Chapter 3

Chapter 3

I was actually planning to reply that day.

But Qi Tan ended up hospitalized in the middle of the night with a stomachache. I rushed to the hospital, forgetting to even grab my phone. Old Yang tried to comfort me, saying, “Oh, it’s nothing. He’s just been getting too deep into his role lately and hasn’t been eating enough.”

We had argued about this several times.

In reality, it was more like me arguing unilaterally. Qi Tan would agree to all my demands, but after hearing it so often, it started to feel like he was just patronizing me. So, after Qi Tan’s IV drip finished and he was back to normal in the early hours of the morning, I went home and sent him a message out of spite:

[Hello. There is no way I’m letting you charm your way out of it this time.]

Qi Tan replied quickly: [Where are you going?]

In the past, whenever we fought, I would go away to clear my head. This time was no different, and Qi Tan was used to it. He even helped me find a place.

“Milan is beautiful. There’s a hotel I stayed at while filming before. You go first, and I’ll find you in two days after we wrap up.”

I told him I wasn’t going.

Then, the flight to Milan arrived on time at 7:00 PM. I snapped a photo of my ticket and sent it over. But in the next instant, everything turned into a grotesque nightmare.

A child was wailing. A psychopathic killer, his eyes bloodshot with rage, brandished a blood-dripping dagger as he looked toward the boy. Everyone in the airport was fearing for their lives. In a moment of sheer panic, I grabbed the child and pulled him into my arms to protect him.

The atmosphere became deathly silent.

Pain and death surrounded me without restraint. After several stabs, my breathing slowed. The child’s large tears fell on me as he cried out, calling me “Sister.”

I patted his head and collapsed to the ground, my strength failing.

At the same time, the police subdued the killer.

That day, all of Weibo exploded. Countless people mourned me late into the night, weeping bitter tears. Qi Tan’s bloodless face was taut with tension. My body was covered with a white sheet, and though his hands trembled, he didn’t dare to pull it back.

Finally, he lifted it.

The room was a stark, clinical white. Qi Tan looked like a broken clay doll, utterly devastated. A bitter smile hooked at his lips as he stumbled back, finally collapsing onto the floor in uncontrollable sobs.

He called my name, but no sound actually came out.

I could hear him, his broken voice thick with agonizing pain.

Every word he spoke was like swallowing knives. He said, “Ning Sangsang, stop being angry, okay? Please come back. I won’t do anything else; I’ll just stay with you.”

“I’ll eat on time…”

“I’ll go to Milan with you-”

Old Yang and Qi Tan’s team were all in tears. The collective grief was like a massive tornado, silently sweeping across the entire country.

That day, so many people on Weibo were calling for me to come back.

Even the anti-fans logged on: [Ning Sangsang, if you’ve had enough of this act, then come back.]

They subsequently dug up the fact that Qi Tan had actually arranged a massive proposal feast in a small town in Milan. At my intended destination, he had invited our mutual friends and other artists from the industry.

Everyone knew except for me.

My body was ice cold, but Qi Tan refused to accept the fact of my death. Like a stubborn, ignorant child, he pulled me up, insisting on warming me with the residual heat of his arms, trying to make me wake up.

The day I was cremated was an opportunity my mother found while Qi Tan was unconscious after three days of not eating or drinking. So, when he woke up again, it was only to wait for me to turn into a pile of ash. He clutched the funeral urn so tightly his fingers turned purple.

Yet, he controlled his strength so as not to hurt me.

“Ning Sangsang, are you lying to me?”

“Why aren’t you answering me?”

His eyes were bloodshot as he murmured to the silent urn.

Later, by the endless sea, he slowly released me into the water. Gulls soared freely and dolphins lined up, yet Qi Tan still wouldn’t let me go. It was my mother who couldn’t bear to watch any longer and took the urn back.

“Let the dead rest in peace. Qi Tan, you can’t be like this, do you understand?”

But Qi Tan couldn’t hear a word.

About a month later, Qi Tan had lost thirty pounds. He missed all the promotional events and team-building for his TV dramas. One day, Old Yang went to his house to pick up a contract that was about to expire, only to open the door and find Qi Tan unconscious.

There was also a glaring arterial wound on his wrist.

He was treated like that year after year, and Qi Tan got better.

Even the psychologists believed he was improving.

However, on the night of the awards ceremony, Qi Tan fell ill again.

So, after stepping off the stage, dressed in his fine suit, he looked at the worried crowd gathering around him. He subconsciously touched his scarred wrist with anxiety and looked at Old Yang.

“What’s wrong? Is there still no news from Sangsang?”