In the dark night, Chen Ling was as still as a desiccated tree floating aimlessly in the vast expanse of the ocean—adrift without an anchor, lost without direction. His breath was faint, his body immobilized, and his mind consumed by a single thought:
Sink. Sink into eternal oblivion.
Yet someone clung tightly to his arm. When he struggled, they used both hands. Amidst the icy waves, only those hands radiated warmth. It was this heat that stirred a flicker of life within him, though he resisted it with every fiber of his being. But those hands refused to let go.
The endless night passed swiftly, and soon the sun rose from the east, its light cascading over the sea. He began to warm up, and the hands that had held him disappeared.
Chen Ling opened his eyes.
The first thing he saw was a window bathed in soft morning light. It was an old wooden frame, dust clinging to its edges, while outside stood a towering camphor tree, its leaves dense and vibrant. Had it not been for the remnants of snow on its branches, Chen Ling might have mistaken the season for spring.
Wincing against the pain coursing through his body, he sat up and noticed a girl lying on the floor beside him.
Yaxi. He recognized her immediately—a friend of Lu Ziyang.
She lay curled up on the carpet, wearing nothing but a sweater, her wide-open eyes fixed unblinkingly on him. Clearly, she had been awake for some time.
Chen Ling found the scene unsettling. But after everything that had happened this month, his world had already turned upside down; nothing could surprise him anymore.
He must have been found by her and brought here.
She looked at him, and he stared back. She said nothing, as if waiting for something.
The room was silent. Yet even in the silence, he couldn't hear the frantic pounding of Yaxi's heart.
"You saved me," he finally said, his voice steady. "Thank you… classmate."
His gratitude seemed genuine, but Yaxi merely smirked disdainfully, stood up, and moved to sit on the edge of his bed.
Ignoring the winter chill, she pulled off the thick blanket covering him. The sudden cold made Chen Ling shiver, and he realized his clothes had been changed.
Without hesitation, Yaxi lifted his pant leg and touched his kneecap.
It hurt—but beyond the pain, there was another sensation: warmth.
The same warmth as the hands that had gripped him in his dream.
"You're injured," she said coolly. "I didn't take you to the hospital. Instead, I brought you here. Hardly what you'd call 'saving' someone."
Chen Ling saw hostility in her gaze, an animosity without clear origin.
"If you hadn't saved me, you wouldn't have changed my clothes, covered me with a blanket, or helped bring down my fever," Chen Ling replied, peeling off the cooling patch from his forehead. He offered her a weak yet sincere smile. "Is there anything you need me to do for you?"
"What could you possibly do for me?" she retorted sharply. "Look at yourself. Your company's counterfeit goods were exposed, and your family is drowning in scandal. Your stepfather's in jail, your mother fled abroad with her biological son, taking all the money. Even your father's relatives are coming after you. What use are you to anyone?"
Despite the chill running down his spine, Chen Ling kept smiling. "You seem to know a lot about me—and apparently, you like me. There's plenty I can do for you, Yaxi."