Chapter 60: The Love-Brain Female Lead Awakens 3

In that dream.

Zhou Yan and Sang Ruo ended things on a very ugly note, but Zhou Yan stubbornly refused to divorce.

Sang Ruo had no choice but to file for divorce.

During the legal proceedings, Sang Ruo moved out.

She bought a small one-bedroom apartment on the Fourth Ring Road. She tried to pull herself together and go out to find a job. Having been a full-time housewife for so many years, she had no work experience and was already in her thirties. She couldn’t even compete with young girls fresh out of school. Eventually, she used a friend’s connection to get a job as a sales assistant at a luxury counter. The salary wasn’t high, but at least she had an income and was no longer just eating away at her savings. It was just awkward whenever she ran into old acquaintances.

After that, Zhou Yan stopped bothering her. Her life was relatively peaceful for a while until she suddenly received a call from him. He barked at her immediately: “Do you still dare to say you have nothing to do with that guy named Yi? If you weren’t pulling strings behind the scenes, why would Yiyang Group be suppressing me at every turn and pushing me into a corner!”

If he hadn’t called, Sang Ruo would have almost forgotten such a person existed. “What are you talking about?”

“Heh… Sang Ruo, have some conscience, will you? This company was your father’s life’s work, after all. Can you just watch it be ruined by that man Yi?”

Sang Ruo remained silent.

He continued over the phone: “I know you hate me, but even if I handed the company over to you right now, do you have the ability to manage it? Besides, the company only reached its current heights through every drop of my, Zhou Yan’s, sweat and blood.”

Sang Ruo took a deep breath before saying through gritted teeth, “Then thank you very much!” She promptly hung up.

Just how blind had she been to fall for a man like that?

Yi Chen’an. It was Yi Chen’an again.

An unexpected name, one she had almost no contact with since her student days. Zhou Yan had brought him up again based on these groundless accusations.

Yi Chen’an had originally been a connection of her father’s. After her parents passed away, they basically lost touch.

At the funeral, he had said she could come to him if she encountered difficulties. Sang Ruo had merely taken it as a polite formality and never actually sought him out. It had been several years since they last met.

Sang Ruo hesitated for a long time before dialing that long-unused number. The phone rang for a while before being picked up. The person who answered wasn’t Yi Chen’an, but his private assistant, whose voice sounded exhausted.

Two hours later, Sang Ruo saw Yi Chen’an in a VIP hospital ward. A gaunt and thin Yi Chen’an.

This man, who had never appeared so weak, looked at Sang Ruo at the door in astonishment, then smiled gently. “You’re here.”

That was a gentle expression Sang Ruo had never seen before. His familiar tone made her feel very uneasy.

“How did you end up like this?”

Yi Chen’an pointed to the chair by the bed and invited her to sit. “This is fine. Just think of it as a vacation. Haha.”

Sang Ruo only learned about Yi Chen’an’s condition from his assistant: late-stage stomach cancer.

Truly, the heavens were jealous of genius.

Looking across the world, happy people were all alike, but every unhappy person was unhappy in their own way.

Feeling a sense of shared misfortune, Sang Ruo felt a surge of pity.

For a period after that, Sang Ruo went to the hospital every day to visit him and chat. They didn’t talk about anything serious, just boring topics like how the day went or whether the hospital food was edible. Sometimes she would make something to bring over, though by then his primary source of nutrition was through IV drips. Sang Ruo wanted to ask about Zhou Yan, but she didn’t know how to bring it up.

The hospital recommended surgical treatment, but he refused no matter what. He wouldn’t listen to anyone’s persuasion.

Until one day, Sang Ruo received news that the family company might be acquired by Yiyang Group, followed closely by reports that Zhou Yan was being detained on suspicion of economic crimes…

That day, Yi Chen’an said to her, “Didn’t you always want me to have the surgery? I signed the papers today. Are you happy?”

Sang Ruo looked at him, her mouth opening, but she couldn’t find any words.

From then on, something quietly changed between the two of them. However, Yi Chen’an’s time was already running out.

The surgery was unsuccessful. The cancer cells continued to spread. Yi Chen’an was merely fighting the King of Hell for a few more days.

It was an ordinary afternoon. In the ward, Yi Chen’an gave Sang Ruo a bouquet of white flowers that he had asked his assistant to buy.

“There’s no reason for a patient to give flowers to the visitor,” Sang Ruo said, shaking her head as she stood up to find a vase to arrange them.

Yi Chen’an lay in bed, watching Sang Ruo work. “You’ve been coming to take care of me every day. Consider it a thank you.”

Sang Ruo smiled. “What kind of flower is this? I don’t recognize it.”

“Haha, Balloon Flower¹. My assistant probably got lazy and just picked them from a wild field.” He seemed to be in a good mood, joking with her.

They chatted for a while until Sang Ruo settled Yi Chen’an down to sleep. His private assistant then invited Sang Ruo to the room next door and handed her a stack of documents to sign.

Sang Ruo didn’t take them, asking instead, “What is this?”

“Mr. Yi’s will and asset transfer documents, including some funds and real estate.”

Sang Ruo took the documents back to Yi Chen’an. “What is the meaning of this?”

Yi Chen’an caught her slender wrist and took the documents from her hand, but he didn’t let go of her hand. He held it loosely, slowly stroking it, then looked up with a tenderness and determination in his eyes that Sang Ruo didn’t understand. “Sang Ruo.”

Sang Ruo instinctively responded.

“Haha…” Her reaction amused him. It was a while before he said with great effort, “If there is a next life, let me take care of you, okay?”

Sang Ruo was stunned, not knowing how to react.

The ward was so quiet that only the hum of the machines could be heard. Yi Chen’an slowly released Sang Ruo’s hand. “Haha… look at how scared you are. I’m just teasing you…”

He buried himself in the bedsheets. “I’m going to sleep for a bit.”

After an unknown amount of time, Yi Chen’an’s voice rang out in the ward again: “The biggest mistake of my life was failing to take care of you personally. How could I have been such a bastard to feel relieved about handing you over to someone else.”

It was unclear if he was speaking to Sang Ruo, to himself, or if it was simply sleep-talking.

Sang Ruo sat on the edge of the bed and took Yi Chen’an’s hand again. “Okay… then in the next life, you have to move faster and find me before anyone else does.”

But Yi Chen’an, who never woke up after falling asleep, could no longer hear her.

–

Suddenly, her foot hit empty air, and Sang Ruo nearly fell. Fortunately, someone caught her left arm, stopping her downward momentum.

Yi Chen’an let go of her arm and frowned. “What are you thinking about? You’re not even watching where you’re going!”

Sang Ruo was still immersed in the sorrowful emotions of the dream. She didn’t dare look at him at all, keeping her head down as she said dryly, “It’s nothing.”

Fortunately, Yi Chen’an didn’t press the matter. “Watch the road.”

“Oh.” Sang Ruo followed closely behind Yi Chen’an as they entered the porridge shop.

“What do you want to eat?” Yi Chen’an handed the menu to Sang Ruo.

“I’ll eat anything.”

Yi Chen’an glanced at her and casually ordered a few dishes and some porridge.

While he was ordering, Sang Ruo used her phone to search for the bouquet of flowers Yi Chen’an had given her on his deathbed in the dream – the Balloon Flower.

Seeing the result, she couldn’t help but turn her gaze toward Yi Chen’an.

The flower language of the Balloon Flower: The one and only love of a lifetime.

Could this be a coincidence?

Sensing her gaze, Yi Chen’an asked, “What is it?”

“You… that… do you know… the Balloon Flower?” Sang Ruo couldn’t help but ask cautiously.

“What?” Yi Chen’an looked as if he didn’t understand what she was talking about.

Sang Ruo chuckled to herself, thinking he really was a blockhead.

“Nothing. I was talking about Kikyo, the name of an anime heroine.”

Hearing her words, Yi Chen’an’s brow furrowed again. “I… haven’t watched anime since I started school.”

Sang Ruo gave a dry, awkward laugh. “I can tell.”

Fortunately, the dishes were served quickly, so the lull in conversation didn’t last long.

Sang Ruo hadn’t looked closely when Yi Chen’an was ordering earlier, but she noticed now that everything suited her tastes perfectly.

Could there really be so many coincidences?

Unconsciously, Sang Ruo stared at Yi Chen’an again, her expression full of confusion.

“Focus on your food.” Yi Chen’an handed a bowl of porridge to Sang Ruo and gave her a brief glance.

“Oh.”

Sang Ruo held the porcelain bowl and took small bites. Yi Chen’an picked up a cluster of celery leaves from a side dish on the table and placed them on her plate. Sang Ruo stared blankly at the patch of emerald green. Even with celery, where most people eat the stalks, she had a preference for the few leaves, which was different from most people’s habits. The few leaves from that dish of sesame oil celery were now all in her bowl. Yi Chen’an was…

“Why are you dazing off again? You aren’t even focusing on eating.”

Sang Ruo sighed inwardly and bit her lip.

Seeing her like that, Yi Chen’an set down his chopsticks and lowered his head to ask, “What is it you want to say?”

Sang Ruo set down the bowl she was holding and steeled herself. “Brother Yi, do you believe that dreams have the power of prophecy?”

Yi Chen’an smiled at her words and shook his head almost imperceptibly, as if defeated by such a girlishly innocent and whimsical question. He simply picked up his chopsticks again. “Do you believe it?”

“I… I don’t know.” Sang Ruo fell back into that state of muddled thinking.

Yi Chen’an pushed the bowl she had set down back toward her, actually beginning to discuss it with her quite seriously. “Let’s try a different question then. What did you dream about?”

Sang Ruo blurted out almost instantly, “You.” The moment the word left her mouth, she realized how forward and rude it sounded, but she couldn’t take it back.

On the other side of the table, Yi Chen’an was picking up a quail egg. Whether the egg was too slippery or for some other reason, the egg he had gripped steadily at first suddenly dropped back down with a soft thud. After a brief pause, Yi Chen’an unhurriedly picked it up again. This time he held it firmly and landed it in Sang Ruo’s bowl. He didn’t speak, appearing to wait for Sang Ruo to continue.

“Um… uh… it’s just… I dreamed about many people I know.” Sang Ruo tried her best to explain away her previous slip of the tongue, however pale and weak the excuse was. Feeling a bit frustrated with herself, she continued, “It was everyone I know, so many people, and it felt incredibly real. So real that it made me think I had already lived an entire life in the dream… Those things, they were very, very bad…”

By the end, she wasn’t so much explaining things to Yi Chen’an as she was venting. She was venting the sense of loss, desolation, and suffocating gloom that the dream had brought her.

A cup of warm water was pressed into her hands. Sang Ruo took a sip and whispered a thank you. She thought Yi Chen’an must think she was incredibly stupid.

“So, in your dream, was I also bad to you?” When he asked this, he looked into her eyes with great sincerity.

Was he bad? How could that be? The sudden question left Sang Ruo staring at him blankly while clutching her cup.

“Heh…” The man across from her suddenly broke into a smile. “From your reaction, it seems I wasn’t.”

Yi Chen’an sat up straight. “Based on what you’ve said, your situation is somewhat similar to the old stories like The World Inside a Pillow or The Governor of the Southern Bough. Except in those stories, the characters see through the vanity of the mortal world after waking up. What about you? What are your thoughts?”

He didn’t dismiss her, and he didn’t laugh at her for being foolish or naive. Instead, he was discussing the dream with her quite seriously. Yi Chen’an’s reaction was not at all what Sang Ruo had expected.

Translator’s Notes

• Governor of Nanke: Refers to ‘Nanke Taishou Zhuan’ (南柯太守传), another classic Tang dynasty story about a man who dreams he becomes a governor of a kingdom inside an anthill. Like ‘Pillow World Record’, it is a common literary allusion for the illusory nature of life and status.

• Pillow World Record: Refers to ‘Zhenzhong Ji’ (枕中记), a classic Tang dynasty tale about a man who dreams of an entire lifetime of power and success while his meal of millet is cooking, only to wake up and realize the futility of worldly ambition. It is a cultural shorthand for the transience of life.