I stared fixedly at that last line.

What did "running out of time" mean?

I dialed Luke's number, but it rang for a long time without an answer.

I didn't want to care.

But thinking of his mother still being in the hospital, I couldn't fully remain indifferent.

I hailed a taxi to Luke's apartment.

His door was ajar, and when I walked in, I found Luke weakly leaning against the wall.

I patted his face; it was cold and covered in cold sweat.

I picked up my phone and dialed the emergency services.

As the call connected, Luke's hand suddenly lifted and grabbed my wrist.

"Ginger, don't go."

His voice was light, as if it were about to vanish in the wind.

"I'm not going," I said, "but you have to go to the hospital."

He shook his head.

"Promise me first that you won't go."

The sound of the ambulance came from downstairs, growing closer.

He gripped my wrist, refusing to let go.

"Luke, let go first and let the doctor come up."

"Promise me first."

Looking at his pale face, I finally couldn't help but say:

"Luke, don't use a pity play on me; it won't work."

Chapter 20

Luke's hand stiffened, but he didn't let go.

It was only when the paramedics rushed in that his fingers slowly slid off my wrist.

I stepped back two paces and watched them lift him onto the stretcher.

He lay there, pale as a sheet, his eyes fixed on me the entire time.

"Ginger..."

I didn't respond.

As the stretcher was carried out the door, his hand reached toward me, failed to reach, and fell back down.

I didn't follow.

The doctors were more professional than I was; my presence wouldn't help.

I had already taken time off from work, so I had no choice but to return home.

About an hour later, Luke sent a message.

It was a photo of the back of his hand under the cuff of a hospital gown, with an IV needle inserted.

[I'm hospitalized.]

I didn't reply.

A few minutes later, another message came.

[The doctor says I need to stay for a week.]

I put down my chopsticks and typed a few characters.

[What does that have to do with me?]

There was a long silence on the other end.

The phone lit up again; this time, it was a voice message.

Luke's voice came through the earpiece.

"Ginger, the nurse asked me today if there was any family member to sign the papers, and I said no."

After a moment, another voice message arrived.

"When I said no, my mind was filled with you."

I flipped the phone face-down on the sofa and picked up the remote to turn up the TV volume.

Going to work on Monday, the team leader mentioned a partner during a department meeting, and the name sounded familiar.

After the meeting, I asked about it, and the team leader said: "A subsidiary of the Lu Group that you've coordinated with before. The person in charge has changed, and the new contact has requested a meeting on Wednesday."

I replied "Mm" without asking more.

Wednesday afternoon, when I walked into the conference room, the person sitting opposite looked up.

It was the Vice President, Chen, whom I had dealt with before.

"Manager Jiang, long time no see." Vice President Chen smiled, "President Lu asked me to send his regards."

"Thank you, but that's not necessary."

Vice President Chen looked at me, hesitant, but finally spoke.

"Do you know he's hospitalized?"

"I know."

"Then have you visited him?"

I didn't answer.

I opened my folder, my tone flat.

"President Chen, let's discuss business."

Vice President Chen opened his mouth but ultimately didn't say anything more.

When the meeting ended, I packed my things and headed out.

When I reached the elevator entrance, Vice President Chen chased after me.

"Manager Jiang, I don't know if I should say this."

"Then don't."

He was choked up by my response, but spoke anyway.

"His gastric bleeding didn't happen in a day or two. He kept dragging it out and not seeing a doctor because you previously told him he was stalking and pestering you. He was afraid of annoying you further, so he didn't even dare to go to the hospital."

I pressed the elevator button without responding.

Vice President Chen stood outside and said one final sentence to me.

"His words weren't a pity play. He truly feels that he might be running out of time."

After returning home, I put down my phone and went to the kitchen to pour a glass of water.

Before I could even finish, my phone vibrated again.

[Ginger, did you have a meeting with Vice President Chen today?]

[Did he say anything to you that he shouldn't have?]

I stood there with my water glass and replied:

[He said you were using a pity play.]

There was a long silence on the other end.

Then Luke sent a message, only one sentence long.

[And do you believe it?]

I stared at the screen and took a sip of water; the temperature was just right.

The sky outside the window was pitch black, and the lights in the building opposite flickered on one by one.

I didn't reply to those four words, but instead typed another line and sent it.

[Luke, focus on recovering. Once you've recovered, then we can talk some things through.]

The message was sent, and it showed "typing..." for a long time on the other end.

In the end, only one sentence came back.

[Okay. I'll listen to you.]

Chapter 21

On the fifth day of Luke's hospitalization, I received a package.

When I opened it, it was a photo album with a dark blue cover, and the title in gold foil letters read [2006—2025].

Flipping to the first page, there was a group photo of us from when we were kids—the Children's Day photo he said he had thrown away long ago.

Next to the photo was a sticky note: [Didn't throw it away. I've always kept it at the very back of the bookcase.]

In junior high, he played basketball, and I stood on the sidelines handing him water.

In high school, he sat at the desk right in front of me.

In college, at our usual spot on the third floor of the library, he secretly took a photo of me sleeping with my head down.

Next to every photo were sticky notes, densely packed with dates and remarks.

[Autumn 2009, the first time you came to my house for dinner, you were so nervous you held your chopsticks backward.]

[Summer 2012, you said you wanted to live closer to your parents in the future.]

[Winter 2015, you knitted a scarf for me, poking several holes in your fingers.]

Tucked into the last page was a letter with only one line of text on it.

[Ginger, the thing I am most sorry for in this life is not that I didn't go public, but that I clearly liked you so much, yet let you wait for three years without even knowing it.]

I closed the album and placed it on the table.

On Saturday afternoon, the doorbell rang.

Opening the door, Luke stood there, even thinner than he was before he was hospitalized.

"How come you've been discharged?"

"The doctor said I could go home to recuperate." He looked at me, "I wanted to come see you."

"There's nothing much to see."

He paused, nodded, and turned to walk toward the elevator.

"Ginger, did you look at the album?"

"I did."

"And the letter?"

"I read that too."

"Is there anything you want to say to me?"

I shook my head.

The elevator door opened, and he walked in.

Just as the door was about to close, I spoke up: "The album was well-made, but it's still far inferior to the forty-seven letters I helped you write."

He froze for a moment, and the elevator door closed.

On Sunday night, my mother called.

"Ginger, your Aunt Lu says that since Luke got home, he hasn't said a word while sitting in the living room; he just stares blankly at that photo album on the coffee table, saying the album is full of you."

I was about to speak when the doorbell suddenly rang.

Looking through the peephole, Luke and his mother were standing in the hallway.

Aunt Lu had been discharged a few days ago, but because Luke was unwilling to go back, she had no choice but to rush over here.

When Aunt Lu saw me open the door, her eyes turned red instantly.

"Ginger, Auntie has a favor to ask of you. Luke is stubborn to a fault; he doesn't rest properly after being discharged, he insists on... Auntie really can't bear to watch it anymore."

"What do you want me to do?"

"Help Auntie persuade him to eat and take his medicine properly. He only listens to you."