Chapter 9 Hidden Truths
In the novel, Lin Qi's past was summed up in one line—siblings depending on each other. The real suffering was never written, but I knew it had been far worse.
He'd fought tooth and nail for a better life, for him and Lin Yan. Just when things were looking up, his body failed him again.
How could that not crush him?
The accident wasn't his fault either. He'd been delivering food to help with money, and this happened.
Misfortune always finds the weakest rope. People like him never catch a break.
Why?
Around noon, I went to buy lunch. The moment I stepped back into the room, Lin Yan called.
"Huo Chichen, sorry—am I disturbing you?"
"No. Go ahead."
"Lin Qi didn't come home last night. I just called him. He said he's with you. Is that true?"
I glanced at the bed. Lin Qi waved me over.
I walked to him. He pulled me down to sit, leaned close to my ear, and whispered, "Don't tell my sister about the accident. Just say we ran into each other and talked."
His voice was soft, breath warm against my ear, brushing my skin.
"Please!"
Those three syllables were melting, pleading—feathers tickling my heart. A shiver ran through me. My pulse hammered.
"Okay," I heard myself say.
To Lin Yan I said, "Yeah, he's with me. He came to apologize last night. We had dinner, talked too much, got too late, so I let him crash here."
Silence on the other end for a few seconds. "Really?"
"Really. I'm heading out of town for a few days soon. Lin Qi's free anyway—mind if he comes with me?"
"Of course not," she said quickly. "But he has a temper. Please bear with him, Huo Chichen."
I smiled. "Lin Qi's been great. I like him a lot. Don't worry."
I turned—and caught Lin Qi watching me, expression complicated.
Lin Yan finally sounded lighter. "Thank you for taking care of him. Could I speak to him?"
I handed over the phone.
He smiled into it. "Sis, I'm fine, really. I'll be good."
I watched his eyes curve, absently touching my burning ear.
He slept most of the day. In the afternoon I helped him outside for fresh air and sunlight.
Out of nowhere he said, "When I was little, I broke my leg. My sister carried me to the hospital."
I listened quietly.
"She was a head shorter than me. Halfway there she couldn't anymore. We sat on the curb and cried." His lips lifted faintly. "An old man selling roasted sweet potatoes took pity on us. He gave us a ride on his tricycle."
Sunlight filtered through leaves, dappling his face.
In that moment he looked soft—nothing like the guy who once held a knife to my throat.
"Your sister loves you," I said.
"Yeah." He stared at his hands. "Besides her, no one treats me well. No one likes me."
The words landed heavy on my chest.
I remembered the book's ending—Lin Qi badly injured protecting his sister, attending her wedding in a wheelchair.
Not long after, he died. He was only twenty-three.