’s my wife."
Hua Jing’s eyes widened slightly at his words. Her heart gave a faint thump as she looked from Fu Jingrong to the older man lying in the bed.
Fu Jingrong kept his eyes on his father, as though he truly believed the man could hear him even in his sleep.
"After a long, long time," he continued in a tone that carried both nostalgia and a touch of boyish triumph, "I’ve finally caught her."
Hua Jing turned her gaze to him sharply, a startled laugh almost escaping her despite the solemnity of the moment.
Caught her?
Her lips parted, but no words came out. Instead, she found herself looking at the man beside her in quiet astonishment, then back at the older man sleeping peacefully.
This father and son... were they truly having this sort of conversation even here?
It felt strange and absurdly tender all at once.
As if sensing her thoughts, Fu Jingrong turned to meet her eyes, his lips quirking into the faintest shadow of a smile.
"Back then," he said softly, his voice low but steady, "when I first realized I liked you... the first person I told wasn’t a friend. It was him. I asked him how a man should approach a lady he liked."
Hua Jing blinked at him, her lips twitching again in disbelief.
Here they were—standing by his father’s hospital bed in the quiet of early morning—and he was telling her this as though they were sharing a secret over tea.
A rush of emotions welled up inside her. She didn’t know whether to laugh at the absurdity of it or feel her heart ache at the tenderness behind it.
In the end, she could only shake her head slightly and let out a small, breathless laugh. The corners of her mouth lifted in a smile that was soft yet full of unspoken feelings.
But seeing the red rims of his eyes and the way his hand continued to hold hers, she didn’t tease him. Not now. The moment was too fragile for that. Instead, she simply stayed beside him, her fingers lightly tightening around his in silent support.
