Chapter 48: Life Needs A Sense Of Ritual

Later, although Dr. Liu Yong felt a bit confused, he still respected the patient’s wishes and helped Jiang Qi “cover up the lie.”

As a result, Zhi Qi was a little disappointed.

In the hospital room, the young girl stood by the large bed, looking at the thin morning mist of a winter day in Lin Lan, her expression aggrieved and her brows drooping.

Jiang Qi walked over and gently wrapped one slender arm around her delicate shoulders from behind, awkwardly trying to comfort her: “Be good, don’t be upset.”

“I’m not upset,” Zhi Qi sighed softly, but her voice was muffled as she muttered, “It’s just a bit of a pity.”

It had taken so much effort for Zhi Minglin and Mei Ran to finally accept him, to let her bring Jiang Qi home—only for the hospital’s rules and regulations to become an unexpected obstacle.

Jiang Qi smiled faintly and said nothing, thinking that Zhi Qi was still young, far from being as mature as her brother.

But… he hoped she would always stay this pure, someone he could protect and comfort in the palm of his hand.

“I’m sorry, Qiqi,” Jiang Qi said softly, almost like a whisper. Then his voice grew firmer, cool and resolute in her ear: “Next year, I’ll definitely go.”

“Alright then.” The girl smiled again, her eyes curving as she looked at him. “But what about this year?”

It would be so pitiful if Jiang Qi had to spend New Year’s alone in the hospital.

To be honest, Zhi Qi really couldn’t bear it.

But in reality, Jiang Qi had never cared about things like “New Year” or “New Year’s Eve”—he never celebrated holidays, not even his birthday, let alone the New Year.

Still, he didn’t want to dampen the girl’s spirits, so after thinking for a moment, he forced out an “entertainment” activity: “Hmm… watch TV.”

Just stay in the hospital and watch the Spring Festival Gala.

Imagining the boy watching TV alone in the hospital room, Zhi Qi couldn’t help but feel both sad and amused. Her dark eyes flickered, and soon a sly glint appeared in them.

Maybe it wasn’t the most clever “solution.”

But she didn’t want the boy to spend New Year’s Eve all alone.

In the blink of an eye, half a month passed like an arrow flying from a bow.

On New Year’s Eve, Zhi Qi obediently had the reunion dinner at home, watched the Spring Festival Gala with her family, and waited until her brother Zhi Yu left and the elderly couple couldn’t stay awake any longer and went to rest. Then, she quietly grabbed the coat hanging on the rack, draped it over her shoulders, and slipped out the door.

The young girl also grabbed a handful of things from the fireworks box by the door.

It’s New Year’s—of course there should be fireworks. At that moment, the whole city seemed to be lit up by them, the pitch-black sky at nearly midnight glowing as bright as day.

Zhi Qi, wrapped in a milk-tea-colored wool coat and a scarf, didn’t feel cold at all. Her fair, delicate face was lit up with a lively smile.

She hailed a cab to the Hospital as soon as she stepped out, urging the driver the whole way. After a rushed journey, she finally arrived at the sanatorium just before midnight.

—Fortunately, she was already registered as a “family member.” The nurses on duty that New Year’s Eve were familiar with her; otherwise, no one would’ve let someone in to visit at such a late hour.

Zhi Qi thanked them with a bright smile, then hurried straight to Jiang Qi’s room.

It was so late—she wasn’t sure if he was already asleep.

Zhi Qi wandered in with that thought, pushing open the door to his room. Accompanied by the cheerful skits playing on the Spring Festival Gala, the boy leaning against the headboard turned his head in surprise.

The girl clearly saw that his pale, glass-colored eyes, which had been emotionless just a moment ago, suddenly lit up with tiny sparks.

They seemed to shine even brighter than the night sky outside.

“Jiang Qi.” Zhi Qi couldn’t help but smile, her porcelain-white teeth gently biting her lips, reddened from the cold. “Happy New Year.”

She had already said it on WeChat, but she still wanted to come in person, to say this most ordinary of blessings face to face—just like everyone else in the world.

Jiang Qi didn’t reply. Instead, he got out of bed and walked toward her, step by step.

“Jiang…” Zhi Qi looked at him in surprise, not even finishing his name before the door behind her was suddenly pushed shut with a loud bang by a large hand. A wave of his cold, overwhelming presence followed.

Like pine trees in winter—carrying a crisp, icy scent.

But the girl’s lips were even colder than his body. As Jiang Qi lowered his head and kissed the soft corner of her mouth, he couldn’t help but think how the weather had chilled her—how she must’ve suffered.

With that thought, his warm hands cupped her face, as if trying to warm her up.

Zhi Qi, a little dazed, tilted her head up and sweetly responded to his kiss.

“There are ten minutes left in today,” Jiang Qi whispered hoarsely after the long, lingering kiss, his usually cool voice now rough with emotion. “Qiqi, my New Year’s wish came true.”

Earlier in the day, Zhi Qi had asked him to make a wish—and what he wished for… was to see her.

“Mm.” Zhi Qi’s lips, reddened from his kiss, looked like a red plum blossom blooming in the snow against her pale face. She opened and closed her mouth slightly: “What did you wish for?”

Jiang Qi smiled but didn’t answer.

Fortunately, Zhi Qi didn’t press the question. Soon, she pulled out a thermal container from the large bag she had brought with her, holding it up like a treasure in front of Jiang Qi. Her eyes curved into a bright smile as she said, “Let’s eat dumplings!”

Jiang Qi was momentarily stunned.

“I remember you like three-delicacy dumplings, so I asked the housekeeper to teach me how to make that filling tonight,” Zhi Qi said, pulling him over to sit on the sofa. She placed the container on the coffee table and opened it—the savory aroma immediately filled the room.

The thermal container was excellent; the dumplings were still warm.

Zhi Qi rested her chin in her hands and looked at him expectantly: “Try one!”

Jiang Qi didn’t say anything at first. After a moment, he picked up a dumpling and took a bite. “Delicious.”

“Really?” Zhi Qi’s eyes lit up. “It’s my first time making them—do I have a natural talent?”

Even though she hadn’t eaten any herself—Zhi Qi didn’t like chives, so she avoided any dishes that included them, including three-delicacy dumplings.

Jiang Qi smiled and nodded. “Really.”

In truth, he had never had strong preferences when it came to food—no particular likes or dislikes. His attitude had always been: “As long as there’s something to eat, it’s fine.”

The reason Zhi Qi believed Jiang Qi liked three-delicacy dumplings actually dated back to many years ago, when they were still in elementary school and she used to bring him lunch every day.

Back then, Zhi Qi hadn’t yet developed a strong dislike for chives. One day, the housekeeper made three-delicacy dumplings and sent them to school. After taking one bite, the little girl frowned, forced herself to eat two more, and then stopped. She pushed the rest of her dumplings over to him.

At the time, Jiang Qi was in a growth spurt and was almost always hungry. He ate whatever Zhi Qi gave him—he even felt like he could eat a whole cow.

Two boxes of dumplings were nothing to him; he finished them all.

But it left Zhi Qi stunned.

She looked at him in surprise, blinking her big dark eyes. After a moment of thought, she asked, “Do you really like this kind of dumpling?”

Maybe from that moment on, Zhi Qi assumed he liked three-delicacy dumplings.

And Jiang Qi never corrected her. He simply accepted it as if he truly did.

Because what he liked or didn’t like didn’t matter.

What mattered was that someone remembered his so-called “preferences” and cared enough to think about them. That was enough.

And Zhi Qi had remembered it for all these years.

Sometimes, Jiang Qi would wonder: with the girl treating him so well, did he really deserve it?

But maybe that kind of question would never have an answer. As the saying goes, “Only the one drinking the water knows if it’s warm or cold.” Maybe to others, he was just Zhi Qi’s quiet “warmth and cold.” But if the girl liked it, that was enough.

He would stay by her side and do his best to make all her warmth and coldness toward him feel worthwhile.

Their first New Year after reuniting was spent in a hospital room—eating dumplings and watching TV as they welcomed the new year together.

At the exact moment the clock struck midnight, Jiang Qi instinctively felt a bit dazed. It wasn’t until Zhi Qi pulled him over to the window to watch the fireworks that he finally came back to his senses.

Yes—everything in front of him was real, not some fleeting illusion.

He would no longer experience that dreamlike “mirage” when the clock struck twelve.

“Jiang Qi, it’s tradition to set off fireworks for the New Year,” Zhi Qi said, pulling a few small firecrackers—like mini rockets—from her coat pocket as if performing a magic trick. She winked at him: “Let’s sneak down and set them off while the nurse isn’t looking.”

It was rare for the girl to be this mischievous, and since Jiang Qi had always been a bit rebellious, of course he went along with her.

So, while the nurse on duty stepped away to the restroom, the two of them seized the moment and dashed downstairs to the hospital garden.

Because it was New Year’s, the hospital wasn’t strictly enforcing rules. Surprisingly, there were still quite a few patients in the garden, gathered in small groups, looking up at the fireworks.

Jiang Qi, being a smoker, had a lighter on him. He took it out and lit the two firecrackers Zhi Qi had brought.

As the crackling sounds rang out, the girl dove into his arms, covering her ears.

“Afraid of the noise?” Jiang Qi asked, half amused, as he helped cover her ears with his large hands and leaned in to ask, “Then why did you want to set them off?”

“You don’t get it,” Zhi Qi laughed, her sparkling eyes looking up at him as she shouted over the noise: “Life needs a sense of ritual!”

Like hanging couplets, pasting the character for “blessing,” eating dumplings, watching the Spring Festival Gala, setting off fireworks, not being alone… all of these were part of that so-called “sense of ritual.” And Zhi Qi wanted to help Jiang Qi experience every one of them.

The smile on Jiang Qi’s lips slowly faded into something softer. When the last of the fireworks in the sky fizzled out, he gently asked her, “What else?”

Zhi Qi blinked. “Hmm?”

“The New Year rituals,” Jiang Qi asked softly. “What else should there be?”

“Hmm… set a goal for yourself,” Zhi Qi murmured, looking up at the star-filled sky. “A goal you can actually achieve.”

Jiang Qi thought for a moment, then nodded. “Mm.”

He promised Zhi Qi he would set a New Year’s goal—and he would achieve it.

Jiang Qi wanted to become someone like her: someone full of ritual, someone who felt warmth toward the world, someone who could even learn to love life.

Because Zhi Qi had been tirelessly working to change him, that heavy sense of world-weariness that had clung to Jiang Qi just a few months ago had now almost completely faded.

Jiang Qi felt that, at the very least, he now had a direction to strive toward.

What people fear isn’t getting lost—it’s getting lost and not being able to find the way again.

Thankfully, Zhi Qi helped him find it.

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