Chapter 3

Dead silence.

The stillness was even more complete than when the pool was frozen solid.

The air seemed to have been sucked out, leaving only a few dozen heavy and suppressed breaths, and the soft patter of melting ice water dripping back to the bottom of the pool from the edge of the huge ice hole, each sound striking the heart with a terrifying clarity.

Zhuohua carried Lu Xiao as if he were a fragile piece of porcelain, steadily walking back to the edge of the pool on the ice. As she stepped down, the broken ice beneath her feet automatically melted and smoothed out, making way for a dry path for her.

The people on the shore, like Moses parting the sea, instinctively and fearfully retreated to both sides, making way for a large open space.

The director's face went from deathly pale to a gruesome liver color. His lips trembled as he tried to say something, but only a strange "hoarse" sound came from his throat; he couldn't utter a single word. The assistant director next to him, surnamed Li, was so weak in the knees that he almost collapsed to the ground.

Zhuohua didn't even look at them. Her gaze fell on the pale face of the young man in her arms, and her brows furrowed imperceptibly for a moment.

His divine sense had already thoroughly scanned Lu Xiao's entire body—his lungs had been choked by some water, and the cold air had entered his body. His muscles had been damaged due to the violent struggle and the low temperature. Fortunately, there were no serious internal injuries, but the cold and lack of oxygen had plunged him into a deep coma, and his condition was still critical.

"Hot water, clean towels, blankets," Zhuohua said, her voice low but carrying an unquestionable tone of command. Her gaze swept over the nearest female stagehand who seemed fairly quick-witted.

The female clerk was startled by her gaze, as if waking from a dream, and scrambled to her feet to reply, "Yes! Yes! I'll go get it right away!" She then turned and ran wildly toward the logistics area.

Zhuohua carried Lu Xiao to her folding chair. She didn't put him down, but simply adjusted his position slightly to make him more comfortable, his cold head still resting on her shoulder.

Then, with her free left hand, she gently pressed it against the area slightly above Lu Xiao's back, through his soaked and cold costume.

A faint, yet incredibly pure, warmth flowed silently through her slightly cool fingertips.

This force was gentle yet firm, like the first ray of warm sunshine thawing in early spring, silently seeping into Lu Xiao's cold limbs and bones.

It carefully dispelled the chill that had seeped into his bones, warmed his damaged muscles, and calmed his disordered breathing caused by lack of oxygen. It was like the gentlest hand, soothing his mind, which was on the verge of collapse from shock.

Lu Xiao's violent, near-death tremors subsided visibly. His tightly furrowed brows relaxed slightly, and a faint, almost transparent trace of color finally returned to his frighteningly pale face, like frozen jade being warmed by a touch of life. Although he was still unconscious, the heavy aura of death had been largely dispelled.

The female stagehand came running back breathlessly, carrying a thick blanket, a clean bath towel, and a thermos of hot water, followed by two assistants who helped carry the items.

"Put it here." Zhuohua gestured to the empty space next to her. The female stagehand quickly put the things down, looking at Zhuohua who was still holding onto the person without letting go, and was somewhat at a loss.

Zhuohua freed her right hand, picked up the thick, dry blanket, and deftly yet gently wrapped it around Lu Xiao, completely covering his soaked and cold body, leaving only his pale, handsome face exposed. While she did all this, her left hand remained firmly against his back, continuously providing warmth.

Only then did a few of the more composed staff members react and try to help: "Um... young lady, shall we help you?"

Before they could finish speaking, Zhuohua silenced them with a single look. That look was calm, even devoid of emotion, yet it carried an invisible pressure that instantly silenced the staff members, who awkwardly took a few steps back.

Zhuohua ignored them, her gaze fixed on the thermos. She unscrewed the lid with one hand, and a sweet, ginger-scented steam immediately escaped. Ginger soup? The film crew always kept warm-relieving items on hand.

She picked up a clean cup and poured in more than half a cup of steaming ginger soup. The dark brown broth rippled gently in the white cup.

Zhuohua looked down at the still unconscious young man in her arms. His lips were still pale, slightly pursed, and his long eyelashes cast a small shadow under his eyelids, making him as quiet as a sleeping child. She held the cup close to his lips, and her other hand, which was on his back, tightened its grip slightly.

Guided by a gentle force, Lu Xiao's Adam's apple bobbed unconsciously as he fell into a coma, and the warm ginger soup slowly flowed into his slightly parted lips, sip by sip.

After a few sips of warm ginger soup, coupled with the continuous warmth emanating from his back, Lu Xiao's body finally stopped trembling completely, and his breathing became much longer and more even. However, his brows were still slightly furrowed, as if he had encountered some trouble in his dream.

Zhuohua looked at his slightly furrowed brows, and that unfamiliar, subtle itch in her heart quietly resurfaced, carrying a softness she herself hadn't even noticed. She put down her cup, her fingertips twitching unconsciously, as if trying to smooth out the wrinkles between his brows.

Just then, Lu Xiao's thick eyelashes trembled a few times, like the wings of a startled butterfly. His excessively beautiful, glassy eyes slowly and laboriously opened a crack.

His eyes were unfocused, filled with the bewilderment of someone who had just struggled back from a cold and suffocating abyss. It took him a while to finally focus on Zhuo Hua's face, which was so close to his.

He was clearly not fully awake yet; his mind was blank, and he felt as if his body was falling apart, cold and heavy. The only clear sensations he could feel were the dry warmth of the thick blanket wrapped around him, and... the warm, comforting current flowing from his back, like a soothing hot spring.

This warm current seemed to possess a magical power, dispelling all the bone-chilling cold and even soothing the lingering fear of impending death in his subconscious.

He struggled to move his eyes, and his gaze finally settled on Zhuohua's face. The face was very close, young, beautiful, and even a little childish, but the eyes that were looking at him... were calm, deep, as if they contained an endless galaxy, and they also carried a kind of all-knowing composure that he had never seen in the eyes of any person his age.

Lu Xiao's lips moved, his throat was dry and tight, and he could barely make a sound, only able to utter a weak breath: "Thank...thank you..." He tried hard to express his gratitude, but he couldn't even form a complete sentence.

Zhuohua watched him struggle to speak, but he was so weak that he could only utter a few scattered syllables. The slight itch in her heart became even more pronounced. She didn't speak, but simply tucked the blanket around him even tighter to make sure no cold air could get in.

Then, with her free right hand, she somehow (as if it appeared out of thin air to onlookers) produced a small heat pack with a cartoon bear pattern. She tore open the packaging and, with remarkably natural movements, precisely placed the heat pack on Lu Xiao's lower abdomen, even through the thick blanket and his damp, cold costume.

A more direct and concentrated warmth instantly spread across my lower abdomen, dispelling the last bit of chill.

Lu Xiao was slightly stiffened by the sudden warmth and Zhuo Hua's overly natural movements. A faint blush strangely rose on his already pale cheeks. The confusion in his glassy eyes faded somewhat, replaced by more unease and awkwardness, like a child who had done something wrong.

“Sister…” he uttered another word unconsciously, his voice still hoarse and weak.

Zhuohua paused. She tilted her head slightly, seemingly displeased with the form of address. Looking into the young man's clear, glassy eyes, made even more lucid by his unease, she repeated clearly:

"Call me by my name."

Her voice wasn't loud, but it had a strange penetrating power, directly entering Lu Xiao's chaotic mind.

"Zhuohua."

Lu Xiao stared at her blankly, his lips moving silently as if he wanted to repeat those two words, but ultimately no sound came out. Only in those glassy eyes, confusion, unease, and weakness intertwined, yet deep within, there seemed to be a glimmer of something else, a light of bewilderment.

Looking at him like this, Zhuohua felt a strange, itchy sensation spread through her heart, carrying a hint of unfamiliar, subtle sweetness. For the first time, the ancient well, which had existed for hundreds of thousands of years, rippled with a clear and subtle wave after this small pebble was thrown in.

Tsk.

She subtly looked away, but her fingertips pressed gently against the heat pack through the blanket to make sure it was firmly attached.

My heart is beating... a little fast?