How come she is here?!
How could she... be like this?! She looked... thinner and more haggard than the last time she was in the ward. Her eyes were frighteningly red, and her face was covered in tears...
A huge shock and an indescribable, extremely unfamiliar feeling of sourness instantly ran through Ye Qingliu's newly awakened, still chaotic nerves like an electric current.
His body stiffened almost imperceptibly, and his gray-blue eyes were fixed on Sun Guixiang's tear-stained face, which was filled with great surprise.
He felt a dull pain in his chest due to the violent fluctuations in his emotions, which made him frown almost imperceptibly, and his lips seemed to become even paler.
Sun Guixiang's heart was beating wildly when he looked at her. The great joy and the sadness of "finally being seen by him" made her unable to control herself any longer.
Her skinny hands trembled as she pressed harder against the cold glass, as if this would allow her to penetrate the barrier and touch him.
Turbid tears rolled down like beads that had broken off the string, hitting the glass and her old dark gray cotton jacket.
She opened her mouth and silently called out over and over again with her mouth shape: "Little friend... Little friend..."
At this moment, inside the glass window, in the depths of Ye Qingliu's gray-blue eyes, the surging waves of shock and bitterness quietly changed as if encountering a warm current.
The tightly furrowed brows relaxed extremely slowly, almost imperceptibly...
The tightly pursed, bloodless lips moved extremely hard and very weakly...
It seemed to be responding to something silently.
Then, under Sun Guixiang's ecstatic and disbelieving gaze—
Ye Qingliu raised his pale and slender hand, which was placed outside the sterile sheet, very slowly and with great difficulty, feeling heavy as if all his strength had been exhausted.
His movements were slow and laborious, and every tiny movement seemed to tug at the wound, causing immense pain. His fingertips trembled slightly from the exertion.
But he didn't stop.
The hand, with the IV tube shaking slightly, was lifted off the bed very stubbornly, little by little.
Then, looking out the window—towards the withered old man with tears streaming down his face, almost pressing his face against the glass—
Very slightly, yet very clearly—
Waved.
The movements were very small and weak, like a candle in the wind.
But it was like a silent thunder, exploding deep in Sun Guixiang's soul.
"Woo..." A whimper that was suppressed to the extreme, a mixture of great ecstasy and sadness, finally could not be suppressed and overflowed from between Sun Guixiang's tightly covered fingers!
She felt as if all the bones had been pulled out of her body. She could no longer hold on. Her body suddenly went limp and she fell heavily back onto the cold metal bench.
The immense emotional impact completely overwhelmed her like a tsunami! The tense nerves of the past few days, the accumulated fear, the endless worry, and the ecstasy that gushed out at this moment instantly overwhelmed the old woman's last bit of strength.
She hunched her back, curled up in the cold chair, and covered her face tightly with her skinny hands. The cries that she had suppressed for five days and five nights finally burst out like a flood.
The cry was hoarse and broken, filled with the great sorrow and endless pain of surviving the disaster, and echoed in the silent corridor.
"He's awake... The little boy is awake... He's awake... He saw me... He waved to me..." She cried incoherently, tears pouring out from between her fingers, soaking her washed-white cuffs and dark grey old cotton-padded jacket.
Xiao Li was awakened by her crying and hurriedly went forward to support her trembling body.
Xiao Li looked at the young man through the glass window who was waving weakly and whose eyes seemed to be fixed on the old man. He then looked at Sun Guixiang who was crying so hard that she was almost suffocating in his arms, and he couldn't help but shed tears.
Inside the glass window, Ye Qingliu still maintained that extremely slight waving gesture.
Through the cold glass, his gray-blue eyes looked quietly and deeply at the withered figure curled up in the chair, crying heart-wrenchingly.
His newly awakened, still pale face was expressionless, except for his tightly pursed thin lips, which, at a moment when no one was paying attention, curved upward ever so slightly before returning to a straight line.
It was an extremely short, extremely weak arc, but it really existed.
Like the first cracks in a glacier quietly melting.
His weakly raised hand finally couldn't hold on any longer and slowly and weakly fell back onto the white sheets.
The fingertips curled up almost imperceptibly, as if the surging, scorching temperature transmitted through the air still lingered.
Cold glass separates two worlds.
On one side was the regular ticking of the instrument and the weakness of the young man who had just woken up.
On one side is the old man's suppressed crying and the silent watch.
And at this moment, the icy barrier seemed to be quietly melted by the silent wave and surging tears, leaving an imperceptible gap.
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