Inside was the beautifully packaged strawberry cream cake, of which only a small bite had been taken.
Bright red strawberries, snow-white cream... like a stubborn touch of color in the darkness.
Mu Xinrong's fingertips moved slightly. As if being pulled by some invisible force, he reached out his hand very slowly and took the paper bag.
He carefully opened it and took out the still bright and tempting cake. The sweet aroma stubbornly penetrated his nose.
He looked at the cake, at the vibrant colors, at the dessert that symbolized Hua Jinyue's clumsy yet pure kindness...
Thinking back to the scene in the guest room, Chao Youye reached out for the strawberry cake with trembling fingertips... an indescribable sourness suddenly rushed into his nose.
He picked up the small fork beside him, but instead of eating it himself, he carefully and attentively scooped off the largest and brightest strawberry on the cake, along with a small piece of snow-white cream.
The movements were as gentle as if treating a rare treasure.
Then, he stood up holding the small piece of cake, and walked very lightly, as if afraid of disturbing anything, and moved very slowly, step by step, to the door of the guest room.
The heavy door remained closed, leaving only a tiny gap. Mu Xinrong did not try to push it open, nor did he make a sound.
He just held his breath and squatted down in front of the door very slowly and carefully like the most devout believer.
He placed the small plate filled with bright red strawberries and snow-white cream on the cold floor outside the door, close to the inside, very gently and silently, as if offering it.
The bright colors are particularly eye-catching on the dark floor, like a small, weak but persistent flame lit in the darkness.
After doing all this, he remained squatting, not standing up immediately. He tilted his head slightly, gently pressed his ear against the cold door, held his breath, and used all his strength to listen to the movement inside the door.
Dead silence.
There was only the faint and steady beeping of the monitor.
And... Chao Youye's weak but even breathing, with the unique sense of sluggishness caused by the effects of drugs.
He is still breathing.
He is still alive.
This realization, like the warmest spring, instantly soaked Mu Xinrong's cold and desperate heart.
He closed his eyes, and hot tears silently fell again, but this time, it was no longer just pain and regret, but also mixed with a faint but real trace of...relief and hope.
He maintained this posture, outside the cold door, quietly guarding the broken and precious life inside.
It is like the first ray of light that penetrates the clouds after a long winter, symbolizing the coming of spring.
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