He just wanted to support Chao Youye and didn't want to see him in so much pain.
Could it be that... those memories of reincarnation, those betrayals, those cold thrones... in his eyes, I am still the executor who brings destruction?
Even... even touching him makes him feel so painful and resistant?
The huge panic and helplessness were like cold vines, tightly wrapping around Mu Xinrong's throat, making him unable to breathe or make any sound.
He stood frozen by the bed like a statue, watching Chao Youye curl up in pain from the violent coughing, his violet pupils covered with physiological tears, and the alarm of the electrocardiogram monitor sharply tore through the silence.
At this moment, a calm figure intervened silently and quickly like a stabilizing force.
Ye Qingliu had put down his book without realizing it, and in two steps he reached the bedside. He ignored Mu Xinrong's stiffness and Chao Youye's resistance, and with calm and precise movements, he gently but irresistibly supported Chao Youye's shoulder, which was hunched from her violent coughing.
The other hand quickly and skillfully adjusted the tightness of the oxygen mask to ensure smooth oxygen supply.
His voice was low and steady, with a strange soothing power that penetrated Chao Youye's painful gasps and the shrieking of the monitor: "Relax. Take a deep breath. Follow my rhythm, inhale...slowly...yes...exhale..."
His instructions were clear and concise, with an unquestionable sense of control.
At the same time, his gray-blue eyes calmly scanned the data jumping on the monitor through the lenses, and his other hand had already pressed the call bell on the bedside.
Under Ye Qingliu's steady support and guidance, Chao Youye's body's violent trembling seemed to ease a little.
He closed his eyes in pain, his violet eyelashes wet with tears, sticking to his lower eyelids, so fragile that they were vulnerable to any blow.
He tried hard and with difficulty to follow the rhythm of Ye Qingliu's instructions to breathe. Every breath he inhaled was accompanied by a tearing pain, and every breath he exhaled was accompanied by a broken hoarse sound.
But the violent coughing that was on the verge of suffocation was finally suppressed with Ye Qingliu's professional intervention, leaving only intermittent and weak breathing.
The nurse quickly pushed the door open and checked the situation and adjusted the medication with swift movements.
Ye Qingliu explained a few words briefly, his eyes never leaving Chao Youye's painful face. Only after he confirmed that his breathing had returned to normal did he very slowly and carefully release the hand that was supporting his shoulder.
Mu Xinrong remained frozen in place, his face as pale as paper, his eyes empty as he watched all this. The look of pain and resistance he had just given to Youye was like a brand, deeply engraved in the depths of his soul.
He felt like a superfluous person, like a plague god that brought disaster. He didn't even dare to look at Chao Youye again.
Ye Qingliu stood up and looked at Mu Xinrong's distraught face. The gray-blue eyes behind the lenses were still deep, but there seemed to be a hint of subtle understanding.
He didn't say anything, but simply raised his chin ever so slightly toward the door. A silent command: Get out and calm down.
Mu Xinrong seemed to have been granted amnesty. He staggered out of the guest room almost as if escaping. He leaned heavily against the cold wall of the corridor, gasping for breath, as if he had just struggled out of the abyss of drowning.
My heart was pounding wildly in my chest, and every beat brought sharp pain and great confusion.
Why...why is this happening?
He thought that after experiencing those reincarnation memories and seeing Chao Youye's tears and pain, he could at least understand a little.
He thought that the difference in this world line would give them a chance... However, the deep pain and resistance in Chao Youye's eyes were like a basin of ice water, which completely chilled all his luck and hope.
Shouldn't he be here at all? His very existence is the greatest stimulation and pain for Chao Youye?
In the guest room, under the effects of the medicine and Ye Qingliu's calm aura, Chao Youye's breathing finally calmed down completely.
The white mist on the oxygen mask condensed and dissipated regularly. After the nurse confirmed that the situation was stable, she quietly retreated again.
The only people left in the room were Ye Qingliu and Chao Youye, who was lying on the hospital bed with her eyes closed and her face pale.
After a long time, Chao Youye's tightly closed eyelashes trembled violently for a few times, and finally opened slowly and with great difficulty.
He stared blankly at the ceiling, his eyes hollow, as if his soul had been ripped out, leaving only a shell enduring endless pain. His lips were cracked and pale, moving slightly, but no sound came out.
Ye Qingliu didn't speak immediately. He walked to the bedside table, picked up the small thermos, and unscrewed the lid. A warm white mist with the aroma of rice and a faint salty flavor rose.
He scooped up some warm, extremely soft rice porridge with a spoon, blew on it gently, and then handed the spoon to Chao Youye's cracked lips.
"Drink some water." Ye Qingliu's voice was still steady and cold, but in this dead silent room, it carried an unquestionable and forced gentleness.
He didn't say "porridge", but just "water", as if lowering some psychological defense line.
Chao Youye's eyes slowly focused on the spoon at his lips. The warm steam brushed against his cracked lips, bringing a slight stimulation.
There seemed to be a very faint fluctuation in his empty eyes, but it was immediately covered by deeper fatigue and an almost numb indifference.
He turned his head slightly, avoiding the spoon, his refusal evident, like a prisoner who had completely given up the will to live.
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