Chapter 48
Su Rui's life as a "temporary caregiver" in Country J began in a small dormitory filled with the smell of medicine. The days seemed to be slowed down, and every minute and every second revolved around Ling Yao's pain and needs.
Seeing a doctor became an uphill battle. The assistant sent by the company was just doing routine work, couldn't speak the language, and had a cold attitude. Su Rui took the initiative to shoulder the burden of communication. He looked up the Korean keywords for orthopedics and rehabilitation in advance, and used translation software to communicate with the doctor with great effort, carefully writing down the usage and dosage of each medicine and the precautions for rehabilitation. Ling Yao was in a very bad mood because of the pain and the frustration of his self-esteem. Sometimes he would even impatiently interrupt the communication between Su Rui and the doctor, and growl in Chinese: "Why ask so many questions! You won't understand even if I tell you!"
Su Rui never argued, simply waiting for Ling Yao to vent, then continued, using his halting language and gestures, insisting on asking the doctor for every detail. He went to the pharmacy to buy medicine, checking each item against the list; he rented ice packs and physical therapy equipment, carefully reading the instructions. His silent stubbornness and attentiveness made the uncle in the same ward unable to help but praise Ling Yao with gestures: "Your brother is really good."
Emotional soothing was a much longer process. The pain of his injury and the anxiety about his debut weighed on Ling Yao like two huge mountains. He often fell into a state of irritability, despair, and depression. He would lose his temper over the smallest of things—like porridge that was too hot or a TV show that was too loud—and throw his pillow to the ground. Late at night, when the pain was too much to sleep, he would stare at the ceiling with a blank look in his eyes and mutter dejected words like, "It's over," "Let's just give up."
In such moments, Su Rui would simply stay by his side, quietly. He wasn't good at delivering grand speeches or empty reassurances like, "Everything will be fine." When Ling Yao lost his temper, he'd quietly pick up his pillow and pat it clean. When Ling Yao felt depressed and hopeless, he'd sit on a small stool beside the bed, gently holding his good hand, repeating, "It'll be fine, Ling Yao, it will definitely be fine." His voice wasn't loud, but it carried a strange, reassuring power. Sometimes, he'd pull out his phone and show Ling Yao a recent photo or tell him about something funny that happened at school, trying to distract him.
The doctor's rehabilitation recommendations included regular massage to relieve muscle stiffness and promote blood circulation. Su Rui followed the doctor's instructions and the tutorials she found online, and massaged Ling Yao every night without fail.
He'd first rub his hands together to warm them, then pour on a blood-activating and blood-dissolving medicated oil. Then, carefully avoiding any injuries, he'd start with Ling Yao's taut calf muscles, pressing and kneading them with his knuckles. His pressure was neither too strong nor too weak, his focus as if he were completing a crucial work of art. Ling Yao would initially hesitate, calling him "clumsy," but he'd quickly surrendered to the perfect amount of pressure and warmth in his palms.
When massaging the lower back, Su Rui would need to kneel at the edge of the bed, leaning slightly forward, which was very strenuous. Often, after a massage, he would be sweating profusely. Ling Yao could sense the changes in his breathing and the occasional subtle gasps, but he never complained of being tired, simply resting for a moment before continuing.
Under the dim light, only the faint herbal scent of the medicinal oil and the gentle yet firm pressure of Su Rui's fingers filled the air. Ling Yao closed his eyes, the pain in his body seemingly gradually easing under the patient touch, his tense nerves slowly relaxing. This was a kind of silent care and dependence he had never experienced before. He said nothing more, only occasionally letting out a soft hum of comfort from his throat, or when she pressed a particularly sore spot, he would subconsciously grab her wrist with his backhand, only to quickly release it.
In this extreme dependence and vulnerability, a deeper emotion quietly grew. Ling Yao would still be stubborn and still show irritability from time to time, but he began to subconsciously look for Su Rui in the room, frequently checking the time when Su Rui went out to buy groceries, and unconsciously looking towards the direction of Su Rui's bed on the floor at night.
Su Rui, in his daily care, felt a reassuring sense of being needed. He saw Ling Yao at his most genuine and vulnerable, stripped of all his glamor and thorns. His affection for him was tempered by a heavy heartache and a desire to protect him. He continued to live frugally, but he was unwavering in buying Ling Yao medicine and nutritional supplements.
The small dormitory became an island, completely isolated from the cutthroat competition of the star-making factory outside, filled with the scent of medicine and warmth. One gradually softened in pain, the other quietly grew in protection. While injuries were painful, the time they spent together became an irreplaceable, deeply connected memory.
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