novelraw Chapter 188 Impossible?
Chapter 188 Impossible?
Back then, her senior was like a distant shadow—gentle, patient, and all-knowing—the outlet for all her emotions.
She thought that meant she liked him.
But then she met Gu Yanshen.
After meeting him, she finally understood what love was.
—It's not about writing letters cautiously, not about fantasizing through a screen; it's about a racing heart, blushing and burning ears, wanting to get closer yet not daring to, knowing you'll get hurt but still unable to resist moving forward.
That feeling, her senior couldn't give her.
So she finally understood. To her senior, he was nothing more than a lifeline she clung to during those years she was forced to go to Switzerland. A small comfort in her loneliness, the only light in the darkness.
Writing letters to my seniors gradually became a habit, as natural as eating and drinking every day.
But she never imagined that Gu Yanshen was her senior.
Those late-night replies, those gentle encouragements, that warmth she thought came from strangers—it turned out they all came from him.
It turns out that he was the only one in her life.
But he lied to her for three whole years.
From the moment she started making up that story, he knew he was the male lead. Even after they got married, during what she believed to be their love affair, he never revealed a word of it.
What was originally a sense of destiny bestowed by fate became utterly ridiculous under his deception.
Is he afraid she'll become even more difficult to deal with?
Yes, she is quite difficult to deal with.
Three and a half years ago, he told her as if throwing away trash, "Why would Gu Yanshen want a woman who can't have children?"
Three years ago, he said to Su Lanzhi, "Help me solve a problem."
Last week, he chose Song Zhihe without hesitation, telling Li Fengche, "She's just my ex-wife."
Even so, she hasn't left yet.
I can't shake them off no matter what I do.
What does she mean to him?
He kept saying that he liked her body.
Indeed, to him, she was young, beautiful, and comfortable.
Lu Xiran felt wronged. Wronged to the core.
But why does she love him so much?
Even so, she still loved him.
But her pride no longer allowed her to continue loving him.
She can already take slow steps today, and in a few days she'll be able to walk. Then she'll go back to Switzerland. The longer she stays by his side, the more afraid she'll become infatuated with him again.
Yes, it's obsession.
Hearing the commotion outside the door, Lu Xiran immediately propped herself up with her crutch.
Gu Yanshen pushed open the door and came in, sleeves rolled up, carrying several takeout boxes. When he saw her standing in the middle of the living room, he immediately put down the boxes, walked over, and scooped her up in his arms, the movements as practiced as if he had done it countless times.
"I can walk by myself." She turned her head away.
"Mmm," he responded, but didn't let go. He placed her on the high chair and then went to set out the food. Soup, vegetables, rice, he took them out of the insulated bag one by one and placed them in front of her, even setting out the chopsticks for her on her right.
"I asked Aunt Lu to make you some soup." He looked at her, a cautious expectation in his eyes. "You need to nourish your body."
It was whelk and pork rib soup, her favorite. But Lu Xiran had no appetite. The aroma of the soup wafted into her nostrils, and her stomach suddenly churned, as if something was resisting it.
"I don't want to eat." She pushed the bowl away.
Gu Yanshen was taken aback. He picked up the soup, took a sip, and frowned slightly. "It tastes the same as before, what's wrong?"
"I don't want to eat, that's all." Her voice turned cold.
"Yeah, it's a bit greasy to eat this right after waking up." He glanced at his watch, his tone carrying a hint of ingratiating negotiation. "Won't you be hungry if I make porridge now?"
"I want to eat noodles," she said.
"Okay." He immediately turned around and went to the kitchen, picking up the pot he had used the night before.
"I'm talking about delicious noodles," she added, her voice tinged with sullenness. "Your cooking is terrible."
His back paused for a moment. "Then how about this," he turned around and looked at her, "I'll have Yun Yu Ji send over a bowl of noodles?"
"I don't want to eat."
"Then eat what I made." He turned around to get water, the water gurgling as it flowed. She heard him say, "You ate quite well last night."
"There was no other choice."
"And it is now too." He suddenly smiled, turning to look at her. The smile was gentle, yet it carried a tenderness that was impossible to hide from. She lowered her head, not wanting to look into his eyes.
She didn't know why she still ate the bowl of noodles.
The noodles were still a bit soft, and the soup was still a bit salty, but her stomach didn't resist. As she ate, she cursed herself inwardly—useless, truly useless.
For the next few days, Lu Xiran had a poor appetite.
It's not that I'm being dramatic, I really can't eat.
I feel nauseous at the sight of greasy food and vomit at the smell of cooking fumes.
Gu Yanshen assumed she was in a bad mood after her foot injury, so he had Yunyuji and Gu's Hotel prepare a variety of dishes for her. Yunyuji's soup, Aunt Lu's specialty dishes, and various light snacks—a whole table was laid out, but she could only eat a few bites.
But she only ate the noodles he cooked.
Moreover, a top student is indeed a top student.
Within three days, his noodle-cooking skills improved by leaps and bounds.
The noodles are no longer soggy, the soup base is no longer salty, and the poached eggs can be fried to a golden and round perfection.
She finished her noodles, neither saying they were good nor bad. Afterward, she stood up, leaning on her crutch, and limped back to her room, closing the door behind her.
She didn't like talking to him. Now that she had decided to leave, she was afraid of getting entangled with him further.
But she found that something was wrong with her body. She was always tired even though she was resting at home every day.
It wasn't the kind of tiredness from lack of sleep, but a weariness that seeped into her very bones, making her feel utterly listless. She assumed it was because she hadn't been active enough since her foot injury and didn't pay much attention to it.
Until she woke up from her afternoon nap that day, the sun was shining brightly. She leaned on her cane and walked to the living room, ordering a coffee delivery. When the coffee arrived, she had just inserted the straw and brought it to her lips—the aroma of coffee wafted into her nostrils, rich, bitter, and with a hint of caramel sweetness.
Her stomach churned violently. A wave of intense nausea shot from the bottom of her stomach to her throat. She dropped the cup, covered her mouth, and her face instantly turned as white as a sheet.
Coffee was spilled all over the table, and the brown liquid dripped down the edge of the table.
Lu Xiran didn't have time to pack up, and didn't even bother to grab her crutches. She stood up by the edge of the table and staggered into the bathroom.
Her stomach was still churning, and waves of nausea rose up, as if something was about to burst from her throat. She leaned over the sink and vomited. She threw up everything she had eaten that day, leaving only bitter bile that made her tremble with nausea.
She looked up and saw that the person in the mirror was as white as paper, with no color in their lips and red eyes.
She looked at herself, at those bewildered eyes, and suddenly an idea rushed into her mind, like a lightning bolt splitting through the thick fog.
Her hand unconsciously rested on her lower abdomen.
impossible.
The doctor said it would be difficult for her to get pregnant again.
She told herself not to have hope. Hope was too terrible. Hope is followed by disappointment, and disappointment by despair.
But her fingers were still on her lower abdomen, and she didn't remove them.