He Thought She’d Never Leave—Until She Did - Chapter 17

That night, An He slept fitfully, tossed between dreams and nightmares.

In her dream, several doctors were pinning her down on a hospital bed, forcing a needle into her arm. The needle was enormous—it terrified her. She cried and begged them to stop.

But they only laughed. “This is your fate,” they said. “Don’t even think about escaping it in this lifetime.”

Someone pressed down her legs. Someone else held her head still. She was forced to lie there, wide-eyed, as the needle pierced into her flesh.

Her blood flowed through the tube endlessly, as if it would never stop.

Gradually, she lost consciousness. Just before she blacked out, someone kicked the door open. That person rushed to her side, pulled her into his arms, and barked at the doctors, “Are you all looking for death?!”

She recognized the sharp, clean scent that filled her nose—it was Song Yu.

Song Yu had come to save her.

They fled the ward together and stepped into the elevator. The others chased after them. Song Yu held her tightly, kicking one of their pursuers to the ground.

As the elevator descended, she thought they were finally safe. But those people refused to give up. They got into a car and sped off into the night.

It was the fastest An He had ever traveled—so fast it felt like her insides were turning upside down. She turned pale, covering her mouth, forcing herself not to vomit.

While driving, Song Yu reached over and took her hand, his voice steady. “Hehe, don’t be afraid. I’m here. No one can hurt you while I’m with you.”

His eyes were firm, his words resolute, and somehow, they calmed her trembling heart.

But misfortune struck again.

A car rammed into them from behind, slamming them into a roadside tree. At the last second, Song Yu released the wheel and shielded her with his body.

The sound of the crash echoed in her ears. She heard Song Yu grunt in pain—but even then, he didn’t let go.

She survived. Song Yu, however, was gravely injured.

She cried until she couldn’t breathe.

He touched her face gently and soothed, “Hehe, don’t cry. I’m fine.”

Then his hand fell limp.

The world became chaos around her, but An He heard nothing. She just stared, dazed, as if everything had fallen into darkness again.

After running for so long, she had ended up right back in that cold, lifeless world—alone, once more.

Lost, helpless, consumed by sorrow.

She jolted awake from the nightmare, heart pounding. Looking around the familiar room, she exhaled in relief—it was only a dream.

No Song Yu’s mother. No Song Yu. No death.

Her phone screen kept flashing. She picked it up and unlocked it—it was a message from Tian Tian.

[Hehe, Song Yu’s already arrived in Los Angeles. Did he come to see you?]
[Oh, right, I forgot to tell you yesterday—before going to find you, Song Yu went to see his mom. I heard they had a huge fight… and your name came up.]
[Hehe, that man’s gone crazy. You have no idea how extreme he’s become since you left.]
[He nearly destroyed the Song family with his own hands.]
[If you see him, don’t say a word—just run.]

The messages were sent four hours ago.

An He replied: [Don’t worry. I’m fine.]

But through the rest of the night, every time she closed her eyes, all she saw was Song Yu—
His tenderness. His cruelty.
His warmest smile hiding his darkest side.

She could still hear his low, dangerous whisper: “An He, I’ve been looking for you for a long time.”
“If you want to leave so badly… then let’s die together.”

All traces of sleep vanished. She sat curled up on the sofa till morning, knees drawn to her chest.

She longed for the light of dawn. As long as there was light, her world wouldn’t be swallowed by darkness again.

Song Yu never appeared.

An He waited cautiously for five days. When she was sure he wasn’t coming, she called Tian Tian.

“Hehe, what’s wrong?” Tian Tian sounded anxious, afraid she’d expose something. “Did Song Yu do something to you?”

“No,” An He said softly. “He didn’t come.”

“He didn’t?” Tian Tian was stunned. “That’s impossible. My friend at the Song Group said Song Yu took a private jet to Los Angeles—left in a rush. If he didn’t go to you, then why would he go there?”

“Maybe he had other business. Or maybe your friend was mistaken,” An He said calmly.

She was in a taxi, face turned toward the window. The sun was bright and warm. She lowered the window and let the wind blow in, as if it could sweep away all her lingering anxiety.

“You’re sure he didn’t find you?” Tian Tian pressed. “That man’s unpredictable. What if he’s watching you from the shadows?”

“No,” An He smiled faintly. “I checked. He’s not here.”

Perhaps her laughter was too soft, too pleasant, because the driver glanced at her through the rearview mirror.

Their eyes met briefly. The man wore dark sunglasses, his expression unreadable. An He didn’t like locking eyes with strangers, so she quickly looked away.

She didn’t see the driver’s lips tighten, his face growing colder, his hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly it looked like he might snap it.

A moment later, his expression went flat again—utterly calm. Apart from asking her destination, he didn’t say a single extra word the entire ride.

Tian Tian still wasn’t reassured. “Be careful, Hehe. Stay alert. If you see anyone suspicious, don’t say anything—just run.”

“By the way, where are you headed?”

“Meeting a friend.”

“A friend? What kind of friend?” Tian Tian teased. “Don’t tell me it’s a boyfriend?”

Her voice was too loud; An He glanced at the driver and lowered her tone. “Don’t talk nonsense.”

“I’m not! Come on, be honest—is it a boyfriend?”

“No.” An He pressed her lips together. “It’s a blind date.”

“What—” Tian Tian shrieked. “Hehe, you’re finally moving on! I thought you’d stay trapped in that nightmare Song Yu gave you forever.”

“Don’t say his name.” An He’s heart clenched painfully.

“Sorry,” Tian Tian murmured, “I won’t bring him up again.”

They shifted back to talking about her blind date. Tian Tian was even more excited than she was, chatting all the way.

Meanwhile, the driver’s face had darkened completely, his jawline tense under the dim light. Behind those sunglasses, his eyes seethed with danger—cold and feral.

An He was too caught up in her call to notice. The car stopped in front of the restaurant. She paid and got out.

Just as she walked away, the driver called out, “Miss.”

His voice was deep, rough, but clearly articulated.

An He turned around. “Yes?”

“You forgot your bag.”

He held it out by one strap. She walked over to the driver’s side to take it. “Thank you.”

For a fleeting moment, as she reached out, she thought she felt his fingers brush the back of her hand—so light it could’ve been her imagination.

He acted natural, so she dismissed it and turned away.

“What’s wrong?” Tian Tian asked.

“Nothing,” An He said, stepping toward the restaurant. Through the glass, she saw a Western man sitting by the window, waiting. “I’m here. I’ll talk to you later.”

The door opened, and she walked inside.

But outside, a pair of piercing eyes followed her every move. The man took off his sunglasses, revealing a face cold enough to steal a breath—sharp eyes, high nose bridge, lips perfectly cut.

It was Song Yu.

He picked up his phone and made a call.

“Listen,” his voice was low and dangerous. “I want Gordon’s Restaurant closed. Immediately.”

“Yes, sir.”

The call ended. Moments later, a Closed sign appeared on the restaurant door, and the guests began leaving one after another.

An He emerged last, alongside the Western man.

The man politely took off his coat and draped it over her shoulders. Someone had spilled wine on her earlier, staining her white dress. She looked embarrassed.

She thanked him softly.

They walked away together, chatting as they entered a black Mercedes.

Song Yu watched the entire time. When their car drove off, he followed, pressing harder and harder on the gas—

Until bam—the two cars collided violently.

Both were rushed to the hospital.

An He’s last memory was of being lifted into someone’s arms. That scent again—familiar, almost painfully so.

Then everything went dark.

When she woke, it was the next morning. She was alone in the hospital room.

No one knew who had brought her there, nor could anyone identify the person behind that familiar scent.

Two days later, An He was discharged. The blind date was forgotten.

A week passed. She later heard that the man from the date had been transferred to Paris indefinitely.

“What a pity,” Tian Tian sighed. “I really thought you might finally start dating again.”

An He smiled faintly. “It’s fine. Being alone isn’t so bad.”

Time flew by. One moment it was summer; before she knew it, winter had come. Christmas lights lined the streets—a new year approaching.

An He walked through the crowded streets, head ducked into her collar.

A little girl holding a basket of flowers approached. “Miss, this is for you.”

“For me?” An He blinked.

The girl nodded. “Yes.”

An He took the flowers, smiling at her sweet face. She pulled out some money from her purse. “I’ll take them all. Go home early, okay?”

The little girl nodded and ran off.

An He carried the basket as she walked, handing out the flowers one by one to strangers.

A new year, a new beginning, she thought. May I finally be happy.

At that same time, in Nancheng—

Fireworks burst across the sky, bright enough to illuminate everything below.

Zhou Heng clinked his glass against Song Yu’s and clicked his tongue when he spotted the scar on Song Yu’s wrist. “You’re out of your damn mind. You flew all the way to L.A., didn’t comfort her, and then you crashed your car? What were you thinking?”

“You couldn’t even avoid the impact? Had to wreck yourself too?”

“And seriously—your wrist snapped, and you still carried An He into the hospital? Were you planning to cripple yourself?”

“I really can’t figure you out, man.”

No one could figure out Song Yu—not even Song Yu himself.

He told himself he didn’t love her that much. Yet every day without her, his thoughts were full of her.

When he finally saw her again, he couldn’t even approach her. He just watched, hidden in the shadows, like a thief.

He wasn’t sure if the rain still fell hard in Nancheng—but the snow in Los Angeles was heavy.

And the wind… was bone-cold.

Even the alcohol tasted bitter.

“You’re going back to L.A. again tonight?” Zhou Heng asked.

“Yes.” Song Yu set down his glass, grabbed his coat, and strode toward the door.

“You’ve been flying there every few days. You’re seriously sick.”

“Mind your own business.”

His figure disappeared through the doorway.

Half an hour later, his private jet lifted off—heading straight for Los Angeles.

The doctor said his wrist could be treated to remove the scar, but Song Yu refused.

He kept it as a reminder. Every time his fingers brushed the rough line, he thought of An He.

Leave completely?

Not even in death.

An He sneezed several times. Her roommate asked if she was feeling unwell.

An He’s body was sensitive to the cold. Rubbing her nose, she said, “I’m going to buy some medicine. You guys rest.”

“Want me to come?”

“No need. I’ll be fine.”

Bundled in a down coat, she headed out. The streets were quiet. After a few turns, she entered a 24-hour pharmacy owned by a Chinese couple.

She bought some cold medicine, speaking Mandarin with the cashier, then left.

But as she walked away, she heard faint shuffling behind her.

She remembered recent news reports warning that the streets weren’t safe during the holiday season.

Her shoulders tensed. She quickened her pace.

The sound behind her quickened too.

She reached for her pocket—then froze. She’d forgotten her pepper spray.

Heart pounding, she turned a corner and spun around.

Nothing. Just the tail lights of a passing car.

She waited for a while, scanning the street. No one was there. Finally, she exhaled and continued walking, a little slower now.

She didn’t see what happened behind her—in a shadowed alley, a Western man lay on the ground while another man pressed a foot to his neck.

“If I ever catch you tailing that woman again,” the man hissed, “you won’t live to regret it.”

The dim light revealed part of his face—sharp, refined features of an Eastern man.

Another man approached from behind. “Mr. Song.”

Song Yu withdrew his foot, voice cold. “Get lost.”

The man on the ground scrambled away in terror.

Song Yu stepped out of the shadows, his black coat collar obscuring half his face, but his dark eyes gleamed in the light—cold and brilliant.

That day marked the second year since An He left Nancheng.

Then came the third year. The fourth. The fifth.

“Babe, are you really going back home?” Tian Tian asked, uncertain. “Didn’t you say you’d never return?”

“Xixi’s sick,” An He said quietly. “I’m taking her home for treatment.”

“Is it serious?”

“Yeah. It’s her heart. We can’t delay.”

If it weren’t for a hospital in China offering hope for Xixi’s recovery, An He would never have planned to return to Nancheng.

“But what if you run into Song Yu?”

“Nancheng’s a big city. If I avoid him carefully, we’ll never meet.”

“Besides,” she added, “it’s been five years. He’s probably forgotten me by now.”

Tian Tian sighed. “You’re probably right. If he hadn’t forgotten you, he would’ve come looking long ago.”

“So when’s your flight? I’ll pick you up.”

“The day after tomorrow.”