Lei Qingyi clutched his hair again. “Isn’t she the actress who played the Little Golden Silkworm in that Xianxia TV show a while back? My mom is a fan of hers, she rewatches the episodes with her scenes every single day. She barely gets any screen time in that show, but my mom is completely obsessed with her and won’t shut up about how she wishes I were a daughter like her. Huh, she actually looks better in person, even without any makeup on. I know, I’ll get her to give me an autograph, my mom will absolutely love it.”
Lei Qingyi was truly a man of action. He rushed out of the room to get his notebook, fully intending to get Yan Huan to autograph not one, but several, pages.
A deep frown appeared on Lu Yi’s face. Lei Qingyi had just unwittingly explained his strange feeling of deja vu with the woman.
So her name was Yan Huan, and this was what she looked like. She had been pretty enough on TV, but she was even more beautiful in person.
The nurse pulled Yan Huan’s sleeve up, and was shocked to see the large purple bruise on her arm.
The doctor took one look and said, “She’s already had her blood taken, I see.”
He pointed to her other arm. “We’ll use her other arm, then.”
The nurse immediately rolled the other sleeve up. This arm seemed okay.
Lu Yi could not stop staring at the purple bruise on Yan Huan’s arm. She had had her blood taken? Why?
The emergency room was extremely busy and chaotic and Lu Yi stood like a frosty ice sculpture in one corner of the room, out of the way of the medical staff. He kept his gaze fixed upon the unconscious woman, and the purple bruise on her arm.
Yan Huan had been completely out of it, but now she had gradually begin to come back to consciousness. Her eyes opened, and she stared in confusion at her stark white surroundings.
Where was she?
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Her chapped cherry lips twitched. She turned her head and saw, through bleary eyes, the indistinct silhouette of a man. She blinked until the image before her slowly came into focus. When she saw who it was, a jolt of fear went through her.
She subconsciously placed her hand on her lower abdomen.
It was flat. There was no pain, no injury.
For a moment there, she thought she had returned to her previous life. Back then, she had lied alone on a hospital bed, on the brink of death, with this very same man standing before her, silently watching her with his dark, calm eyes.
He was now sitting on a chair nearby, leafing through a document. She wondered what he was reading.
Suddenly, the man stilled, as though he had realized something. Not willing to face him just yet, Yan Huan immediately shut her eyes again and pretended she was still asleep.
Lu Yi placed the medical record in his hand on the table. On the page he had turned to were the following words:
Blood type: Rh negative, type AB.
This was an incredible coincidence. Or was it?
He stood up, walked over to Yan Huan, and pulled the blanket over her. He did not know that Yan Huan’s hands were clenched tight under the blanket, her fingernails digging into the palms of her hands.
Soon after, she heard the door open and close. She knew then that the man was no longer in the room; the air around her seemed less fraught with tension now that he was gone.
Yan Huan opened her eyes. She sat up and stared at the needle on the back of her hand. She wanted to pull it out, run away, and escape to a place where no one knew her. She wanted to hide from the rest of the world.
But she knew that was impossible.
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