In the midsummer of 1990, the heat was oppressive. The cornfields of the Hongqi Production Brigade were thriving; the lush green leaves curled their edges under the blazing sun, yet still couldn't conceal the plump ears of corn on the stalks. Inside the "Natural Taste" food workshop, the refrigeration equipment hummed, keeping the heat at bay. Workers in uniform were busily working on the assembly line, the air filled with the sweet aroma of processed fruits and vegetables. Lin Wanqiu sat in her office, her fingertips tracing the latest report of the student aid fund. Seeing the long list of students receiving assistance added to the tally, a smile of satisfaction spread across her face. But this smile was abruptly interrupted by a sharp, piercing ring of the telephone.
The voice coming from the other end of the phone was hoarse and urgent, from Shen Tingzhou's old comrade-in-arms, Zhao Gang, filled with barely concealed anxiety and guilt: "Wanqiu... Tingzhou... something happened to him!"
"What?" Lin Wanqiu's heart sank, as if gripped tightly by an invisible hand, leaving her breathless. Her fingers, gripping the receiver, turned white from the force, her knuckles trembling slightly, and her voice trembled uncontrollably: "Brother Zhao, explain clearly, what happened to Tingzhou? Where is he?"
“We were arresting a traitor at the border, but that guy was very cunning and set up an ambush… Tingzhou was injured by a grenade while covering for us and is currently being treated at the military hospital. His condition is not optimistic…” Zhao Gang’s voice choked with emotion, and every word was like a heavy hammer, striking Lin Wanqiu’s heart.
The moment she hung up the phone, Lin Wanqiu felt dizzy and her vision blurred. The cool air from the office air conditioner seemed to instantly turn into a bone-chilling cold, leaving her icy cold all over. She barely managed to hold onto the edge of the desk to avoid falling. Countless images flashed through her mind: the warmth of Shen Tingzhou's tight embrace before he left, the determination and reluctance in his eyes, his promise to "come back safely"... These images intertwined, causing her heart to ache as if it were being torn apart.
"President Lin, what's wrong?" Xiao Zhang heard the noise and pushed the door open. He saw Lin Wanqiu's pale face and empty eyes and panicked.
"Prepare the car! To the military hospital immediately!" Lin Wanqiu snapped back to reality, her voice hoarse but filled with an undeniable resolve. She had to see Shen Tingzhou right away; she couldn't lose him. This man, who had supported and protected her since her rebirth, was her sky, her life, and the strongest support for her and her children.
Xiao Zhang didn't dare delay and immediately went to arrange a vehicle. Lin Wanqiu stumbled into the lounge, grabbed a coat haphazardly, and rushed downstairs without even fixing her hair. Only one thought occupied her mind: Shen Tingzhou couldn't be hurt, absolutely couldn't be hurt.
The car sped along the highway, the scenery outside the window rushing past, much like Lin Wanqiu's chaotic thoughts. She kept urging the driver to "go faster," her hands clenched tightly together, her nails digging deep into her palms, bringing a sharp pain, yet keeping a sliver of clarity in her muddled mind. She subconsciously touched the jade pendant on her chest; the cool touch reminded her of the medical resources in her spatial dimension. Yes, the spatial dimension! It contained so many rare medicinal herbs and a modern medical technology database—it could definitely save Tingzhou! This thought was like a ray of light in the darkness, giving her hope.
After more than ten hours of driving day and night, the car finally arrived at the military hospital. As soon as Lin Wanqiu got out of the car, she saw Zhao Gang waiting at the entrance. Zhao Gang was wearing a military uniform covered in dust and blood, and his eyes were tired and guilty. When he saw Lin Wanqiu, he immediately came forward to greet her.
"Wanqiu, I'm sorry, I didn't take good care of Tingzhou..." Zhao Gang's voice was full of self-blame.
"Where's Tingzhou? How is he?" Lin Wanqiu grabbed Zhao Gang's arm and asked anxiously, her eyes filled with worry.
"He's still in the emergency room. He's been undergoing resuscitation for over ten hours." Zhao Gang sighed, his tone heavy. "The doctor said he's badly injured. He was hit in the leg and abdomen by shrapnel, lost too much blood, and has a concussion. His condition is very critical."
Lin Wanqiu's heart sank once again. She staggered towards the emergency room and, through the glass window in the door, saw that it was brightly lit, with doctors and nurses in white coats busily working. Her gaze was fixed on the figure on the operating table, mostly covered by a white sheet with only his head showing. That familiar silhouette made her tears finally overflow.
She waited anxiously outside the emergency room, each second feeling like torture. Time seemed to stretch on endlessly, the air thick with the cold, pungent smell of disinfectant. Leaning against the wall, she felt utterly weak, yet her eyes were fixed on the emergency room door, as if she could transfer her strength to Shen Tingzhou inside.
After what seemed like an eternity, the lights in the emergency room finally went out. The doctors emerged wearily, removed their masks, and wore grave expressions.
"Doctor, how is he?" Lin Wanqiu rushed over immediately, grabbed the doctor's hand, and her voice trembled uncontrollably.
"The patient is temporarily out of danger, but the situation is still not optimistic," the attending physician said wearily. "He lost too much blood, his bodily functions are severely impaired, and the nerves and blood vessels in his legs are seriously damaged. It is hard to say whether his leg can be saved. Moreover, he has a hematoma in his brain, which may lead to complications. Whether he can wake up depends on his own willpower."
The doctor's words struck Lin Wanqiu like a bolt from the blue, leaving her feeling icy cold. She staggered back a step, almost losing her balance. Save her leg? Wake up? These words pierced her heart like needles. How could her Tingzhou, that tall, spirited man, have lost his leg? How could he remain unconscious?
Shen Tingzhou was wheeled into the intensive care unit. Lin Wanqiu watched him through the glass; his face was as pale as paper, his lips cracked, and he was covered in tubes connected to monitors, the numbers flashing coldly and mechanically on the screens. The man who once had such deep eyes and a gentle smile now lay there lifeless, causing her unbearable heartache.
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