The shirt was unbuttoned, revealing a wound on his chest wrapped in white gauze. The doctor moved quickly, inspecting the injury and checking various monitors.
"President Foster, I'll arrange for someone to come keep an eye on you soon. Make sure to stay in bed, and keep an eye on your temperature tonight."
Fu Zhiyé gave the slightest nod, but his eyes remained fixed on where Chi Chi was standing, reluctant to blink even for a second.
The doctor turned and spotted Cecilia Ye in the room, urging her, "Miss Ye, you should get some rest too. We’ll have someone look after President Foster—you don’t need to worry."
Cecilia touched her belly a little guiltily and nodded.
Once the doctor had left, Fu Zhiyé was already drifting in and out of sleep. The fact that he could even stay awake for a moment spoke to his strength.
Fighting off exhaustion, his voice hoarse, he said, "Cecilia, go home and get some sleep."
"You sleep first. I'll… I’ll head back once the nurse arrives." She sat down in the chair by his bedside.
With a helpless smile, Fu Zhiyé squeezed her hand gently, but soon succumbed to sleep.
When the nurse came in, Cecilia glanced at him lying on the bed, then obediently left the room. She knew she couldn't help here—better to go home and rest before worrying her little one.
Lao San noticed her coming out and waved. "Goodbye, Madam. See you tomorrow."
"…"
Thinking back on Lao San’s fierce look during the fight earlier, Cecilia found it hard to reconcile it with his current, grinning face.
She took a couple of steps, then paused, speaking softly: "Um… thank you all for saving me. And your hand…"
Cecilia Ye was strikingly beautiful, her clear eyes making it hard for anyone to look at her directly.
Lao San—a burly, intimidating man—had never been thanked by a young woman like this. His face instantly flushed and he stammered his reply.
"It—it’s nothing, Madam. No big deal."
Seeing how full of life he seemed, Cecilia was finally reassured and went back to the ward.
Alone once more, she gently stroked her slightly rounded belly. She’d spent the day worrying about him and had barely thought of the dangers her child faced.
It had been so close—her baby had almost been in danger too.
She sighed, filled with lingering fear.
She remembered Fu Zhiyé shouting at her to run, and that desperate, reluctant kiss he gave before letting her go.
Her hand unconsciously brushed her lips; the cool sensation was already gone.
She couldn’t deny that her heart had been in her throat all day.
In the face of real life and death, all their tangled feelings of love and hate suddenly seemed insignificant.
Just knowing that Fu Zhiyé might die—the always domineering, aloof Fu Zhiyé—could disappear from this world.…
She’d been able to go on when they were apart, as long as she knew somewhere, across whatever distance, he was still living his life.
But to imagine a world without Fu Zhiyé at all… that was something else entirely.
As long as Fu Zhiyé was alright, as long as he survived…
She decided she would try to be braver and believe again.
She had already surrendered—maybe she’d given in long ago, ever since those endless nights he waited for her under her apartment in Qingshui Bay.
Head full of jumbled thoughts, she finally gave in to sleep.
…
Police Station, visitation room.
Since he hadn’t been convicted, Uncle Chen hadn’t been sent to prison yet.
Charles Chase sat across the table from him, staring silently.
Since his return, he’d been living at Qingshui Bay, barely ever going back to the family estate. If it weren’t for making things convenient for Cecilia, he wouldn’t have thought about moving at all.
Opposite him, the old man still wore that same stubborn look—just as he had when Charles Chase left the country with his mother more than a decade ago.
Back then, Grandpa Rivers was already gone. Out of respect for Uncle Chen’s years of service, his mother had offered to bring him abroad with them, perhaps to look after the grounds of their new home.
But Uncle Chen refused. He even seemed to resent Charles Chase’s mother, believing she had tainted the family name.
Charles Chase couldn’t understand such outdated, ossified thinking, nor did he care to.
"Uncle Chen, thank you for looking after the old house all these years, but what you’ve done—I can't forgive it."
Uncle Chen, despite everything, still cared for the Master’s only grandson, and finally spoke.
"The old Master cared about appearances all his life. When he was younger, he compromised several times for Miss’s sake, and in the end he died depressed. I can’t let anyone shame the Chase family again."
Charles Chase gave a cold laugh, mocking his ignorance and stubbornness.
"Grandpa Rivers valued reputation, but why did he allow my mother to marry and divorce? Because he knew that reputation matters, but not as much as family."
Uncle Chen was left speechless, hands trembling, grumbling under his breath.
Charles Chase had only come as a formality—he had nothing more to say to Uncle Chen, and rose to leave.
At the door he tossed out one last line: "You served Grandpa Rivers for decades, but you never really understood him at all."
Without another glance at the old man whose face was twisted with anger, Charles Chase walked away.
…
The next morning, Cecilia woke and went straight to Fu Zhiyé’s room.
The doctor was just stepping out as she arrived and greeted her: "Miss Ye."
Cecilia nodded, and Lao San bounced over. "Madam, you’re here to see the boss again!"
"…Yeah."
Cecilia always felt there was something a little comically endearing about Lao San, not unlike Hua Ge.
She stepped into the ward—the man on the bed was still sleeping, the oxygen mask already removed.
Cecilia sat quietly by his side. After losing so much blood, he looked especially weak, his face and lips almost translucent.
His brows were always a little cold, but his lashes were long—truly handsome.
Sometimes, Cecilia thought back to that first night they met—how he’d stood in the rain, car headlights shining on his face.
She’d never seen anyone so good looking before. Maybe that’s why her heart skipped a beat, why their fates had been entangled for so many years.
She lost herself in memories, until voices from outside—tense and quick—pulled her back. She got up from the sofa.
The door was flung open. Lao San and Dà Sēn, a member of Charles Chase’s crew, were in the hall, elbow to elbow, muscles tensed, glaring at each other, neither willing to cede even an inch, as if they’d come to blows.
In their other hands, each held what looked like breakfast.
When they saw Cecilia step out, Lao San snorted and jerked his arm away from Dà Sēn, who retaliated with a grunt and wiped his arm, both of them looking thoroughly disgusted with each other.
"Madam, I brought you breakfast. The boss said this place is your favorite."
Back when they worked for her, the boss made them buy breakfast from here and deliver it to Qingshui Bay more than once.
Now that the boss is indisposed, they still had to keep up the tradition of delivering loving breakfasts!
Dà Sēn held up a thermal lunchbox. "Miss, Xiao Mu insisted the driver bring this over—she made millet porridge for you herself, plus a box of fruit. She said you and the baby should get more fruit vitamins."
Two huge bags and a thermos were pressed into her hands at the same time.
Cecilia reflexively took a step back, and couldn’t help but feel warm inside at the thought of these two usually scowling bodyguards fussing over her—though she had to admit, it was a little funny too.
She reached out for the breakfasts, smiled, and her dazzling grin nearly blinded the two big men.
"Thank you… Both of you. I’ll eat some of everything."
Lao San (thinking): Our boss’s wife truly is a beautiful fairy!
Dà Sēn (thinking): Our young lady really is the prettiest princess!
They shared a prideful glance—and then each snorted again.