Willing to Be for Her - Chapter 27

The art gallery was cool and quiet. Luo Xuan’s voice, weakened by illness, wasn’t loud, but it carried clearly, reaching both the ears and the heart.

A thin sheen of sweat glistened on Luo Xuan’s forehead, nose, and cheeks, making her appear as pure and radiant as a raindrop on a bamboo leaf—proud, transparent, and stubbornly unyielding, refusing to admit defeat.

“Ning Yiqing, please stop bothering me.”

Qin Shiyi listened in astonishment as Luo Xuan decisively rejected Ning Yiqing, nearly dropping her camera in shock.

“Xiao Xuan, you’re sick. Be a good girl,” Ning Yiqing said, her raven-feather lashes lowering, her tone cold and authoritative, brooking no refusal. “The research team’s experts have already discussed several treatment plans for your condition. Come back with me, and they’ll cure you.”

“President Ning, your power may be absolute, but that doesn’t give you the right to force your will on others,” Xia Zhiwan retorted, glaring at Ning Yiqing with barely suppressed fury. “Xuanxuan has made it clear she doesn’t want to see you. I told you that day—you can rest assured Xuanxuan is safe with me. Rest assured for the rest of your life.”

Ning Yiqing pressed her lips into a thin line. Behind her rimless gold-wire glasses, her long, elegant eyes lost their warmth, leaving only a cold detachment.

Though her heart churned with turmoil, Xia Zhiwan’s face remained impassive, as serene as a clear sky, betraying no trace of her inner turmoil.

Luo Xuan struggled to stay conscious through a crushing headache, her porcelain-pale face reflecting a faint, mirror-like sheen.

“Director Xia, our hospital’s ambulance is blocked at the entrance and can’t get through. We need you to check it out,” a staff member interrupted the tense atmosphere, forcing himself to deliver the message.

Xia Zhiwan frowned deeply. She initially wanted to send the staff member to handle the situation, but realizing every moment counted, she helped Luo Xuan to the side.

“Xuanxuan, wait for me here. I’ll be right back.”

“Okay, take your time. Don’t rush.”

Xia Zhiwan hurried downstairs, her face etched with anxiety.

A woman gently brushed aside Luo Xuan’s soft bangs. Too weak to resist, Luo Xuan couldn’t push away the woman’s jade-pale fingers as they tenderly wiped the corner of her lips.

“Xiao Xuan, are you feeling unwell? I have some mint water with me.”

At Ning Yiqing’s signal, a bodyguard respectfully presented a thermos flask encased in a leather sleeve.

Meeting the cold, indifferent gaze behind the icy lenses, Luo Xuan wanted to sneer, but she lacked the strength. The mental state induced by her illness teetered on the edge of abnormality.

She felt like she was standing under a rain-soaked overpass, watching people pass by with umbrellas, dignified and refined. Meanwhile, she stood in a puddle, the city’s neon lights reflecting in the stagnant water like a shimmering golden oil painting.

A luxury car sped by, crushing the painting into two jagged halves, then shattering it into a million fragments.

Just like her fate: fractured, incomplete, with its end already in sight.

With a life as fleeting as a cicada’s, she shouldn’t have fallen in love, nor dared to seek anyone’s love in return. That would only bring harm.

So, she could let go more easily, without resentment. How could two people with such vastly different lifespans ever hope for a happy ending?

Her fantasies had outgrown reality. What was the point of struggling to live past twenty-one? Death might already be waiting with its scythe on the road to twenty-two.

But having glimpsed a wider, grander world, she would have no regrets.

She would reach that greater world, giving it her all.

“Ning Yiqing, are you so bored you have nothing better to do than tease me again?” Luo Xuan’s words, tinged with the delirium of illness, were disjointed.

“Tease… you?”

Ning Yiqing paused in gently wiping the corner of Luo Xuan’s lips. She pressed her lips together slightly, her dark eyes conveying just the right mix of confusion and bewilderment.

“Weren’t you going to marry her? Why didn’t you?” Luo Xuan asked, her head bowed, silver hair swaying, skin pale, and voice hoarse. “Actually, none of this matters to me anymore. I just want you to be happy with whoever makes you happy. I’ll go far away, to a place I’ve never seen before. A place called… freedom.”

She was willing to pay the price for her own freedom, not for a love confined within a cage.

That wasn’t true love—at least, not the kind of passionate, romantic love she believed in.

Struggling to lift her eyelids, she gazed at the aloof and noble woman before her. Ning Yiqing’s beauty was otherworldly, every gesture radiating elegance and grace.

She was someone Luo Xuan could never reach, someone whose path diverged from her own.

This realization had only dawned on her later.

Ning Yiqing was a favored daughter of destiny, destined to be paired with a healthy Alpha, bear children, and produce an S-Class heir. She would stand at the pinnacle of power, forever enshrined on her pedestal.

Like a mayfly ignorant of the seasons, Luo Xuan now understood her own naivety and the brevity of her life.

Her life truly was hanging by a thread.

The “Xuan” in Luo Xuan’s name meant “hanging by a thread.”

But even a short life could be lived freely. She would live freely.

People in white coats filed in, respectfully addressing Ning Yiqing as “Chairman Ning” before preparing to lift Luo Xuan onto a stretcher.

“I don’t want to go with you, nor do I need your care. Can you grant me this?” Luo Xuan asked, her voice weary and drained of all strength to hate this situation. “Grant me the wish to never see you again.”

“Xiao Xuan,” Ning Yiqing’s eyes darkened like storm clouds, “I was wrong.”

“It’s alright. I forgive you. You don’t need to feel guilty,” Luo Xuan said, her breathing shallow, a faint smile flickering across her lips. “Let’s just keep our distance.”

She couldn’t understand what game Ning Yiqing was playing, what vague, intangible mistake he was admitting to.

Ning Yiqing hadn’t done anything wrong. The real mistake was that two people from vastly different worlds had met and then dared to prolong their encounter.

Perhaps this was just the twisted amusement of the powerful?

In any case, she couldn’t be bothered to figure it out. It was pointless, utterly tedious.

Ning Yiqing felt a sudden, sharp pain in his chest, a lingering ache he couldn’t place. He wanted to say more, but Xia Zhiwan swiftly whisked Luo Xuan away.

Another team of medical professionals moved in with practiced efficiency, dividing her and Luo Xuan into separate worlds, the boundary between them stark and clear.

The ambulance sped away, leaving Exhibition Hall Three deserted. Staff members respectfully assured visitors that the exhibition would continue until 8 PM.

“Xia Zhiwan’s family owns a hospital. Don’t worry, Luo Xuan will definitely receive proper care,” Qin Shiyi said earnestly, standing beside the Maybach, trying to reassure Ning Yiqing. “Besides, you’ve always wanted Luo Xuan to be well. Now that your goal is achieved, you can finally let go of your worries.”

The woman lowered her gaze, absently adjusting her cufflinks as she silently settled into the car. Her hands rested on her knees, her slender frame leaning back against the seat, radiating a languid grace.

“I promised I would take good care of her,” Ning Yiqing said, her profile cold and distant in the dim interior. “But it seems I failed to keep that promise.”

Her aloofness was a protective facade, concealing her regret, her hesitation, and her cowardice from being seen through.

“Yi Qing, you’ve always been the most meticulous person I know. Remember when we were in middle school, and we found a dying puppy by the roadside? You insisted on getting out of the car, wrapping it in your own coat, and taking it to the vet. You’ve always treated Luo Xuan the same way,” Qin Shiyi paused, carefully choosing her words.

After a moment’s thought, she continued, “Actually, you’re the one who’s been best to Luo Xuan, but you’re also the one who’s hurt her the most.”

The woman slowly removed her glasses, her fingers trembling slightly. Her pure black high-necked cashmere sweater clung tightly to her pale neck, yet somehow made her appear fragile.

The light-colored beauty mark at the corner of her eye added to this sense of vulnerability, as if she were no longer the omnipotent figure she once seemed to be.

“I did make a mistake,” Ning Yiqing murmured after a long silence.

“Relax, you’re divorced now. What’s done is done. Luo Xuan is being taken care of, too. Letting her go might be the best thing. You’ve always been broad-minded; this shouldn’t be any different.”

“The best thing?” Ning Yiqing twisted her Buddhist prayer beads, desperately wanting to say something superficial and meaningless. A dull ache spread across her chest, not intense enough to disrupt her calm speech or rational thought.

She had told Luo Xuan she was marrying someone else, and Luo Xuan had obediently left. Now, she felt a faint pang of regret.

How could this be so absurd?

She shouldn’t regret it. She shouldn’t be tormented by a trivial emotion. She never did things outside the bounds of order.

She couldn’t understand why she felt regret. Was it the cheap string of star lights? The innocent hope in Luo Xuan’s deer-like eyes? Or hearing Luo Xuan say, “I’ll forget you forever and always”?

It was difficult to understand, like an unsolvable puzzle.

“In my opinion, Yi Qing, you don’t love Luo Xuan. You’re just naturally inclined to shoulder responsibilities,” Qin Shiyi said, sensing an inexplicable stagnation in the air. “To elevate the Ning Family and bask in glory, you’d sacrifice anything. If you love power, then embrace it wholeheartedly.”

“Are you saying I chose to sacrifice Luo Xuan?” Ning Yiqing frowned, realizing there was no rebuttal. She had indeed acted this way, and… thought this way too.

Sitting high above, one inevitably had to abandon and sacrifice many things. She had always accepted and practiced this principle, never questioning its rightness or wrongness.

But where exactly had things gone wrong this time?

“Exactly! Once you’ve made a choice, don’t regret it. Forge ahead!” Qin Shiyi casually retrieved a champagne flute and a bottle from the rear console, pouring herself a glass. “Let Luo Xuan find happiness with someone else. Xia Zhiwan seems like a good match—a refined young lady from a prominent family, understanding and kind-hearted. She’d be perfect for Luo Xuan.”

Ning Yiqing looked up, her gaze lingering in a daze. “You mean… Xiao Xuan and Xia Zhiwan?”

“Exactly! They’re both artists, so they share a common language. Plus, Xia Zhiwan isn’t under any pressure to inherit the family business right now. From every angle, she has the advantage. An artist and her soulmate—they’d live a lifetime of harmonious bliss, truly happy.”

*Luo Xuan is too naive to see through Xia Zhiwan’s intentions,* Qin Shiyi thought.

She couldn’t decipher the woman’s expression—a mask of inscrutability—but for a fleeting moment, Ning Yiqing seemed lost in thought.

“Perhaps,” Ning Yiqing nodded, draining her amber-colored drink in one gulp.

“That’s right! It’s good you’ve come to terms with it. You’re a born cold-hearted capitalist—you’re better off with money anyway,” Qin Shiyi said, watching Ning Yiqing pour another drink. “You… never mind. Drink if you want. Just let the melancholy pass. After all, losing something that was yours is bound to be unsettling.”

This was only the second time Ning Yiqing had drunk alcohol recently.

The snow-green Buddhist beads clinked against the glass with a crisp sound.

Her vow to abstain from alcohol had become meaningless.

Later that evening, after dinner, Ning Yiqing’s mother, Su Jiayi, suddenly sent a video. It showed a clear night sky, studded with stars—vast, serene, like a silent cosmic fireworks display.

Mom filmed the stars for you from the Arctic.

Su Jiayi sent via WeChat.

Ning Yiqing watched the three-minute video intently, her fingertips repeatedly tracing the stars on the screen.

Su Jiayi sent another WeChat message: *I heard you got married and divorced. Your mother has been restless lately, but Yixin and Yi Jun are both doing well. Are you okay?*

Su Jiayi and Ning Yiqing’s father had fallen in love as teenagers, marrying against their families’ wishes. After having three children, they grew tired of each other, arguing constantly until they finally separated, each living their own lives.

Su Jiayi was terrified of leaving her children with emotional scars.

Fortunately, her eldest son and younger daughter had always been cheerful and outgoing. Only her eldest daughter, Ning Yiqing, had been exceptional and reserved since childhood, her emotions veiled, inspiring both respect and fear, and remaining an enigma.

Perhaps Ning Yiqing’s brilliance was too dazzling, inspiring only reverence, never affection. Su Jiayi feared that no one would ever truly love her.

*I’m fine,* Ning Yiqing replied to her mother.

After urging Ning Yiqing to rest well, Su Jiayi sent another message:

*I have the latest astronomical telescope here. I’ll have it airlifted to you tomorrow. I hope you can share the beauty of the starry sky with someone.*

Closing her laptop, Ning Yiqing stepped onto the balcony. She realized the night sky was ablaze with stars, a warm breeze caressing her skin.

Only then did she belatedly realize that the bright moon hung high, the stars glittered brilliantly, and there was no one to share this breathtaking sight with her.

A few days later, Qin Shiyi sent Ning Yiqing a photo of Luo Xuan.

In the photo, the frail yet beautiful girl looked even thinner than before. Her deer-like eyes held a bright, weary light, like translucent bamboo leaves, glistening with morning dew in a forest, both delicate and radiant.

The room was warmly decorated: a water-blue bedspread embroidered with cartoon characters, creamy white curtains billowing gently, and several adorable plush toys lined up on the windowsill. Beside Luo Xuan sat a group of stunningly beautiful… wealthy heiresses.

Don’t send any more fruit, desserts, or mint water. We’ve devoured everything already, and Luo Xuan barely touches them. Besides, Xia Zhiwan’s cooking is amazing! I almost want to move in and pretend to be a patient just to be pampered like this. It’s heavenly.

Yi Qing, you can finally let go now. No need to feel guilty—Luo Xuan is doing wonderfully, perhaps even too well. Being surrounded by all these beauties must be one of life’s greatest pleasures.

In the hospital room, Luo Xuan lay connected to an IV drip. On the bedside table sat floral arrangements gifted by the heiresses: champagne roses, sunflowers, bellflowers—a vibrant, blossoming display of life.

In recent days, Luo Xuan’s condition had finally stabilized somewhat. She no longer experienced midnight coughing fits that nearly suffocated her. The doctor explained that her insomnia, caused by persistent high fever, was a result of both psychological and physiological factors, requiring psychological therapy.

Furthermore, the previous gland ablation surgery had caused some damage. It might lead to gland atrophy, affecting her fertility and worsening her condition, but there was also a chance for a new breakthrough.

Everything remained uncertain.

But what did it matter? A patient whose life hung by a thread shouldn’t even dream of marrying someone else.

*Don’t ruin anyone else’s life.*

She had promised her mother to take care of the botanical garden and Nian Nian, wondering if the little girl still had fish snacks to eat.

She still wanted to live well and see the world.

“Xuanxuan, come tell us, what kind of wood should beginners use?” A glamorous woman in a silk qipao sat beside Luo Xuan’s bed, her eyes alluring. “I’ve already bought the carving knives.”

Experiencing the enthusiasm of Omegas for the first time, Luo Xuan felt slightly awkward. Her usually pale face flushed with a delicate pink, like an unripe peach.

“For beginners, linden and cypress wood are both good choices. They have a fine grain and a medium hardness. Cherry and black walnut are also suitable, though slightly harder,” she said, her face framed by sharp, elegant features, yet her eyes held the innocent, romantic gaze of a deer, sparking the imagination. “It’ll be tough at first, and your fingers will repeatedly develop calluses.”

When Luo Xuan spoke about wood carving, her eyes lit up, her frail demeanor fading away, replaced by a complex aura that was both dangerously alluring and innocently clear, mysterious and romantic, a blend of contradictions and contrasts.

It made one’s mind wander uncontrollably.

A soft gasp came from the hospital room. Another Omega, radiating a languid charm with pure, innocent eyes, smiled and asked, “But the thin calluses on your fingers are so beautiful.”

“I just love Xuanxuan! She’s like a manga heroine come to life. Even the calluses on her fingers are a bonus!”

“Once Xuanxuan recovers, she absolutely has to teach us wood carving, hands-on!”

The teasing from the group of glamorous older women left Luo Xuan feeling flustered. Xia Zhiwan entered with a tray of food, chuckling softly, “Stop teasing Xuanxuan, everyone. It’s time for her to eat her hospital meal.”

“What about us? We want you to cook for us too! Sister Zhiwan, how can you favor one over the others? We’ll be so sad!”

“It’s next door,” Xia Zhiwan replied with a helpless smile, setting Luo Xuan’s utensils in place and scooping up a spoonful of steamed egg custard to feed her.

“Your hands are too sore to lift after all those IV drips. Let me feed you, don’t be awkward. You used to feed me when we were little, remember?”

Qin Shiyi, who had been engrossed in her drama, finally looked up and said with a cheerful grin, “Luo Xuan, don’t take Sister Wanwan’s kindness for granted. You can always repay her properly once you’re better.”

“But… I can do it myself. Besides, that was all when we were kids,” Luo Xuan protested, her cheeks flushing crimson with embarrassment.

“You’re just too thin-skinned, child,” Qin Shiyi sighed.

“Don’t push yourself,” Xia Zhiwan said softly, her eyes shimmering with gentle concern. “Keep your hands warm with a hot water bottle. The doctor said you’re still weak, but there are signs of improvement.”

Ning Yiqing, carrying a meal box, stood at the door of the 고급 병실, witnessing this heartwarming, ambiguous scene.

Xia Zhiwan gently spoon-fed Luo Xuan the steamed egg custard, her silver hair cascading down before Xia Zhiwan tenderly brushed it aside.

The others smiled along, occasionally teasing good-naturedly, even playfully vying to feed Luo Xuan themselves.

This warm, harmonious scene was something Luo Xuan hadn’t experienced since her mother’s passing.

Beside the blooming flowers, Luo Xuan’s delicate, beautiful face glowed with a clear, translucent radiance. Though weakened by illness, the light enveloping her shone as brilliantly as the stars.

At this moment, Luo Xuan seemed genuinely relaxed and happy, a stark contrast to the Luo Xuan Ning Yiqing had known.

During their year of marriage, Ning Yiqing had never even asked Xiao Xuan, “Are you happy?”

Now, perhaps she could finally get an answer: Ning Yiqing could no longer bring Luo Xuan happiness.

Standing in the shadows, Ning Yiqing watched silently. She should be grateful to these women for providing Luo Xuan with companionship and laughter during her illness—things she herself had failed to do.

And so, Luo Xuan smiled at them too. Even that smile, once reserved solely for Ning Yiqing, now belonged to others as well.

It was as if she had transformed from someone special and unique into someone ordinary, mundane, and insignificant.

Gradually, something within her began to crumble—a principle she had always rigidly adhered to, a boundary she had never crossed.

Like a raging fire, it tore at her rationality, her upbringing, her morals, and her bottom line.

In truth, she should have rationally let go of this ambiguous emotion, especially after ruthlessly driving away the child who only entangled and burdened her.

Having made a choice, why hesitate and regret it?

Before divorcing Luo Xuan, before getting engaged, even during the engagement itself, she had wavered, but she had always forcibly suppressed her doubts.

How could these feelings now become increasingly uncontrollable, like a surging mountain torrent, leaving her adrift and bewildered?

In her worldview, emotions had never been essential. To obsess over someone day and night, tossing and turning in restless sleep, was the most irrational, tedious, and illogical thing imaginable—utterly incompatible with the principles of investment.

Emotions were trivial. A few days, months, or years would erase them completely. They were nothing more than the self-inflicted torments of fools.

But why was it *her*—the one wandering through midnight dreams, lost in the wilderness, terrified and uncertain, her heart hollow and desolate—who felt so utterly barren?

She had always thought Luo Xuan was a well-behaved child, a little stubborn and rebellious, adorably clumsy, someone who might not be universally liked but could never leave her side.

Now she realized that this stubborn child she knew could also shine with dazzling brilliance, adored by all.

Far more radiant than she had ever imagined.

Perhaps she had been wrong from the start. She had believed the child who couldn’t live without her would weep bitterly on the day she was driven away, grieving until her voice cracked.

But after the tears dried, the stubborn child would find someone else to cherish her.

She might have been terribly wrong, utterly mistaken.

An inexplicable weariness washed over her chest, her heart beating weakly and hollowly. She was consumed by the raging fire of jealousy.

She never thought she would feel this way. Jealousy, it turned out, was such a simple thing. A single spark of resentment in your heart could ignite a wildfire that would devour everything in its path.

She was suspended on the edge of an abyss, teetering on the brink of eternal damnation.

Ning Yiqing had been standing outside the door for an unknown length of time. Lan Leren gazed at the distraught woman and gently reminded her of the afternoon’s meeting, finally snapping her out of her daze.

“Chairman Ning, what brings you here amidst your busy schedule?” Xia Zhiwan asked casually, turning to see a woman in a tailored suit standing outside the hospital room, carrying a jade-porcelain lunchbox. Her eyes were dark and unreadable.

“I came to see Xiao Xuan,” Ning Yiqing replied calmly, nodding politely to the three wealthy young women present.

“Chairman Ning, what a pleasant surprise to see you here!”

“Chairman Ning, we didn’t expect you! This is such a treat!”

The heiresses grew visibly uneasy upon seeing Ning Yiqing. It wasn’t fear, but rather an instinctive reverence for her natural, unparalleled nobility, and a concern about inadvertently disturbing or offending her.

“We should be going now. We’ll visit again soon,” the three women said in unison, hurrying out of the room. They remembered to wave goodbye to Luo Xuan. “Xuanxuan, we’ll come back soon! You promised to teach us wood carving!”

Their hurried departure was punctuated by whispered remarks: “Does Chairman Ning know Xuanxuan?” “Oh no, is she here to pester Xuanxuan after being rejected?” “No way! I was about to win Xuanxuan over, and now I have to compete with Chairman Ning for an Alpha? My life is over!”

Qin Shiyi hadn’t expected Ning Yiqing to visit at all. She quickly tried to smooth things over, saying cheerfully, “Yi Qing, come, come! Try Zhiwan’s cooking. Luo Xuan loves it so much she begs for it every day. So we’ve been putting Zhiwan to work.”

Hearing this, Xia Zhiwan acutely perceived Ning Yiqing’s displeasure. She shot Qin Shiyi a strange look. *Isn’t this guy Ning Yiqing’s friend? How does he manage to say exactly the wrong thing every time?*

The hospital room fell silent. After rinsing her mouth, Luo Xuan turned her back to the room, facing the window. Her porcelain-white profile was sharp and resolute, her rejection unmistakable.

The lunchbox in Ning Yiqing’s hand suddenly felt out of place. She gazed silently at Luo Xuan, met only by the girl’s silent, resistant back.

“Luo Xuan, isn’t Zhiwan’s cooking amazing?” Qin Shiyi asked.

Finally, the girl who had been stubbornly ignoring Ning Yiqing turned around, her eyes sparkling with a clear smile. “Mm, Wanwan’s cooking is delicious. I love it.”

“See? I told you!” Qin Shiyi grinned at Ning Yiqing, her expression practically shouting, *You have to try this!* She seemed oblivious to her friend’s darkening mood and the heavy atmosphere that had settled around her.

Xia Zhiwan packed up the lunchbox and refilled Luo Xuan’s hot water bottle to warm her hands. The two women murmured softly by the bedside, their conversation barely audible.

As Xia Zhiwan prepared to leave, Luo Xuan said with concern, “Safe travels. Don’t overwork yourself and get some rest.”

“Mm, I know,” Xia Zhiwan replied, affectionately tapping Luo Xuan’s nose. “You need to get well soon. Don’t forget the birthday gift you promised me. Little Li wants to take us out when you’re better.”

“Let’s go, visiting hours are over,” Qin Shiyi nodded understandingly, gesturing for Ning Yiqing to leave with her. “I told you Zhiwan would take good care of Luo Xuan. You don’t need to worry at all.”

Ning Yiqing’s breathing was slow and labored, as if each breath required conscious effort. Her chest felt heavy. Accustomed to the sterile order of high-rise buildings and the lofty perspective of cloud-piercing heights, the antiseptic smell of the hospital made her deeply uncomfortable.

The pungent odor weighed heavily on her mind.

Gazing at the pale blue hospital room door, Ning Yiqing’s fingertips twirled her prayer beads, her face utterly devoid of emotion.

The last cold snap of spring had passed, leaving behind a warm, humid air. Luo Xuan woke up in the damp night, finding medicine and hot water by her bedside—the nurse must have been by to change the IV drip.

The soft, yellow nightlight cast a gentle glow, and the night was quiet and refreshing.

Despite holding a hot water bottle, the back of her hand, where the IV was inserted, remained cold and bluish.

Luo Xuan keenly sensed a clean, refreshing scent in the air.

It was a familiar yet foreign fragrance, reminiscent of flowers, fruits, and wood, spreading like morning dew after rain—a cool, clean scent like the first light of dawn clinging to snow-capped mountain peaks.

She abruptly turned her head. Once the blurriness and dizziness subsided, Luo Xuan saw a woman standing in the dim yellow light of the nightlight. She wore a black, collared coat, damp with the night mist.

Her eyes were wet, and her usually calm gaze now held deep, dark ripples, as if veiled in a heavy, cold fog.

Luo Xuan couldn’t understand.

“I told you during the divorce that all the assets would go to you. I wanted nothing. Now you’re haunting me like this—it really feels like you’re here to collect a debt.”

Her face remained cold. “Visiting hours are over. Please leave.”

“Xiao Xuan, I’ve applied for bedside care,” Ning Yiqing said, her lashes lowered. Her usually warm and steady gaze seemed distant, as if she were struggling to maintain her composure.

“You know I can’t resist you, so you can do whatever you please,” Luo Xuan said with a light, mocking laugh. Her golden-green eyes gleamed with an eerie, malevolent energy, her words dripping with self-deprecation. “President Ning holds all the power, so naturally, she can do as she wishes. We ants have no choice but to obey.”

Hearing Luo Xuan’s indifferent tone sent a jolt of pain through Ning Yiqing’s limbs. The Buddhist prayer beads clutched in her hand pressed tightly against her skin, the jade beads radiating spiritual energy almost seemed like fading, about-to-break pearls.

“I want to ask you again, Xiao Xuan: will you remarry me?”

A cold, mocking smile curled Luo Xuan’s lips. She saw through Ning Yiqing’s words, recognizing the calculated request born from weighing every advantage and disadvantage.

Remarrying was merely to appease the woman, a veiled negotiation like their business dealings—a show of false sincerity to drive up the price.

Ning Yiqing, it seemed, was no different after all.

“My answer hasn’t changed,” Luo Xuan said, her eyes blazing with a fiery light, radiating a painful sense of vitality. “You know what happens when I make a mistake with the final stroke while sculpting, right?”

The silver-haired girl with mismatched eyes declared with unwavering resolve and reckless abandon:

“I destroy it and start over.”

The wind lifted Luo Xuan’s soft, lustrous silver hair, obscuring her expression from Ning Yiqing. Yet Ning Yiqing sensed a faint, resolute determination—a breathtakingly ethereal beauty that left her stunned and aching—burning passionately, unrepentant even in death.

As if cursed by death, the girl erupted with a fierce vitality, reaching the pinnacle of romance and art.

Ning Yiqing yearned for this, was awestruck by it, yet had never broken free from her own constraints, never dared to cross the threshold.

At that moment, Luo Xuan seemed poised to drift away, flickering like a dying flame. A wave of panic surged through Ning Yiqing, a desperate urge to hold her back.

The hospital room fell into a long silence, the night’s dark clouds invading, swallowing the warm yellow lamplight and carving out stark boundaries of distance.

When Ning Yiqing spoke again, her beautiful eyes behind the silver-rimmed glasses carried their habitual composure and detachment. “Xiao Xuan, since you refuse to remarry, we can sign a contract.”

“What kind of contract?” Luo Xuan asked, a sardonic smile playing on her lips, her gaze piercing through Ning Yiqing’s noble facade to the calculated tenderness beneath.

“I’ll support you, stay with you, treat you even better than I do now. Everything but the title—love, companionship, material comfort—anything you want.”