Qi Rui's eyelids twitched, and then he let out a soft hum.
Shen Yue exhaled, forcing herself to remain calm, and slowly lowered her eyes. "Then… I'll be going now."
His complexion seemed a bit pale. He pursed his thin lips, stubbornly remaining silent, only able to watch as the woman brushed past him.
A profound sense of unease surged through his mind. He turned his head, hastily calling out the woman's name.
"Shen Yue!"
She didn't turn around, her slender figure appearing exceptionally frail.
Qi Rui clenched the hand at his side into a fist, his voice hoarse. "I, I'm getting engaged very soon."
Silence.
His usually placid eyes churned with emotion.
Shen Yue was tall and slender, her thin shoulders seeming to waver precariously.
After a long while, the woman's voice, as calm as ever, drifted back.
"That's very good."
Qi Rui stared intently at her retreating back, his eyes dark, stubbornly asking, "Will you come?"
She lowered her head, a beat late, her eyelashes falling. The lines of her profile were soft, her cheeks a little gaunt, her dark pupils dim.
Her eyes uncontrollably began to ache and sting, tears flowing down. Her lashes grew wet. She suppressed them, but her voice still trembled as she spoke, her shoulders quaking. "Yes, I'll come."
How could she not come?
Seeing Qi Rui happy, she would be happy.
It was like watching a distant sail, perhaps fighting against a strong headwind, but ultimately still returning to its proper course.
Qi Rui's voice was so gentle, it pierced her heart like a knife.
"Good, I'll send you the invitation when the time comes."
Perhaps her pain had numbed her, for Shen Yue even managed a smile at this moment, pinching her palm to bear it.
She lowered her eyes and smiled.
Very gently.
"Okay."
Resigned, doting.
I love you so much, how could I possibly refuse?
She left, taking with her a minuscule piece of her heart. Her retreating figure was so resolute, she didn't look back.
Qi Rui's heart lurched violently. For some reason, watching Shen Yue depart, he felt an unsettling sense of having lost something.
The area around his heart sent out a fierce warning. He pressed a hand to it in bewilderment, his face feeling icy.
He realized, without knowing when it happened, that he was already weeping.
---
By evening, Shen Yue felt groggy, her entire body burning hot. Her throat felt as if it were stuffed with cotton, and she seemed to be having nightmares.
In the middle of the night, she was woken up.
Someone was calling her name by her ear, but her mind felt like it was burning, and she couldn't hear anything clearly.
The rough texture of thin calluses made her jolt. It was a little painful, and a little itchy. As the rough skin grazed her delicate flesh, her fair skin flushed red.
"Yueyue, does anything still feel uncomfortable?" the man's voice was hoarse, filled with urgency and worry.
It was very hot, yet also very cold.
Drowsily, she half-opened her eyes and mumbled, "Cold."
Zhang Cong turned the air conditioning higher, making the room feel like summer, steaming hot.
But Shen Yue still said she was cold. Zhang Cong climbed into bed himself and held her, warming her. He was already drenched in sweat, like a giant furnace.
Shen Yue's body was burning hot, a temperature that sent chills of fear down Qi Rui's spine.
She had already been given medicine, so why was the fever still so high?
He leaned against the headboard, holding Shen Yue, one hand helping her change the towel on her forehead.
Zhang Cong dared not close his eyes. Every few minutes, he would touch Shen Yue's burning cheek.
The night was already deep. Shen Yue, who had been calling out about the cold, began to cough urgently again. The cough grew more and more rapid, mixed with gasps for air when she couldn't catch her breath.
Zhang Cong was greatly alarmed and quickly reached out to pat her back.
Her entire body was trembling, her shoulders shaking with each cough. She covered her mouth, her pale face flushed with a sickly red. Her long black hair swayed.
Bright red blood dripped from between her fingers. The coughing continued, as if she were coughing up her lungs and heart.
Zhang Cong's eyes were drawn to the bright red blood. His hands stopped mid-air, he was helpless and uneasy, his fear and panic overwhelming him. He didn't even notice his trembling lips.
"...Shen Yue?!"
---
As dawn broke, the earth was hazy, as if shrouded in a silver-grey veil. Everything was silent.
Footsteps echoed back and forth in the hospital corridor. The strong smell of disinfectant stung the nerves, and the stark white walls reflected a cold light.
The red light of the emergency room went out.
Several nurses in surgical gowns pushed a hospital bed out.
The woman lying on the bed was almost transparently pale.
Zhang Cong rushed forward. He was still in his pajamas, the clothes stained with blood, his eyes bloodshot. "Doctor, how is she?"
The doctor removed his mask, carefully choosing his words. "Acute myeloid leukemia, abdominal infection with high fever. The patient is severely anemic. Her body is too weak for major surgery."
As he spoke the last sentence, even the doctor couldn't help but shake his head. She was such a young life, yet every organ in her body was failing.
If she had received treatment earlier, there might still have been hope.
But now, it was too late.
Zhang Cong looked at the doctor, lost for a moment. A suffocating pain gripped his insides. He was so shocked by the news that his legs felt weak.
Then, as if struck by a thought, he frantically grabbed the doctor's shoulders, his eyes bloodshot, his expression contorted, veins bulging on his forehead. "So, so, is there still a way? She's still so young, there must be a way, right?"
His shoulders felt as if they were about to be crushed. Those nearby immediately moved to pull him away, but he clung on as if to his last hope, almost driven to madness.
"Sir, we will do our best, but I still need to tell you, please be prepared," the doctor looked at the man's instantly pale face and stopped, ultimately not saying anything too definitive.
---
The hospital room was brightly lit, and the clean white curtains billowed in the breeze.
When Shen Yue woke up, the room was empty.
She was very thirsty and struggled to get up from the bed. Just as she sat up on the hospital bed, the door to the room was pushed open.
It was Zhang Cong.
The man looked disheveled, carrying breakfast in his hand. His hair hung messily over his forehead, obscuring his expression.
He walked directly to Shen Yue's bedside and sat down, unfolding the small table. The breakfast was a bowl of vegetable porridge, still steaming hot. She also noticed the unmelted snow on his shoulder.
His expression was normal, his tone calm and natural. His rough, warm palm touched her face. "Does anything still feel uncomfortable?"
Shen Yue shook her head. She had no appetite for the porridge, but she forced herself to eat a little.
She was wearing a new hospital gown, a blue and white striped one that opened at the front. Her exposed wrists were thin, like white magnolia blossoms, pale and fragile.
Her face was very white, her eyelashes long. Just woken, she looked a little sleepy again.