Chapter 1 Accident · Car Crash
The day after the college entrance exam, the city finally buzzed with the usual summer hustle and bustle.
The air hung heavy with the aroma of charcoal grills, and vendors’ cries rose and fell in an endless chorus.
Dusk faded away, and streetlights flickered on, like beacons lighting the path to the future.
Shen Yu’an stood beneath a streetlamp, head bowed as he stared at the message on his phone.
Be right there.
He had just locked the screen when his father’s car pulled up nearby.
Father got out quickly, a man clearly accustomed to never lingering anywhere. He waved at Shen Yu’an, his tone casual. “Get in. I’ll give you a lift.”
Shen Yu’an had meant to refuse.
But it had been ages since he’d spent any one-on-one time with his father. After a moment’s hesitation, he walked over.
The car door clicked shut, and the air inside seemed to freeze solid.
Father started the engine, and the car trundled forward aimlessly. “Drop me off after the next intersection,” Shen Yu’an said.
“Going out with your classmates tonight?”
“Hmm.”
“How’d the exam go?”
“Fine.”
And with that, the conversation died.
Their short exchange perfectly summed up their usual dynamic—not close, not hostile, but carefully maintaining a polite distance.
The car glided smoothly along the main road.
Leaning against the window, Shen Yu’an watched the streetlights blur past outside, his mind drifting back to another memory.
—Late-night self-study session, senior year of high school.
The classroom was deadly quiet, save for the soft scratch of pens on paper.
A sharp snap cut through the silence—the lights went out. After a moment of stunned stillness, hushed whispers broke out.
“Quiet!” A teacher’s voice rang out from the hallway, even before the sound of footsteps.
Moments later, dim emergency lights flickered on. The faint glow danced across the desks, illuminating the dense lines of text on their exam papers—and the restlessness and weariness of youth.
Lin Zhixia slowly slid her test paper over to him, her voice a soft murmur. “Can you take a look? I don’t get this.”
She turned slightly, pen cap clamped between her teeth. The dim light caressed her profile, and her long eyelashes cast delicate shadows on her cheeks.
Shen Yu’an glanced down briefly, then pushed his scratch paper back to her. “Here. The solution’s on there—you can work it out yourself.”
Instead of taking it right away, she looked at him earnestly, her eyes bright with anticipation.
“Where are you planning to go for college?”
“Haven’t decided yet.”
“Liar.” She pouted playfully. “You definitely know already—you just don’t want to tell me.”
Shen Yu’an fell silent.
She stared at him, feigning anger. “Well, you better take care of yourself, or I’ll get my chance. My parents work at the hospital, you know. If you ever end up in the operating room, I’ll make sure they don’t give you any anesthesia. Hmph.”
He looked at her, his voice firm. “I won’t.”
At that moment, he truly believed that as long as he worked hard enough, he would never stray from the path he’d set for himself.
A shrill honk jolted him out of his reverie.
Shen Yu’an’s head snapped up. He saw a black sedan in the oncoming lane suddenly accelerate, hurtling toward them like an out-of-control missile.
That was no normal speed.
“Dad—!”
Without a second thought, he reached over and shoved his father hard.
The next instant, a deafening crash exploded in his ears. Glass shattered everywhere, and the airbag deployed with a whump. His body was slammed violently to the side.
Agonizing pain erupted from below his waist, so intense he couldn’t even scream.
As his consciousness faded into darkness, the last thing he saw was his father being pulled to the side of the road.
The air reeked of burnt rubber and motor oil. The blare of horns, the chaos of shouts—all faded into silence.
And the car that should have hit the driver’s seat had swerved, hitting him instead.
The corridor outside the emergency room stretched endlessly, the glowing red words “IN OPERATION” blazing like a warning sign, sending a chill of dread through everyone who saw them.
When Lin Zhixia arrived, she was gasping for breath, her chest heaving.
She’d gotten the call from her father.
“Zhixia, come to the hospital,” Father’s voice was as calm as ever, but lower than usual. “There’s a patient in the ER—someone you know.”
She sprinted to the emergency room entrance, but when she spotted the familiar jacket draped over a bench, her feet froze in place.
The name “Shen Yu’an” echoed in her mind like a clap of thunder.
She stood rooted to the spot, her throat tight and dry.
Slowly, she walked over. Her fingers trembled as she reached for the jacket. The moment the fabric slid into her grasp, her legs gave way. She sank down against the wall beside the bench, hugging the jacket tightly to her chest, her eyes stinging with unshed tears.
The operating room door swung open, and Mother stepped out, peeling off her surgical mask. “We’re not sure yet,” she said, her gaze falling on her daughter huddled on the floor. She paused, then added softly, “His spinal injury is severe.” With that, she turned and went back inside.
The door clicked shut with a dull thud. Lin Zhixia buried her face in the jacket, breathing in his familiar scent—clean, restrained, uniquely his—now tainted with the metallic tang of blood that made her heart ache. The corridor bustled with people, but to her, the world was terrifyingly quiet.
She suddenly thought back to that night in the blacked-out classroom, to the certainty in his voice when he’d said “I won’t.” In that moment, she finally understood—life never keeps the promises we make.
On the other side of the city, it was the middle of the night when Shen Yu’an’s mother received the call.
A voice on the other end spoke in a low whisper. “Something happened. He’s in the hospital.”
Her fingers went limp, and the phone slipped from her hand, clattering to the floor. The only sound left in the room was the faint dial tone of a disconnected call.
She raced to the hospital, the car speeding through the night, the darkness outside the window blurring into streaks of light.
She knew this road better than anyone.
She had personally checked the timing, the route, the blind spots.
The “accident” she’d orchestrated was supposed to hurt only one person.
She’d even planned out exactly how she would clean up the mess for that man afterward.
But never—not for a single second—had she imagined that her son Shen Yu’an would be in the car.
The harsh fluorescent lights of the hospital corridor flooded over her. She spotted Father sitting on a bench in the distance, his face blank and dazed. The gauze wrapped around his head was stained with dried blood—but he was alive.
Her gaze swept past him, locking onto the emergency room door.
“Who’s in there?” Her voice trembled.
Silence. A deathly, suffocating silence. No one dared to answer.
Finally, Father forced the words out, his voice hoarse. “It’s Yu’an.”
Her legs buckled beneath her, and she stumbled backward, slamming into the cold hospital wall.
Regret washed over her in a tidal wave. The revenge she’d plotted so carefully had backfired spectacularly—she’d hit the wrong person.
The light above the operating room door still glowed red.
Mother stared at those three words, which seemed to bore into her eyes like nails. She didn’t even notice the girl curled up in the corner, her head buried in her knees.
A doctor stepped out, pausing only briefly.
“Still in surgery,” he said, before turning and walking away.
No further explanation. No words of comfort.
Mother nodded numbly, then turned and walked toward the corner of the corridor—the one spot not covered by the security cameras.
She stood there, her hands shaking as she pulled out her phone. The screen lit up, and a tear splashed onto it.
She dialed a number, and it was answered almost immediately, as if the person on the other end had been waiting.
“How is he?”
“In surgery.”
“I thought you said—only he would be in the car at that time—”
“Shut up.” She cut him off sharply.
Her eyes fixed on the night sky outside the window, as if she were trying to recall something—or trying desperately not to.
“Yu’an was in the car too.”
There was a long silence on the other end of the line. Then, a low voice asked, “What do we do now?”
“This ends here.”
“From now on, nothing ever happened.”
The person on the other end hesitated. “What if they investigate—”
“There is no ‘if’.” The words were like a knife, twisting sharply in her own heart.
Yes, no ifs. If he hadn’t been in the car, if only—
She hung up the phone.
Mother stood rooted to the spot for a long time, unable to move.
Eventually, she composed herself and walked back to the emergency room door.
This time, she noticed the girl in the corner, but said nothing.
Leaning against the wall, her gaze returned to the operating room door—her expression a mixture of pleading and helplessness.
Father spoke up, his voice thick with guilt. “...It was my fault. I wasn’t paying attention. Yu’an pushed me out of the way, and that’s why—”
“Why isn’t it you in there?” Mother’s voice was eerily calm, sending a chill down everyone’s spine.
If it hadn’t been for that push, the one lying on the operating table right now should have been him—not the boy who’d called her “Mom” for over a decade.
Time ticked by, and no one spoke again.
The only sounds in the corridor were the soft padding of footsteps, which quickly faded away, as if everyone were deliberately treading lightly.
Occasionally, a hospital gurney rolled past, the wheels making a short, cold clatter-clatter.
Lin Zhixia had no idea how long she sat there. She’d stood up once, but her legs were so numb she’d quickly sat back down, unable to move an inch from her spot.
Mother finally sat down—not because she felt relieved, but because her legs could no longer support her weight.
She perched on the very edge of the bench, her back ramrod straight, her bag resting on her knees. Her fingers rubbed unconsciously at the bag’s clasp, over and over again.
Father sat across from her, the corridor stretching between them like a chasm that spanned half their lives. He opened his mouth several times to speak, but in the end, he only shifted his position slightly.
The night gradually faded away, and the window at the end of the corridor began to glow with the pale light of dawn. The sky was turning bright—but no one noticed.
As the first light of morning spilled into the corridor, the light above the operating room door finally went out.
In that instant, every tiny sound in the corridor vanished, as if someone had pressed the pause button on the world.
Lin Zhixia jumped to her feet instinctively, her numb legs screaming in protest, her eyes fixed anxiously on the cold metal door of the operating room.
Mother and Father stood up too, their faces tight with worry, waiting for the news.
The door swung open.
Mother Lin stepped out, her face etched with exhaustion. “The surgery is over,” she said.
Her words hung in the air, and the tense, anxious atmosphere dissolved instantly.
“How is he?” The question burst from Father and Lin Zhixia’s lips at exactly the same time.
Father lurched forward a step, moving so quickly he pulled his wound. His eyebrows furrowed in pain, but he paid it no mind.
Mother Lin sighed. “We’ve saved his life, but his spinal injury is very severe. We won’t know the full extent of his recovery until he regains full consciousness.”
No reassuring “The surgery was a complete success.”
No comforting “Don’t worry, he’ll be fine.”
Only a cold, cruel truth.
In the best-case scenario, he had survived—that was all.
Unlike Father and Lin Zhixia, whose faces were etched with raw concern, Mother’s reaction was eerily calm—as if she were merely listening to a report she’d known the outcome of all along.
“When can he be transferred to a ward?” Mother asked.
“After he’s stabilized in the ICU and completely out of danger. Even then, he’ll need to be kept calm—visiting hours will be strictly limited.”
“Understood.”
Nurses wheeled the hospital bed out of the operating room.
Lin Zhixia’s eyes were glued to the familiar face lying on the bed.
Shen Yu’an was deathly pale, his lips colorless, his chest rising and falling in shallow, labored breaths.
She’d never imagined that the vibrant, confident boy she knew could be reduced to this in a single night.
The silly joke she’d made to him back then had come true in the cruelest way possible.
Her feet moved forward of their own accord, but she hesitated when she was just two steps away from the bed.
In that moment, she realized—from now on, would she ever be able to lean close to him carelessly again, like she used to?
Father stumbled along beside the bed, staring down at his son, his lips moving silently, but no sound came out.
He reached out a hand, hovering it over the bed for a moment, before slowly letting it drop back to his side.
“Please step aside, family members,” a nurse said gently.
The bed was wheeled away.
Mother followed behind, her steps as steady and determined as ever. The sharp click-clack of her high heels against the floor never faltered.
Lin Zhixia stood rooted to the spot, watching Mother’s retreating figure, an inexplicable sense of unease creeping into her heart.
Just before the bed rounded the corner at the end of the corridor, she saw Shen Yu’an’s fingers twitch. Yes, she told herself firmly—she hadn’t imagined it. A faint, unmistakable twitch.
The next second, she chased after them. In her daze, she thought she heard a soft, pained gasp.
“Was that my imagination? Or is he waking up?”
Shen Yu’an’s eyebrows furrowed slightly, and a hoarse, mumbled sound escaped his lips.
“Dad...”
The word was barely a whisper, but it hung heavy in the air, weighing on everyone who heard it.
Even Mother’s steady steps faltered. She stopped walking, watching silently as the bed was wheeled away.
The word “Dad” echoed in her mind, hitting her like a punch to the gut.
The nurses quickly pushed the bed around the corner, and the faint sound of his voice disappeared with it.
Mother and Father turned and left the corridor one after the other, leaving only Lin Zhixia standing there alone.
The corridor fell silent again. Shen Yu’an was awake—but she couldn’t shake the fear that the world he woke up to would be nothing like the one he’d left behind yesterday.
She had no idea what he would be like now.
And the true collapse was only just beginning.
