Chapter Seventy-Six: Who Are You, and Who Am I

One year later

In a private hospital in France, a French nurse noticed that the hands of the woman who had lain in bed for a year were slowly moving, and though her eyes remained closed, her pupils were shifting beneath her lids. The nurse’s face lit up with joy as she rushed out of the ward, shouting excitedly in French, “Dr. Abel, Dr. Abel, she’s awake! She’s finally awake!”

Hearing the nurse’s cry, Dr. Abel immediately dashed out of his room, nearly colliding with her. Just managing to stop in time, he asked in astonishment, “Who’s awake? Who did you say woke up?”

The nurse, panting, replied, “The Chinese woman who has been here for a year.”

Before she had even finished speaking, Abel was already running toward the ward. He found that the woman who had been in bed was now standing barefoot by the window, her back to him. Abel took out his mobile phone and dialed Zhao Qingwu’s number.

Zhao Qingwu, who was in the middle of a class, heard his phone buzzing incessantly on the desk. Flipping it over and seeing Abel’s name on the screen, he immediately stood up, pressed the answer button, and heard Abel’s jubilant voice: “She’s awake! Your girlfriend has finally woken up!”

Upon hearing this, Zhao Qingwu didn’t even have time to ask the professor for leave. He left his things on the desk, and in the bewildered stares of the professor and his classmates, he vanished from the classroom.

Driving as fast as he dared, Zhao Qingwu pressed the accelerator to the floor, speeding almost as if he were flying. After parking, he hurried towards the ward he had dreamed of for so long.

But when he reached the door, he stopped, uncertain. In what capacity should he face Mo Qinghan now? Should he tell her that his own sister had already married He Zheyu? Would Mo Qinghan, so newly awakened, be able to withstand such a truth? Hesitating for a long moment at the door, Zhao Qingwu finally summoned his courage and entered the room. Mo Qinghan, her long hair loose, leaned lightly against the window. Her delicate and beautiful face was framed by clear, innocent eyes that shone with a purity he had never seen before.

Tears glimmered in Zhao Qingwu’s eyes, but his face was alight with joy as he walked towards Mo Qinghan, arms outstretched, wanting to embrace her at last. But before he could even touch a strand of her hair, he was stunned by a sudden slap across the face.

Mo Qinghan spoke in a cold, steely tone. “Stay away from me. Touch me again and I’ll make you regret it.”

This scene was witnessed by Abel, who had just entered. He patted his forehead and muttered, “I knew this would happen. That’s what you get for hanging up on me so fast.”

Clutching his stinging cheek, Zhao Qingwu turned to Abel with a look of confusion and grievance. “What’s going on? Why did she hit me?”

Abel, smiling at Zhao Qingwu’s discomfiture, replied, “Isn’t there a saying in your country—‘Haste makes waste’? You can’t eat hot tofu in a hurry, right?”

“Can you not show off your knowledge in front of me? What on earth is happening?” Zhao Qingwu asked anxiously.

Abel, now serious, said, “Let’s talk in my office.” He left the ward, and after a moment’s pause, Zhao Qingwu followed.

In his office, Abel placed Mo Qinghan’s CT scans on the wall and turned on the light. Instantly, a previously blurry image of her brain appeared clear and sharp before Zhao Qingwu.

Pointing to the scan, Abel explained, “You said she jumped into a river from a great height. Perhaps she struck something hard when she landed, and some blood clots remained in her brain, which caused her to be unconscious for so long.”

“And now? Are there still blood clots in her brain?” Zhao Qingwu asked.

Abel unhurriedly switched the scan for a new one. “This is the CT I just performed. Look, the area where the blood clot was is now clear. That means there are no residual clots left in her brain.”

Zhao Qingwu, excited, said, “That’s wonderful.” But his joy quickly faded to worry. “Then why did she hit me? Did the fall make her lose her mind?”

Abel chuckled. “I think it’s you who got knocked senseless by that slap. She has amnesia—she simply doesn’t remember who you are. To her, you’re just a stranger, so…”

Zhao Qingwu lowered his eyes, murmuring to himself, “Amnesia—she’s forgotten everything from before.”

Thinking he was being addressed, Abel answered, “Yes, she’s forgotten everything, even who she is.”

A bitter smile played on Zhao Qingwu’s lips. “Perhaps that’s not such a bad thing for her. If she remembered everything, I can’t guarantee she wouldn’t try to end her life again.” He hesitated, then asked, “Apart from amnesia, is there anything else wrong with her body?”

Abel adjusted his glasses. “Did she undergo an abortion before jumping into the river?”

Zhao Qingwu stared at Abel in shock. “Are you serious?”

Unimpressed by Zhao Qingwu’s reaction, Abel’s tone grew reproachful. “It seems you hurt her deeply before. That’s why she left you so resolutely.”

The room fell silent for a long moment before Abel finally said, “She may never be able to become a mother.”

Zhao Qingwu’s eyes immediately filled with tears. He drew a deep breath, exhaled slowly, and forced a faint smile. “None of that matters to me. As long as she’s alive, nothing else is important. Can I take her home now?”

Hearing this, Abel’s own anxiety finally eased. He raised his eyebrows and replied, “Of course.”

The two men rose together and returned to Mo Qinghan’s ward. Seeing that she was still wary of Zhao Qingwu, Abel had the nurse bring her the photos of Zhao Qingwu sitting by her bedside during her coma.

Upon seeing the photos, Mo Qinghan gradually relaxed her guard, recognizing that the gentle young man before her was the same person as in the pictures.

Once convinced, Abel motioned for the nurse to leave with him, quietly closing the door behind them.

Mo Qinghan remained by the window, her pale cheeks tinged with a faint blush, her voice shy and gentle as she asked, “Does your face still hurt?”

Zhao Qingwu shook his head, his eyes brimming with affection. “It doesn’t hurt. I’m only worried you might have hurt your hand.”

At his candid words, Mo Qinghan blushed deeply, her flush spreading from her neck to the tips of her ears, nervously tugging at her sleeves.

Zhao Qingwu found her shyness utterly endearing. He wanted to tease her further, but feared scaring her, so he cleared his throat and asked, “Aren’t you curious who I am?”

Mo Qinghan slowly raised her gaze, her bright eyes blinking as she asked, “Who are you? And who am I?”

Zhao Qingwu was about to say her surname, but stopped, staring vacantly out the window. Noticing, Mo Qinghan glanced outside as well and asked, “What are you looking at?”

Pulled back by her voice, Zhao Qingwu smiled. “Nothing. Your name is Murong An.” Then, pointing to himself, he said, “My name is Zhao Qingwu. I’m your boyfriend.”

“Do I have any family?” Mo Qinghan asked.

After a pause, Zhao Qingwu replied, “I know you must have many questions after waking up. Let’s go home first, and then I’ll organize all your information for you. You can look at it then, all right?”

Mo Qinghan nodded. “All right.”

April in France could still be quite chilly. Zhao Qingwu took off his coat and draped it over Mo Qinghan’s shoulders, carefully placing his hand around her waist. Seeing she made no objection, he held her a little more closely and said, “Tomorrow we’ll go shopping for clothes that suit you. Today you’ll have to go home in your hospital gown.”

Mo Qinghan said nothing, simply following Zhao Qingwu out of the ward.

Back at Zhao Qingwu’s apartment, Mo Qinghan found herself liking everything about the place. The decor was simple and the colors were subdued, all in a minimalist style.

Blushing, she took off the coat draped over her shoulders and asked, “May I take a shower first? I can’t stand the smell of medicine on me any longer.”

“Of course. Would you mind wearing my robe?” Zhao Qingwu asked gently.

Mo Qinghan nodded, following him to the bedroom. After handing her the robe, he opened the bathroom door and gestured for her to enter. Once inside, Mo Qinghan hung up the robe, turned the switch, and suddenly the shower sprayed down from above. In that instant, memories of nearly drowning flashed through her mind. Terror surged up from deep within her, and in a panic, she flung open the bathroom door and ran out.

Zhao Qingwu, in the kitchen preparing dinner, dropped what he was doing and rushed out. He found Mo Qinghan standing in the living room, soaked to the skin, her face as pale as a ghost, her body trembling.

He slowed his pace and approached her gently, his voice soft and reassuring. “It’s all right. Don’t be afraid. I’m here, I’m here.” Only when he saw the terror fade from her face did he hold her shivering form in his arms and ask, “What happened? Why are you so scared?”

Mo Qinghan’s voice trembled as she spoke. “When the water came down from the shower, I felt like I couldn’t breathe, as though I were drowning again. No matter how I struggled, I felt myself sinking deeper and deeper.”