Dusk pooled like ink, and Gu Ying walked alone along the fading street. Her entire focus was fixed on the command echoing endlessly in her mind: Find her.
Suddenly, a wave of intense emotion crashed against her senses—fervent and pure, brimming with unbridled joy and despair, it had broken free from the shackles of reason entirely.
Gu Ying's gaze locked onto the third-floor window glowing with warm light. She could sense the soul entirely ruled by emotion. Silently, she walked toward that residential building.
She found her. It was her.
This was Wen Qing, Han Che's wife.
Wen Qing's transformation had happened a month earlier. By then, Han Che had already been infected by the virus and lost his emotions. One morning, while cleaning up the breakfast Han Che had spilled, she accidentally cut her finger on a shard of glass contaminated with the virus.
After infection, she showed no symptoms of fever or cough, only a sudden spell of dizziness. When she opened her eyes again, the world was unrecognizable. Reason receded like a tide, leaving behind a surging sea of emotions. The virus had altered parts of her genetic makeup, turning her into a purely emotional being—she could no longer make any rational judgments.
Misfortune never comes alone.
Suddenly, Tongtong came down with a persistent low-grade fever, his little face flushed burning red. Wen Qing's heart clenched tightly. She was instantly certain: "Tongtong must have the virus too! Just like us!"
Han Che pulled out a thermometer and took his temperature. "38.2 degrees. Based on the virus's transmission characteristics, the infection rate in children is only 2.3%. It's more likely a common cold or seasonal flu."
"No! I can feel it!" Wen Qing said, clutching her son tightly. "His symptoms are exactly like ours! We have to treat him for the virus!"
Unable to resolve their argument, they decided to take Tongtong to the hospital immediately. In the emergency room, Wen Qing insisted on a virus test, while Han Che rationally listed all possible causes and asked the doctor for a comprehensive examination.
The results shocked them both—the diagnosis of severe combined immunodeficiency, a rare disorder, crashed Wen Qing's hopes like a heavy hammer. Professor Li recommended a regimen of chemotherapy combined with stem cell transplantation, with a success rate of 65%, but the process was excruciatingly painful.
After calmly analyzing the data, Han Che said: "This is the best prognosis option, with manageable side effects."
But Wen Qing could only stare at her son's frail appearance. "65%? What about the other 35%? He's only five years old. How could he endure such suffering?"
In the hospital corridor, she was sobbing helplessly when a middle-aged woman dressed in plain, elegant clothes gently handed her a tissue. "Is your child sick?" the woman asked, her voice as soft as feathers. "I'm Teacher Wang. I might be able to help."
Instead of rushing to promote a treatment, Teacher Wang began to tell her story gently—her daughter had also suffered from a serious illness, and when Western medicine could do nothing, she had chanced upon a natural energy therapy in Malaysia. "The healers there don't use cold instruments; they heal with love and energy." She held up her phone to show photos of smiling children. "Look, these are all angels reborn."
What touched Wen Qing most was a video: in it, a pale boy was running with rosy cheeks after the "therapy." "A mother's love is the best medicine," Teacher Wang said, squeezing Wen Qing's hand tightly. "Would you let your child suffer, or grant them a pain-free miracle?"
The words struck straight to Wen Qing's softest spot. She trusted the stranger completely—simply because "her eyes were so sincere" and "her story was so touching."
When they got home, she said excitedly to Han Che: "Let's go to Malaysia! There's a natural therapy there—no chemotherapy needed!"
After researching, Han Che frowned and said: "The clinic is unregistered. The so-called therapy lacks academic support and has received complaint records. It's a scam."
"A scam?" Wen Qing retorted, her voice rising. "Were those photos fake? Were Teacher Wang's tears fake? You only care about data; I'm the child's mother. I know what's best for him!"
The next day, Wen Qing withdrew all the family's savings—Tongtong's education fund, as well as her parents' pension money. She also contacted an agent, planning to sell the pre-marital apartment left by her parents. "A lifetime membership costs half a million yuan," she said eagerly on the phone. "I'll take Tongtong for treatment next week."
The crisis erupted that night. Han Che discovered that all the family's money was gone, along with a packed suitcase and plane tickets. He knew that rational persuasion would be useless, so he quickly calculated the optimal solution.
As Wen Qing prepared to take Tongtong out, her eyes suddenly felt too heavy to open. Drowsiness washed over her, and she collapsed to the floor, falling asleep on the spot.
Han Che had added a precise dose of sedative to Wen Qing's water—enough to make her sleep for eight hours without causing her any harm.
When Wen Qing woke up, she found herself lying in a hospital bed, and Tongtong was already receiving formal treatment. "What did you do to me?" she screamed hysterically. "I'll never forgive you!"
Han Che calmly displayed the data: "Without prompt treatment, the mortality rate would be as high as 87%. I trust the real 65% over an illusory miracle."
The treatment was excruciating. Tongtong not only vomited frequently but also started losing his hair. Every time she saw her son suffering, Wen Qing's heart ached. She remained convinced that if they had gone to Malaysia, her son would have escaped this ordeal.
A month later, follow-up tests showed that the cancer cells in Tongtong's body had been basically eliminated. Han Che crossed out the date on the calendar and drew a smiley face beside it.
But Wen Qing didn't smile. "You killed our love with numbers. You'll never understand what true love is."
Just then, the doorbell rang. Wiping away her tears, Wen Qing opened the door in a daze.
Gu Ying stood outside the door. Her eyes were like two bottomless pools of cold water, yet faintly shimmering with an indescribable light. As their eyes met, time seemed to freeze.
Wen Qing stared blankly at the stranger, a strange sense of familiarity stirring in her heart.
Gu Ying said nothing, just took a step forward. Her movements were unusually fluid, as if guided by some invisible force. As her fingers gently brushed against Wen Qing's wrist, a faint, electric-like tremor passed between them.
Wen Qing's tears fell silently. She didn't understand what was happening, but deep in her chaotic emotions, she felt an unprecedented sense of connection. She was no longer struggling alone in the sea of emotions, but had become a part of something larger.
At that moment, a cold command echoed in her mind—stronger and clearer than any impulse she had ever felt before:
Find him.
The thought spread like wild vines, instantly taking over her entire consciousness. Wen Qing didn't know who "he" was, but she was determined to find him.