Chapter 4: How He Teaches, How She Acts

In the hospital room, Liang Jishen was reviewing documents.

He had lost a lot of weight, looking sickly thin. The slanting rays of the setting sun fell on his face, making the usually aloof him appear warmer than the sunlight for once.

After a long while, Liang Jishen, feeling weary, rubbed his temples. "Cheng Xun."

"Secretary Cheng hasn't come up."

Liang Jishen paused, slightly moving his hand away, and their eyes met, striking a chord in He Sang's most hidden corner. She walked over, "I just ran into Secretary Cheng. He said you were hospitalized."

His voice was a bit hoarse. "It's nothing serious."

The closer she got, the stronger the smell of smoke from the hospital gown. Liang Jishen had a heavy smoking habit, often smoking one and a half packs a day when busy with work.

He Sang always made loquat and pear syrup for him. He didn't like sweet things and rarely drank it, so she would kiss him and transfer it bit by bit with her tongue. He never got angry.

This indulgence led her to the illusion that he deeply loved her.

"I'm going to Malaysia for a tour at the end of the year," He Sang said, sitting down by the bed.

Liang Jishen rubbed his temples even harder. "You only came for this."

"For what?"

His face was half-hidden in dappled shadows. "You only came for your passport."

He Sang looked at his bruised veins, her voice barely audible, "And to see how you're doing."

Liang Jishen remained silent. Her neck, as delicate as white jade, was encircled by a few strands of hair. Her ears had small, milk-white fuzz, short and thin. Perhaps the hospital room was too warm, as her earlobes were tinged with a layer of pink.

He Sang propped herself on the bed edge, moving back a little. "Have you taken your medicine?"

His voice grew hoarser. "In the drawer."

A box of capsules, a box of tablets. She carefully read the instructions, sorting out the dosage. "The painkillers contain sedatives. They can be addictive."

He Sang had learned a bit about taking care of Liang Jishen. Originally, Xin Xin and Cheng Xun were his personal assistants. Since He Sang came into the picture, Liang Jishen reassigned Xin Xin to the public relations department to accompany clients for drinks and karaoke. Feeling "out of favor," Xin Xin couldn't sit still.

He Sang handed him the cup of water. He took it without looking up. "Do you regret it?"

She hesitated.

His dry, warm palm covered the back of her hand. He repeated softly, "Do you regret being with me?"

She hadn't wanted to answer, but the ambiguous and mysterious atmosphere forced out her response. "No, I don't."

Liang Jishen tightened his grip and looked up.

She had a shallow scar on the right side of her forehead, stitched up three to four centimeters. The new tender flesh broke through the skin. He frowned. "You got hurt?"

He Sang brushed down her hair to cover it. "I bumped into the door frame."

"Come here."

She leaned forward slightly.

Liang Jishen ordered, "A little closer."

He Sang bent down, and his fingers touched the scar. "Where did you bump it?"

"The theater."

"You did it yourself?"

She hesitated for a second and then murmured an affirmation.

Liang Jishen brushed aside her hair. It was clearly not a collision wound but a cut from a sharp object.

"Who hit you?"

"The door panel was cracked." He Sang turned her head to avoid his gaze. "I wasn't paying attention."

She was always well-behaved, never flaunting their relationship, and rarely asking him to step in, which was what he appreciated most about her.

Even when together, she kept things low-key. Naturally, she didn't want to make a fuss after their separation, even though the entire theater isolated her.

As Liang Jishen was examining her wound, he noticed a woman standing at the door. He immediately let go. "What are you doing here?"

The woman stood still, her gaze fixed on He Sang's face, with a superficial smile. "Miss He also came to visit Jishen?"

He Sang straightened her back without a trace, her sharp nails digging into her flesh.

The sharp pain was piercing.

Song He.

That name, like a haunting spirit, wedged itself between her and Liang Jishen.

The first time she heard about Song He was from Zhang Chengye, the heir of the Zhang family. The Zhangs and the Liangs were archenemies, both in business and in romance. There were scandalous rumors about Old Master Zhang and Yao Wenji, the second wife of Liang Yanzhang, detailed and vivid, sparking their enmity. Whenever one family faced a scandal, the other would celebrate by giving bonuses to all employees.

Back then, Ji Xilan was against it, but Song He was ruthless enough to slit her wrists in front of Liang Jishen. In the public eye, the wealthy scion and the beautiful woman were just two people using each other—one paying for youth, the other seeking a long-term sponsor—with little genuine affection. Song He's actions, however, shocked him profoundly.

Though it didn't end well, for the next four to five years, Liang Jishen seemed to be at odds with his family, living an ascetic life, avoiding relationships.

"I came to get some medicine," He Sang said, standing up. "And to visit."

Song He approached, adopting the demeanor of a hostess. "Thank you for your hard work, Miss He." Then she turned to the man on the bed. "Jishen, Miss He is more attentive than the hospital nurses. With her taking care of you, I feel at ease."

Despite having had a legitimate relationship with Liang Jishen, being treated like a nurse was utterly humiliating.

Song He was indeed beautiful, but she had a malicious and insidious nature that only women could detect.

"I'm not as meticulous as Miss Song. I have work to do; you have more free time, which is more suitable."

As He Sang was about to leave, Song He suddenly changed the subject. "I've seen your plays, Miss He. I also stayed at the hotel where you and Zhou Chen checked in. The waterbed and the couple's room with various tools were quite exciting."

Liang Jishen's gaze lingered on the signature at the bottom right of the document, as if he was listening yet indifferent.

Zhou Chen was He Sang's acting partner in her performance class. After graduation, they were assigned to different cities. He had his teacher transfer him to her provincial theater. Their classmates joked about them being inseparable, and despite He Sang's clarifications, rumors spread like wildfire.

During an out-of-town performance, the lines were temporarily changed, and He Sang and Zhou Chen were rehearsing in the hotel room. Her dress strap was torn by a cleaning cart, and she had to change it before stepping out, coincidentally running into Liang Jishen.

Although he believed her explanation, it remained a sore point.

Liang Jishen demanded purity in both body and soul from a woman. Even in her dreams, she was only allowed to dream of him.

Song He brought up old matters to disgust him intentionally.

He Sang showed no reaction and walked out.

Liang Jishen closed the document, speaking slowly, "Is there any truth to it?"

"They've known each other for years; it's natural for feelings to develop over time," Song He smiled. "Mother already knows I'm back. Miss He is of no use anymore. She will eventually get married and have children. Can she shield you from disasters for a lifetime? Your heart is too hard."

He Sang tried to stay calm, but she couldn't.

Every word was like a knife, cutting into her, suffocating her.

She knew how important Song He was to Liang Jishen, but she hadn't expected that a year of companionship and genuine affection hadn't moved him at all.

Ji Xilan was ruthless, yet he still pushed her into the vortex.

"You should compensate Miss He," Song He said, leaning coquettishly against the man, whining, "She shouldn't be at a loss. I'm a woman, after all, and I stand up for women."

"It's true," He Sang took a deep breath. "We have feelings for each other."

Liang Jishen, who had remained silent, lifted his eyes, his expression unreadable. "To what extent?"

She felt numb from head to toe. "Just short of confirming the relationship."

Song He silently peeled an orange, the sour fragrance slightly irritating the man. He undid his shirt button, losing all patience. "Have Cheng Xun drive you."

"I drove here," He Sang quickly left, not wanting to stay another minute.

Earlier, Li Zhen had asked her if she lacked the ability to fight.

But a battle between two women had nothing to do with ability. Victory or defeat lay in a man's whim.

Whoever held a deeper place in a man's heart won.

As He Sang pressed the elevator button, Song He called out to her from behind.