Fragile

The fine rain, like a cold net, enveloped the silent street.

Qi Shuo walked in front, Xiao Jue behind, a few steps apart, as if separated by an insurmountable abyss. No one spoke, only the sound of shoes splashing through the puddles, monotonous and oppressive, the only rhythm in this damp night.

Qi Shuo walked very fast, almost instinctively, numbly moving his legs.

The soaked clothes clung to his body, icy cold, but he couldn't feel it.

He was completely unaware that rainwater was streaming down his hair and cheeks.

His mind was a complete blank, with only Shan Shan's pale and fragile sleeping face, Xiao Jue's painful and bloodshot eyes, and that heart-wrenching cry of "Brother" flashing through his mind.

Hatred, guilt, confusion, dull pain... all sorts of emotions surged in his chest like out-of-control beasts, but could find no outlet, and could only transform into a destructive, inward-devouring force, making him almost suffocate and explode.

He didn't know where he was going; he just wanted to walk, to walk desperately, as if by walking faster he could leave those heart-wrenching images and sounds behind and escape this despairing truth.

The streets, lights, and trees before me were all distorted and melted into a blurry halo. My ears were ringing with the sound of rain, my heartbeat, the roar of rushing blood, and broken cries echoing repeatedly in my head.

He walked faster and faster, his steps becoming increasingly unsteady. His breathing became rapid and hot, each inhale feeling like a scalding knife cutting into his throat and lungs.

His vision began to blur, the world spun around him, and cold and heat clashed alternately within his body.

He felt an overwhelming weariness that spread from the depths of his bones, filling his limbs and body like molten lead.

Finally, at the next street corner, everything went black before his eyes, and his body lurched forward uncontrollably. The world collapsed and spun before him, then plunged into a heavy darkness.

"Brother Shuo!"

Behind him came Xiao Jue's horrified scream, the sound tearing through the rain.

Almost simultaneously, a pair of strong arms suddenly reached out from behind and caught him firmly before his body crashed completely onto the cold, damp ground.

Xiao Jue sensed something was wrong when Qi Shuo's steps began to falter. He quickly took a few steps and caught Qi Shuo in his arms just as he fell.

Qi Shuo's body was burning hot, his cheeks were flushed, his lips were dry and white, his eyes were closed, and he had lost consciousness.

Xiao Jue's heart felt as if it had been gripped tightly by an icy hand, and it stopped beating instantly.

"Brother Shuo, wake up! Qi Shuo!" He slapped Qi Shuo's cheeks, his hand touching an alarmingly hot surface. Fear gnawed at his heart like a venomous snake.

He immediately scooped the man up in his arms. Qi Shuo was taller and stronger than him, but at that moment he felt like a feather, floating lightly in his embrace, fragile and easily broken. Xiao Jue staggered for a moment, then steadied himself and rushed towards the street corner like a madman, looking around for a taxi as he ran.

"Car! Taxi!" he shouted hoarsely, his vision blurred by rain and sweat, his heart pounding in his chest as if it would shatter his ribs.

He had never seen Qi Shuo like this before. Whether it was the bloodied head from fighting in their youth or the silent, gloomy forbearance after eight years in prison, Qi Shuo was always that stubborn, resilient, rock-hard, and even somewhat cold brother in his heart.

He was used to Qi Shuo's strength, used to Qi Shuo's silence, used to Qi Shuo licking his wounds alone and then getting up and continuing on his way.

He never imagined that one day, this stone would shatter in front of him, as fragile as a porcelain doll that would break at the slightest touch.

The shock of this realization was far more devastating to Xiao Jue than any angry questioning or hateful gaze. It was him, his concealment, his so-called "protection," his laughable and pathetic "atonement," that had driven Qi Shuo to this point. It had pushed this hard stone to the brink of collapse.

Finally, a taxi pulled up to the side of the road. The driver was startled when he saw the unconscious person in Xiao Jue's arms and the disheveled state of the two of them, and quickly helped open the car door.

Xiao Jue carefully shoved Qi Shuo into the back seat, then climbed in himself, hoarsely giving the address of the nearest hospital.

"Master, hurry up! Please drive faster!" He gripped Qi Shuo's burning hot hand tightly, while his other hand frantically reached out to touch Qi Shuo's forehead, feeling an alarmingly high temperature.

Even in his unconscious state, Qi Shuo's brows were furrowed in pain, his lips slightly parted, as if he were silently muttering something. Xiao Jue couldn't hear him clearly, so he had to bring his ear closer, but he could only catch a few broken syllables—

"Shanshan...Mom...don't be afraid..."

Every word was like a poisoned dagger, stabbing fiercely into Xiao Jue's heart.

He abruptly closed his eyes, tears mingling with the rain, silently streaming down his face. He lowered his head, resting his forehead on their clasped hands, his body trembling uncontrollably.

It wasn't the coldness, but fear, regret, an overwhelming sense of dread and self-reproach that threatened to engulf him.

The hospital emergency room. The lights were stark white, and the smell of disinfectant was pungent. Nurses and doctors hurried back and forth.

Xiao Jue stood frozen outside the emergency room like a statue that had lost its soul, his clothes still dripping water, forming a small puddle on the floor.

He stared intently at the tightly closed door, his eyes unblinking, as if trying to pierce through it. Time ticked by, each second feeling like an eternity.

Self-blame and remorse surged like a tide, wave after wave crashing against his already battered heart. If something happened to Qi Shuo… if it was because of him… no, he dared not think about it.

After an unknown amount of time, the door opened, and a nurse came out: "Qi Shuo's family?"

"I am! I'm his family!" Xiao Jue snapped back to reality, rushed forward, his voice hoarse, "How is he?"

"High fever, early symptoms of acute pneumonia, caused by excessive fatigue, severe emotional fluctuations leading to decreased immunity, and catching a cold. The problem isn't particularly serious, but you need to be hospitalized for observation for two days and receive intravenous treatment. A bed has already been arranged; come with me to complete the formalities."

The nurse spoke quickly, but her speech was fairly clear.

Xiao Jue's heart, which had been in his throat, finally settled down a little, but the chilling fear that followed him still crept up his spine, making his hands and feet icy cold.

He mechanically followed the nurse to complete the procedures, pay the fees, and pick up the medicine, his mind completely blank.

Only after finishing all his business and returning to the ward, seeing Qi Shuo lying on the snow-white hospital bed, an IV needle in the back of his hand, clear liquid dripping into his veins, his face still pale but his breathing much more steady, did he feel as if all his strength had been drained away. His legs went weak, and he almost knelt on the ground. He steadied himself against the wall, then slowly moved to the chair beside the bed and sat down.

The ward was quiet, with only the regular ticking of the medical equipment and Qi Shuo's slightly heavy breathing.

Xiao Jue sat there, motionless, like a guardian statue, guarding the place for the entire night. He dared not sleep, afraid that if he closed his eyes, Qi Shuo would disappear again, or the situation would worsen.

He just watched, watching Qi Shuo's brows still furrowed even in his sleep, watching his usually tough but now somewhat fragile features, watching the liquid in the IV drip bottle gradually decrease and then be replaced with new liquid.

That night, he thought about so many things. He thought about that bloody rainy night eight years ago, about Shan Shan's terrified eyes, about Qi Shuo's bloodshot, hate-filled eyes, about his years of carefully concealing and protecting her, about Qi Shuo's roar last night, "Do you fucking think you're so great?", about his swaying back, about his lifeless appearance now... All his thoughts were intertwined, twisted into an increasingly tight rope, making it hard for him to breathe.

Was he wrong? Was he wrong from the very beginning? If he had told Qi Shuo sooner, would things be different today? But what good would it have done? Would Shan Shan be alright? Could Qi Shuo bear it? Would all three of them fall into an even deeper hell together?

There were no answers. Only endless exhaustion and a deep, almost crushing sense of guilt.

As dawn approached, Xiao Jue finally couldn't hold on any longer and leaned back in his chair, drifting off to sleep. But he was a light sleeper, easily awakened by the slightest noise.

He endured this torment in a state between sleep and wakefulness until the sky outside the window was bright and a nurse came in to check on him and take his temperature.

"His temperature has gone down a bit, 38.2 degrees Celsius. Once he wakes up, give him some liquid food," the nurse said softly to Xiao Jue as she recorded the data.

Xiao Jue nodded, his throat so dry he couldn't make a sound. He got up to get some water, but as soon as he stood up, he felt dizzy and his vision went black.

He steadied himself by holding onto the bed railing, and after a while, he slowly walked to the window and poured himself a glass of warm water.

Just then, he heard a very soft, nasal moan coming from the bed.

Xiao Jue suddenly turned around.

On the hospital bed, Qi Shuo's eyelashes trembled a few times, and he slowly opened his eyes.

Those eyes, which were always as calm as a deep pool or as sharp as a knife, looked somewhat lost at this moment, their focus wavering for a few seconds before slowly coming back to focus.

His first sight was the snow-white ceiling above him, then the IV drip bottle hanging above, and finally, his gaze slowly shifted and landed on Xiao Jue, who was standing stiffly by the window.

Their eyes met.

The air seemed to freeze.

The chaos of the night, the agonizing wait, the regret and fear—all seemed to settle down in that instant of eye contact, transforming into a heavy silence.

Qi Shuo's eyes were empty and still, devoid of the rage of the previous night, the burning hatred, and the tears. There was nothing there but a desolate calm and an overwhelming weariness.

Xiao Jue's heart clenched painfully, and his fingers gripped the water glass tightly until his knuckles turned white.

He opened his mouth, wanting to say something—an explanation? An apology? Comfort? But all the words stuck in his throat, too dry to utter a sound.

He could only stand frozen in place, like a prisoner awaiting trial, enduring Qi Shuo's gaze, which was calm to the point of being almost deathly still.

Time passed second by second, each second feeling like an eternity.

Just as Xiao Jue was about to be crushed by the silence, Qi Shuo's lips moved, his voice so hoarse it was almost indistinguishable:

"water……"

As if waking from a dream, Xiao Jue almost pounced on the bedside, hurriedly bringing the water glass to Qi Shuo's lips and carefully lifting the back of his neck so that he could sip it.

Warm water moistened his chapped lips and throat. Qi Shuo took a few sips, then slightly turned his head to indicate that he had had enough.

Xiao Jue put down the water glass, intending to wipe the corner of his mouth for him, but his hand froze halfway through, hovering helplessly in mid-air.

What should he say? What could he say? Say "I'm sorry"? Those three words seemed so pale and powerless at this moment.

Just when he was caught in a dilemma and his heart was breaking, the person on the sickbed suddenly moved.

Qi Shuo raised the hand that wasn't being pricked with needles, slowly and weakly, but with a clear goal. He didn't look at Xiao Jue, his gaze still blankly staring at the ceiling, but his hand accurately and gently grasped Xiao Jue's wrist, which was frozen in mid-air.

Xiao Jue shuddered violently, as if struck by an electric current.

He looked down at the hand that was gripping his wrist, weak from the high fever and IV drip, with veins slightly visible beneath the skin.

That hand was cold, with the weakness typical of a patient, yet it possessed an undeniable, subtle strength.

Then, he saw Qi Shuo's Adam's apple bob, as if he were swallowing with great difficulty.

Those empty eyes slowly closed, then slowly opened again, and beneath the desolate calm within them, a barely perceptible ripple appeared. Like a tiny, imperceptible crack appearing on the surface of a frozen lake.

He didn't speak, but with that hand, very gently, he pulled Xiao Jue's hand, which was frozen in mid-air, down.

Following the slight force, Xiao Jue slowly leaned down. He dared not get too close, maintaining a slight distance, but he could clearly see Qi Shuo's pale face and the slightly trembling eyelashes beneath his tightly closed eyelids.

Then he heard an extremely suppressed, broken sob squeezed from deep in the throat.

Immediately afterwards, Qi Shuo, whom he had always regarded as strong, patient, and even somewhat cold-hearted, who had glared at him with hatred last night, suddenly leaned forward like a child who had lost all support, pressing his burning forehead against his shoulder.

"Waaah... Xiao... Jue..."

Suppressed, broken cries, like a flood finally breaking through a dam, leaked from that clenched-teeth, trembling body.

It wasn't a loud wail, but rather a sob and whimper that was desperately suppressed yet still uncontrollable, seeping from the depths of his soul. The scalding liquid quickly soaked the fabric of Xiao Jue's clothes on his shoulders, making his heart clench.

Xiao Jue froze, his mind blank. He felt Qi Shuo's body trembling violently, and felt the suppressed, desperate cries cutting into his heart like a dull knife.

For over twenty years, from the day he met Qi Shuo, he had seen him bleed, seen him fight, seen him silent, seen him gloomy, seen him grit his teeth and bear all the hardships, but he had never seen him cry so... so vulnerablely. Like a child abandoned by the whole world, with nowhere to turn.

All defenses, all hardness, all the raised spikes, crumbled at this moment, in this undisturbed, disinfectant-smelling ward in the early morning, the instant that burning forehead touched the shoulder.