Boundless – Chapter 65

What is public execution?

This is public execution.

Wen Qianshu endured for two seconds before managing to stop herself from going forward and strangling her past self—though she couldn’t reach her anyway.

Fortunately, Doctor Jiang didn’t take it seriously and continued to examine the person on the hospital bed. Midway through, Wen Qianshu’s father, Wen Zhengde, came in carrying a bag. Her mother, Li Huai’ai, then went over to him, and they started whispering about something.

As they talked, the two began to argue in low voices.

Wen Qianshu had heard them argue so much back then that she knew what they were fighting about even with her eyes closed—it was nothing more than medical bills, money, what new talismans Li Huai’ai had sought, which Bodhisattva she had prayed to, and Wen Zhengde scolding her that all of it was useless.

The Wen Qianshu on the hospital bed didn’t look at them either, letting them argue. She just stared at Doctor Jiang: “You, you’re so beautiful—”

Wen Qianshu felt weary. She covered her face, unable to bear watching for a moment, but she heard herself continue, “Why are you still, so sad?”

Wen Qianshu: “…”

What on earth was her past self thinking? Was there any necessary connection between being beautiful and not being sad?

Doctor Jiang paused, then resumed her actions. “I’m not sad.”

“You are.” The Wen Qianshu on the bed said intermittently, “You, you didn’t look very happy after you came in—”

In truth, Doctor Jiang’s movements were very gentle, but Wen Qianshu was naturally sensitive to emotions. Plus, back then, she was lying in a hospital bed with nothing to do all day, so she noticed everything.

Wen Qianshu closed her eyes. Her present self, of course, knew why Doctor Jiang was sad—she had traveled through so many worlds, failed many times, and watched countless people die before her eyes, unable to save them. Seeing that this patient was also in the hospital for a suicide attempt, she naturally wouldn’t be in a good mood.

But the Wen Qianshu of that time didn’t know, and Doctor Jiang had no intention of explaining it to her. She just said, “No, I don’t get sad.”

Just then, Li Huai’ai came over with a thermos, complaining about Wen Zhengde as she walked, “I’m not talking to your dad, it’s impossible to get through to him—Come on, let’s have some fish soup. I—”

Both Wen Qianshus frowned. One was weak, so her frown was slight; the other, relying on the fact that the people inside couldn’t see her, frowned more heavily. Wen Qianshu had disliked fish since she was a child. She couldn’t stand the fishy smell; a mild case would make her nauseous, a severe one would make her vomit, much like how some people can’t eat cilantro.

In contrast, Li Huai’ai grew up in a coastal city and had loved fish and seafood since childhood. She believed fish was a good thing, a treasure from head to tail, and wished she could cook it for every meal.

Li Huai’ai scooped up a spoonful of thick soup to feed Wen Qianshu. “Doctor Wu said you can have some liquid food, so I made you some good soup—there are no fish bones, don’t be afraid—Sigh, you child, you’re just afraid of picking out bones, always refusing to eat fish. Why are you so lazy—”

Wen Qianshu tried to dodge it. “I don’t like to eat—”

Doctor Jiang glanced at Wen Qianshu.

Li Huai’ai noticed Doctor Jiang’s gaze and explained, “Sigh, she does eat fish, she’s just too lazy—”

The Wen Qianshu on the bed couldn’t struggle free. The spoon was pressed against her lips, but a hand stopped it. Doctor Jiang turned around and said to Li Huai’ai, “Doctor Wu started running a fever a while ago, so she might not have noticed—”

She looked at the medical chart, glanced at the name, and said, “Wen Qianshu can’t eat this yet. Wait a little longer. The fish soup has too strong a smell. You can switch to something else later, like vegetable juice or something.”

Li Huai’ai frowned. “Fine.”

She took a sip herself, then couldn’t help but criticize Wen Qianshu, “You can’t appreciate good food.”

Doctor Jiang turned her head and saw the Wen Qianshu on the bed seem to daze out for a moment, then suddenly smile at her.

After that, every time Doctor Jiang came, she would find Li Huai’ai feeding Wen Qianshu various things she considered “highly nutritious.” After Doctor Jiang stopped her a few times, Li Huai’ai’s expression soured. But since it wasn’t convenient for her to get angry at the doctor, she yelled at Wen Zhengde instead, “Why not again? We have to donate some incense money so Qianshu can get better faster. Besides, if it weren’t for the Bodhisattva’s blessing, would she even be alive—”

Wen Zhengde’s face turned pale with anger. He thought to himself, Weren’t it the doctors who saved your daughter? What does it have to do with a Bodhisattva? But he knew he couldn’t say that, or Li Huai’ai would never let it go. So he approached it from another angle, “You call that a little money—”

Wen Qianshu looked at Doctor Jiang. “She’s cursing at me indirectly.”

Doctor Jiang: “Doesn’t Doctor Wu do anything?”

“She doesn’t.” Wen Qianshu took a couple of breaths. “They tried. Some were scolded by my mom, others had complaints filed against them.”

Doctor Jiang: “Who are they?”

Wen Qianshu: “Grandma, my dad, my teacher, Doctor Gu, Uncle Song—”

She counted, but couldn’t continue. She said, “Why don’t you just leave me be? Actually, it’s not that hard to eat.”

She sighed and said to herself, “My mouth is so bitter. I want to eat something sweet.”

Li Huai’ai sometimes gave her very bitter medicine. Only then would she get a piece of candy or two.

Wen Qianshu: “I also want, to eat something cold.”

“I’ve never had anything iced before. Does it taste good?”

Doctor Jiang listened to her rambling, occasionally responding. After finishing the examination, she left the ward and happened to run into another doctor. After exchanging a few pleasantries, Doctor Jiang suddenly asked, “Didn’t Nurse Song hand out wedding candy this morning? Do you have any on you?”

Hearing this, the other person fumbled out two pieces. “What, got a craving?”

Doctor Jiang took them and said politely, “Yeah, thanks.”

She turned and walked back, finding the couple still arguing, though the topic had changed. When Li Huai’ai saw her, her face still wore the fierce expression from the argument, which she hadn’t had time to conceal. “Doctor Jiang, what is it?”

Doctor Jiang: “I forgot my pen.”

She slipped into the ward and saw Wen Qianshu lying with her head turned, staring motionlessly outside. Her eyes were pitch-black and vacant, her thoughts unreadable.

Doctor Jiang: “Are you allergic to milk candy?”

Wen Qianshu was taken aback. She pulled her gaze back to look at her, watching as she took out a piece of candy and unwrapped it.

Wen Qianshu stared at the candy and quickly said, “I’m not allergic.”

Doctor Jiang’s expression was neutral, but she raised her hand holding the candy wrapper. With a flick of her long, slender fingers, she fed the candy into Wen Qianshu’s mouth, then crumpled the wrapper and put it in her pocket.

Lying in bed with the candy in her mouth, Wen Qianshu watched Doctor Jiang take a fountain pen from her pocket. As she reached the door, she gestured to the people outside, “Got my pen.”

Wen Qianshu licked the candy, turned her head to look out the window, and the corners of her mouth curled up unconsciously.

They grew familiar with each other and would sometimes talk—it was no longer just Wen Qianshu talking nonstop; Doctor Jiang would occasionally ask her a few questions.

Wen Qianshu always loved to look out the window, but outside was just reinforced concrete with nothing much to see. So one day, Doctor Jiang asked her what she was looking at.

Wen Qianshu: “I’m watching the wind. Look, the wind is blowing, and the blades of grass over there are moving.”

Wen Qianshu gradually got better, and color returned to her face. She no longer resisted the things Li Huai’ai force-fed her as much, because Doctor Jiang would screen them, stopping anything unsuitable for her to eat, and would also sneak her some candy when Li Huai’ai wasn’t around.

They were mostly fruit candies. Wen Qianshu liked the orange-flavored ones best. Sucking on a candy, she refused to chew it. “Aren’t you afraid of my mother?”

Doctor Jiang: “Hmm?”

“If she finds out you’re secretly feeding me, she’ll file a complaint against you and make a scene—” Wen Qianshu said in a small voice, “You could lose your job.”

Doctor Jiang didn’t answer her. She just lowered her eyes, unwrapped another candy, and fed it into her mouth. Wen Qianshu obediently opened her mouth, her eyes shining.

Her features were actually very beautiful, but she was terribly thin. If she weren’t sick, she would probably be a very good-looking girl. Her eyes were different from Doctor Jiang’s; they weren’t light-colored pupils but were inky black with a hint of depth. When she looked at someone, she was very focused, as if in the entire universe, her eyes saw only them.

But later, Doctor Wu recovered and came back, and Doctor Jiang stopped coming.

Sometimes, when Wen Qianshu heard footsteps at the door, she would turn her head to look, but when she saw it wasn’t Doctor Jiang, she would turn back to watch the wind outside.

This was Doctor Jiang’s memory, so the Wen Qianshu outside the memory could only follow Doctor Jiang. She watched Doctor Jiang walk past the ward door, paying no mind to the gaze looking out from within; she watched Doctor Jiang busy herself with treating illnesses and saving people, occasionally stopping to exchange a few words with Doctor Wu, but never mentioning Wen Qianshu at all.

Doctor Jiang was a repairer, and Wen Qianshu was just an insignificant supporting character in some world line.

Doctor Jiang wouldn’t pay attention to her for too long.

The protagonist of this world line was a friend who grew up with Doctor Jiang. She had been an outstanding pianist, but after a car accident, her fingers were severely injured, and she could no longer play the piano. Everyone revolved around the pianist, persuading her, comforting her. She seemed to have pulled through and cheered up, but she still took an overdose of sleeping pills and was sent to the hospital.

Doctor Jiang was still too young, and being the pianist’s good friend, she couldn’t participate in the rescue. She stood outside, watching the pianist’s parents weep uncontrollably and her fiancé pace anxiously, his eyes bloodshot.

Someone noticed Doctor Jiang, seemingly surprised by her expressionless face. They whispered among themselves, “Xiao Jiang isn’t sad at all, is she?”

Doctor Jiang was a system. Like 2333, she could modify her five senses and hear faint sounds. She expanded her hearing range, originally to listen to the pianist’s condition inside the emergency room, but she also heard what others were saying.

“Sigh, her good friend is in trouble, and she doesn’t even shed a tear.”

“I guess it’s normal. Both families are musical families. One is so talented, while the other—sigh—When Mrs. Jiang passed away last year, she had the same expression, cold as ice.”

“Xiao Jiang must have had a falling out with her family, right? Now that this has happened to Didi, maybe she’s happy inside.”

Wen Qianshu wanted to say, No, that’s not it—

She’s clearly so sad—

Why can’t you see it?

Doctor Jiang’s gaze didn’t waver. She just stood there, her jawline tight, her face like frost. When she heard someone in the emergency room announce that the rescue was successful, she turned and left. The people behind her watched her go, continuing to discuss her coldness.

“Actually, Didi and she aren’t that close, are they—”

“Yeah, Didi hasn’t contacted her in a long time—”

Doctor Jiang kept her eyes lowered, not saying a word. But Wen Qianshu was familiar with her small mannerisms and could tell she was spacing out. Behind her were the sounds of the doctor coming out to inform the family, and their cries of joy; before her was a long corridor gradually being dyed by the night, completely deserted.

Doctor Jiang walked aimlessly through the hospital, step by step, from the clamor to the silence, walking in the inky night. The dim yellow lights watched her, slowly stretching her shadow.

The shadow of a solitary person.

Wen Qianshu followed behind her, watching as she walked and then suddenly stopped. Her hearing range hadn’t been retracted yet, so she could hear the sounds from a hospital room. She heard a sharp rebuke: “What’s wrong with you? You’re not even willing to pay this little bit of money?”

Another voice replied, “They’re scamming you, how could you believe it again? This medicine wasn’t prescribed by a doctor, it’s useless!”

Doctor Jiang seemed to think for a moment before remembering that ward, remembering the girl on the hospital bed. The one who ate a few of her candies and then looked forward to seeing her every day; the one who said she was sad.

As if guided by a ghost, Doctor Jiang stopped outside. She didn’t retract her hearing and looked up at the surveillance camera in the hallway. With a “buzz,” she hacked into it. Doctor Jiang’s eyes moved, and a virtual electronic screen displayed the situation inside the room.

The room was strangely eerie. The couple was arguing, red-faced and on the verge of coming to blows. Yet the subject of their argument was lying on the bed, silently looking out the window—it was pitch black outside, with nothing to see, but Wen Qianshu watched with intense focus.

As she watched, Wen Qianshu suddenly frowned and clutched at her heart, trying to sit up. She let out a faint, short grunt, but it was drowned out by the sound of the argument.

Doctor Jiang took two steps forward and placed her hand on the doorknob, about to open it, but then she saw Wen Qianshu relax and lie back down.

The wave of pain seemed to have subsided. No one in the room cared, not even Wen Qianshu herself.

She just turned her head and remained motionless.

The three of them were clearly in the same room, yet it seemed as if they were divided into two separate worlds.

Wen Qianshu—her ability to perceive emotions was so strong, so sharp, yet year after year, day after day, she was steeped in hostility and curses.

Doctor Jiang stood silently at the door.

Wen Qianshu silently gazed out the window.

They were separated by a wall.

Yet they shared the same night.