Chapter Thirteen: Trembling Butterfly Wings

Consciousness gradually coalesced amidst a chaotic pain and biting cold.

The first thing to recover was hearing, a low and continuous hum, like the sound of some large machine running in the distance, or like the sound of blood rushing through the eardrums.

Next came the sense of smell: the pungent odor of disinfectant mixed with a faint, metallic, and old leather-like scent, completely different from the stench and bloodshed of ruins he remembered. Finally, there was the sense of sight: the blurry spots of light gradually focused, revealing a strange, eerily white ceiling.

Zhong Si, this name floated in and out of his empty memory, the only label that truly belonged to him. He tried to move his body, a tearing pain shooting through his left leg and chest, causing him to let out a weak gasp. The groan was exceptionally clear in the silent space.

He found himself lying on a clean but firm bed, covered with a white blanket.

The room was small and furnished in a way that was almost cold and austere, with only essential medical equipment and a lone chair.

There were no windows; the only light came from the overhead lamp, which emitted a steady, cold glow. It was eerily quiet, completely isolated from the noisy, chaotic, and dangerous world outside.

Is this the place the red-haired man brought him to? And that man named... Sia?

Fragments of memory surged like a tide, carrying a chilling fear: the coldness of the ruins, the agonizing pain of hunger, the sneer of the bullies, and those red eyes seen in despair, sharp as burning flames yet carrying a strange temperature.

It was the owner of those eyes who forcibly pulled him back from the brink of death. This process was accompanied by swaying, a warm coat, and an awkward yet resolute force.

The door was gently pushed open.

Zhong Si's body tensed instantly, his violet eyes filled with vigilance and fear, like a frightened little animal instinctively trying to curl up, but unable to move due to the pain.

The one who entered was Xi Ya. He had changed into a clean, dark outfit, and his red hair seemed to have been carefully combed, but it still couldn't completely conceal the oppressive power that naturally emanated from his figure.

He was carrying a tray with a bowl of steaming porridge and a cup of water on it. When he saw Zhong Si's open eyes and the wariness in them, he was clearly taken aback and paused at the doorway.

"You're awake." Sia's voice was lower than she remembered, seemingly softened intentionally, but it still carried an indelible hoarseness and an unaccustomed stiffness.

He walked to the bedside and placed the tray on the bedside table, his movements somewhat cautious, as if afraid of disturbing something.

Zhong Si didn't answer, but just stared at him intently, her nails digging unconsciously into the soft flesh of her palm.

This man was too powerful, powerful enough to easily decide his life or death. This power both terrified him and instilled in him a twisted dependence, like a drowning person clinging to a piece of driftwood.

Sia seemed a little uncomfortable under his gaze. He looked away and pointed to the porridge: "Eat something. The doctor said you're very weak." He paused, then added stiffly, "It's safe here."

Safety? Zhong Si pondered the word. For him, safety was a far too luxurious and unfamiliar concept. In his past life, there was only avoidance, endurance, and the ever-present threat of violence.

He carefully observed Xiya, trying to read her true intentions from her expression. He saw that in those red eyes, besides the usual sharpness, there was also a hint of... barely perceptible concern and some deeper, incomprehensible pain?

Seeing that he didn't react, Xi Ya seemed a little lost. He clumsily picked up the bowl, scooped up a spoonful of porridge, and brought it to Zhong Si's lips. "The temperature is just right." His movements were still somewhat rough, forming a strange contrast with his cautious tone.

Zhong Si hesitated for a long time, but finally, his survival instinct and a faint trust in that strange "concern" made him slightly open his mouth. The warm porridge slid down his throat, bringing a long-lost, comforting feeling.

He ate in small bites, and Sia fed him spoonful by spoonful. The whole process was silent and awkward, yet a strange warmth flowed silently between the two of them.

However, this brief peace was quickly shattered. The door to the medical room opened again, and this time someone else entered.

It was Gongyang Yan Daosi. He was dressed in an impeccable gray suit, his long silver hair was tied back, his face was cold and stern, and his eyes swept across the room like a precision instrument before finally landing on Zhong Si.

That gaze lacked the complex emotions of West Asia; it was purely, coldly scrutinizing and assessing, as if examining an object of unknown origin.

Zhong Si instantly felt a chill rise up his spine, even more so than when he faced Xi Ya. He subconsciously shrank further into the blankets, as if trying to avoid that penetrating gaze.

"How is he?" Gongyang's voice was calm and even as he spoke to Xiya, but his gaze remained fixed on Zhong Si.

“It’s stable now,” Xiya replied, his tone returning to its usual calm, but Zhong Si could sense that his body was slightly tense, as if he had entered a defensive state.

The ram took a few steps closer, looking down at Zhong Si. "Name? Where did you come from? Why were you in those ruins?" His questions were direct, concise, and devoid of any emotion.

Zhong Si opened his mouth, but no sound came out. Fear gripped his throat. His past was a blank; he could remember nothing but hunger, cold, and beatings. This blankness itself was a kind of original sin.

“He was traumatized and doesn’t remember many things,” Sia said on his behalf, her voice carrying a barely perceptible hint of protectiveness.

Gongyang's brow furrowed almost imperceptibly. "Amnesia?" His tone was full of suspicion. "A convenient excuse." He didn't press further, but the scrutiny in his eyes deepened. "The boss wants to see him. Wait until he's recovered some strength." With that, he didn't look at Zhong Si again, gave Xiya a slight nod, and turned to leave. His arrival and departure were like a gust of cold wind, causing the room's temperature to plummet.

“Don’t be afraid of him,” Sia whispered to Zhong Si after the door closed, but it sounded more like he was trying to convince himself. “Gong Yang is just… more cautious.”

Caution? Zhong Si didn't understand. He only knew that in this seemingly safe place, danger lurked everywhere.

Apart from Xiya, everyone else looked at him with varying degrees of aloofness, suspicion, or even... disgust.

A few days later, when Zhong Si was able to get out of bed with difficulty, he was able to catch a glimpse of the "organization" with the help of Xi Ya. They walked through several cold corridors made of concrete and steel, occasionally encountering other members.

When those people saw Xi Ya, they would stop and respectfully address him as "Mr. Whale Shark," but when their eyes swept over Zhong Si, they were filled with curiosity, speculation, and undisguised rejection.

"Is that the brat Mr. Xiya picked up?"

"Looking so frail, what use could she be?"

"Unknown origins are a problem..."

The whispers, as soft as mosquitoes, clearly penetrated Zhong Si's sensitive ears. He felt like a lamb lost in a pack of wolves, surrounded by dangerous predators, with only the red-haired man beside him as his sole shield.

His dependence on Xiya grew wildly in this environment. He began to subconsciously imitate Xiya's behavior, carefully observing his emotions, afraid that any of his actions would offend his only protector.

Sia seemed to sense his unease. He didn't offer many words of comfort, but showed it through his actions.

He would bring food and water on time, though still clumsily; he would stand guard outside the medical room to make sure no one disturbed Zhong Si's rest; he would even find some clean, though ill-fitting, but soft clothes for Zhong Si to change into.

These subtle acts of care were, in Zhong Si's eyes, the only light in the darkness. He began to long for Xi Ya's appearance; the gaze of those red eyes could strangely calm the panic in his heart.

One time, Zhong Si woke up from a nightmare, drenched in cold sweat. In the darkness, he felt an unprecedented loneliness and fear.

Just then, the door was gently pushed open, and Sia's figure appeared in the doorway, seemingly just making a routine inspection.

Seeing Zhong Si's terrified eyes, Xi Ya silently walked to the bedside, did not turn on the light, and simply sat quietly in the chair.

"Sleep now," Sia's voice was deep and steady in the darkness. "I'm here."

There were no further words, but that invisible yet powerful presence acted like a warm barrier, separating Zhong Si from the surrounding darkness and unknown dangers.

Zhong Si gripped the corner of the blanket tightly, his purple eyes gazing at the blurry outline in the darkness, a complex emotion he had never felt before welling up inside him, a mixture of gratitude, fear, and immense dependence.

He knew he might never truly integrate into this cold and powerful organization, but as long as Xiya was there, this was the only place he could call a "place of refuge."

However, he also vaguely sensed that West Asia's protection of him seemed to be more than just out of simple goodwill.

The occasional glimpse of sadness in his eyes, a sadness that seemed to see someone else through him, made Zhong Si feel warmth, but also burdened him with a strange, heavy pressure.

He seemed to be more than just himself; he also carried some unfulfilled hope or...redemption for West Asia.

He is Zhong Si, a "little butterfly" who has lost his past, unexpectedly finding refuge under the wings of a massive creature called a "whale shark." How long can this protection last? How many unknown undercurrents lurk beneath these unfamiliar waters? He clings tightly to this only warmth before him, as if grasping at a lifeline, cautiously spreading his trembling butterfly wings amidst a mix of fear and dependence.