Hurt? Then Let Me Help

Song Xunqing was still smiling, but her attention had already shifted to the newcomer. She sized the person up, from that far-too-young face to the unbranded suit, then to those eyes that somehow looked vaguely familiar. Song Xunqing rifled through her memory and finally remembered who it was: the little companion Xi Zhen had brought back from who knew where all those years ago.

The disdain on her face deepened, the corners of her mouth curving with contempt and a trace of amused mockery.

So many years had passed, and this person still looked exactly the same, wearing an unbranded suit and standing there with the same proper posture as back then, when she had stood behind Xi Zhen all those years ago. She had trailed after Xi Zhen like a little lackey then; who knew whose errands she was running now.

Song Xunqing had thought some big shot had arrived. In the end, it was only an old acquaintance.

“Well, well,” Song Xunqing drawled, her voice thick with sarcasm. “Isn’t this the little kid who used to follow Xi Zhen around? What, you’re still with her after all these years?” She paused, then went on, “I told you years ago Xi Zhen wasn’t a good person. You just wouldn’t listen.”

Li Xingqing didn’t even look at her. Her gaze was fixed on Xi Zhen, and her brows drew together very slightly, as if anger were gathering beneath the surface.

To Song Xunqing, though, that only made her more pleased with herself. “What, you’re here to keep her from drinking?” She stepped forward half a pace, picked up the glass that had just been refilled on the table, and held it out toward Li Xingqing with a teasing look. “You’re certainly loyal. I just wonder whether you’re up to it.”

She pushed the glass forward again until it was almost touching Li Xingqing’s chest.

No one around them dared make a sound. Xi Zhen’s assistant, who had hurried after Li Xingqing, finally caught up; when she saw Song Xunqing’s move, she frowned and was about to step in to stop her, but Li Xingqing held her back.

Li Xingqing slipped one arm around Xi Zhen’s waist and finally looked up at Song Xunqing. There was no anger in her eyes, no embarrassment, not even a trace of offense. She looked at Song Xunqing the way one might look at a clown performing onstage.

Song Xunqing felt a little uneasy under that stare. She tugged at the corner of her mouth, wanting to say something to cover the faint guilt rising in her chest, but before she could, she was interrupted.

“President Li?” A cautious, probing voice came from the side. Zhou Ping had somehow squeezed through the crowd and made his way over, his smile blooming on his face like a flower as he bent at the waist, his posture so low it looked as though he were speaking to some great figure.

“President Li, why didn’t you say you were coming in advance? I could’ve met you at the door—”

The smile froze on Song Xunqing’s face.

President Li? She looked at Zhou Ping’s ingratiating expression, then at the young woman she had just called a “little kid,” and her mind went blank with a sudden buzzing, as if something had exploded.

Who else could make Zhou Ping address her so respectfully as President Li, other than that Li Group boss who claimed to have a grudge with Xi Zhen?

Only then did Zhou Ping notice that Song Xunqing’s expression was off. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her face go white, then red, her lips trembling slightly. The wineglass in her hand had been set down at some point, and she stood there with both hands empty, as if she had just been slapped in public and still hadn’t recovered.

His heart lurched. He looked at Li Xingqing again. President Li had no expression whatsoever; after giving Song Xunqing a brief glance, she had already turned her full attention back to Xi Zhen.

It was over. Zhou Ping’s heart sank again. No matter how the outside world spread rumors that Xi Zhen and Li Xingqing had fallen out, it had all been conjecture. Looking at the way Li Xingqing was looking at Xi Zhen now, how could this be a grudge? It was clearly... an old love not yet forgotten.

He didn’t dare think any further. He forced himself to speak, dryly. “President Li, um... Miss Song may not have known. She didn’t mean it; there must’ve been some misunderstanding...”

Li Xingqing finally deigned to look at him, just once, without saying a word.

The smile on Zhou Ping’s face could no longer hold. He opened his mouth, wanting to explain something, but it felt as though someone had clamped a hand around his throat; not a single word would come out.

“President Zhou,” Li Xingqing said at last. Her voice wasn’t loud, but every word was crystal clear. “You invited her?”

Zhou Ping went deathly pale. His lips trembled as he wanted to say that Song Xunqing had come on her own, that he hadn’t arranged it, that he wanted to distance himself from this completely. But he knew it was useless. He had invited the person, he had arranged the situation, and Song Xunqing had been called here to “help.” Now that something had gone wrong, he couldn’t wash his hands of it.

“President Li, I...” His voice shook badly. “I really didn’t know. I thought...”

Thought what? Thought Li Xingqing hated Xi Zhen? Thought helping Li Xingqing teach Xi Zhen a lesson would earn her favor? Now that he thought about it, the idea was as stupid as a joke.

A complete joke.

Li Xingqing didn’t bother listening to him finish. She turned her head to look at Xi Zhen in her arms. Xi Zhen’s eyes were dazed, and she was still clutching the empty glass. Her cheeks were flushed from the alcohol, but the peach-blossom eyes that had once been so bright had lost all their color. Li Xingqing reached out and gently took the glass from her hand.

Xi Zhen’s fingers curled reflexively, as if she wanted to grab onto something, or as if she had already given up on grabbing onto anything at all. The glass was set down on the table with the faintest click, like something had finally come to rest.

“Xi Zhen,” Li Xingqing said, her voice much softer than before. “Are you coming with me or not?”

Xi Zhen heard her voice and slowly lifted her head. Those unfocused peach-blossom eyes searched for a long while before finally settling on Li Xingqing’s face. She looked for so long that Li Xingqing thought she might not answer, so long that all the surrounding noise receded into the distance. The whispers, the watchful eyes—all of it vanished. Li Xingqing felt as though her world had been reduced to only this pair of damp, faintly luminous eyes.

“...Coming.” Xi Zhen’s voice was very soft, but Li Xingqing heard it.

She bent down, slid one arm beneath Xi Zhen’s armpits, then reached the other under her knees and lifted her cleanly into her arms.

The person who had once looked invincible was now light beyond belief. Xi Zhen’s head rested against Li Xingqing’s shoulder; her hair brushed Li Xingqing’s neck, ticklish, carrying a familiar perfume scent mixed with a strong smell of alcohol.

Her arms hung limply at her sides, not wrapping around Li Xingqing’s neck the way drama scripts would have it. She was too drunk, so drunk she had no strength left at all. Xi Zhen lay quietly in Li Xingqing’s arms like a bird that had finally run out of strength and folded in on itself.

Li Xingqing’s arms tightened a little. She could feel Xi Zhen’s heartbeat through two layers of clothing: thump after thump, a little fast, as if the alcohol from earlier were still raging through her body, unable to find its way out.

She turned and carried her toward the door. Her high heels stepped onto the carpet, which should have made no sound at all; yet each step seemed to land on Zhou Ping’s pulse. Zhou Ping stood frozen in place, the smile on his face shattered beyond repair. Song Xunqing leaned against the table, one hand braced on it to keep from collapsing; her gaze followed that retreating back, her lips parting as if to speak, yet not a single word came out.

When they reached the doorway, Xi Zhen’s hand moved. That hand, which had been limp just a moment ago, somehow found the strength to clutch lightly at Li Xingqing’s lapel. She gripped it tightly, like a drowning person clinging to the last piece of driftwood.

Li Xingqing’s steps faltered. She only felt that the person in her arms was too light; so light it made her heart ache.

The banquet hall door shut, and the moment the room had just been holding its breath, it burst into noise.

“So President Li came for Xi Zhen...”

“Then what was all that about? Who started those rumors?”

“This time Zhou Ping is doomed...”

Zhou Ping closed his eyes and took a deep breath. It was over. Everything was over. Starlight, the general manager position, his last shot at turning things around; all of it was gone.

Li Xingqing carried Xi Zhen all the way to the car. Xi Zhen’s breathing warmed the side of her neck, fast and hot. Her eyelashes fluttered as though she wanted to open her eyes, and as though she had already given up resisting. From her mouth came half a sound now and then, like a protest, or like meaningless delirium.

Li Xingqing lowered her head, wanting to hear clearly what she was saying, but only caught a vague syllable; like her name, but not quite.

She was just about to tell the assistant to drive when she saw a figure suddenly dart out in front of the car.

“Where are you taking Sister Zhen?” A young girl blocked the front of the car, arms spread wide. Her hair had been blown messy by the wind, her eyes were red, and her lips were pressed into a tight line.

Li Xingqing rolled down the window. Night wind rushed inside, stirring Xi Zhen’s hair. She looked down at the person in her arms; Xi Zhen showed no sign of waking at all. Resting in the crook of her shoulder, she breathed steadily, though her brows were faintly furrowed, as if even in her dream she was uneasy.

“You’re her assistant?” Li Xingqing’s voice was a little cold as she glanced at Lin Runan.

Lin Runan nodded hard at once. Her gaze moved past Li Xingqing and landed on the person in her arms. Xi Zhen’s face was flushed with drink, her eyes closed, lashes lowered, unmoving as she leaned against Li Xingqing.

At the sight, Lin Runan’s eyes grew even redder. She took two steps forward, her voice trembling a little. “Sister Zhen... is she all right?”

Li Xingqing didn’t answer. She just lowered her head and looked at Xi Zhen once. The glance was very light, so light it seemed she was afraid of waking her. Lin Runan instantly seemed to understand something; her hands slowly lowered, though she still had no intention of leaving.

“I’ll take her home,” Li Xingqing said. “You don’t need to worry.”

Lin Runan bit her lip. Her eyes lingered on Xi Zhen’s face, then slowly moved to Li Xingqing, as if unwilling to concede, yet also as if she had already lost. Her eyes were still red. The tears that hadn’t fallen earlier were now stuck in her throat, unable to go down and unable to come up.

She had seen many sides of Xi Zhen: the exhaustion from staying up all night revising plans, the joy when good news arrived, the loneliness late at night... But she had never seen Xi Zhen like this, like a hedgehog that had gathered up all its thorns and was slowly revealing the soft, fragile belly beneath. Quietly leaning in someone’s arms, breathing evenly, as if she had finally found a place where she didn’t need to be strong.

That person was not her, and would never be her. Lin Runan’s fingernails dug into her palm until it went numb with pain.

She remembered the first day she met Xi Zhen. Back then she had just graduated, understood nothing, and had been so nervous during the interview that she could barely speak coherently. It had been Xi Zhen who poured her a glass of water and smiled, saying, “Don’t be nervous; I don’t bite.” The water had been warm, neither hot nor cold, just right to hold in one’s hand. Back then she thought, this person is really nice.

Only later did she learn that Xi Zhen was nice to everyone. Nice to collaborators, nice to colleagues, nice even to the auntie at the convenience store downstairs. Her kindness was even, restrained, measured; like an umbrella held open over everyone, enough to shelter them all, yet never letting anyone get too close.

Lin Runan had tried to get closer, then closer still. She had thought that as long as she was careful enough, patient enough, and stayed beside her long enough, she would eventually wait for Xi Zhen to turn back and look at her.

But Xi Zhen never looked back; not because she was deliberately refusing, but because she simply didn’t know someone was waiting. And now, Xi Zhen was leaning in another person’s arms, like a bird that had finally found its nest.

Lin Runan’s gaze fell on Li Xingqing. That beautiful face showed little expression, yet one hand was steady around Xi Zhen’s waist while the other shielded Xi Zhen’s face from the glare outside the window. The movement was too natural; so natural it seemed as though it had been done countless times, so natural it made Lin Runan’s chest sting.

She suddenly remembered a time when Xi Zhen had been drunk and she had sent her home. Xi Zhen had leaned back in the passenger seat in just this sort of posture, brow furrowed, breathing quick. At the time, Lin Runan had wanted to reach out and brush the hair from Xi Zhen’s forehead; her hand had gone out halfway before she pulled it back. She didn’t dare. She was afraid Xi Zhen would wake up; afraid Xi Zhen would see what was in her eyes; afraid that once that tiny, cautious affection was discovered, she would no longer even have the right to stand beside her.

But Li Xingqing dared. Not only did she dare reach out; she dared hold the whole person in her arms. Not only did she dare block the drink; she dared carry her away in front of everyone. Not only was she not afraid of being seen, she seemed to want the whole world to know that Xi Zhen was hers.

Lin Runan suddenly felt ridiculous. She had guarded herself for two years so carefully that she hadn’t even dared extend a hand. And Li Xingqing had only needed one night to make all her caution look as messy and worthless as ash scattered at the edge of a stove.

“Then... I’ll leave her to you,” her voice rasped like sandpaper.

But Li Xingqing didn’t give her time to continue. She had already seen the hidden meaning in Lin Runan’s eyes every time she looked at Xi Zhen. She had only stayed silent all this time because she wanted the other party to back off on her own. But now Xi Zhen was uncomfortable and needed to rest; she had no mood to listen to a loser’s self-pity here.

“Not trouble at all.” After saying that, Li Xingqing rolled up the window. The car fell quiet, leaving only Xi Zhen’s steady breathing and the low hum of the air conditioning.

Li Xingqing lowered her head and gently brushed the wind-tousled strand of hair from Xi Zhen’s forehead, tucking it back behind her ear. Xi Zhen’s lashes fluttered, as if she were about to wake, and as if some dream had caught hold of her and held her there; in the end, she still didn’t open her eyes.

“It’s all right now,” Li Xingqing said softly, her fingers slipping through Xi Zhen’s hair as she stroked it lightly. “Sleep.”

The car slowly pulled out of the garage and merged into the night.