Chapter Sixty-Eight: Days on the Sickbed

Lying on the hospital bed, I looked up at the young man and woman in uniform standing before me, feeling a headache coming on. If only an experienced detective had been assigned to this case, I’m sure it would have been wrapped up by now. Why did it have to be these two rookies... Besides, by the look of them, aren’t they obviously a couple?

“Name?”

“Yang Chen.”

“Gender?”

“Male...”

“Age?”

“Twenty-four.”

“Occupation?”

“None... But, is that really relevant to this case?” I eyed the young pair sitting by my bed, puzzled. “I’ve already explained everything in detail over the past few days. I even went over the fight scene with you both as if telling a story. Can’t you just check the surveillance footage for the rest?”

“What’s with your attitude? Are you trying to obstruct official business?” the young policewoman snapped, throwing her pen onto the bed in annoyance at my slightly complaining tone.

I honestly wasn’t trying to make things difficult for them, but I was reaching my limit. They came three to five times a day for statements, always digging for background or details. Did any of that really matter in such a nasty incident? Wouldn’t the surveillance footage reveal the truth of right and wrong?

“We’re just trying to help you. You should know how hard you went at it; that other guy’s still not in his right mind. We can’t question him, so we have to question you, right?” the young man’s tone was much more reasonable than his partner’s, and easier to accept. “Besides, this is for your own good, isn’t it? The more you can recall, the more evidence you might have in your favor. Isn’t that important?”

I sighed inwardly and nodded helplessly.

Another morning passed just like the others, giving statements. In the occasional idle chatter, I learned that the two officers were indeed a couple. The man was Zhang Chuang, the woman Li Huixin—both recent police academy graduates assigned here this year.

If my old life had been called uneventful, these days could only be described as monotonous. Lying in the hospital bed, constantly under supervision as if they feared I might run off—was Yichun City really so harmonious that they could focus so tightly on someone as insignificant as me?

In my spare time, or when I couldn’t sleep at night, I often found myself wondering what Luo Qing was doing at that moment. Was she lying quietly in bed, thinking of me as well? Whenever I thought like that, I wanted to call her, even if just to chat for a moment and ease my longing. But unfortunately, my phone had been taken as evidence, cutting off my only connection to the outside world.

Whenever I imagined reuniting with Luo Qing after all this, my heart brimmed with happiness. At least now I could proudly say I was no longer single—my current status was Luo Qing’s boyfriend!

I couldn’t help but smile at the thought, and whenever Li Huixin saw that smile, she’d roll her eyes and toss out, “This guy seems a little crazy to me!”

The more time I spent with them, the more I found myself joking with her or Zhang Chuang. “Honestly, you two should just get married already. It might feel easy and comfortable dating now, but wait till you’re older and can’t get hitched—let’s see if you’re still so smug then!”

“You really are something. So sure you’ll be released without charges?” Li Huixin looked at me with open disdain. “Nothing’s been decided about your case yet. If you get three to five years, let’s see if you can still laugh then!”

Zhang Chuang, meanwhile, always responded differently. “Brother, if we really get married, you’ll definitely be invited to our wedding!”

“Really?” I smiled at Zhang Chuang’s hopeful face, and I genuinely thought he was a good guy—sincere, easygoing, never sharp-edged, always gentle.

“Of course it’s true. But if you end up behind bars, I can’t help that,” he laughed.

“Don’t talk nonsense!” Li Huixin’s cheeks flushed as she chided him playfully.

So the days drifted lazily by as I lay in my hospital bed. At most, I’d stroll the corridor with someone accompanying me—more like someone watching me. Not that I was trying to escape; my injuries were no joke. Multiple fractures left me unable to care for myself for at least a month. Honestly, sending me home would have been more trouble than it was worth.

I can’t recall exactly which day it was, but eventually a familiar face appeared—Sister Wen.

She didn’t look well. Maybe she’d suffered because of me. I felt deeply guilty. The Bian Bar had only just opened, and now, because of me, this disaster had struck. Places like bars and clubs can’t afford to have serious fights—it scares away customers. Though I couldn’t control what happened, it had started because of me. If the bar suffered losses—or worse—my conscience would torment me.

“Are you alright?” Zhao Kewen’s face was pale as she sat gently by my bed.

“I’m fine... Sis, how’s the bar doing?” Honestly, I was more concerned about Bian Bar, into which Zhao Kewen had poured her heart and soul. My own situation couldn’t be fixed in a day, so rather than worry, I might as well wait patiently.

She hesitated before finally saying, “It’s been shut down for inspection.”

“What!” I sat dumbfounded on the bed. That news hit me like a bomb. A shutdown meant all previous efforts were almost wasted. Every marketing channel would have to be rebuilt from scratch; for an entertainment venue, it was nearly a fatal blow.

I stared at Zhao Kewen, speechless. Should I apologize? But what good would that do...

“Don’t be upset, little brother. As long as the venue and equipment are still there, everything can start over, right?” She smiled and reached out to gently ruffle my hair.

“Is there really no way to fix it?” By now, my own troubles seemed unimportant. I just wanted to know if there was any way to recover from this loss.

She shook her head softly, then said in a gentle voice, “Just focus on recovering, little brother. Let me handle the bar. Trust your sister—I’ll manage.”

All I could do was nod. What else could I do now but take things one step at a time?

“Sis... I’m really fine, so don’t worry. Take care of things at the bar. I’m looking forward to being acquitted and seeing Bian Bar reopen—a double celebration!” I knew my only use now was not to distract Zhao Kewen further.

“Deal!” she said, extending her pinky for a childish little promise.

The days that followed were still accompanied by the familiar nurses and those two lively officers, Zhang Chuang and Li Huixin.

One day, though, Li Huixin asked me something that left me puzzled: “Do you know a woman named ‘Shi Yu’?”

I was surprised she knew Shi Yu, but her question meant something must have happened.

“Yes, I do. What about her?”

“Nothing, really. She came in yesterday with two important pieces of evidence—both apparently very favorable for you,” Li Huixin said after thinking for a moment.

Would Shi Yu really have favorable evidence for me? She hadn’t even been there that night—how could she submit evidence about the incident to the police? Suddenly, I realized it was likely that Luo Qing had given everything to Shi Yu, who then turned it in. That would make perfect sense.

But it also confirmed another troubling suspicion: Luo Qing’s freedom must have been restricted by her family, so she had to ask Shi Yu for help.

When I asked what the evidence was, Li Huixin refused to say, explaining that it was confidential and not to be discussed. I had no choice but to drop the subject.

Lying bored in my hospital bed, my mind wandered endlessly—to my future life, to what would become of Bian Bar, to the consequences if Qi Tian woke up or never did.

Sometimes I laughed at myself, wondering what Zhang Jiaxin thought of me now. Would she always hold a grudge? Even if she did, it was an unchangeable fact. My blows didn’t just hit that vile Qi Tian—they shattered the dreams Zhang Jiaxin had pinned on him. Yet some things remained a mystery: with Qi Tian in such a state, Zhang Jiaxin never really came to see him. Did she not know? But in a real relationship, could there truly be such a long period of silence without even a single attempt to find out?

I suspected Qi Tian had already recovered his senses. He was probably pretending in the hospital, working connections behind the scenes. After all, even if I’d overdone my self-defense, I wouldn’t get a life sentence. But for him, it was different: he started it, used every dirty trick. If everything was thoroughly investigated, his crimes were far worse than mine.

Confined to this small room, I’d almost achieved a state of complete detachment from the outside world. I had no idea whether the police had questioned Qi Tian, and the usually forthright Zhang Chuang kept all information about that strictly confidential.

No matter what, I still believed in an ancient truth: in the contest between justice and evil, justice always prevails—doesn’t it?