As the couple walked back toward the house, the lights from the estate glowed softly in the dark. The scent of flowers still lingered in the air, but now it was calmer—like even the petals themselves had exhaled in relief.

At the door, the nurses were already waiting.

When they saw the two walk in—side by side, hand in hand—they paused. Every face softened.

The older nurse, the one who had hesitated earlier, looked like she was about to cry from relief. Her hands, folded tightly in front of her, finally unclenched as she smiled.

She stepped forward gently.

"Sir," she said kindly, "let us give her a checkup, and then... you can take her from there."

Hua Jing turned to look at Fu Jing Rong and gave him a small smile. He nodded, and with quiet care, led her back into the room she had woken up in—her room.

The air inside was warm. Familiar.

She sat down on the edge of the bed, still in her pale hospital gown. The nurses worked quickly and carefully. Blood pressure, vitals, vision, balance. Everything checked out. Her body was tired, but strong. No danger. No signs of damage. Somehow, she had come back whole.

One by one, the nurses packed up.

They gave soft goodnights and respectful bows before quietly slipping out, leaving the two alone. The door shut with a gentle click.

The silence that followed was calm.

Hua Jing remained on the bed, legs swinging just slightly, her hands folded on her lap. 𝘧𝓇𝑒𝑒𝑤ℯ𝑏𝓃𝘰𝑣ℯ𝘭.𝘤ℴ𝘮

Fu Jing Rong walked over slowly, not saying a word. His tall frame moved with quiet confidence—measured, deliberate. When he reached her, he stepped between her legs.

She looked up, and her eyes met his.

Then he gently reached out, guiding her head forward until her cheek rested against his stomach.

She didn’t resist.

She wrapped her arms around his waist, her fingers clutching the fabric of his shirt lightly. He was warm. Steady. The rhythm of his breathing, the strong beat of his heart—it was all she needed right now.

She closed her eyes.

He lowered his hand to the back of her head, cradling it gently as though she were something fragile—something that had once broken and had finally been put back together.

Neither of them spoke.

There were no words for this kind of peace.

No words for this kind of love.

They sat like that for a while.

A perfect silence.

Fu Jing Rong’s hand lazily stroked her hair, twirling a strand between his fingers. His other arm held her close, never loosening. The warmth between them felt like it might never fade.

But after a moment, Hua Jing stirred slightly and looked up at him.

"I was in the hospital before," she said quietly. "What happened? How come I’m... here? In your place?"

Fu Jing Rong looked down at her, his expression soft. He gently pushed a strand of hair behind her ear.

"When I woke up," he began, voice low and even, "the first thing I did was look for you."

His thumb lightly traced the curve of her cheek.

"I had missed you too much."

Her heart trembled.

"When I went to the hospital," he continued, "you weren’t there."

Hua Jing blinked. Her brows furrowed. "What do you mean I wasn’t there?"

"You were missing."

She pulled back slightly, staring at him.

"Missing? How could I be missing from a hospital room?"

Fu Jing Rong sighed, his jaw tightening. "Your family took you away."

The answer hit her like a slap.

She knew.

Hua Ling.

Her name rang through Hua Jing’s mind like a bitter bell. Cold and sharp.

She didn’t even need him to say it. Her voice was flat. "Hua Ling?"

Fu Jing Rong nodded, his eyes dark. "She had you moved to some remote house. Deep in the forest. I don’t know why."

Hua Jing’s lips pressed into a thin line.

She did know.

Not the exact reason—but she knew the hatred. That quiet, ever-growing resentment. The way Hua Ling always looked at her. The sharp comments. The cold shoulders. The petty acts. And still, none of it explained why it had gone this far. Why her stepsister would do something so cruel.

She clenched her fists slightly. "I never understood her."

Fu Jing Rong pulled her close again. His hand gently ran down her back, calming her.

There was a pause.

Then, slowly, she asked, "How long... have we been gone?"

He hesitated. Just for a moment.

Then he said, "A year. It’s been a full year since the accident."

Hua Jing’s breath caught.

A year.

A whole year—just gone. It made her stomach twist. Her mind tried to process it, but the number hung there like fog. Heavy and strange.

And then something hit her.

She blinked again, and looked up sharply. "Wait. I was in the accident alone. How... how come you were in a coma too? What happened to you?"

Fu Jing Rong froze.

He stared at her for a long second. A flicker of something passed through his eyes—something complicated.

Fu Jing Rong’s mind turned back to that day—exactly one year ago. A perfume of dread and regret washed over him.

He remembered the day clearly.

Hua Jing was supposed to receive her Lifetime Achievement Award that evening—a glittering milestone in her film career. The night was filled with expectations, cameras flashing, reporters lining the red carpet. But then it all went wrong.

Then came the accident.

Her car’s brakes had suddenly failed—a clear sign of sabotage, he thought even then. His heart had dropped into his stomach.

His mind flickered back to the ancient world: a carriage sabotaged on their supposed honeymoon day. In that world, even the one responsible was clear—Hua Ling. A sister’s envy disguised within kinship. The memory plagued him now like a wound.

In this world, it had to be similar. Someone had tampered with Hua Jing’s car—someone close enough to know her routines, someone who felt threatened by her success.

He recalled pulling up at the crash site—it felt like a nightmare in slow motion. The car was crumpled. Smoke was rising. Spectators gasped, filming with their phones. But to him, there was only one goal:

He ran.