Hospital's VIP wing smelled of sterile ozone and lilies. For Shen Ruobing, it was a familiar scent—the smell of crises managed and lives bought. But as she walked down the corridor, her high heels clicking like a countdown on the marble floor, she felt an uncharacteristic tremor in her chest.
She found Lu Tingli outside Room 402. He looked as though he hadn't slept in days, his usually immaculate shirt wrinkled, his eyes bloodshot. When he saw Ruobing, he didn't reach for her hand. He didn't even offer a tired smile.
"You shouldn't have come," he said, his voice a dry rasp.
"I am your wife, Tingli. And this woman was once important to you," Ruobing replied, her voice regaining its "Empress" steel. She handed him a coffee he didn't take. "I have arranged for the best neurologists from Zurich to fly in. If she is truly Lin Yue, she will have the best care money can—"
"This isn't about your money, Ruobing!" Tingli snapped, the sudden volume making a passing nurse flinch. "You think every wound can be bandaged with a check? She's terrified. She woke up screaming because she didn't recognize the world, but she recognized me."
Before Ruobing could answer, a soft, melodic sob drifted from the half-open door.
"Tingli? Is that you? Please... it's dark. I'm scared."
Tingli didn't hesitate. He pushed past Ruobing, his entire body leaning toward that voice like a plant toward the sun. Ruobing followed slowly, her heart tightening.
Inside, bathed in the pale morning light, sat Lin Yue. She was thin, almost translucent, her skin the color of fine porcelain that had been shattered and glued back together. Where Ruobing was a storm of fire and gold, Lin Yue was a fading mist.
"It's okay, Yue-er. I'm here," Tingli whispered, rushing to the bedside. He took her small, pale hand in both of his—a gesture of tenderness Ruobing hadn't seen in over a year.
Lin Yue's eyes, wide and watery, shifted to Ruobing. She shrank back, pulling the thin hospital blanket to her chin. "Who... who is she, Tingli? Her eyes... they're so cold. Is she going to take me back to that place?"
"No, no," Tingli comforted her, his gaze snapping back to Ruobing with a flash of genuine resentment. "She's just... a business associate. She's leaving now."
A business associate.
The words sliced through Ruobing deeper than any corporate betrayal. She stood tall, her silhouette dominating the small room, but inside, she felt herself bleeding out.
"Tingli," Ruobing said, her voice dangerously calm. "We have been married for three years. Do not do this."
"She is traumatized!" Tingli stood up, shielding Lin Yue with his body. "Look at her! She has nothing! You have the world, Ruobing. Can't you, for once in your life, stop being so territorial and show some mercy? Your presence is upsetting her."
"I am showing mercy by paying for this room," Ruobing retorted, her pride flaring.
"Then don't!" Tingli reached into his wallet, pulled out a credit card Ruobing had given him for his firm's expenses, and threw it onto the floor. It skidded across the tiles, stopping at Ruobing's feet. "Take your charity and go. I'll take care of her myself."
Lin Yue watched from the bed, a tiny, hidden smirk touching the corner of her lips that only Ruobing saw. It was a flash of pure, calculated malice—the look of a predator who had found a bigger predator's weakness.
"Tingli, I... I feel dizzy," Lin Yue whimpered, her eyes rolling back.
"Yue-er!" Tingli cried out. In his panic, he accidentally shoved Ruobing aside to reach for the call button. The force sent Ruobing stumbling back against a sharp-edged medical cart.
A jagged piece of metal tore through her silk sleeve, slicing a deep gash into her forearm. Blood began to bloom across the expensive fabric, hot and crimson.
Tingli didn't notice. He was too busy cradling Lin Yue, whispering promises of protection into her ear.
Ruobing stood in the corner of the room, clutching her bleeding arm. She waited. She waited for him to turn around. She waited for him to see that she was hurt. But he never looked back.
She turned and walked out of the room, her blood dripping onto the white hospital floor—small, red footprints of a Queen leaving her heart behind.