Shen Yue lowered her eyes, her lashes long like the fragmented shadow of a butterfly’s wing, “...Brother, I understand.”
The man’s expression was rarely seen, his dark eyes like an abyss devoid of light, his breathing rapid.
Contrary to his outward appearance, his heart was pounding, as if overwhelmed by emotions.
He remained silent, his nose high and sharp, exuding an air of gloom and indifference.
At times, the aura of death emanating from him was even more potent than that of Shen Yue, a patient on the brink.
This was how Zhang Cong was; he wasn't one for many words, utterly unversed in sweet talk. His affection was shown through actions, proven by deeds.
He had always offered his silent devotion.
Just as he had said.
Brother is here.
Brother will always be here.
This feeling was profoundly heart-wrenching, and Shen Yue found herself unable to refuse. Her heart felt as if it were being swept by a great wave, warm yet bittersweet. Her voice trembled slightly as she held back tears.
“Brother.”
Zhang Cong remained silent, his eyebrows subtly lowered, his tone exceptionally gentle, as if afraid of startling her, “I’m here.”
“May I kiss you?”
The man froze, his pupils widening slightly, his breath catching.
Shen Yue was smiling, her face very pale, her lips strikingly vibrant, her tone incredibly soft, as if playfully coaxing, “Brother, please kiss me.”
She turned her face to the side, her full, beautiful lips seeming to invite a kiss. They were red and swollen to the point of being raw from the fierce biting just moments ago, soft and fragrant.
Her dark, moist eyes held a smile, speckled with tiny glints of starlight, flowing like a river of stars.
Zhang Cong’s knuckles, clenched tightly, turned pale and blue from the force. He bit down hard on his teeth, his breathing ragged for a few moments before he could suppress the surging bittersweetness from the depths of his heart.
No one knew how long he had waited for these words; countless scenes from his dreams were unfolding before his eyes.
It was too beautiful.
Like a bubble, it would vanish even without being pricked.
He spoke slowly, his voice tinged with a hint of hoarseness, “I love you.”
Shen Yue knew. She tilted her face upwards, her eyes curving into crescents. A faint blush bloomed on her pale face, like the evening glow in the sky. Tears wet her eyelashes, and Zhang Cong lowered his head, his rough fingertips gently wiping away the tears, stroking her lashes.
Perhaps it was his first time confessing his love, and he wasn't entirely practiced, but once he started, the rest flowed more smoothly.
His voice suddenly deepened, rough like sand grinding against stone, “I truly, truly love you.”
As he spoke, his own eyes turned red.
It was the first time Shen Yue had seen someone’s eyes redden first during a confession, and it was a six-foot-three man, acting like a child.
Even though her face was pale and devoid of color, her lips remained vividly red. Her eyes curved, and her voice was soft, “Mhm, I know.”
Her voice was always gentle, like the white clouds in a cerulean sky, soft and ethereal.
The man managed a smile that was more unsettling than a cry, then lowered his head and kissed her again.
This kiss was gentle, lingering, and passionate. Shen Yue’s occasional responses made Zhang Cong lose his composure, and the kiss gradually became fierce, with a force that seemed to desire swallowing her whole, chewing her slowly, becoming one with her.
It was a desperate cry, a silent collapse.
She was slowly falling into an abyss, and Zhang Cong watched clearly from beside her, desperately wanting to stop her, but no matter how hard he tried, it was in vain.
Zhang Cong watched her die with his own eyes.
——
The sun had yet to rise, and the light was dim.
Shen Yue gasped for breath due to a lack of oxygen, her face unnaturally pale.
Doctors and nurses rushed in, performing preliminary examinations.
Shen Yue lay on the hospital bed, wearing an oxygen mask that produced a faint layer of white mist.
She was so thin, her chest barely rising, as if she could become still at any moment.
The electrocardiogram beeped incessantly, sounding like death’s summons in the quiet ward.
The sun rose, and then it set.
Shen Yue woke up, her head feeling hazy. She blinked her eyes and looked to the side with difficulty.
Zhang Cong had been sitting in the darkness for an unknown amount of time, still wearing yesterday’s clothes, looking disheveled and discomposed, his entire demeanor appearing somewhat unstable.
As if sensing Shen Yue’s gaze, he looked over from the darkness.
The two of them remained silent.
The incessant beeping of the medical equipment was incredibly irritating.
Zhang Cong hadn’t slept all night, his eyes bloodshot.
“You’ve been asleep for two days.”
His voice was hoarse, as if carrying moisture.
The curtains were not fully drawn, allowing some light to filter in.
It fell upon his chiseled face, half of which was illuminated, half in shadow, his expression unreadable.
Shen Yue’s mind was blank, “I slept that long?”
“From last night to now.” Zhang Cong moved to Shen Yue’s side and buried his face near her hand.
Shen Yue closed her eyes to gather herself, then opened them and suddenly asked, “What’s the date today?”
Zhang Cong took out his phone to check and read out a calendar entry, “Is something wrong?”
Shen Yue gently stroked the man’s somewhat coarse short hair, saying softly, “In two days, it will be Qi Rui’s wedding. Let’s prepare a red envelope for them.”
It was said that men’s hair shouldn't be touched casually, yet Zhang Cong extended his head, rubbing it against the woman’s soft, tender palm.
His voice was low, as if discussing ordinary domestic matters, “Okay, how much do you think we should put in the red envelope?”
Shen Yue pondered, “Not too much is needed, sincerity is what matters most.”
Zhang Cong replied softly, “Okay.”
Seemingly sensing the man’s low mood, Shen Yue pinched his earlobe and said with feigned lightness, “What’s wrong? Aren’t you happy I’m awake?”
Zhang Cong’s breathing was somewhat unsteady, “Happy…”
His fists, resting on his knees, were clenched so tightly that his knuckles turned white. Emotions churned in his chest, and a wetness welled up in his eyes. He quickly pretended to casually wipe his eyes on the hospital bed.
His deep, hoarse voice sounded calm in the darkness, as if nothing were amiss, “It’s just that you slept for too long, and I’ve been waiting quite a while.”
Shen Yue thought, this fool must have guarded this ward for two full days.
She didn’t ask, because she already knew the answer in her heart.
Speaking with the oxygen mask on, Shen Yue found it difficult, “Brother, turn on the light.”
Zhang Cong didn’t, not even daring to look up, afraid Shen Yue would see his tear-streaked, gritted-teeth, contorted weeping face.
Shen Yue had no choice but to try and lift her hand to touch the man’s face, but her wrist was quickly grasped. The other person seemed to have lost control of his emotions, his chest heaving significantly, before he finally leaned down and hugged her tightly.
“Does it still hurt today?”
He asked.
Shen Yue rested her chin on his shoulder and lied, “It doesn’t hurt.”
The man’s arms slowly tightened their grip. Shen Yue’s bones ached from the embrace, but she didn’t make a sound.