My Wife Always Wants to Run Away - Chapter 2

Tang Jinzhi’s attending physician arrived quickly, but to everyone’s surprise, Tang Jinzhi, who had been chatting so warmly with Jie Xiangyi just moments before, now refused to communicate.

This sudden change left everyone in the room baffled.

Tang Jinzhi refused to cooperate with the examination. After telling Jie Xiangyi she wanted to rest, she burrowed under the covers and fell silent.

The once docile and compliant patient now seemed utterly unmanageable.

Zhang Yueqi, faced with this perplexing situation, was at a loss for words. Tang Jinzhi had been perfectly fine when she left the room earlier.

After leaving the ward, Zhang Yueqi realized Tang Jinzhi had been teasing her with the “250” comment, proving she wasn’t truly mentally impaired. This meant her current state likely had nothing to do with her brain.

Unable to contain her curiosity, Zhang Yueqi asked Jie Xiangyi, “What did you two talk about?”

Meeting her friend and colleague’s questioning gaze, Jie Xiangyi glanced at Tang Jinzhi, who was completely wrapped in blankets, then reluctantly looked away, her voice tinged with uncertainty. “She probably just needs some peace and quiet.”

Recalling Tang Jinzhi’s tearful, devastated expression, Jie Xiangyi couldn’t help but feel a pang of sympathy.

Zhang Yueqi’s lips twitched violently. “Fine,” she said dryly. “It’s just amnesia, right? No big deal. Let her have her peace and quiet.”

The attending physician, who had been standing silently for a long time, finally rolled her eyes and spoke up, “What do you mean ‘just memory loss’? We can’t ignore any potential issues until we’ve conducted thorough examinations. Brain problems are serious.”

She turned to Jie Xiangyi. “They might not know, but you should. Why are you all acting so nonchalant?”

Jie Xiangyi nodded calmly. “But you’re her attending physician.”

What does it matter to me if other people’s patients refuse to cooperate with tests?

Besides, I’m a dermatologist, not a neurologist.

Qiu Wanjun, unfazed by Jie Xiangyi’s indifference, pressed, “So, why are you here?”

Jie Xiangyi blurted out, “I’m her fam…”

Before she could finish, Jie Xiangyi froze, finally remembering something. Her mouth hung open, caught between closing and remaining ajar.

She slowly turned to look at Tang Jinzhi in the bed.

I almost forgot—I’m supposed to be family.

Seeing Jie Xiangyi’s belated realization, Doctor Qiu flashed a relieved, yet insincere smile. “So, you do remember you’re family after all.”

Jie Xiangyi met her gaze and instantly understood what Doctor Qiu was about to say.

Doctor Qiu: “I’ve never seen such an irresponsible family member.”

Jie Xiangyi: “……”

A common complaint among doctors was now being directed at her.

Jie Xiangyi stood silently, unable to defend herself.

Hidden under the blanket, Tang Jinzhi couldn’t block out everything. Knowing the main problem lay with her, she sighed deeply, reached out from under the covers, and waved her hand. “Please give me a few minutes to compose myself. I’ll cooperate. Thank you.”

Her weary voice was so weak that the three people in the room exchanged uneasy glances, unable to find any words of rebuttal.

In the past few minutes, Tang Jinzhi had quickly skimmed the character introductions that had appeared after she transmigrated.

Though she hadn’t read the novel, she could roughly deduce the plot’s trajectory. Still, she felt it was unfair.

Everyone else transmigrated after reading the novel. What was this? Transmigration first, reading later?

And to top it off, she wasn’t even reading the story itself…

Regarding the foreign presence in her mind, she was fairly certain it was some kind of System. Otherwise, there was no way to explain why these thoughts had suddenly appeared. She mentally called out to it repeatedly, but received no response.

The moment she realized she had transmigrated, she felt no fear, only a profound sense of relief at having survived a near-death experience. She quickly accepted the reality that this was no dream.

What truly broke her wasn’t the sudden arrival in a strange new world.

It was the loss of her meticulously crafted million-word manuscript—gone!

All her hard work, vanished into thin air!

Only after the tears began streaming uncontrollably did she realize the depth of her despair. Unwilling to let anyone see her fragile state, she burrowed under the covers.

Once the immediate threat to her survival had subsided, thoughts of her own situation and interests flooded her mind. The loss of her manuscript, combined with her false heiress identity, overwhelmed her.

The lost manuscript wasn’t just a matter of financial loss; it was her second life.

She vividly remembered the exhilaration she felt when she first reached one million words. Back then, she had made multiple copies on her computer and finally transferred them to the USB drive she had used for years before shutting down her computer.

She had been so cautious, so meticulous, that even during the earthquake, she had clung tightly to the USB drive, refusing to let go. It contained the culmination of her years of hard work.

But all of that had vanished with her transmigration, reduced to nothing. She had lost everything.

Tang Jinzhi couldn’t accept this reality.

Even in this new world, unrelated to her previous life, her novel remained her life’s work.

The more she thought about it, the tighter the knot in her chest grew. Tang Jinzhi took deep breaths, again and again, but even her usually calm demeanor and gentle temperament couldn’t hold back a muttered curse: “Fvck!”

It would be better to just die!

Drawn by the sound, Jie Xiangyi glanced at the huddled figure on the hospital bed. Her eyes flickered slightly, but she didn’t interrupt, quickly regaining her composure and quietly waiting for Tang Jinzhi to regain her composure.

After two minutes of trying to process her emotions alone, Tang Jinzhi realized it was futile. The suffocating feeling in her chest persisted. She silently pulled down the blanket and stared blankly at the ceiling for several seconds.

She knew everyone in the room was watching her. She desperately wanted to shout, “Do you even understand what losing a million words of manuscript means to a novelist?!”

Tang Jinzhi closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and slowly turned to look at Jie Xiangyi. She needed to stay rational and not neglect her own health.

Her gaze landed on Jie Xiangyi’s strikingly beautiful face, and Tang Jinzhi’s dull eyes brightened momentarily. She couldn’t help but linger on the sight for a few extra seconds.

But the effect lasted less than two seconds before her face returned to its deathly pallor.

Clearly, even this captivating face couldn’t ease the suffocating weight in her chest.

Unless Jie Xiangyi could somehow make her lost million-word manuscript reappear.

An absurd and impossible thought.

Jie Xiangyi tilted her head slightly, sensing something strange in Tang Jinzhi’s gaze, though she couldn’t quite place what it was.

Seeing Tang Jinzhi emerge from under the covers, Zhang Yueqi put down his phone and leaned closer. “Feeling any better?”

Tang Jinzhi: …She felt no better at all.

Forcing herself to lie, she said, “I’m fine.”

Seeing Tang Jinzhi’s willingness to cooperate with the examination, Zhang Yueqi called her attending physician back.

Tang Jinzhi obediently cooperated with the examination, answering the doctor’s questions dutifully. Her demeanor was so stable that it was hard to believe she was the same difficult patient who had previously refused to speak, hiding under the covers.

The examination results wouldn’t be available immediately; she needed to stay in the hospital for observation for a few days. Her arm injury wasn’t serious, but it wouldn’t heal quickly.

While Tang Jinzhi was undergoing the examination, Zhang Yueqi went downstairs to buy food, leaving Jie Xiangyi to accompany her. Now back in the hospital room, with just the two of them present, Jie Xiangyi finally had the chance to voice her suspicions.

“Do you really have no memory of how you fell?”

Tang Jinzhi’s behavior didn’t quite match that of someone with complete amnesia. She must have remembered something, which caused her emotional breakdown.

Yet Tang Jinzhi had genuinely forgotten her.

Apart from the oblivious Zhang Yueqi, who didn’t find anything strange, both Jie Xiangyi and Doctor Qiu had sensed something was off. Doctor Qiu had even hinted that she should ask Tang Jinzhi privately.

At that moment, Tang Jinzhi finally emerged from her state of profound despair, lifting her gaze to meet Jie Xiangyi’s probing stare.

Tang Jinzhi fell silent, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. She knew her behavior was abnormal, but she couldn’t control it.

Jie Xiangyi didn’t press for an answer, but her suspicion was palpable.

Tang Jinzhi sighed softly. She didn’t particularly want to hide anything, though even if she told the truth, Jie Xiangyi might not believe her.

She carefully recalled the earthquake, then said in a soft voice, “I only remember my arm hitting something while I was running too fast, and then it got twisted. I don’t remember anything else.”

As she pulled herself out of the memory, Tang Jinzhi felt like she was missing some crucial detail, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t figure out what she had overlooked.

Jie Xiangyi nodded slightly. As expected, Tang Jinzhi still retained some memories.

Sensing Jie Xiangyi’s thoughts, Tang Jinzhi considered her words carefully. Looking Jie Xiangyi in the eye, she added, “As for you all, I truly don’t recognize any of you.”

Jie Xiangyi’s eyes flickered slightly, betraying no particular emotion. “Then what do you remember?”

Tang Jinzhi’s brows trembled faintly. Exhausted and utterly drained of motivation, she replied, “I can only tell you that I don’t recognize anyone, and I have no recollection of anything from before.”

She didn’t care if her words revealed anything. She was in no mood to fabricate lies, adopting a completely indifferent attitude.

The fact that she could restrain herself from losing her mind right now was already remarkable.

It doesn’t matter anyway…

Jie Xiangyi stared intently at Tang Jinzhi, her tone suggesting she wasn’t lying.

Yet something felt off. Tang Jinzhi claimed to know nothing, yet her demeanor hinted at some lingering memories—a contradiction that made her seem deeply strange.

But Tang Jinzhi sat there obediently, her lifeless expression making it impossible for Jie Xiangyi to press further.

Tang Jinzhi’s death-defying composure, combined with her striped hospital gown and slightly disheveled hair draped across her chest, exuded an indescribable, fragile beauty.

Jie Xiangyi couldn’t help but glance at her a few more times, but feeling it inappropriate, she quickly averted her gaze.

If Tang Jinzhi knew Jie Xiangyi was evaluating her this way, she would have immediately retorted. This wasn’t some kind of “broken beauty”; it was a palpable aura of death.

Her current state teetered between “It’s good to be alive” and “Maybe dying would be better.” If the resentment radiating from her body were visible, it would likely have crystallized into frost.

The hospital room fell silent. Even Jie Xiangyi, who usually cherished quiet, began to find the atmosphere oppressively awkward.

After a moment’s thought, Jie Xiangyi picked up the water pitcher from the table and poured Tang Jinzhi a glass. Her taut nerves relaxed slightly as the other woman accepted the glass. Softening her tone, she asked gently, “Are you very sad?”

This question stemmed purely from Jie Xiangyi’s own curiosity.

Despite repeatedly reminding herself to stay out of Tang Jinzhi’s personal affairs, Jie Xiangyi couldn’t suppress her curiosity. She desperately wanted to understand why Tang Jinzhi was in such a state.

Tang Jinzhi’s lips twitched. The “No” that had just formed on her tongue was swallowed back when she noticed the curiosity in Jie Xiangyi’s eyes.

Under that gaze, a sudden, overwhelming urge to confide surged within her.