Chapter 232 is crucial.

"I'm fine."

Qiao Wanyin reached out and gently patted the back of her hand, her tone gentle but not argumentative, "Look at me, I'm perfectly fine, aren't I? You should go back now, you have to go to work tomorrow, don't let it interfere with your own affairs."

After seeing Qiu Zishu off, Qiao Wanyin returned to the bedside, sat back down in the chair, and never took her eyes off Fu Li'an's face.

As night deepened, the ward became so quiet that only the occasional soft ticking of the medical equipment could be heard.

Suddenly, she noticed that Fu Lian'an's brows furrowed slightly, as if he were being called in a dream, or as if his consciousness was struggling to break free from the shackles of darkness.

Her heart tightened, and she immediately realized—he might be waking up!

She jumped to her feet, and without thinking, turned and rushed to the door, shouting, "Nurse! Nurse, come quick! The patient is moving!"

The doctor arrived quickly, put on a stethoscope, examined him carefully, and then checked his pupil response by lifting his eyelids. Finally, he nodded and said with certainty, "The patient has begun to regain consciousness, which is a good sign. However, we still need to continue to observe him, and we cannot yet determine when he will be fully awake."

The news quickly reached Song Yazhi's ears.

Upon hearing that Fu Lian showed signs of waking up, she immediately dropped everything and rushed over.

When they arrived at the ward door, she insisted on sitting by the bedside to take care of her son herself, her tone firm and leaving no room for refusal.

Qiao Wanyin glanced at her, neither arguing nor saying anything more, but simply stepped aside and let her sit down.

At three o'clock in the morning, Fu Lian finally opened his eyes.

His eyes were initially blank and dazed as he stared at the yellowish ceiling above the ward, his gaze empty and slow, as if he had just struggled out of a long and dark abyss.

After a moment, his gaze slowly shifted, landing little by little on Qiao Wanyin's face, who was guarding the bedside, and a faint clarity appeared in his eyes.

His lips moved slightly, his throat was so dry it felt like it had been rubbed with sandpaper, and even making a sound seemed extremely difficult.

Qiao Wanyin hurriedly stepped forward, gripping the bed railings tightly with both hands, leaning close to him, her voice trembling with suppressed emotion: "Maidong, are you alright? Can you hear me?"

Her voice was soft yet urgent, her eyes filled with worry and heartache, and the dark circles under her eyes showed that she hadn't slept all night.

“Water…” he managed to utter a single word, his voice so hoarse it was almost inaudible, like a low gasp squeezed out from a broken bellows.

Song Yazhi immediately turned around and ran to the tea room. Her steps were hurried but steady, and she soon returned with a cup of warm water.

Qiao Wanyin carefully reached out one hand and gently lifted her husband's head, while her other hand steadily held the water glass. She carefully brought the rim of the glass to his chapped lips and fed him water little by little.

The water slid slowly down his throat, each gulp accompanied by a soft swallowing sound, making it seem particularly strenuous.

"I...I'm fine."

Fu Lian finished speaking those three words with difficulty, his breathing slightly rapid, and fine beads of sweat appearing on his forehead.

His gaze didn't linger on anyone, but slowly, almost instinctively, fell on Qiao Wanyin's protruding belly.

His eyes softened instantly, yet were also filled with an indescribable tension and worry.

"child……"

He murmured softly, his voice weak but full of concern.

"The baby is doing well."

Qiao Wanyin immediately sensed his emotions, felt a warmth in her heart, and her eyes reddened slightly.

She quickly grabbed his hand, her fingertips trembling slightly, but firmly placed his palm gently on her warm belly. "Look, he was kicking me just now. You need to get better soon too, he can't wait to see his father."

She tried to speak in a light tone, but couldn't hide the sob in her voice.

Song Yazhi squeezed in, her eyes red-rimmed, and grabbed her son's still weak hand, her knuckles turning white from the pressure. "Son, you scared your mother to death! You were unconscious for two whole days, and the doctors said it was dangerous..."

Her voice trembled, and tears finally welled up in her eyes. "It's all my fault for advising you to separate. If I had known this would happen, I would have risked my life to prevent you from being apart for even a day!"

"mom."

Fu Lian interrupted softly, her voice still weak, yet filled with an undeniable gentleness and firmness, "Don't say anything more, it's really nothing. I've woken up and will take good care of my injuries."

As he spoke, he forced a faint smile, trying to soothe his mother's emotions.

After he finished speaking, he slowly closed his eyes, his long eyelashes casting a small shadow on his pale cheeks, and his breathing gradually became steady.

But the hand that was holding Qiao Wanyin never let go, even as he fell into a daze. The five fingers were tightly clasped together, as if afraid that if he let go, he would lose something of utmost importance.

Seeing this, Song Yazhi's initial excitement gradually cooled, her brows furrowed involuntarily, and the corners of her mouth turned down slightly.

Her gaze lingered on their clasped hands for a few seconds, a complex mix of emotions flashing in her eyes—heartache, resentment, and a hint of barely concealed disappointment and gloom.

She stood by the bed, silent for a long time, slowly and heavily placing the empty cup back on the corner of the table.

As dawn broke, sunlight streamed through the gaps in the curtains of the ward, and a faint smell of disinfectant filled the air.

Fu Li'an's condition has stabilized considerably. His temperature has returned to normal, and his blood pressure is also stabilizing. After making his rounds, the doctor nodded and said there was nothing seriously wrong and he only needed to continue resting.

Qiao Wanyin got up quietly, afraid of waking her husband who was not fully awake, and quietly picked up the basin in the corner, preparing to go to the water room at the end of the corridor to get some hot water to wipe him down.

The hospital corridors were empty and quiet in the early morning, with only the low murmurs of nurses making their rounds in the distance.

Halfway there, Fang Xiaoju suddenly appeared from around the corner, her high heels clicking crisply on the ground, blocking Qiao Wanyin's path.

She was wearing the blue uniform of the performing arts troupe, her hair was neatly tied up in a bun, but her face was flushed red with anger.

"Don't assume you've already won."

Fang Xiaoju gritted her teeth and spoke each word with fiery hatred in her eyes. Her voice was low but threatening, "This time, Director Fu was injured, and the higher-ups are investigating very thoroughly. People in the factory have already intervened in the investigation. If people find out that it was because of you—because you insisted on transferring him back to logistics and dragging him into that chaotic situation—tell me, can you bear that responsibility?"

Qiao Wanyin stared at her coldly, her eyebrows and eyes unmoving, her expression as cold as frost, and even her breathing remained perfectly steady.

She looked up and stared directly at Fang Xiaoju, her voice clear and calm: "Fang Xiaoju"

Her tone was calm, yet it was like a blade slicing through the air, chilling to the bone.

Fang Xiaoju's face paled instantly, her lips trembled slightly, and her eyes darted around. "You...you're trying to scare me! When did I ever touch him? Do you want me to tell the director of the cultural troupe what you did?"

Qiao Wanyin took a step forward, holding the basin of water steadily to her chest. Her gaze was piercing, and a sense of oppression was palpable. With each word she spoke, Fang Xiaoju took a step back, her face growing paler and cold sweat beading on her forehead.