Chapter 26: High Fever

I saw Hua Jingjing sobbing with humiliation and fury, her voice laced with loathing for me so deep it seemed to sear her very soul. For a moment, I was at a loss for words. Though she had brought this all upon herself, a young woman being shamed to this degree in front of another person—especially a man—was undeniably cruel.

I even imagined if our roles had been reversed, I’d probably be so mortified and enraged that I’d want to kill someone; and she was, after all, a woman. I realized I might have gone too far. At the very least, I shouldn’t have teased her that way. For a girl, having her most private moment exposed before someone else—worse, a man—and then being mocked, would deal a devastating blow to her self-esteem. It was the kind of hurt that could destroy her pride, perhaps even more than if she’d been killed outright.

Hua Jingjing no longer even looked at me. She curled up in the car seat, sobbing softly. I didn’t know what to say, so I just smoked one cigarette after another. We sat in silence, frozen in time inside the car.

I don’t know how long passed before Hua Jingjing began to moan again. Clutching her stomach, she writhed in her seat, unable to find comfort. She bit her lower lip, her face turning pale, and after a while, she grabbed her purse and frantically searched through it. But after rummaging through the entire bag, she couldn’t find what she needed.

I knew she was looking for tissue paper. Seeing her like that, I grew anxious as well.

She started patting her pockets, searching the seats, but there wasn’t a scrap of paper to be found. Desperate, she was on the verge of tears again. I automatically started checking my own pockets and, reaching into the outer pocket of my coat, I pulled out an envelope. It was the resignation letter I’d handed to Manager Gu yesterday.

I wouldn’t need that resignation letter any longer, and what Hua Jingjing needed most right now was simply paper.

I handed her the envelope without saying a word. I knew that, at this point, anything I said would only provoke or humiliate her further. Hua Jingjing glanced up at the envelope in my hand, stunned for a moment. Her first instinct was: I’d rather die than accept anything from you!

But then the pain in her abdomen reminded her that refusing my help would be even worse than death. She glared at me in anger, snatched the envelope from my hand, flung open the car door, and ran toward the dirt mound.

Given her condition, I doubted she could drive. But I couldn’t drive either. What would we do? Call for help? Who would I call? And where exactly was I now?

I took out my phone, but for a moment didn’t know what to do. I decided to wait until Hua Jingjing returned and discuss it with her.

After more than ten minutes, Hua Jingjing finally came back. Her complexion was even worse, her body even weaker. She collapsed into the seat, eyes tightly shut. I noticed her face was as white as paper.

I said, “Maybe we should call an ambulance. You look really sick. You need a hospital.”

She didn’t answer. She lay with her eyes closed for a while, then opened them and said coldly, “Get out of the car.”

I was confused. “What?”

“Get out of my car! I don’t want to see you!”

I was stunned. No way—she was really going to throw me out here, in the middle of nowhere, far from the city? Wasn’t that as good as killing me?

But seeing the determined hatred in her eyes, I knew there was no point in arguing. At that moment, she probably wished she could kill me herself—how could she possibly let me stay? I sighed, turned, and opened the door. Before I got out, I hesitated and asked, “Are you sure you’ll be okay on your own?”

She continued coldly, “I’d rather die than have you meddle! Get out!”

Speechless, I stepped out and closed the door behind me.

The Ferrari roared to life, leaving me alone in the wilderness—no villages ahead or behind, nothing but the cold wind. In an instant, the car disappeared down the narrow lane, its taillights flickering in the distant dark.

The wind was bitterly cold.

I raised my collar and managed a wry smile. No matter what, I had to reach the main road if I hoped to catch a ride. But who knew how many kilometers it was to the highway?

Breathing white plumes, I started walking. The lane seemed endless. I remembered the Ferrari had taken at least ten minutes to drive from the main road to here—and at that speed! How long would it take me on foot?

Two hours later, I had my answer. I finally emerged onto the highway. Checking my phone, I saw it was past midnight.

It was called a highway, but at this hour, not a single car was in sight—let alone a person. I’d have to keep walking. If I recalled correctly, the left fork led to the expressway, and there was a gas station beneath the exit ramp. Maybe there would be someone there, or perhaps I could flag down a ride back to the city.

But how far would that be? Maybe I’d have to walk until dawn.

As I trudged on, I found myself feeling much less guilty about Hua Jingjing. Sure, I’d given her diarrhea, but she’d thrown me out of the car and forced me to walk all night, until my legs were numb. In the end, neither of us had the upper hand; we’d both suffered and could call it even.

After another hour or so, I suddenly spotted a car parked by the roadside up ahead. Its lights were off; I couldn’t tell if anyone was inside. Still, the sight filled me with hope, and I hurried over.

It was—astonishingly—Hua Jingjing’s Ferrari. What was it doing here? And where was she? Then it dawned on me—she must have been overcome by another bout of illness and gone off to relieve herself again. Instinctively, I scanned the dark fields beside the road, but couldn’t see a thing.

But what did it matter if I found her? She’d never let me in the car again. I might as well keep walking. I resolved not to bother with her, not to beg. Even if I had to walk until sunrise, I’d make it back on my own. As I walked, I silently encouraged myself.

Suddenly, a thought struck me. Something wasn’t right. It had taken me three hours to walk here, but the Ferrari could have made it in thirty minutes. That meant Hua Jingjing had been out here for at least two and a half hours. That was far from normal. Had something happened to her?

My mind raced with possible dangers she might have encountered, and my palms began to sweat. I spun around and ran into the fields near the Ferrari, shouting, “Hua Jingjing! Hua Jingjing! Where are you? Can you hear me?...”

The field was silent. No one answered.

I grew even more anxious. Where could Hua Jingjing have gone? What if she’d run into someone dangerous? I didn’t even dare imagine. I pulled out my phone, using its light as a makeshift flashlight, calling her name as I searched the dark fields.

The farther I searched, the more frantic I became. Not a single trace, not even a corner of her clothes. Sweat poured down my face—I couldn’t tell if it was from fear or exertion. My thoughts raced: This is bad, really bad. I shouldn’t have pushed things this far. If something happened to Hua Jingjing—if she died—I’d never forgive myself. A life was at stake.

I shouted until my throat went hoarse, but Hua Jingjing had vanished as if into thin air. Just then, my phone beeped—a low-battery warning. Desperate, I shouted with all my remaining strength, “Hua Jingjing! If you can hear me, say something! I’m sorry! I won’t upset you anymore! Please, just forgive me…”

The light died. My phone shut off, and darkness fell again over the field. I kept running, when suddenly my foot slipped and I tumbled into a ditch.

Luckily, the ditch was shallow—about a meter deep. I quickly scrambled up, and then caught a whiff of a foul odor—the same kind I’d smelled earlier by the mound. My heart leapt. Could it be…?

I hurriedly powered my phone back on. Even with no battery left, it could last a few more minutes in emergencies. By the dim glow, I saw her—only four or five meters away, lying on her side, motionless at the bottom of the ditch. She hadn’t even pulled up her pants. She’d collapsed mid-act.

My relief at having found her was overwhelming. In that moment, her state of undress meant nothing. I rushed to her side. Her skin was burning hot to the touch, and her forehead was ablaze with fever—far hotter than I’d anticipated, likely above forty degrees.

For an adult, a fever that high is life-threatening. No wonder she’d passed out before finishing, and after lying exposed to the elements for so long, her condition could only have worsened.

I scooped her up in my arms. She probably hadn’t wiped herself yet, and though it wasn’t a big deal and I could just pull up her pants, I knew most girls had a strong sense of cleanliness. She’d be deeply uncomfortable if she woke up like this.

I searched my pockets and found only an empty cigarette pack with one cigarette left. I tore apart the pack, crumpled the paper into a ball, and did my best to wipe her clean. The paper was so small that I had to use extra force to do a decent job. Folding the paper, I wiped her again. The cigarette box paper was stiff, and her delicate skin probably never endured such rough treatment. She groaned softly, the pain rousing her from unconsciousness.

She opened her eyes, saw me, and murmured weakly, “Tang Qian? What are you doing? That really hurts…” Her head dropped against my chest, and she fainted again.

I tossed away the paper and called to her, “Hey, wake up! Wake up!”

She didn’t respond, barely reacting as I patted her cheek—only muttering faintly, her fever clearly muddling her senses. I knew if I didn’t get her to a hospital immediately, she could die here. God, how far was the nearest hospital? How could I get her there?

I dared not think further. Every second counted. I yanked her pants up—comfort would have to wait—and lifted her in my arms, scrambling out of the ditch and running toward the highway.