During the day, he tried to get up and stretch his stiff body, but even the simple act of sitting up would leave him panting and sweating profusely. His legs felt as if they were weighed down by lead, and every movement required a tremendous amount of effort.
Night was the most difficult time. The pain was magnified infinitely in the silence. Every time he turned over, the wound would be pulled, causing a sharp pain. He often woke from his sleep to the pain, and then he would stare at the dark roof with open eyes, enduring the dual torture of body and mind.
Weakness, like an invisible demon, clung to him. Even picking up a cup to drink water made his arms ache, and eating required all his strength to bring food to his mouth.
His body was becoming increasingly thin, but his eyes always burned with an unyielding fire. He kept telling himself that he must overcome this pain and weakness, and must survive. Every time the pain came, he took a deep breath and tried to distract himself; every time he felt powerless, he recalled the good times in the past, giving himself the courage to persevere.
Night fell, darkness enveloped this simple shelter. Xiao Yi lay on the hard bed, tightly entangled by the pain of his wounds.
The wound seemed to have life, and every heartbeat sent waves of pain through it. Sharp stings raged through the wound like an electric current, wave after wave, with no sign of stopping. Xiao Yi frowned, his teeth chattering as he tried to resist the surging pain.
The silence of the night amplified the sounds of pain in his mind, every ache palpable. He tossed and turned in bed, unable to find a position that would alleviate the pain. Whether lying flat on his back, on his side, or curled up, the pain was ever-present, making it impossible for him to fall asleep.
Furthermore, a fever crept in amidst the darkness. His body burned like a furnace, every inch of his skin ablaze, his clothes and bedding soaked with sweat. His head felt dizzy, his thoughts muddled, as if a fog had enveloped his consciousness.
The infection spread crazily through the wound, causing the redness and swelling to expand. The skin around the wound became hot and hard, emitting a nauseating stench. Every time he touched the wound, it felt like touching a red-hot iron, the searing pain nearly causing him to faint.
Xiao Yi was suffering in this endless torture, his eyes were bloodshot, and his eyes revealed pain and despair. But in the depths of despair, there was still a faint light, which was his desire to survive and his stubbornness that refused to give up easily.
Every day was a cruel test for Xiao Yi. When the first ray of sunlight struggled to penetrate the dusty window and sprinkled on his haggard face, he knew that another battle with pain had begun.
Although his body was filled with weakness and pain, Xiao Yi still relied on his iron-like will to struggle to sit up from the bed. His movements were slow and difficult, and every slight movement would cause a sharp pain in the wound, making him gasp.
With trembling hands, he opened the already worn first aid kit and took out disinfectant and clean bandages. Every time he touched the wound, he gritted his teeth, enduring the excruciating pain that threatened to make him faint. But his eyes remained firm, without the slightest flinch or hesitation.
He carefully unwrapped the bandage he'd applied yesterday. The moment the wound was exposed, the pungent smell of pus and blood filled the air. He fought back the churning in his stomach and gently wiped the pus, blood, and rotting tissue around the wound with gauze dipped in disinfectant. Each wipe felt like countless needles pricking him, but his hand remained steady as he carried out the painful act.
After cleaning the pus and blood, he carefully sprinkled anti-inflammatory powder on the wound. The stinging pain at that moment made his body tremble involuntarily. But he persisted until the entire dressing process was completed, and then carefully bandaged the wound with a new bandage.
Every day, this process is like a torture, but Xiao Yi has never slacked off for a single day. He knows that only by keeping the wound clean can he have hope of survival, and this tenacious will is his most powerful weapon against death.
As the days passed, Xiao Yi was pleasantly surprised to find that the wound that had once been hideous and horrific and constantly tormented him finally showed signs of healing.
New pink granulations gradually began to grow around the edges of the swollen, reddened, and ulcerated wound, like seedlings breaking through the soil in spring, full of vitality and hope. The pus and blood secreted from the wound gradually decreased, replaced by a thin layer of transparent scab, as if it were a protective barrier given by nature.
As his wounds healed, Xiao Yi could clearly feel his body regaining strength bit by bit. At first, he could only move slightly in bed before he was exhausted and out of breath. But gradually, he could sit up for longer periods of time without feeling dizzy like before.
He tried to raise his arms, and they were no longer as heavy and weak as before, and he could easily lift them above his head. His legs were no longer weak, and when he tried to stand, although he was still a little shaky, he was able to support his body weight.
He began to be able to pace slowly in the hut, and with each step, he could feel the strength re-accumulating in his muscles. His face, which had been as pale as paper, gradually regained a hint of color, and his eyes were no longer so dull, but instead glowed with a determined light.
Xiao Yi could feel that chewing food in his mouth was no longer so strenuous, and his appetite gradually improved, allowing him to eat more to replenish the nutrients his body needed. Every breath became deeper and more powerful, as if injecting the vitality of life back into this battered body.
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