He Thought She’d Never Leave—Until She Did - Chapter 10

An He froze for a moment, then threw off the blanket and made to run—but in the next second, Song Yu slammed her against the wall.

The lights in the room were off. Only flashes of lightning illuminated the darkness, streaking across his face—sharp, dangerous, unpredictable.

When the light flared, An He saw his bloodshot eyes glinting with something perilous. His throat moved in a sinuous arc, the line of his Adam’s apple cutting through the dimness like a blade.

An He couldn’t remember the last time Song Yu had looked like this.

Two years ago?

Three?

Or even longer?

That time too, she had tried to leave—and he’d caught her, punishing her with ruthless cruelty.

“An He, do you have a death wish?” His voice slid through the dark, low and ghostlike, as his handsome face loomed closer and closer.

An He didn’t want to die. She wanted to live.

She shrank back, her knees trembling. “Song Yu, don’t—don’t do this.”

Song Yu knelt on one knee on the bed, leaning in. His long, defined fingers brushed over her ankle, just like he did when he touched her in bed—soft, deliberate, almost tender.

“Don’t do this?” He gave a low laugh. “That’s exactly what I’m going to do.”

He loved watching his prey struggle. Loved the fear. The resistance. So he didn’t rush—just let his fingertips linger, tracing over her skin again and again.

“Hehe, you’ve gotten bold, haven’t you?”

That familiar name—Hehe—made An He’s heart tremble. Her chest tightened sharply. She slapped his hand away. “Don’t touch me.”

“Filthy.”

That one word changed his expression entirely. Song Yu grabbed her hard, yanking her toward him. His fingers clamped around her ankle, his jaw tense, his voice cold.

“Filthy? You’re calling me filthy?”

No one had ever dared speak to Song Yu like that. An He was the first. If he could, he would’ve killed her right then.

But he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

“You are filthy.” An He’s voice trembled as she remembered the dream—the conversation with Song Yu’s mother—and the thought that somewhere, in some hidden place, Song Yu and that woman, Zhou Rong, had already done things she couldn’t bear to imagine.

Images flashed through her mind. She tried to push them away, but couldn’t.

Her heart ached so much she could hardly breathe.

Pain flared from her ankle, but she forced herself to stay composed. Her voice shook as she asked, “Song Yu, what am I to you?”

Another blood bank?

A toy for you to use whenever you please?

She wanted to scream those words out loud.

But she didn’t.

Tears fell hard and fast. “Tell me! What am I to you?” she cried, her voice cracking.

Her emotions snapped. She grabbed a pillow and threw it at him, shouting, “You’re a monster! You’re all monsters!”

One after another, everyone in her life seemed to exist just to hurt her.

Song Yu’s mother. Song Yu himself.

Why?

Why couldn’t she ever meet someone who truly loved her?

An He trembled helplessly, her fingers white from clenching. She looked like she might suffocate any second.

The room was too dark. Song Yu didn’t notice the way she was shaking—he only saw defiance. To him, her fear and pain looked like provocation.

She was being disobedient.

Too long without punishment, he thought.

He tightened his grip. There was a sharp crack—her ankle twisted out of place.

“Ah—!” An He screamed in pain.

But thunder rolled at that moment, swallowing the sound.

It drowned out her cry—and his snarl.

Then he kissed her. Hard.

He pressed his lips against hers, swallowing every sound she made. He bit down, drew blood, and still didn’t stop.

Time blurred.

An He felt her soul drifting away from her body. The pain was still there—but her spirit wasn’t.

She felt weightless, detached, floating.

Her strength left her. She slumped, her head hitting the mattress.

Darkness swallowed her whole.

She couldn’t see. Couldn’t hear.

She only felt him shaking her, calling her name.

But no sound reached her.

A flash of lightning tore through the sky.

Her eyes fluttered open, catching a glimpse of his face—white as paper, eyes bloodshot, lips pale.

He held her tight, muttering threats she could barely make out.

An He could read lips. She caught fragments.

“An He, don’t you dare.”

“If you don’t wake up, I’ll throw your best friend Sweetie away.”

“And her family won’t be spared either.”

“Don’t think you can leave me like this.”

“Even if you die, I won’t let you go.”

“I’ll bury us together.”

“Where I am, you’ll be.”

“…Don’t fake sleep.”

“You know what I’m like when I lose control.”

“An He…”

He leaned close, his voice low and twisted. “Even if you turn to ashes, I won’t let you go. Didn’t you call me insane? Then I’ll go mad for you.”

He was so loud. So close.

An He thought he was unbearable.

She closed her eyes again.

And when she “slept,” she dreamed of the past.

She was kneeling in the rain, trembling and cold.

She hadn’t begged for mercy—she knew it was useless.

She didn’t cry.

Because no one would feel sorry for her anyway.

So she just knelt there, letting the rain wash over her small, fragile frame.

The wind was strong that night. The rain even stronger.

And it hurt—so much it felt endless.

A week later, An He woke up.

The first person she saw was Sweetie.

An He grabbed her hand. “Sweetie.”

Sweetie’s eyes filled instantly. “Hehe, you’re awake! You scared me to death.”

She hugged her too tight. An He coughed. “Are you trying to kill me? Let go.”

Sweetie let go, wiping at her tears. “It’s just so good to see you awake.”

An He’s throat was sore, her voice hoarse. “Where am I?”

“The hospital,” Sweetie said. “You’ve been asleep for seven days.”

“Seven days?” An He was stunned. “That long?”

“Yeah,” Sweetie said, gripping her hand. “You scared me half to death.”

“I’m sorry.” An He’s voice softened. “Who brought me here?”

“Who else? Song Yu.”

“And where is he now?”

Sweetie snorted. “Who knows? Dropped you off and disappeared. Honestly, you two used to be together—how can he be so heartless? You were in critical condition and he didn’t even show up again. It’s disgusting.”

“He never came back?”

“Never. Not once,” Sweetie said firmly.

“Thank you, Sweetie,” An He murmured. “You’ve worked hard.”

“Don’t say that,” Sweetie sniffed. “As long as you’re awake, that’s all that matters.”

“You’re exhausted. Go home and rest,” An He said gently, touching her cheek. “I’m fine now.”

“I’ll stay with you,” Sweetie insisted.

“No need,” An He said. “Go home, take a shower, sleep. Come back when you’ve rested.”

“But—”

“Just hire a nurse for me,” An He interrupted.

Money wasn’t a problem. Song Yu had never been a good lover—but he’d been a generous one. Her bank account was full.

“Don’t worry. I’ll be fine.”

Sweetie was exhausted anyway. She finally relented. “Then I’ll come back after I sleep.”

“Okay.”

After Sweetie left, An He picked up her phone and made a call—to another friend. She didn’t want Sweetie dragged into this mess.

“Did you find anything?”

“Yeah,” the voice replied. “Check your email.”

“Got it.”

Moments later, the email arrived.

An He opened it. The first thing she saw was a photo—

A beautiful woman, graceful and slim, with a face faintly resembling her own.

Below were detailed notes.

Her name was Zhou Rong, daughter of the Zhou family.

Fifteen years ago, the Zhous fell into ruin. The Songs took over. Song Yu’s mother adopted Zhou Rong and sent her abroad for two years.

When Zhou Rong returned, she lived in a villa on the outskirts of the city.

Her health was poor—born with a blood disorder. The Song family spent a fortune trying to cure her, but nothing worked. Following the doctor’s advice, they began searching for a compatible blood donor. Monthly transfusions became routine.

An He understood everything at once.

That adoption all those years ago—Song Yu’s mother hadn’t taken her in out of pity. It had been planned.

They had discovered her blood matched Zhou Rong’s—and brought her home for that reason alone.

And she had thought the Song family genuinely wanted to raise her.

The file included Zhou Rong’s medical reports and her call logs with Song Yu.

Frequent, lengthy calls—each lasting over half an hour.

An He thought of her own conversations with him. Ten minutes was rare. He’d never liked to talk.

Their calls were brief, often once a week—or less.

Cold. Mechanical. Always.

She had thought that was just his nature.

But no. He simply treated people differently.

“We also found something else,” her friend said.

“What?”

“Song Yu and Zhou Rong… they might have been involved.”

“…”

“It’s not confirmed. You’ll have to verify it yourself.”

“Understood.”

That call crushed the last bit of hope in her heart.

She had thought only his family liked Zhou Rong.

But the truth was, Song Yu loved her most of all.

Still, one thing she couldn’t understand—if he loved Zhou Rong, why sleep with her?

Later, she realized the answer. Zhou Rong’s body was too weak to handle his cruelty.

Only she could.

She was just a substitute.

A stand-in.

How ridiculous.

She laughed bitterly.

All those years together, all those nights in his bed—and only now did she understand.

He never loved her. He’d only ever seen someone else in her place.

An He pulled out her IV, changed clothes, and left the hospital.

The air outside was damp with the smell of rain—sticky, heavy, unpleasant.

Or maybe it wasn’t the air that made her uncomfortable. Maybe it was her heart.

She was going to find Song Yu.

She needed the truth.

If it was real, she’d leave.

She waited a long time for a taxi. The driver, kind and middle-aged, turned up the heater when he saw her shivering.

“Miss, you okay?”

“I’m fine,” An He said softly.

“Take care of yourself. Don’t push too hard. I can take you back to the hospital if you feel sick.”

“Thank you. I’m really fine,” she replied. “Please drive faster—I’m in a hurry.”

“Sure thing.”

As the car moved through the streets, An He reached for her phone—but realized she’d forgotten it. She leaned her head against the seat, staring out the window.

Couples passed by on the sidewalks, holding hands.

She wondered—did Song Yu ever hold Zhou Rong’s hand like that?

Did they feed each other, tease each other, laugh together?

When Zhou Rong was too tired to walk, did he carry her?

Tell her jokes to make her smile?

Take her every whim to heart?

No one knew what it felt like for pain to slice through the soul like that—raw, endless, tearing her apart piece by piece.

Each crack in her heart made her wish she could stop existing.

For one brief, shameful moment, she thought about dying.

Then she rejected it.

She couldn’t die.

Not for him.

He didn’t deserve that.

She told herself she just needed to see it with her own eyes.

But fate was cruel.

Before she even reached her destination, she spotted a familiar figure through the car window.

Under the trees, a man in a light-colored trench coat, white shirt underneath, was holding a skewer of candied hawthorn—feeding it to the woman in front of him.

The woman’s back was to her, but An He recognized the figure immediately.

Zhou Rong.

Song Yu’s “white moonlight.” (t/n: “white moonlight” refers to the irreplaceable first love or idealized woman a man can never forget.)

Zhou Rong tilted her head, lips parting to take the bite.

From where An He sat, she could only see her profile—but the smile at the corner of her mouth was unmistakable. She looked… happy.

So did he.

Song Yu was smiling.

An He had rarely seen that.

So that was what his smile looked like.

No wonder he hadn’t come to the hospital.

He had someone else to keep him company.

An He slowly closed her eyes.

Tears streamed down her face, soaking her collar.

Song Yu, I don’t want you anymore.