Chapter 6: How Much Per Night

[I like you, please go out with me!]

A faded memory.

Before college, it seemed like a lot of people had said those words to her.

How had she replied back then…

[Really? I like you too.]

Looking into the girl’s shining eyes before her, she smiled faintly.

[But I’m not ready for a relationship right now.]

At those words, the girl’s gaze dimmed noticeably.

Taking in the shift in her expression, Hua Qi’an smiled again.

[Though, if one day I do feel like dating, I might just say yes to you.]

Even as she said it…

[Until then, could you keep liking me with all your effort?]

Truth be told, she hadn’t even remembered the girl’s name.

Later—

She deliberately chose a university in another city, severing all ties to her past.

—

“Beep… beep… beep…”

The cold beeps of the monitor echoed rhythmically in the empty room.

The hospital room was impeccably clean, the vast space holding only a single bed—clearly VIP treatment at some upscale facility.

On the pristine white bed lay a pale young woman in deep slumber.

Her ink-black, silky hair fanned out across the pillow, yet without a hint of disorder.

Someone had clearly combed it out with care.

And that someone couldn’t possibly have been the sleeping girl herself.

She lay there quietly, her chest rising and falling faintly with shallow breaths—the only sign of life.

Even with her face pallid and sickly, it couldn’t mask the delicate beauty of her features.

That fragility only amplified a sense of vulnerability, evoking thoughts of easily shattered porcelain.

The eyes of the once-slumbering girl suddenly began to quiver.

As if on the verge of waking.

“Mmm…”

A slightly hoarse murmur escaped her throat.

Those long-closed dark eyes cracked open just a slit at first.

It took a good while before they fully opened.

Staring at the unfamiliar ceiling, Hua Qi’an felt a moment of disorientation.

Her vision was badly blurred, but the thick scent of disinfectant still let her roughly guess where she was.

She keenly caught the sound of footsteps approaching outside the room.

Hua Qi’an opted to close her somewhat dry eyes again.

The door opened.

It was the nurse coming to change her IV.

“Water…”

Confirming she’d truly escaped danger, the weight in Hua Qi’an’s heart finally lifted.

Only then did she softly speak to the nurse, whose focus was on the IV bag.

The nurse clearly hadn’t expected her to be awake; the sudden voice gave her a slight start.

But she showed no trace of annoyance.

“You’re awake? I’ll fetch the head nurse right away.”

Perhaps because it was a VIP room, the nurse’s attitude was exceptionally warm.

“Water…”

But Hua Qi’an’s expression darkened a touch, as if weighed down by heavy thoughts.

The nurse assumed it was post-waking discomfort.

She nodded, turned to pour a glass of water from the room’s built-in pitcher.

Then, leaning over, she adjusted the bed’s backrest, propping Hua Qi’an’s upper body into a seated position.

Hua Qi’an took the glass, her fingers absently rubbing the cup’s edge, lost in thought.

She lifted it and drank down the water.

Her parched throat eased considerably.

Seizing the moment before the nurse left, she gave a light cough to draw her attention.

“Drink slowly, no rush…”

The nurse took the empty glass, set it back on the bedside table, and fixed Hua Qi’an with a strange gaze—equal parts pity and discomfort.

It made her skin crawl a bit.

Did this nurse know something?

Hua Qi’an had no intention of digging into it.

Compared to irrelevant matters, she had more pressing concerns.

“Excuse me…”

“How much does this room cost per night?”

Hua Qi’an pressed her lips together, tilting her head to regard the nurse.

She didn’t ask who had saved her, nor about her condition.

Clearly, this was the only thing on her mind.

The nurse didn’t overthink it, assuming Hua Qi’an was just fretting over the bill.

She replied in a soothing tone:

“The lady who brought you in already covered your medical fees.”

“Your condition isn’t too severe; you should be able to check out this afternoon.”

At that, Hua Qi’an offered the nurse a bashful smile and a nod.

“Thank you; you must work so hard.”

Seeing Hua Qi’an’s smile, the nurse froze for a beat.

She awkwardly averted her eyes, cleared her throat, feeling an odd flush creep up her face.

“Alright, if you need anything, just ring the bedside bell.”

“I’ll be going now.”

With that, the nurse strode out briskly, as if being chased.

The room fell quiet once more.

Only the sound of one person’s breathing remained.

Hua Qi’an stared at the still door for a long while, her upturned lips falling flat, her face resuming its blank mask.

She hadn’t even collected her part-time pay, and now she owed medical bills.

Her luck was truly abysmal.

Recalling the state of that house, Hua Qi’an’s mood couldn’t be summed up as merely “bad.”

She turned her head to glance at the bedside table.

At least her phone was still there.

Right now, it sat on the table to her left.

With a soft sigh.

Her left hand was hooked to the IV, making it inconvenient to reach.

She twisted her body, using her other hand to grab the phone.

Checking the time displayed on the screen, Hua Qi’an breathed a sigh of relief.

She’d passed out in the house around noon the day before.

Now it was morning of the second day.

She hadn’t been unconscious for too long.

Flashes of the scene before blacking out, and the dream that followed, crossed her mind.

Why had she suddenly seen a woman appear behind her in that house bathroom?

A hallucination?

And that inexplicable dream…

The strange silhouette, the scene like the depths of an abyssal underwater world…

And those loathsome waterweeds.

Though she wasn’t one to buy into that sort of thing, it still felt inauspicious.

In a couple days, she’d find a free temple or shrine to pay her respects.

Pinpointing the cause of her misfortune, Hua Qi’an opened her phone’s gallery.

There lay the several-hour video, quietly waiting.

Hua Qi’an lacked the energy for editing or any post-production.

She pulled up the email from the HR, attached the raw footage unprocessed, and sent it off.

Even now, she wasn’t sure if this job was legit.

But she’d only done this one stint; though she’d lost an unknown sum to medical fees, if issues cropped up, she could still cut her losses in time.

It all depended on their reply.

If things went smoothly, she’d prepare more thoroughly for the next gig to avoid repeats.

She locked the screen but didn’t set the phone back on the table—instead, she tossed it casually beside her pillow.

Hua Qi’an leaned back against the raised bed, eyes closed, wearing an utterly world-weary expression.

She had zero desire to open her eyes and face it.

Right now, there was a far more real, more terrifying, more dire issue.

The moment she’d realized she was in a hospital, it had hung over her like the Sword of Damocles…

“…Xiao An.”

At the hospital room door, a figure leaned against it, staring icily at Hua Qi’an.

The voice held no overt emotion, yet Hua Qi’an shuddered involuntarily.

She kept her head bowed, refusing to look up at the woman in the doorway—as if she could bore a hole through the spotless sheets.

“The exam and admission fees will go straight onto your debt.”

Footsteps approached from the door.

A shadow fell across the pristine sheets before her.

“Now, explain.”

“Why were you in a place like that.”

She wanted to know too.

…How did she know she’d been in a place like that.