Chapter 21 How to Love?

Many people are not incapable of love—they simply do not know how to love.

The girl sat silently, like a doll stripped of her soul. She told herself that every feeling had already faded away, and yet, why did the warmth of tears still linger at the corners of her eyes?

The weight forced upon her seemed to vanish in an instant, and her body, numb from pain, curled up little by little as she heard the sound of running water. She shrank into a corner, leaned back against the sofa, and gazed up at the dazzling crystal chandelier above, its brilliance so blinding that her eyes ached.

Lu Huaining was drying his damp, short hair as he walked into the living room, only to see her—clad in nothing but a bath towel—half-kneeling on the floor, fiercely scrubbing at something on the carpet with a tissue.

He approached. The stain that had borne witness to the brutality of the night had long since dried. What was she thinking with those vacant eyes? He let out a cold snort. Could a shameless woman, a mistress, really mourn the loss of her chastity?

"Stop it," Lu Huaining said coldly, grabbing her and pulling her away. "Someone will come to clean up."

Xue Zuining let the man toss her onto the sofa. Clutching the loose towel to herself, she watched him button his shirt and turn to leave, leaving behind a vast, empty space, warmed only by a cold stillness.

So what was she now? A whore? Perhaps, in the eyes of that man—so cold that even his blood seemed frozen—she was not even worthy of being called one.

Cold. So very cold. The torrential rain outside could never dispel the darkness beyond the window. Her muddled spirit slowly drifted downward, plunging into the abyss of hell.

At dawn, when the secretary, Yang Qiong, opened the door and saw the chaos in the living room, the housekeeper behind her exclaimed in surprise. But catching Yang Qiong's warning glare, the housekeeper immediately fell silent, nodded with understanding, and began her work.

Yang Qiong instantly noticed Xue Zuining, collapsed on the small sofa. Approaching, she saw the girl's flushed cheeks, her brows furrowed in a feverish sweat, lips trembling and tightly pressed together.

"Miss Xue? Wake up—" Yang Qiong tried to rouse her from her nightmare, but all she heard was a faint murmur: "Cold…"

"Could she be ill?" the housekeeper guessed in her thick hometown accent. Turning around and seeing Xue Zuining's fever-bright cheeks, she cried out in alarm, "Heavens, let’s hope she doesn’t end up with a fever like my little one did!"

This time, Yang Qiong could not spare the energy to rebuke the housekeeper for overstepping. She pulled out her phone and dialed her boss.

"What's wrong? Haven’t found her?" Lu Huaining answered immediately, irritation flickering in his eyes as he listened. Did that woman really spend the whole night naked in the living room, heedless of her own life?

"Understood, rest assured, Mr. Lu," Yang Qiong replied, hanging up. She fetched a large bathrobe from the bathroom and handed it to the housekeeper. "Stop what you're doing for now. Get her changed, then bring a cool, damp towel from the bathroom and place it on her."

With that, she stepped out to call the hospital. Soon, Lu Huaining's driver arrived at the villa. Cradling Xue Zuining, burning and unconscious, he rushed outside, praying silently that nothing would go wrong.

In the emergency room, after a series of examinations and treatments, the doctor reached a conclusion: a high fever had developed into pneumonia. With a stroke of the pen, he ordered her admitted.

In her hazy, muddled consciousness, it felt as though a sharp instrument suddenly sliced through her skin. Then, a cool liquid slowly flowed into her body, following the path of the needle. Her feverish body hovered between torment and relief. Unaware, a word slipped from her lips: "It hurts…"

"She says it hurts—can't you be more gentle?"

So noisy. It seemed to be a man's voice, along with a woman's anxious apologies. Chen Sang, is that you? But why does your voice sound so proud?

"Chen Sang, it hurts..." Xue Zuining tried to pull back her aching hand.

"Hurting won't kill you. Bear it!" The man's angry voice rang out sharply. His large hand pressed her right hand, unconsciously tightening its grip. The faint sound of his teeth grinding was audible. "Did my words go in one ear and out the other? Xue Zuining, you belong to me. You're never to think of your old lover again. Not in this lifetime!"

"Sir, if you grip any harder, the needle will break in the patient's vein!" the nurse cried anxiously, trying to pry his hand loose. After that came the slam of the door, furious and loud.

Then, the world fell silent.

When Xue Zuining woke, before she even opened her eyes, she caught the faint scent of disinfectant and frowned. Lifting her eyelids, she was not disappointed: though the room was spacious and at first glance resembled a hotel suite, the harsh whiteness revealed it as a hospital room—an expensive one at that.

Her gaze swept the room and landed on a sofa, where a young nurse sat, absorbed in a brightly colored magazine. Sensing her stare, the nurse looked up, revealing a pretty, delicate face. "Oh, you're awake! How are you feeling?"

"Why am I here?" Xue Zuining was confused.

"You're sick, of course," the nurse replied cheerfully, coming over and picking up the bedside phone to make a call. "Finally awake..."

"Wait—what's wrong with me?" Only then did Xue Zuining notice something was off. Her body felt heavy, and when she raised her right hand, she saw her entire hand was bruised and purple.

"Acute pneumonia. You have no idea—when they brought you in, our hospital's thermometer nearly exploded." The nurse took her temperature.

Clamping the thermometer under her tongue, Xue Zuining smiled wryly. On such a stormy night, she had been making love on the floor. How could it not lead to pneumonia?

The nurse had just finished her call when a woman in a black suit strode in briskly.

"Secretary Yang?" Xue Zuining remembered meeting her once at Shengtian International.

Yang Qiong smiled warmly. "You're awake. How do you feel?"

"Did you bring me to the hospital?" Xue Zuining asked as the woman approached her bedside. Before she received an answer, she saw Yang Qiong take two white pills from a small medicine bottle, pour a glass of water, and hand them to her.

"Mr. Lu's orders. He doesn't want any accidents."

Xue Zuining instantly understood what they were. She gave a cold laugh, swallowed the pills without hesitation, and let the bitter taste spread in her mouth. For some reason, her smile only deepened.

Yang Qiong looked down at this stubborn woman who had swallowed the pills without even needing water. Her heart ached. Glancing at the bruises on Xue Zuining's right hand, she pulled over a chair and sat down. "Miss Xue, I know many things are beyond your control, but please, even if you have to pretend, fool Mr. Lu. Because sometimes, being too genuine will only bring you harm."