TTB C17

Chapter 17

14 “What are you doing?”

In the inpatient corridor.

Tang Ailian’s shoulders hunched, like a little mouse long hidden in the dark, suddenly found by people. “O‑okay… but I need to pack a few things.”

“You may only bring necessary medication and an outer layer—no phones or electronics,” He Lin said, pausing. “If all checks out after cooperating, returning won’t take long.”

For now, Tang Ailian was among the suspects in Guo Mucun’s homicide; before interrogation, careful supervision was needed to prevent escape, self‑harm, or violence.

Understanding, she lowered her head and thought a moment. “Forget it. I don’t have anything to take anyway.”

Cheng Xiaoyi stepped into the restroom to search her.

They were about to leave—two steps out—when Tang halted. “May I tell my client? I can’t just leave her without a word.”

He Lin nodded and stepped aside to let her in.

As the door opened, scolding erupted from within. A woman who had been lying down sat up. “What’s the racket? In broad daylight—won’t you let me sleep? Don’t you know I’m about to have surgery?”

Through the crack, He Lin saw a gaunt, elderly woman with a shock of disheveled white hair—clearly gravely ill.

Eyes reddening, Tang said, “I have to go—just letting you know.”

“I don’t care why,” the old woman snapped. “Your service time isn’t up! Changing aides again? That’s breach. You’ll compensate me!”

“My husband passed away. I need to cooperate with police. They can arrange someone to help you—”

A used tissue ball flew and struck Tang’s head, smearing filth in her hair. Tang’s face went bloodless; tears pooled in her eyes.

That was enough for He Lin. He drew Tang back and stepped in front of her.

Seeing someone stand up for Tang, the old woman relented, glaring as she grumbled, “Get out, get out—don’t expect the final payment. My money isn’t that easy to earn.”

“Sorry,” Tang bowed, eyes dim. She wiped away tears and followed He Lin out.

Cheng gently cleaned Tang’s hair. “Too much. Are all patients here this unreasonable?”

Tang was used to it. “Their bodies are ill—their moods follow.”

He Lin hadn’t cuffed Tang. Turning back, he realized Li Shang—who had been shadowing him and taking notes—was gone.

A crease formed between his brows. Before he could ask, a nurse rushed up. “Captain—an aide is on the rooftop platform—looks like she wants to jump! Your colleague followed her. Please come quickly…”

He Lin told Cheng and the auxiliaries to stay with Tang, then ran for the 14th‑floor terrace.

It was right beside that ward.

The 14th floor, second from top of the inpatient wing, had a small terrace for drying linens—ringed by a chest‑high guardrail.

Arriving, He Lin saw a young woman in blue aide uniform standing outside the rail—and Li Shang a few meters away.

The woman was the same Liu Yushu they had seen in the case files.

—

Minutes earlier, after questioning Tang, Li Shang had spotted Liu moving furtively among the crowd—her expression off. He frowned and followed.

She headed straight to the terrace, wobbling but unhesitating as she walked to the rail, climbed over, and stood trembling on the ledge.

Li’s heart leapt. “Liu Yushu! What are you doing?”

She looked over. “You’re here to take us away, aren’t you?”

“No,” Li said quickly, understanding her fear. “We’re not here for you.”

“Liar—how do you know my name then?” Red‑rimmed eyes widened. “I saw them—the flowers are purple. Even if not this time, next time they’ll come. Someone always comes to take us back!”

Every morning, she checked the flowers at the desk—red, purple…

Those petals were like needles into her chest—sending tremors she couldn’t stop.

Li, usually unflappable, felt panic before the woman poised to fall. “We won’t tell anyone where you are. You are safe. We won’t send you home.”

“Lies,” she panted. “He promised me before—liars are always liars. If… if I go back, if he doesn’t beat me to death, I will end up killing someone!”

She was cornered.

Her marriage was a nightmare she couldn’t escape. Not yet thirty—dark circles, rough hands, hair falling in clumps—sometimes she feared she could die anywhere, anytime.

Li frowned; her nerves were flayed raw—her mind at the breaking point.

Endless heavy labor, sleepless nights, the terror of being found—all had piled up, crushing breath and will. The police action became the last straw.

He glanced around, mind racing through her file, hunting for any thread to console. He strained for words—to pull her back.

But Li didn’t have rich emotional experience; reason had long governed him. He couldn’t find the right words.

Too much reason can’t rescue a heart in freefall. After a beat, he did his best to redirect. “Don’t be rash!”

Liu looked down—every passerby below drew her envy: they had lives. She had none.

“I’ve had enough of days worse than death!”

Pale, she pictured her fall—body shattered, blood fanning out. A voice whispered: that’s not the worst fate. Jump—you’ll be free.

More than death, she feared the ever‑ready slap, the kick to her belly, the endless denigration. Though she fled that hell, the ghost of fear clung on—pain still gnawed her, even in midnight dreams—terror and rage tearing her apart.

Nothing seemed a better release than death.

She opened her arms, lifted one foot—to embrace freedom.

In that instant, Li tightened like a drawn bow. If she moved again, he would spring. At this distance, with his current strength, there was no certainty—but there was no better option. He would not let her fall.

At that moment, He Lin and the nurse rushed in.

Seeing He Lin, Li’s taut heart eased a notch; the cramping in his muscles began to release.

The sight of He Lin brought a feeling—he would have a way. He would save her.

He Lin didn’t waste words—nor did he show any visible tension at her foot hanging in space. He walked straight up, hand extended—gentle, almost chivalrous—but voice firm, unbrooking refusal. “Come down.”

Seeing no movement, he added, “No one is here to grab you. Your husband doesn’t know you’re here. But if this drags on and becomes a scene—he’ll find you.”

The words hit home; Liu’s face shifted, body shivering. Li held his breath.

But Liu steadied—another thought rising: He must not find me—not alive, not as a corpse.

She didn’t fear death; but the man was a terror greater than death.

Watching her shift, He Lin closed the distance another step. “You haven’t divorced. If you jump now, he is still your legal husband. Only he can claim your body. He will plan your funeral. Picture it—ridiculous, isn’t it? You lying there, still as stone. People circling. That man sobbing theatrically, declaring you the love of his life. Saying you should be buried together in the end—so you will spend lifetimes with him. Even as a handful of ashes—you won’t escape him.”

“Oh—and by the way,” He Lin added, a sharp smile touching his mouth. “Your estate? All his. The money you earned from sleepless nights caring for patients—what will he do with it? Perhaps another poor woman will soon live your old life. And all of it—because of this moment’s impulse.”

The words landed—each a strike. Liu gagged dryly; her heart hammered in her throat.

Clarity bloomed; her mind reengaged.

Yes—they were still married on paper. Even dead, she would have no peace.

She could not let him pollute her passage to the Yellow Springs; she could not let another innocent follow her path.