Beg Me to Remarry
Chapter 400: The Pervasive Fog

Chapter 400: Chapter 400: The Pervasive Fog

The phone beneath her pillow vibrated with a sound that stirred Fu Han awake. As she fished it out, the screen revealed a message from Bai Wei. The moment she realized it wasn’t from He Xing, her eyes dimmed with disappointment.

Still, she unlocked her phone and read the brief message. "Fu Han," Bai Wei wrote, "I heard from mom that you’re having surgery soon. Hang in there! I have unfinished business back home, so I won’t be able to come abroad to be with you. Don’t be mad."

When Fu Han had left for overseas, Bai Wei had promised to be there for her surgery, to cheer her on. Fu Han had been moved by the sentiment, but she hadn’t taken Bai Wei’s words to heart, knowing that Bai Wei obviously preferred staying with Luo Qinghe to coming abroad.

So now, receiving Bai Wei’s message, Fu Han didn’t need to think twice to guess that Bai Wei’s "unfinished business" must be related to Luo Qinghe.

With a slight smile, Fu Han texted back, "It’s okay, you don’t need to come all the way here; I’ll be fine."

After sending the message, Fu Han gazed out at the sky. It seemed foggy, as if a semi-transparent veil loomed before her, obstructing her clear view of the world.

In this country, the fog was a constant, an environmental symptom, so Fu Xingbo had explained.

The city’s most notable trait was how, in the foggy mornings, one could easily mistake it for still being dark, and at dusk, it felt as though night had already fallen.

Yawning dramatically, Fu Han realized her jet lag hadn’t quite worn off; she found herself unable to sleep at night, yet sleepy during the day.

She felt she should find something to do. Her hand habitually fumbled on the nightstand for something, but came up empty—a stark reminder that He Xing wasn’t there, and nobody had provided a book for her hospital stay.

Another fierce yawn escaped her, but this time, from somewhere unknown, tears slipped down her cheeks and dropped with a pat onto the white sheets.

A deep voice echoed from afar: "Xiaohan... Xiaohan..."

It was He Xing’s voice. Fu Han turned toward the sound only to see nothing but pervasive fog, thick and hazy, masking a shadowy figure.

Her heart plummeted off a cliff, her body descending ceaselessly. She tensed, wanting to scream, but no sound came.

Terror spread through her, and a voice within her deepest self spoke, repeating that she must hurry to find He Xing. If she couldn’t, she would never see him again.

Desperate, Fu Han threw off the covers and clumsily put on her shoes, racing toward where He Xing had vanished.

The streets drowned in fog, the outlines of buildings faint on either side.

It resembled an ancient alleyway, paved with blue bricks, with uniform two-story buildings lining it, as if from a historical drama. Under some eaves, mythical beasts were carved, and quaint wind chimes tinkled in the breeze.

On a normal day, Fu Han would have lingered to take more photos, but today her only thought was to find He Xing, faster and faster.

He Xing’s name was at her throat, on her tongue, yet her lips seemed magically sealed, unable to utter his name.

All she knew was to run forward, to keep running.

The obscured path didn’t matter, nor did stumbling. Watching her bloodied, scraped feet, Fu Han felt no pain—those legs seemed to belong to someone else.

Finally, the vague shadow appeared before her, less than a meter away.

It was a silhouette clad in black wool, and Fu Han was certain it was He Xing. She summoned all her strength and called out his name.

As if in slow motion from a movie, the figure paused and turned around gradually.

It felt like an eternity before He Xing’s familiar face appeared before her. Who else could it be?

An immense joy filled her heart. At this moment, there was only one thought in her mind: she had finally found He Xing, and she no longer had to worry about never seeing him again.

With a smile blossoming across her face, she appeared untouched by the world, as ethereal as the first lotus blooming in an early summer pond, and she whispered dreamily as she approached him, "He Xing, I’ve finally found you."

Yet the closer she got to He Xing, the more something felt amiss. What exactly was wrong, she couldn’t tell.

It wasn’t until she was less than three steps from He Xing that she realized what was off.

He was looking at her with a wooden expression, his eyes bright yet seemingly bottomless pits, captivating but void of spirit.

A chill climbed up Fu Han’s spine as she heard her own voice tremble, "He Xing, what’s wrong with you?"

"Nothing much." It was He Xing’s first uttered word since their meeting.

Fu Han wished he hadn’t spoken, as his toneless words sounded like they were from a robot, the elongated intonation scratching like stones across frosted glass, sending shivers down one’s spine.

Looking down, Fu Han noticed the goosebumps prickling over her arms. She finally understood what was different about He Xing today.

He was like a robot, his face frozen and impassive, and even his walk was odd, stiff and mechanical.

Overwhelmed by a great agony, Fu Han reached out and tugged on He Xing’s sleeve. "He Xing, what has happened to you?"

With a snap, Fu Han looked down at her hand in disbelief. Without much force, He Xing’s arm had come off in her grasp.

For a moment, Fu Han stared dumbfounded at He Xing’s severed limb in her hand—this wasn’t an arm, but merely a bone, the skeletal remains of an arm.

She couldn’t hold back a scream. He Xing collapsed like a puppet with no strings, a lump of mud fallen to the ground.