Chapter 4: Nightmare

After all the tossing and turning,
Xu Fengruo only fell back asleep as the sky began to lighten.
The morning mist was at its coldest,
carrying damp air through the unclosed window.
Xu Fengruo turned unconsciously,
her forehead slick with a thin layer of sweat.

Perhaps today’s emotional rollercoaster was too much,
as it led her to dream of the past.

Her first meeting with Liu Tingsong
was at a police station.

Back then, Xu Fengruo was quite the rebel,
the textbook “bad kid” in everyone’s eyes—
skipping classes,
getting into fights,
the whole package.

If not for her mother’s wealth,
donating two buildings to the school,
she’d have been expelled long ago.

Even so,
Xu Fengruo showed no remorse,
doubling down on her rebellion,
hoping to force her mother to compromise
and let her switch her major from economics to music.

But how could her mother agree?

Why would she abandon such a promising path?
Ten months of pregnancy
were for raising an heir,
not to care about what Xu Fengruo wanted.

After the college entrance exams,
Xu Fengruo’s tantrums—
crying,
making a scene,
even threatening drastic measures—
failed to sway her mother.
For the first time,
her mother dropped a pile of work
to personally oversee Xu Fengruo filling out her college applications,
confiscating all her electronics
until the admission results came out,
only then dismissing the people tailing her.

The start of college was even more absurd.

On her first day at S University,
Xu Fengruo became a campus legend.
While S University had no shortage of rich or noble second-generation heirs,
no one had ever made such a spectacle—
surrounded by a dozen bodyguards,
encircling her tightly,
leaving no chance for escape.

If not for being on campus,
people might’ve thought Xu Fengruo was some heinous criminal
about to be carted off to prison.

After that,
her mother laid down the law:
pocket money tied to grades,
one class attended, one class paid.
Skip a class,
and go hungry that day.

But Xu Fengruo was stubborn.
The more her mother pushed,
the less she complied.
She’d rather starve than give in,
even doing outrageous things to provoke her mother further.

The tension between them grew,
becoming irreconcilable.

As for the police station incident,
Xu Fengruo fumed just thinking about it.

To spite her mother,
she’d made a bunch of “street” friends—
the kind with dyed yellow, green, or red hair,
always hanging out together,
not causing real trouble,
lacking the guts for it.
At most, they’d loiter at a pool hall,
acting tough for someone,
then mooching a free table to play.

That’s how Xu Fengruo landed a job
that came with food and lodging.

The pool hall didn’t need extra help,
but Xu Fengruo was too good-looking.
Standing by a table,
she left players at nearby tables dazed,
their eyes glued to her while their cues fumbled,
a single game dragging on for over an hour.

Seeing this,
the pool hall owner offered her food, lodging,
and a “generous” salary of two thousand yuan.

Xu Fengruo agreed on the spot.
Not because she was naive,
unaware of better opportunities.
With her looks,
she could’ve been a print model
or played piano at a fancy restaurant for better pay.

But her mother had spread the word—
no reputable place dared hire her.

Only a hole-in-the-wall spot like this,
tucked in a city village without a proper business license,
didn’t care about such things.
Worst case, they’d pack up the tables
and set up shop elsewhere.

As for ending up at the police station,
that was thanks to a yellow-haired friend.

That night,
Xu Fengruo was working her shift just fine
when her friend ran in,
sobbing,
covering her face,
claiming someone had hit her.

Before Xu Fengruo could figure it out,
her friend’s partner stormed in with others,
yelling that she’d cheated first,
ignoring his messages,
always hanging out with Xu Fengruo and their crew,
leaving him lonely enough to cheat.

The yellow-haired friend didn’t back down,
retorting on the spot.

The red-haired and green-haired friends nearby,
ever loyal,
jumped in to argue on her behalf.

The cheating guy, enraged by their words,
threw a punch.

The loyal red and green-haired crew,
seeing their friend attacked,
called for a fight.

Both sides clashed in a brawl,
scaring passersby into calling 110,
landing the whole group in the police station.

Luckily,
though they’d been at each other’s throats moments before,
they were oddly in sync now.
Their stories aligned—
just friends messing around.

After all, “street” matters stayed on the street.
No matter the grudges,
they’d settle it privately.
Involving the cops just meant extra trouble.

The police, used to such scenes,
saw no major issues,
asked a few questions,
chalked it up to a lovers’ spat,
and closed the case.
They told everyone to call their families to pick them up.

It should’ve been simple,
but it stumped Xu Fengruo.

Asking her to bow to her mother now
felt worse than beheading.

So she lingered in the corner,
pretending to make calls,
but never dialing a single number.

Her so-called friends,
unaware of her situation,
thought she was stalling on purpose,
waiting to avoid the fuming cuckolded guy.
They didn’t help,
getting dragged off by their families,
ears pinched,
scolded as they left.

By one in the morning,
the station was empty except for Xu Fengruo
and an orphan who’d aged out of the system.

The two sat on small stools,
side by side in the corner of the lobby,
listening to the cops’ idle chatter
while dozing off.

That’s when Liu Tingsong walked in.

She pushed open the glass door,
bringing with her the cicadas’ hum
and the stifling heat of the outside world,
stepping into this oppressive,
cement-walled box of a building.

Startled awake,
Xu Fengruo forced her eyelids up,
squinting to size up the newcomer.

It was the same outfit—
black clothes,
black pants concealing her figure,
a baseball cap pulled low,
hiding half her face,
drawing curious glances from everyone inside.

Xu Fengruo was exhausted,
her curiosity overshadowed by heavy eyelids
that felt weighed down by iron,
slowly drooping.

But before she could fully drift off,
a startled cry jolted her awake.

Xu Fengruo snapped her head up,
looking over.

The previously stern-faced cop
was now visibly excited,
cheeks flushed from a sudden surge of emotion.

What was going on?

Xu Fengruo blinked sluggishly.

She couldn’t quite make out the words,
only catching fragments from the excited,
upward-lilting tone:

“I… Liu… always loved…”

The breeze slipped through the glass door’s crack,
blowing straight at Xu Fengruo.

“Autograph… you…”

In the sweltering summer,
Xu Fengruo shivered inexplicably.

No reason for it.

She rubbed her arms hard,
pressing down the goosebumps.

Too tired to eavesdrop further,
she propped her arm,
lowered her head,
and went back to dozing.

She was too exhausted to stay awake.

When she opened her eyes again,
someone stood before her,
voice deliberately softened,
gently calling:
“Xu Fengruo, Xu Fengruo, wake up.”

“I’ll take you home.”

The soft, gentle voice landed by her ear.

Her bleary eyes widened slowly.
As her mind cleared,
the scene before her felt like a dream.

Xu Fengruo leaned back in shock,
falling off the stool onto the floor,
stammering:
“You— you’re Liu Tingsong?”

She finally understood
why the cop had been so excited.

A sudden gust slammed against the glass window,
shaking the entire building.

The person in bed gasped,
snapping out of the dream.
Sweat poured out,
sliding down her cheeks like water,
soaking the pillow.

It was dawn now,
slivers of light slipping through the curtain gaps,
falling on the blankets strewn on the floor.

Xu Fengruo steadied herself,
then raised her hand,
covering her eyes with her forearm.

Was it the sunlight outside,
or the dream from before?

She stayed silent for a long while,
slowly lowering her arm.

Her forearm was damp,
as if soaked by water.

After a moment,
she grabbed her phone nearby,
too lazy to scroll carefully.
Her eyes, pressed too long,
ached and blurred her vision.
She tapped the first name in her recent calls.

She’d spoken to Chu Cheng last night.

The dial tone barely rang a few seconds
before someone picked up.
Without waiting for a response,
Xu Fengruo croaked:
“Bring me some medicine.”

“I think I caught a cold.”

Only then did she notice—
her face was flushed,
her lips pale.
The sweat from her dream
didn’t stop with waking,
but grew worse,
as if she’d been pulled from water.

The person on the other end tried to speak,
but a string of coughs cut them off.

Xu Fengruo coughed violently,
curling up with her arms around her stomach.
Her already thin frame
looked even frailer now,
like a skeleton barely holding together.

She rasped:
“Hurry up.”

“Bring some fever reducers too.”

No response came.
The call was disconnected.