Watch
The truth about the He Yuzhi case was revealed to the public through a police report, causing a huge shock and sigh of regret.
The sister's desperate protection and pursuit, the tragedy of the younger sister's continued suffering even after death, the murderer's ignorance and cruelty, and a village's stubborn adherence to ancient customs driven by profit—all these intertwine to create a chilling picture.
All villagers in Huangcun who participated in the sale of ghost marriages were dealt with according to law, and relevant departments ordered the village to completely abandon such feudal superstitious activities. While awaiting trial, the ringleader, Huang Kun, suffered a rapid deterioration in his cancer and passed away in agony, ending his sinful life.
However, for Ling Xiao, the settling of all this did not bring relief. Liang An remained asleep in the hospital's intensive care unit, as if her consciousness had been completely shut off to another world, completely unaware of everything outside—the truth coming to light, the public outcry, and even Ling Xiao's day-to-day protection.
Ling Xiao decisively arranged for himself and Liang An to suspend their studies. He treated the hospital room as his second home, spending all his time by Liang An's bedside except for necessary outings. He learned to massage Liang An's limbs to prevent muscle atrophy, meticulously wiped his body, and read and talked to him every day, telling him interesting stories from school and reminiscing about their shared moments, even if he received no response.
The intensive care unit was so quiet that only the rhythmic, monotonous hum of the medical equipment could be heard. Liang An lay on the pure white hospital bed, connected to a monitor, his face a translucent, as if he had never seen the sun in a long time, his eyelashes casting quiet shadows on his eyelids. He looked as if he were merely asleep, as if he might furrow his brow or twitch a finger at any moment because of an ordinary dream.
But Ling Xiao had been waiting for this "next second" for far too long.
Ling Li and Su Wan returned to the hospital, only to be greeted by a familiar scene: their son was gently wiping the face and neck of the unconscious Liang An with a warm towel, his practiced movements heartbreaking. The boy's once upright shoulders seemed thinner from years of hunched over, and he had dark circles under his eyes, but his expression was focused and peaceful, as if he were engaged in the most important work in the world.
They watched their son, looking haggard yet with a stubborn gaze, watching over another boy who was in a coma, their hearts filled with mixed emotions.
"Ling Xiao," Su Wan called softly, her voice choked with sobs.
Ling Xiao looked up and saw his parents, but he wasn't too surprised. He put down the towel, carefully tucked the blanket around Liang An, and then straightened up and walked over. "Dad, Mom, you're here."
After Liang An fell into a coma and was hospitalized, Ling Xiao's parents often appeared together, even more often than before the divorce.
Ling Li's gaze swept across the ward, landing on his son's face, his brows furrowing deeply: "Have you been living here all this time?"
“Yes.” Ling Xiao nodded. “He needs someone to look after him at all times.”
“The hospital has caregivers…” Su Wan couldn’t help but ask.
“A caregiver can’t do that.” Ling Xiao interrupted his mother, his tone not harsh, but firm and unwavering. “They can only complete the procedures. But Liang An needs someone to talk to him constantly, to tell him what’s happening outside, to massage him to prevent muscle atrophy, to observe his slightest reactions…” He paused, his gaze drifting back to the hospital bed, “Besides, he’s afraid of being alone. I have to be here.”
Ling Li and Su Wan exchanged a complex look. They had long sensed something from their son's unusual persistence, but had never spoken of it. At this moment, the ward was oppressively quiet, with only the regular beeping of the monitor, like a countdown or a heartbeat.
Ling Xiao took a deep breath, as if he had made up his mind. He turned around to face his parents, his clear but tired eyes showing a solemnity beyond his years.
“Dad, Mom, there’s something I think I should tell you.” His voice was steady, even a little too calm. “Liang An is more than just a classmate to me, more than just my best friend. We… are people who like each other. We made a promise to go to university together, work together, and build our own home together.”
Despite having a premonition, Ling Li and Su Wan were still stunned to hear their son's candid and direct declaration. Su Wan instinctively covered her mouth, her eyes instantly reddening, whether from shock or heartache, it was unclear.
Ling Xiao didn't look away and continued speaking, his voice low but each word clear: "I know this path won't be easy, it might worry you, and it might cause gossip. But for me, this is my truest feeling. Liang An... he's very important. More important than anything I can imagine. Now that he's lying here, I can't leave, and I won't leave. This is the person I chose to protect, and the future I chose to build together."
He watched the changing expressions on his parents' faces—surprise, worry, confusion, and perhaps even a hint of disappointment. But the forced, almost stubborn strength in his eyes was like a layer of transparent armor, or like fragile glass.
It's not just about persisting in a relationship that isn't widely accepted; it's about a young man's courage in the face of a sudden and devastating blow from fate, desperately trying to hold onto the last flicker of hope.
Ling Li remained silent for a long time. He looked at his son, as if seeing for the first time so clearly the profound emotions and sense of responsibility that had grown within this boy who had been independent and opinionated since childhood. What did he want to say? Dissuade him? Reason with him? Analyze the pressures of reality and the difficulties of the future? The words rolled around in his throat a few times, but when he touched the deep-seated fear of loss and the unwavering determination in his son's eyes, they all vanished.
Finally, Ling Li stepped forward, not to hug his son, but to press his shoulder firmly and heavily. It was a heavy gesture between men.
"Take good care of him first," Ling Li's voice was a little hoarse. "And take good care of yourself too. Look at you, you've lost so much weight."
Su Wan's tears finally fell, but she quickly wiped them away, stepped forward and gently hugged Ling Xiao, her voice trembling with sobs yet trying to remain calm: "What do you want to eat? Mom will make it for you. Liang An... does Liang An need anything special? Tell Mom."
There was no explicit approval, but also no fierce opposition. What did they offer was the parents' instinctive choice to support their child in this sudden and difficult situation. They might need time to process and understand, but at this moment, their son's pain and perseverance were so real that they outweighed all other considerations.
Ling Xiao's tense shoulders relaxed almost imperceptibly. He nodded and said softly, "Thank you, Dad. Thank you, Mom."
From then on, Ling Xiao's parents became his silent supporters on his path of protection.
Su Wan moved to Haicheng and brought him soup almost every day, preparing a variety of nutritious meals. Ling Li used his connections to contact neurology experts at home and abroad for remote consultations. Although all the test results showed that Liang An's brain had no organic damage, the cause of his coma remained a mystery.
They stayed by Ling Xiao's side, not worrying about the future, but simply easing the burden on his shoulders with their actions, accompanying him as he waited for a dawn that might never come.
-----------------
Days slipped by quietly in the constant light and smell of the hospital room. Outside the window, the sycamore leaves went from lush green to golden yellow, then to bare branches, finally shivering in the winter wind. The calendar turned page after page, and half a year had passed in the blink of an eye.
Ling Xiao's life developed a quiet and regular rhythm centered around Liang An. Every morning, he would first slightly draw back the curtains to let in soft natural light, then gently say "Good morning" to Liang An. This was followed by a meticulous morning routine: a warm water bath, a gentle massage of limbs and joints, and exercises toes and fingers. He would play some soothing music or read to Liang An—sometimes textbooks, sometimes novels, sometimes just the day's news. In the afternoon, he would usually hold Liang An's hand and softly recount their past memories: their first encounter in class, their mutual understanding in Nandao, the awkward joy of moving into their "new home," the busy yet expectant time spent preparing for exams before the tea garden incident…
"Liang An, do you still remember our big desk? Last monthly exam, you insisted on competing with me to see who could finish the math test first, and then you peeked at my answers..."
"The succulents on the balcony seem to have sprouted new shoots again. I asked Mom to check on them occasionally. You always say that bear's paw succulent is the ugliest, but it's the one that's thriving the most..."
"The New Year is almost here, and the streets are so lively. When you wake up, we'll go buy new clothes together, and we can stock up on New Year's goods, couplets... Liang An, I miss you so much..."
His words were rambling and mundane, as if they were just everyday chatter. But every word was like a pebble thrown into a deep, silent pool, hoping to elicit even the slightest ripple in response.
In this close contact day after day, Ling Xiao's entire attention was focused on Liang An, and he gradually noticed an extremely subtle, almost hallucinatory anomaly—the black bracelet on Liang An's left wrist seemed to be repelling his presence.
Ling Xiao stared at Liang An's left wrist. The black bracelet was pressed tightly against Liang An's wrist bone, without a clasp or interface, as if it had been there naturally. As he held Liang An's hand for a long time, his fingertips unconsciously rubbing against the cool bracelet, an indescribable feeling arose.
At first it was just an illusion. He felt that the golden plot cursor in the dark gold groove under the bracelet seemed to be "retreating" very slightly, like the slight tremor of a mimosa when it is touched, but more subtle, more... "reluctant".
Ling Xiao held his breath, closed his eyes to calm himself down. Then he opened his eyes, concentrated, and held Liang An's hand for a long time, pouring his body heat and seemingly unconscious thoughts into it. It moved; the golden plot cursor... retracted a little?
Ling Xiao's heart pounded, as if he had glimpsed a sliver of dawn in the pitch-black night.
This glimmer of hope filled him with elation, yet he was also cautious, fearing it might be a hallucination caused by his long-term mental stress, fearing... that this faint light would be extinguished.
But a firm voice in his heart kept pushing him forward. Since his kiss could restore Liang An's life, then perhaps he... was the key to breaking the deadlock, perhaps he was the nemesis of the bracelet.
He dared not speak out, nor could he verify it. He could only transform this vague awareness into more concrete actions.
He spent more and more time simply holding Liang An's hand, no longer just talking, but trying to gather all his thoughts—warm, firm, and wanting to drive away all coldness and constraints—and pass them on through their joined palms.
He imagined his consciousness as light, as a warm current, enveloping the cold black bracelet, melting it away little by little, peeling it away.
This process was intangible and invisible, yet it consumed a tremendous amount of Ling Xiao's mental energy. He often felt inexplicably exhausted, as if he had undertaken a mentally and physically draining journey. But the light in his eyes grew brighter and brighter. Because Liang An's body was indeed undergoing extremely slow changes.
The consistently low body temperature began to rise very slightly and intermittently; the data curve on the monitor occasionally showed some unusual fluctuations; and once, when Ling Xiao was reading to him, he seemed to see Liang An's eyelashes tremble very slightly, so quickly that he thought it was a trick of light and shadow.
Even the faintest hope is like a spark in the dark night, sustaining Ling Xiao as he perseveres day after day.
A silent, unseen tug-of-war ensued between him and the black bracelet. He didn't know what he was expending, nor whether he was truly "fighting" against some kind of force. He only knew that this was the only thing he could do for Liang An that went beyond conventional care, something imbued with a certain belief and aspiration.
Continue read on readnovelmtl.com