Chapter 2: After Rebirth, It Got Even More Chaotic
When Chi Qiu Lin opened his eyes again, he saw a pure white ceiling. He propped himself up, his body weak and sore. He saw the words “City Center Hospital” printed on his hospital gown and recalled the scene of his fall from the tenth floor. The overwhelming shock made him blurt out a curse, “Damn, I actually survived that fall! Is it because I’m lucky, or is modern medical technology that advanced?”
He found his voice unusually hoarse, as if he hadn’t spoken for a long time. However, his voice was still loud enough that a young nurse rushed in, only to show a terrified expression, “How… how did you wake up—?”
Chi Qiu Lin looked puzzled, “What? Is waking up illegal?”
Before he could finish, the nurse fled. Chi Qiu Lin tried to get up, but found his limbs weak. He turned his stiff, creaking neck and looked around.
What he saw sent a chill down his spine—there were corpses covered in white sheets all around him, and the room he was in was a morgue.
What kind of magical plot was this? Chi Qiu Lin inwardly grumbled. Before he could think it over, a doctor rushed in, quickly using a stethoscope to check Chi Qiu Lin’s heartbeat. He looked at Chi Qiu Lin with astonishment, “This is incredible. An hour ago, all your vital signs had disappeared. Do you have any discomfort?”
Chi Qiu Lin cleared his throat, “I’m just weak, but otherwise fine—I’m just lucky, you see. I have billions of family assets waiting for me to inherit. If I died like that, I would die with regrets.”
His voice was still hoarse and off-key, but Chi Qiu Lin felt that even if his throat could produce his usual voice, it wouldn’t sound like his usual tone.
He cleared his throat again, about to speak, but was interrupted by the doctor, “Mr. Jing, you suffered severe injuries in a car accident and were in a vegetative state for a year. Your muscles have atrophied significantly. We’ll arrange rehabilitation training for you. Also, we’ve notified your family, and will arrange for you to go to a rehabilitation center—”
The more Chi Qiu Lin listened, the faster his face changed, finally interrupting the doctor incoherently, “Wait, what did you call me? And, didn’t I fall from a building? Why did it become a car accident?”
The doctor seemed unfazed by this situation, calmly replying, “Mr. Jing, you’ve just woken up. Your consciousness and memory might be a little confused. Your family will be here soon. Talk to them; it might help.”
Chi Qiu Lin let the doctor wheel him back to a ward for the living. He borrowed the doctor’s phone, opened the camera, and stared at the screen—a handsome young man with flawless, undamaged skin. Even with a sickly pallor, his brows and eyes still exuded a careless, unrestrained air. His features and demeanor were completely different from Chi Qiu Lin’s face, half handsome, half hideous.
Chi Qiu Lin sighed wryly. This body didn’t belong to him. His real self was probably already buried.
He looked at the time on the screen. It was still the first day of the first month of winter, but a whole year had passed since he fell from the building.
A year… It felt like he’d just slept, but a year had passed in the outside world.
He wondered what happened in that year. How were Yao Xin Yu and Liu Ming Zhou doing? Were his parents heartbroken? The more he thought, the more his mind became troubled, so Chi Qiu Lin uncontrollably asked, “Doctor, do you know someone named Chi Qiu Lin?”
“I wouldn’t say I know him, but the impression is quite strong,” The doctor seemed to recall an unpleasant memory, his brows slightly furrowed. “That person committed suicide by jumping off a building last winter. His body was shattered, and he died on the spot. But his friend seemed to have lost his mind, insisting that he wasn’t dead, causing a scene at the hospital in the middle of the night, accusing us of negligence. He kept making a fuss until dawn, and was taken away by the police—”
Friend? Was it Yao Xin Yu? Chi Qiu Lin’s heart ached involuntarily. He didn’t care about the misunderstanding of suicide, anxiously asking, “What did Chi Qiu Lin’s friend look like?”
The doctor was about to answer, but his gaze stopped at the doorway, his words stuck in his throat.
Following the doctor’s gaze, Chi Qiu Lin looked at the doorway. Liu Ming Zhou’s slender figure was approaching him.
Since their last meeting, Liu Ming Zhou seemed to have lost even more weight. Though his brows and eyes were as gentle as before, there was less brightness in his eyes.
He stood absentmindedly in front of Chi Qiu Lin’s bed, softly calling out, “Brother.”
Chi Qiu Lin’s pupils trembled, “What did you call me?”
“Brother, you should remember me, right? My name is Liu Ming Zhou. We’ve met many times. In the year you were unconscious, your father passed away. Before he died, he asked my father to take care of you,” Liu Ming Zhou patiently explained. “I’m glad you’re awake.”
Chi Qiu Lin wanted to cry but had no tears—reborn as a helpless invalid was one thing, but to fall into the hands of his former rival was another! And what kind of earth-shattering operation was it that turned a rival into a younger brother?
The doctor briefly explained a few things to Liu Ming Zhou before leaving the ward. Watching Liu Ming Zhou move a chair to sit by his bed, Chi Qiu Lin felt a burning sensation in his gut.
Thinking of Liu Ming Zhou entering the apartment that night, Chi Qiu Lin’s anger flared. He frowned at the person in front of him—gentle brows and eyes, a gentle demeanor without any aggression, a warm and clean appearance—a face that anyone would praise. Unfortunately, Chi Qiu Lin saw him through a villain’s filter, thinking that this person was hypocritical.
As if sensing Chi Qiu Lin’s gaze, Liu Ming Zhou suddenly looked up, their eyes meeting.
Liu Ming Zhou’s eyes lit up for a moment, then dimmed unconsciously. His deep gaze rested on Chi Qiu Lin’s pupils, unwilling to look away for a long time.
Although he had this new appearance as a disguise, Chi Qiu Lin felt that for a moment, Liu Ming Zhou saw through the soul hidden beneath this shell, especially Liu Ming Zhou’s ambiguous gaze, as if he was remembering someone.
But who was he remembering? The old Chi Qiu Lin? Though the thought was absurd, Chi Qiu Lin didn’t rule out the possibility: everyone thought he committed suicide by jumping off a building, and Liu Ming Zhou was no exception. Liu Ming Zhou must have felt guilty for his actions that indirectly caused Chi Qiu Lin’s death.
Thinking of this, Chi Qiu Lin immediately developed a mischievous plan: since he was immobile for a while, he could use his rival as a caregiver and indirectly probe him about his past life, causing him some displeasure. Why not?
Chi Qiu Lin’s little plan was working, but a warm touch suddenly came to his face, pulling his thoughts back to reality—Liu Ming Zhou was covering his cheek with his warm hand, his thin lips slightly parted, as if wanting to call someone’s name, but hesitated.
Seeing Liu Ming Zhou’s face getting closer, his scrutinizing gaze fixed on his eyes, Chi Qiu Lin felt a chill. He didn’t want to reveal his identity so quickly. Who knows what Liu Ming Zhou would do to a helpless rival?
He quickly removed Liu Ming Zhou’s hand from his cheek and awkwardly changed the subject: “I just woke up, my mind isn’t working well. What’s my name again?”
As soon as he finished speaking, Chi Qiu Lin thought this topic was terrible.
[Author’s Note: The blind painter is really good, I want to write a spin-off short story…]