Chapter 114: Suicide

He must have sensed my confusion because he readily said, “I’ll send you a video.”

Soon after, my phone buzzed with a message—a video of Xia Qi lying on a hospital bed. She wore an oxygen mask, her face pale as if lifeless.

I immediately called, and the man who answered was succinct yet devastating: Xia Qi had an ectopic pregnancy and had just undergone surgery.

My mind went completely blank, all I could think about was whether Xia Qi was in danger. I nearly sprinted out of the classroom building, panic overwhelming me until I missed a step and fell.

If someone hadn’t caught me just in time, I would have fallen right before everyone’s eyes.

But when I saw who was holding me, a sudden wave of despair swept over me—I almost wished I could just die on the spot.

Shu Congxuan steadied me and softly asked, “Why were you so careless? Are you hurt anywhere?”

I took a small step back to keep my distance from him, but the campus was bustling with students, and Shu Congxuan’s imposing presence quickly drew whispers and pointed fingers.

My face burned, yet I forced a polite smile, doing my best to treat Shu Congxuan as a stranger in front of the crowd. “Thank you.”

His eyes flickered in surprise, then he smiled warmly. “I’m just relieved you’re okay.”

At that moment, Principal Xia arrived with several others. Fearing I might lose control and demand to know if they knew what had happened to Xia Qi, I lowered my voice to Shu Congxuan and said, “Sorry, I have something to attend to. I’ll go ahead.”

Before I could take a step, I heard Principal Xia call out, “Lan Shan, wait a moment.”

I sighed and gave Shu Congxuan a reluctant smile, then composed myself into the image of a good student as I faced Principal Xia and his group.

Principal Xia’s gentle, elder smile never wavered. “Lan Shan, you’ve arrived just in time. I have to accompany the Education Bureau leaders, so I want you to spend some time with Mr. Shu around campus.”

Of course, I couldn’t agree. Even if Shu Congxuan donated his entire fortune to Kang University, that was his business—it could never matter more than Xia Qi.

But Principal Xia lowered his voice. “Be obedient. Mr. Shu is a benefactor of Kang University. You must accompany him well and not neglect him.”

With that, he and his group moved on. I glanced at Shu Congxuan, ready to abandon him.

Yet he stepped forward, his gaze piercing as if trying to see into my very soul. I shivered and took another step back.

He smiled and said, “Lan Shan, are you afraid of me?”

I was terrified of him? With Xia Qi’s life hanging by a thread, I had no patience for his games.

When I said I was going to leave him behind, he finally sensed something was wrong and asked what had happened.

I stepped aside and called Luo Ange, not realizing it was the middle of the night in the U.S.

But it was Zhu Bang who answered, politely informing me that Luo Ange was in a meeting with the hospital staff.

Zhu Bang asked what the matter was, and I suddenly realized that even if Luo Ange knew about Xia Qi’s emergency, being so far away with important matters to attend to, he was helpless.

Moreover, I couldn’t rely on Luo Ange for everything. He couldn’t always be by my side; I couldn’t become a burden.

With that thought, I quickly said, “It’s nothing, just wanted to check if everything was going smoothly.”

Zhu Bang replied, “He rushed straight to the meeting after getting off the plane, hasn’t eaten or rested, and we don’t know how long it will take.”

Realizing he shouldn’t say more, Zhu Bang added, “Don’t worry, Miss. The young master said he’ll return as soon as he finishes here.”

A sudden flash of inspiration hit me, and I lied: “I plan to go home and stay these next few days. If he finishes early, please let him know.”

After hanging up, I looked at Shu Congxuan and decided to take a risk. After all, I couldn’t find anyone else to help me right now.

Among the few friends I’d known for three years, Jiang Chenghuan and Li Wanqiu had dropped out and were preparing to go abroad, while the usually clever Qilin had just called to say he was interning overseas. That left only Xia Qi and me.

At the school gate, I saw Ah Yun waiting patiently by the car. Hesitant, I whispered to Shu Congxuan, “Why don’t we bring Ah Yun along? If Luo Ange asks, at least he can vouch for me.”

Shu Congxuan gave me a puzzled look. “Sounds like Luo Ange keeps a tight leash on you, needing reports on everything.”

I knew what he meant. “Shu Congxuan, don’t try to sow discord. Luo Ange and I have our own way of dealing with things.”

He smiled. “Is that so? Then call him now and tell him you’re with me.”

Seeing him about to make the call, I panicked and lunged to stop him. “Shu Congxuan, what exactly are you trying to do?”

He held me down gently and whispered, “If you don’t want Ah Yun to see, don’t move.”

I endured the humiliation, lying there until he finally said, “Alright, you can get up now.”

I stood, scowling, and looked at Ah Yun, who remained by the car, showing not the slightest impatience.

But I couldn’t care about that. I called Ah Yun to tell him not to wait for me—I was going home to stay for the next few days and had already informed Luo Ange.

He hesitated, probably not expecting me to lie, but eventually agreed.

I kept in contact with Teacher He Junxi, asking him to update me on Xia Qi’s condition at any time.

After hanging up, the tears came. He Junxi told me Xia Qi’s ectopic pregnancy had caused massive bleeding, and one fallopian tube had been removed. The doctors said if the surgery had been delayed by even a few minutes, Xia Qi might not have survived.

Shu Congxuan drove while trying to comfort me, but the more he comforted me, the more I wept, until I no longer knew if I was crying for Xia Qi or for myself.

Despite choosing the quickest and safest route and despite Shu Congxuan’s excellent driving skills, we only arrived at the mountainous county hospital by dusk the next day.

He Junxi was a tall, refined gentleman who looked more like a wealthy heir than a teacher.

As we climbed the stairs, he explained, “We originally planned to send her to a municipal hospital, but it was too urgent. This is a nationally designated poverty-stricken county; conditions here aren’t ideal, but it’s all we have.”

I had expected less-than-ideal conditions but never imagined it would be this bad—the hospital had no elevator, only stairs. The so-called private room Xia Qi was in lacked even a proper bathroom.

It was unimaginable; if anything went wrong, Xia Qi’s life might be lost.

When the door opened and I saw Xia Qi lying on a crude bed like a corpse, I couldn’t hold back and covered my mouth, sobbing.

Shu Congxuan pulled me close. I trembled and pointed at Xia Qi. “Take her away. We have to get her out of here.”

He nodded quickly. “Alright, don’t cry, don’t cry.”

We sought out the doctor, but the verdict was clear: she was too unstable to transfer; we had to wait until she was out of danger.

I slowly sat beside the bed, pulling back the blanket a little to grasp Xia Qi’s hand.

Noticing my open mouth, He Junxi said, “I only told you half the story because I didn’t want to worry you. When we found Xia Qi, she wasn’t just bleeding heavily—she had also cut her wrists…”

He pulled out a piece of paper and placed it before me. It was written in Xia Qi’s handwriting, simply four words: “Life is meaningless.”

“Since coming to our school, she seemed happy enough. We didn’t notice anything wrong. The day before yesterday, when students were on break, she bought all the alcohol from the village’s small shop and locked herself in her room, getting heavily drunk. When I went in, she was holding me, calling out a man’s name and asking why he had abandoned her.”

I averted my face, choking back tears. “Was it Jiang Chenghuan?”

“That night, she said many strange things—claiming she was a living corpse, that she wanted to become a nun, apologizing to her parents and you. Then this happened. It’s all my fault. If I had stayed by her side, none of this would have happened.”

The tears ran into my mouth, bitter as gall. In places unseen by others, was her heart filled only with bitterness?

I said, “Even if there’s blame, it shouldn’t be yours.”

Unable to contain my anger, I stormed out of the room to call Jiang Chenghuan. How could he be so irresponsible?

If he didn’t take responsibility, I would drag him down with me.

Shu Congxuan grabbed me, shaking his head, signaling me to stop. “Do you think Jiang Chenghuan will come?”

I called Li Wanqiu, surprisingly getting through quickly. All the venomous words I’d rehearsed a thousand times poured out: “Li Wanqiu, you disgust me. You make me feel filthy. Consider this the end of our friendship. I wish you and Jiang Chenghuan eternal happiness—then damnation, never to escape.”

Since arriving here, I had been crying nonstop. Shu Congxuan, fed up with my tears, kicked me lightly. “Enough. Xia Qi hasn’t cried—why are you?”

I wiped my face and steeled myself. From now on, Xia Qi and I would depend on each other. As for the worthless Jiang Chenghuan and Li Wanqiu, they could go to hell.

Both men were incredibly considerate. Shu Congxuan urged me to sleep in the car, worried I might catch a chill in the hospital.

I refused, so he reluctantly gave me his coat and even went to a small convenience store to buy mosquito coils and insect repellent for me.

He Junxi insisted I stay at a hotel, but I couldn’t bear to leave Xia Qi’s side.

Late at night, exhausted from the long journey, I finally dozed off in a recliner.

When I woke, I realized Shu Congxuan’s coat was draped over me—that explained why I hadn’t felt cold.

He Junxi was carefully taking Xia Qi’s temperature.

Seeing his gentle care, I felt a pang of admiration. Whoever married this man would surely be cherished and loved deeply.

By afternoon, Xia Qi finally woke. I was clipping her nails when I suddenly heard her voice: “Don’t worry…”

She never called me by my given name. I dropped the nail clippers and embraced her, tears uncontrollable.

She stared at the ceiling for a long time, tears streaming down into her hair.

I scolded her gently, “Why are you so foolish?”

She raised her hand to cover her eyes, mumbling, “I won’t anymore. Never again.”

I don’t know what Shu Congxuan did or what connections he pulled, but the hospital agreed to let us use the kitchen in the dormitory for single patients.

We stayed up, simmering chicken soup, reflecting on recent events that seemed absurd even to ourselves.