Mo Ming now needs soone to care for him around the clock, so naturally, Gu Qimiao hasn’t gone ho at night.
Shen Yanchen walked into her bedroom, sat by the bed, and ran his palm over the place she slept, now cold and devoid of her warmth.
Yet he could still imagine the scene of her lying there quietly asleep at night.
Her belongings were still in the room, but it was difficult to feel her presence.
The thought that she was now by Mo Ming’s side left a bitter taste in his heart.
When she called in the afternoon, she still awkwardly called him Brother Yan Chen, her tone more polite than ever; his original plan to confess was disrupted by Mo Ming’s awakening.
He pulled out a cigarette pack from his pocket, took one out and placed it between his fingers, lit it with a lighter, and glanced at the ashtray by the bed. He rembered it was still filled with ash and butts the last ti he used it, but now it was spotless, cleaned ticulously by her.
He flicked so ash into it, exhaled a puff of smoke, and then moved his feet onto the bed, leaning against the headboard, smoking while picking up the book by the bedside, an art collection she often looked at, now sowhat worn from frequent use.
Flipping through page by page, he could still see her delicate handwriting, annotating terms with so lines she had sketched.
It was clear that she was very dedicated to her art, and her current achievents were well-deserved.
Smoking and flipping through the pages, his mind wasn’t really on the book but imagining her reading it and diligently making notes.
On one of the pages, he suddenly found a familiar drawing in the blank space.
Even though it was just a sketch, he imdiately recognized that the person in the drawing was him.
His previously gloomy face broke out into a smile; had she drawn this while thinking about him? This woman never ceased to surprise him.
Continuing to flip through, he found that there were more such sketches, finding six in total just in this book.
He used to think that only he would miss her while busy with other things, but it turned out they both did.
Thinking about her secretly drawing these pictures, even without seeing it firsthand, he felt it must have been adorable.
If he could find his sketches in her art collection, wouldn’t there be more surprises in her other sketchbooks?
With that thought, he extinguished the cigarette butt in the ashtray, got off the bed, and walked to the desk, opening a few sketchbooks she kept in the drawer but couldn’t find his image. However, he noticed she organized her works ticulously, separating different styles into different books.
Unwilling to give up, he continued searching and finally found one in her backup art bag.
The cover was different from the others, more exquisite in design.
Flipping it open, the title page had a few words written in artistic script: "To the one I love the most."
Impatiently flipping to the next page, sure enough, it was his portrait.
She had captured the spirit and expression in his eyes perfectly, and the oil painting looked almost like a photo, very lifelike. Seeing the signature in the lower right corner, it was dated two years ago.
They had been apart for so long, did this an there were more sketchbooks like this one? Moreover, judging by the art style, it seed like she had painted it after becoming famous. Maybe she often used his photos as references while studying before.
As he continued flipping through, he found various styles – sketches, quick drawings, watercolor...
Almost every technique she knew was represented, so looking like news photos, others from her imagination.
He wondered how many tis she had drawn him to capture every expression so vividly.
Rembering the words on the title page, Shen Yanchen’s mood brightened significantly.
How could he ever let go of such an adorable woman?
Reaching the last page, the image depicted the two of them. She was wearing a white dress, holding a bouquet, and he was holding her hand. They stood on a grassy field with a forest in the background, sunlight slanting down. The date below was the day after their wedding.
Having finished, he felt strangely lancholic, or rather, he felt heartache for her.
She loved him so quietly yet never let him realize it, even denying her feelings when faced with him.
When alone, did she often hold the sketchbook in a daze or even shed tears?
The thought made his heart ache, wishing he could hold her tightly now and tell her: "You are also the one I love the most."
He closed the sketchbook, grabbed his car keys, and rushed out the door, driven by an impulse to see her imdiately.
The car sped through the night. The drive from Mai City to Shang City usually took over an hour, but he made it in less than an hour.
Parking in the hospital’s garage, he walked into the elevator and pressed the button for Mo Ming’s floor.
It was already late, and the hospital was quieter than during the day, with almost no one in the corridors.
Walking straight to the door of the ward, he found it closed.
He peeked through the window on the door; Mo Ming was lying on the bed, Gu Qimiao resting by his bedside, both fast asleep.
The impulsive restlessness cald down then, and his hand fell on the doorknob but didn’t turn it.
Not because the scene stung his eyes, but because he didn’t want to disturb her sleep.
He knew this wasn’t the first or second ti. Before, when Mo Ming was hospitalized, she was always the one staying by his side, treating it as her duty and feeling it was her responsibility.
Now that she was his wife, she should only worry and care for him, her husband!
His gaze lingered on her for a long while before he finally turned the knob and walked in softly.
She was deeply asleep, but Mo Ming opened his eyes. Shen Yanchen didn’t avoid his gaze, instead, he walked up to Gu Qimiao’s side.
With his gaze, he warned Mo Ming that this woman was his, and he wouldn’t back down or let go.
Mo Ming rely smiled nonchalantly and gently cupped Gu Qimiao’s head, his hand landing by her ear, blocking her hearing, then softly spoke to Shen Yanchen, "Why are you here?"
Seeing his hand on Gu Qimiao’s head, Shen Yanchen’s face darkened. Worried about waking her, he rely furrowed his brows and looked unhappily at that hand, replying to Mo Ming, "Nothing, just ca to see my wife."
Mo Ming had already known about their marriage, so he wasn’t surprised. Instead, he lightly played with a strand of Gu Qimiao’s hair by her temple, clearly provoking Shen Yanchen.
"Your wife? Do you think I don’t know why you got married? Now that I’m awake, if you can stay here until dawn, I guarantee she’ll ask you for a divorce the mont she wakes up."
Before, Shen Yanchen might have felt uncertain, but now that he had figured out her thoughts, he wouldn’t back down just because of Mo Ming’s words. "Fine, just wait and see if this marriage will end."
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