rescue

The red light of the emergency room hung like a red-hot iron at the end of the corridor, stretching Yu Xiao's shadow thin and long. He slumped on the cold bench, his knuckles white from exertion, his hand tightly clenched in a piece of fabric torn from Yun Heng's shirt—the fabric still smelled of seawater, clinging to his palm wetly like ice, chilling him to the bone.

The corridor was so quiet he could hear his own heartbeat, heavy and frantic, making his chest buzz. This was the first time Yu Xiao had ever known fear. It wasn't fear of his father's reprimand, or fear of the project failing, but fear of the red light suddenly going out, of the doctor opening the door and saying, "We tried our best."

An hour ago, when he rushed into the emergency room carrying Yunheng, her lips were as purple as frozen grapes, and her breathing was as weak as a candle in the wind. When the nurse took her over, she looked at him with surprise - this man was soaking wet, his chin bleeding, and his suit wrinkled like a rag. How could he have the dignity of "Prince of the Yu family"?

"The patient drowned for too long, has severe pulmonary edema, and suffers a concussion." The doctor's voice came through the mask, calm and almost cruel. "Prepare to go to the emergency room, family members, wait outside."

Family member? Yu Xiao twitched his lips, wanting to laugh, but he gasped in pain. What kind of family member was he? Was he the executioner who forced someone to jump into the sea, or the most ridiculous clown in this farce?

He leaned against the wall, watching the door to the emergency room slowly close, sealing Yun Heng's life and death inside. The wound on his back was swollen from the seawater and ached slightly, but this pain was not even one ten-thousandth of what he felt in his heart.

His phone vibrated in his pocket. It was his assistant, probably urging him to return to the company to sort out some mess. Rumors about the "prince driving an artist to death" had spread like wildfire, and Yu's PR phone was practically blowing up. But Yu Xiao simply flicked off the screen and tossed it on the bench. Even if the sky fell, he wouldn't budge.

He recalled dragging Yun Heng from the sea. Her body was so limp it seemed boneless, her face translucent white, the water droplets hanging from her eyelashes like shattered stars. It was then that he realized how thin Yun Heng was, her wrists so thin he could hold them in one hand, her shoulder bones rubbing against his palms—how could she be the "top star" she was portrayed as by the capitalists on stage? She was just a young man he had pushed to the brink of despair, wounded and looking for a place to breathe.

“Snap—”

Yu Xiao suddenly raised his hand and punched himself with astonishing force. The fist collided with his chin with a dull thud, and the taste of blood instantly filled his mouth. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth, dripping onto his soaked shirt, leaving a small, dark mark like an unsightly flower.

"I'm sorry..." He muttered to himself in the direction of the emergency room, his voice trembling, "I'm sorry..."

These three words had been stuck in my throat for too long. When they were finally spoken, they were as light as a feather, and even I felt pale.

He remembered Yun Heng's red-eyed question in the wheat field, "Are you going to force me to death?" He remembered her hoarse roar in the hospital stairwell, and the words "I'm not a puppet" in her withdrawal letter. It turned out that all the resistance he had dismissed as "temper tantrums" was Yun Heng's cry for help. But what about him? He used his power to carve out shortcuts, used threats to block any escape routes, and crushed the last vestiges of trust with his drunken outbursts. Even when he was being cyberbullied, he foolishly thought a statement would smooth things over.

"I'm an asshole..." Yu Xiao raised his hands to cover his face, blood seeping out from between his fingers, mixed with tears and flowing down, "I really am an asshole..."

After an unknown amount of time, the door to the emergency room opened with a click. The doctor took off his mask, his face flushed with fatigue. Yu Xiao rushed over and grabbed the doctor's arm as if a spring had been pressed. "How is he?!"

"He's out of danger for now." The doctor frowned at his grip. "But he drowned for too long, causing severe damage to his brain and lungs. He's still in a coma. It's hard to say if he can wake up, or when he will."

Yu Xiao's heart suddenly relaxed, but then it was tightened again with even greater panic. "It's hard to say... What do you mean?"

"It's possible that he'll be fine once he wakes up, or it's possible..." The doctor paused, his voice lowered, "he'll become a vegetable."

The three words "vegetative state" pierced Yu Xiao's solar plexus like an icicle. He stumbled back half a step, bumping into the wall, and a sharp pain came from the wound on his back.

"If you had come ten minutes later, he would have been beyond saving." The doctor sighed, "Family members, please prepare and go through the hospitalization procedures. The patient needs to be admitted to the ICU for observation."

Yu Xiao didn't move, his eyes fixed on the bed the nurse had wheeled out. Yun Heng lay on it, her face as pale as paper, an oxygen tube inserted into her nose, an IV needle stuck in her wrist. Each tube was like a chain, trapping her in this icy place.

He followed the bed to the ICU door and peered in through the thick glass. Yunheng's chest rose and fell slightly with the rhythm of the ventilator, and the waveform on the ECG monitor was slow and steady, like a road with no end.

Yu Xiao pulled a stool and sat outside the glass, where he remained for hours. As darkness fell, the nurse brought in clean hospital gowns. He realized his suit was still stained with blood and sand, so he took it off and threw it aside, changing into the loose blue and white striped suit that made him look a little more human.

He didn't know when Yun Heng would wake up, nor did he know if she would forgive him when she did. He didn't even know what the point of staying here was, perhaps just trying to atone for his sins with this stupid method.

"I had your wheat fields replanted." He whispered into the glass, his voice low enough to avoid disturbing the people inside. "I used the old variety your grandmother talked about. She said it would make the most fragrant flour."

"I've made all the arrangements for grandma. She's been moved to a quiet hospital. She has a nurse with her 24 hours a day, so no one can disturb her."

"I've made those who took photos and made harassing phone calls disappear. There won't be any more of them."

"That ring...was washed away by the waves. I sent someone to look for it in the sea. If it can't be found, that's fine. I'll make you another one. Instead of engraving your name, I'll engrave a piece of wheat."

"You're not a rose, you're Yunheng." His voice suddenly choked. "You're Yunheng, the one who wants to plant wheat. I was blind before and didn't understand."

"Wake up, please?" He leaned against the glass, his forehead pressed against the cold surface. "Wake up and scold me, hit me, anything is fine. As long as you wake up..."

In the corridor late at night, only the beeping of the instruments echoed. Yu Xiao just sat there, staring at the people inside, like a motionless statue.

As dawn approached, he drifted off to sleep, leaning against the wall. In his dream, he returned to the wheat field, where Yun Heng was squatting on the ridge, singing. The wind carried his voice far away. Yu Xiao wanted to approach, but he couldn't move his legs. He could only watch as her figure grew increasingly blurred, finally melting into the golden waves of wheat.

He suddenly woke up, his heart pounding, and subconsciously looked towards the ICU. In the glass, Yun Heng's fingers suddenly moved very slightly, like a butterfly flapping its wings.

The waveform on the monitor fluctuated barely perceptibly, then returned to normal.

Yu Xiao held his breath instantly. He stared at the hand, not daring to blink.

Sunlight streamed in through the corridor windows, casting a warm glow on the floor.

Perhaps, this belated redemption can really wait until dawn.