Chapter 25
Suburbs of City A, on the extended section of the expressway exit.
Around 10 p.m., the traffic on this section of road connecting the highway and the city's main road was much thinner than during the day, but some vehicles still had their lights on, like fireflies in the night, quickly passing by on the road.
The air was filled with the unique scent of late summer, a mixture of asphalt, dust, and faint hints of grass. Streetlights stood on both sides of the road, casting dim, clearly defined beams of light beyond which lay deep darkness.
A long-distance bus from a neighboring city, its bright red taillights gleaming, was driving smoothly in the right lane. It had just exited the highway, and most of the passengers were drowsy, some wearing headphones with their eyes closed, others looking down at the faint light of their phone screens. The cabin was quiet, save for the low hum of the air conditioning system and the rhythmic rumble of the engine.
Qiu Yayu sat by the window, her head gently resting against the cool glass, seemingly fast asleep. Long eyelashes cast soft shadows beneath her eyelids, and a faint, almost imperceptible smile played at the corners of her lips, as if she were dreaming of something pleasant. She carefully placed her light blue camera case on the seat inside, resting it gently against her backpack, as if guarding her most precious treasure.
Everything seemed so peaceful, no different from countless ordinary nights.
However, disasters often happen in the blink of an eye.
In the opposite lane, a heavily overloaded truck carrying construction steel was driving a middle-aged man who had been driving for nearly ten hours straight, his eyelids heavy as lead. At some point beyond his physical limits, his consciousness briefly and fatally dissipated.
Perhaps only a fraction of a second.
His hands unconsciously loosened their grip on the steering wheel, causing the heavy front of the car to veer slightly, crossing the solid line in the center of the road that reflected a faint white light under the headlights.
Time was stretched infinitely at this moment, then compressed into a heart-stopping instant.
The bus driver was the first to see the high beams that were getting closer and closer, becoming increasingly blinding, and clearly encroaching on his lane! His pupils contracted sharply, and almost instinctively, he jerked the steering wheel to try to avoid it, while simultaneously slamming his foot on the brakes!
The sharp, ear-piercing sound of tires screeching against the asphalt was like a cold file, suddenly shattering the tranquility of the night!
The carriage was instantly filled with immense force and panicked screams! Sleeping passengers were violently thrown from their seats, their phones and luggage flying everywhere!
Qiu Yayu was jolted awake by the tremendous tremors and ear-piercing noise. Her mind went blank, and her still-unconscious consciousness was completely unable to process the sudden, hellish chaos before her. She only felt her body being violently thrown forward by an irresistible force, her forehead hitting something hard, a sharp pain shooting through her, and stars flashing before her eyes.
"Bang--!!!"
A deafening roar, so deep it seemed to shatter the very air!
It wasn't a crisp impact, but rather the tooth-grinding, destructive roar of metal being forcibly twisted, torn, and squeezed!
The heavy truck's hard and massive front end, like an out-of-control steel behemoth, crashed solidly and without any cushioning into the front-middle section of the bus! It was roughly the area where Qiu Yayu's seat was located!
The sound of shattering glass was like a torrential downpour! It wasn't just a loud crash, but a terrifying sound effect of thousands upon thousands of pieces of glass exploding and scattering in an instant!
In Qiu Yayu's perception, the world instantly transformed into a slow-motion black-and-white silent film.
She felt like a leaf caught in a whirlwind, lightly defying gravity, only to be slammed violently in some direction by an invisible force the next second. Excruciating pain exploded simultaneously in multiple parts of her body, and a continuous, high-frequency buzzing filled her ears, drowning out all other sounds.
Her vision began to blur and sway, like an old television screen with a poor signal. She saw the seat in front of her twist and deform, saw packages falling from the overhead luggage rack like petals, saw the terrified face of the passenger next to her, and saw... that light blue box, bounce off the seat, trace a brief arc in the air, and then disappear out of her chaotic vision.
camera……
Lü Xiaoyan...
These two thoughts, like the last flickering sparks in the darkness, faintly yet clearly pierced through her gradually clouding consciousness.
She opened her mouth, as if to shout something, but only tasted a strong, nauseating metallic flavor rising from deep in her throat. Warm, viscous liquid blurred her vision and slid down her cheeks.
it hurts……
Senior...
sorry……
I……
I……
I broke my promise...
Countless fragmented, unformed thoughts, like beads from a broken string, tumbled and sank in her rapidly passing consciousness.
Her body was trapped in an unnatural position between the twisted chair and an unknown metal component, unable to move. Life force was rapidly draining from her young body along with the unstoppable flow of warm liquid.
Outside the car, the screeching of brakes and the scraping of metal seemed to continue, mixed with the distant, increasingly indistinct, sharp sirens of police cars and ambulances.
But these sounds had become incredibly distant to Qiu Yayu, as if separated by a thick, impenetrable layer of glass.
Her vision went completely dark, and the last remaining sensation was a cool touch on her forehead—she didn't know if it was the night wind or some other liquid.
Darkness, both gentle and cruel, completely engulfed her.
The light blue box containing the rare camera rolled into a corner of the messy carriage, littered with broken glass and twisted metal. The wrapping paper was stained with an unknown liquid, leaving a dark mark.
Like her, it lay there quietly, waiting to be discovered.
They also wait for a carefully prepared surprise to turn into a terrible piece of news that can never be delivered.
(middle)
Time: 10:18 PM.
Location: Suburbs of City A, accident site on the expressway connector.
The driver of the first passing vehicle, the instant his high beams swept over the twisted metal, almost thought he was hallucinating. He slammed on the brakes, his tires leaving black skid marks on the road. As he shakily picked up his phone to dial emergency services, his voice was broken and distorted: "Car crash! Big car crash! Bus and truck...wrecked! Quick! Someone come quick!"
After the initial deathly silence was broken, there were intermittent groans, cries, and suppressed howls of agony from the survivors. Like a beehive awakened, chaos and fear began to spread in this shattered space.
The air was thick with a nauseating odor—the acrid smell of leaking gasoline, the burnt smell of burning rubber, and… a sweet, metallic smell of blood. They mixed together to create an abstract picture of death and disaster.
The streetlights still shone dimly, but their light could only weakly illuminate a corner of this hellish scene. A huge, irregular gash had been torn open in the front of the bus, as if it had been gnawed by a monster. The twisted metal frame was exposed menacingly, the seats were twisted into pretzels by the immense impact, and scattered luggage, shattered glass, and dark stains covered every visible inch of space. The heavy truck that caused the accident had its front end severely crushed, the cab deformed, and the driver trapped inside, his fate unknown.
Qiu Yayu's consciousness sank and floated in a boundless, cold, dark swamp. Intense pain, like a tide, crashed against her remaining barriers of perception, each surge attempting to drag her into eternal silence.
But there was always something, like an extremely thin yet exceptionally strong thread, stubbornly pulling her along above the dark abyss.
It was a persistent, sharp pain coming from my temple.
It's a thick, fishy-smelling liquid stuck in my throat.
It's a suffocating, heavy feeling of the body being squeezed and confined.
And... a blurry, warm fragment of a scene, bathed in red light and the smell of chemicals.
Darkroom… red light… his focused profile…
This scene is like a pebble thrown into stagnant water, creating a faint ripple.
Camera...gift...birthday...
A light blue box...tracing an arc in the air...
Lü Xiaoyan...
The name was like a faint electric current, instantly piercing through the thick darkness and bringing a brief but clear throbbing sensation.
She can't... she can't let it end like this...
She tried to open her eyes, but her eyelids felt heavy, as if welded together. She tried to move her fingers, even just a little, but all she felt was excruciating pain and complete numbness. She tried to scream, but only a hoarse, bellows-like sound came from her throat, bringing out more warm liquid.
Despair, like a cold, venomous snake, coiled around her increasingly cold heart.
New sounds seemed to come from outside. No longer the groans of twisted metal and the cries of survivors, but the more rapid and powerful footsteps, mixed with serious, brief commands.
"Quick! Over here! Stretcher!"
"Watch out for glass! Beware of secondary injuries!"
"Save those who can move first! Assess their injuries!"
"Vital signs! Quickly!"
It's the rescue workers! They've arrived!
A faint, almost negligible hope flickered in her heart like a candle in the wind. Salvation…if only she were saved, she could see him…she could give the gift…
She mustered all her rapidly fading strength to try and make a sound, even just a syllable, to attract the attention of the rescuers.
"Hoo..." A faint hissing sound, almost drowned out by all the surrounding noise.
No one heard it.
Rescue efforts are underway in a tense but orderly manner. Firefighters are using hydraulic spreaders and cutting machines to try to pry open the deformed doors and cargo compartment to rescue trapped survivors. Paramedics are moving through the chaos, quickly checking everyone they can reach, performing initial hemostasis and immobilization, and swiftly lifting those still showing vital signs onto stretchers and transporting them to ambulances with flashing emergency lights.
The on-site commander's voice came through the loudspeaker, calm yet urgent: "Prioritize the transfer of the seriously injured! Ensure airways remain open! Register the injured's information!"
A young firefighter, his face smeared with oil and unidentified stains, nimbly climbed onto the badly damaged bus. His flashlight beam swept across the chaotic interior as he quickly assessed the situation.
"Quick! Quick! Quick!" He shouted to his companions below, while trying to clear the obstruction around the girl. "Here! There's another one! A young woman, stuck under her seat!"
His gaze fell on Qiu Yayu's pale, blood-stained face. She seemed to still be breathing faintly, her chest rising and falling very slightly.
“Hold on! We’re getting you out of here!” the firefighter shouted to her, though he wasn’t sure if she could hear him. He began working with his colleagues to try and remove the twisted metal pinning her down.
Just then, his flashlight beam inadvertently swept across a corner of the carriage, illuminating something that stood out from its surroundings—a box wrapped in light blue starry sky paper, tied with a silver ribbon. Although it was covered in dust and splattered with dirt, the careful packaging was still evident.
Perhaps it was a gift that one of the passengers wanted to give away. A pang of regret crossed the young firefighter's mind, but he didn't have time to dwell on it; he immediately focused on the rescue at hand.
However, just as the rescue tools touched the metal component trapping Qiu Yayu, a slight vibration was felt—
Qiu Yayu's lifeline, which had already become relatively flat, seemed to be stirred once again by this final disturbance.
Her unfocused pupils twitched extremely slightly beneath her heavy eyelids. In her blurred vision, she seemed to catch a glimpse of a flickering flashlight beam, and that… indistinct, pale blue… shadow…
It's... a gift...
She had almost exhausted the last bit of energy in her soul, and her blood-soaked lips trembled almost imperceptibly.
No sound was emitted.
But if the most sophisticated instruments were close enough, they might be able to detect that airflow, even fainter than a breath, and attempt to combine it into two broken syllables:
"Xiao...Yan..."
This was the last trace of her consciousness left in this world. Like the last leaf falling in autumn, it silently merged into the cold earth.
Immediately afterwards, all the warm, colorful, and luminous fragments of memory that sustained her last conscious thought—about the red darkroom, his gentle gaze, the promise under the stars, the birthday surprise—drifted away like dandelions scattered by the wind, vanishing into the boundless, eternal darkness.
She held onto the empty air with her fingers, then let go completely.
The young firefighter and his colleague finally pried open some of the metal, gaining access to her body. He immediately reached out to check her carotid artery.
Beneath his fingers, all was silent.
There was no pulse. There was no warmth. Only the lingering, deepening coldness left after life had passed.
The firefighter's hand froze. He looked up at his colleague and shook his head. His eyes were filled with helplessness and heaviness.
Such a young and vibrant life vanished silently right before their eyes.
They carefully moved her body from the rubble, placed it on a stretcher, and covered it with a white sheet.
The light blue camera box still lies quietly in the corner, along with its owner, lost in the heartbreaking mess after the disaster.
It carried all the love and expectations, yet ultimately failed to cross the boundary between life and death.
The night wind blew by, carrying a chill, stirring up scraps of paper and dust on the ground, but it could not dispel the heavy stench of blood and sorrow.
The rescue operation continued, with sirens, commands, and the roar of tools mingling together. But for Qiu Yayu, it was all over.
Her time was forever frozen on this late summer night, frozen on the road to him, just one step away from reunion.
(Down)
As night deepened, the rescue work entered its most arduous and procedural phase—clearing the site, tallying casualties, and handling the belongings of the victims.
Large lighting fixtures were erected, illuminating the area as if it were daytime, making every gruesome detail impossible to hide. Twisted metal reflected the blinding white light, and long, solidified dark tracks stretched across the ground. Most of the survivors had already been evacuated; only rescue workers, police investigators, and… personnel responsible for collecting the bodies remained at the scene.
A somber silence, a mixture of weariness and sorrow, descended, replacing the previous tension and clamor.
A uniformed police officer in white gloves crouched beside the wreckage of a badly damaged bus, carefully collecting scattered personal belongings. Wallets, ID cards, cell phones with shattered screens, a bestselling book soaked in blood… each item once belonged to a vibrant life, each carrying a story of an unfinished journey. He placed these items into transparent evidence bags, affixing temporary tags, his movements mechanical and heavy.
His gaze swept across the corner of the carriage and landed on the light blue box. Amidst the mess, the gift box, still relatively intact, stood out starkly and evoked a deep sense of sadness.
He carefully picked it up. The box was heavier than he had expected. The wrapping paper was stained in places by an unknown liquid, darkening the color, and the edges were worn, but the silver ribbon still stubbornly maintained its delicate knot. He gently brushed away the dust and shards of glass, without trying to open it. This was a victim's keepsake, perhaps a gift intended for someone important.
He placed the box into a separate evidence bag and continued his work. While clearing the area around Qiu Yayu's seat, he found a canvas backpack under the twisted chair. One corner of the backpack was torn, revealing the edges of the miscellaneous items inside. He unzipped it; the contents were relatively neat: several notebooks, an empty water bottle, a pink wallet, and… an envelope with the school logo.
The officer picked up the envelope. It wasn't sealed, and he instinctively pulled out what was inside—a neatly folded piece of paper. The top half of the paper was relatively clean, but the bottom half was stained with a blurry, dark red stain, like a flower blooming in despair.
His fingers paused. His professional ethics prevented him from intruding on privacy, but the presence of this letter here likely had something to do with the victim's identity or wishes. He hesitated for a moment, then very carefully unfolded the letter.
The delicate yet slightly immature handwriting caught his eye. The opening salutation caused even this seasoned police officer, who was used to seeing life and death, to feel a slight pang in his heart.
"Lü Xiaoyan,
By the time you read this letter, you should have already received your birthday present, right?
This camera is like the eyes I use to look into you. It captures light and shadow, and I capture every moment of you. You always say my photos have poor composition and lack skill, but I think, at least I captured your most authentic self—you frowning in the darkroom, you sleeping in the library, you smiling at me under the ginkgo tree… (The letter is smudged with blood here, the handwriting barely legible)…
...(Several lines of text in the middle were completely covered by bloodstains and could not be read)...
...I know you've been looking at that rare camera, and every time you pass by the shop window, you slow down. So I secretly saved up money and asked my cousin for help... (the handwriting becomes blurry again)...
...I hope it can accompany you to capture more and more beautiful autumns. Not just "How Autumn Lives," but also the way autumn smiles, the way autumn contemplates, and... all the ways we are together.
Happy birthday, Lü Xiaoyan.
Always be that young person who loves light and shadow.
——Yayu"
The letter ends abruptly here. The last stroke of the character "妤" in the signature, with its slight upward curve, seems to reflect the sweet smile on the writer's face.
The old police officer's fingers trembled slightly as he carefully folded the letter back to its original shape and placed it back in the envelope. Then, he picked up the evidence bag containing the light blue box, looked at the camera inside that held all the girl's feelings and unspoken words, and remained silent for a long time.
He took out the register and, in the newly added section for the victims' belongings, wrote somberly:
Name: Qiu Yayu (tentative, ID verification required)
Belongings: A light blue gift box (containing what appeared to be a camera), and a letter.
He paused here, his gaze returning to the letter. Then, at the end of this line, he added, almost to himself, in even smaller print:
"(The letter contained undelivered birthday wishes and expressions of affection.)"
After doing all this, he put the evidence bag and the register together, took a deep breath of the cold night air, and tried to suppress the sob in his throat. He stood up and looked at the ruins that still needed to be cleared, and the young bodies that had already lost their warmth under the white sheet.
The moon tonight has quietly climbed into the sky, its cool light shining down silently over this land that has just experienced a life-or-death catastrophe, over those crushed dreams, and over birthday wishes that can never be delivered.
The light blue box, along with the bloodstained letter, was placed with the belongings of other victims, awaiting further identification and claiming of their relics.
They lay there quietly, like a silent, sorrowful period, bringing an end to a love story that had just begun and should have been as vibrant as summer flowers.
Meanwhile, far away, the boy named Lü Xiaoyan remained completely unaware of all this. He might have just finished chatting with his family, or he might be packing his things to take back to school tomorrow, or perhaps... he was still harboring a sweet resentment towards her sudden attack tomorrow because of that message, "Go home first tonight."
For him, the longest and darkest night of his life had only just begun. (A City People's Hospital, Emergency Center)
This place at night is always the stage where human joys and sorrows converge. The hall, usually bustling and busy, is now filled with an almost saturated tension and chaos. The sirens of ambulances sound from afar, approaching and then fading away, repeating endlessly, like a never-ending alarm for life.
The air was thick with the suffocating stench of disinfectant, blood, sweat, and various medications. The stark white light illuminated faces contorted in pain, blank stares, or intense anxiety.
As injured people transferred from the accident site on the suburban expressway connecting road arrived one after another, the emergency center instantly went into overload operation. The sound of the wheels of the gurneys screeching against the ground was incessant, along with the footsteps of medical staff running, the concise and rapid commands, the groans of the injured, and the heart-wrenching cries of their families... all the sounds intertwined, crashing against the cold walls and bouncing back, creating a chilling resonance.
"Make way! Seriously injured! Get him straight to the emergency room!"
"Family members, please wait outside! Do not block the passage!"
"Blood pressure! Blood oxygen! Quickly!"
"Notify the blood bank to prepare blood! Type O blood is in critical shortage!"
Doctors and nurses in white coats and green surgical gowns operated at high speed in the confined space, like precision instruments wound up to a tightrope. Their faces showed exhaustion, but their eyes were sharp and focused as they raced against time and fought against death to save lives hanging in the balance.
A gurney stained with blood and dust was quickly wheeled into the emergency area. Lying on it was a young girl, her face as pale as paper, lifeless. The wound on her forehead had been hastily bandaged, but dark red blood was still seeping through. Her long hair was disheveled on the pillow, and cables from a monitor were attached to her neck and arms. On the screen, the curve representing her heartbeat fluctuated weakly and slowly, as if it might flatten into a straight line at any moment.
"Female, approximately 20 years old, with severe impact injuries, multiple rib fractures, suspected internal bleeding, and weak vital signs!" The accompanying doctor quickly explained the situation to the attending physician.
The attending physician quickly examined the girl's pupils and felt her carotid artery, his brows furrowing tightly.
"Prepare for surgery immediately! Notify the anesthesiology and surgery departments!" he decisively ordered, while his subordinates worked tirelessly to carry out emergency procedures.
The nurses sprang into action, preparing instruments, establishing more intravenous access points, and rapidly pushing the gurney towards the operating room. The wheels of the gurney rolled across the polished floor, making a rapid, monotonous sound, like a cold, desolate march counting down to life.
No one knows the girl's name. Among her belongings, they found only a cell phone with a cracked screen that wouldn't turn on, and a student ID card with the University of A's logo. In the photo, she had a clean smile and bright eyes, a stark contrast to the woman lying on the gurney, barely alive.
The name on the student ID is: Qiu Yayu.
Her name, along with her critical condition, was quickly registered in the emergency room records, becoming a cold, indistinct identifier among the many unfortunate victims of the night.
Above the operating room door, a red "Operating in Progress" sign lit up, separating the two worlds.
Outside the door, the emergency room hall remains noisy and chaotic, carrying countless hopes and despairs; inside, a silent and tragic battle against death is being waged under the operating lights.
The doctors, dressed in green surgical gowns, masks, and caps, revealed only their focused yet weary eyes. Scalpels precisely sliced through flesh, hemostatic forceps clamped ruptured blood vessels, and suction devices hummed as they drew away the gushing blood. The beeping of the monitors was the only background noise in this silent battlefield, each beep striking a chord in the hearts of all the medical staff present.
They did everything in their power to try and repair the violently destroyed parts of the young body, trying to pull the rapidly slipping life back from the brink of death.
Time passed by, second by second.
Outside the operating room, there were other students who had rushed over after hearing the news. They gathered together, their faces filled with worry and fear, whispering about what they knew, their eyes constantly glancing anxiously at the closed door.
No one knew Qiu Yayu. They were simply overcome with an instinctive sadness and unease at the potential loss of yet another life of someone her age.
I don't know how much time passed, maybe an hour, maybe two hours.
The operating room door was finally pushed open from the inside.
The surgeon emerged, removing his mask, his face revealing undisguised exhaustion and a deep sense of helplessness. His surgical gown still bore traces of blood that hadn't been completely washed away.
Several students waiting outside immediately surrounded her, asking all at once, "Doctor, how is she?" "Is she alright?"
The doctor looked at the young and anxious faces, remained silent for a few seconds, and then slowly shook his head.
His voice, hoarse from prolonged focus on the surgery, carried a heavy, solemn tone:
"We did our best."
"The injuries were too severe, with multiple internal organ ruptures and bleeding, and serious head injuries... When he was brought in, his vital signs were already very weak."
"It's a pity...we couldn't save him."
"..."
The air seemed to freeze at that moment.
The students who had gathered around were stunned; their worried expressions were instantly replaced by immense shock and bewilderment. Some covered their mouths, their eyes quickly filling with tears.
Although they were strangers, the word "death," so directly and cruelly, came upon a girl of similar age, and the impact was enormous.
The doctor didn't say anything more, just waved wearily, indicating they could leave. He turned and walked towards the doctor's office, where he still needed to complete those tedious and cold death paperwork.
The nurses began cleaning the operating room and handling the aftermath.
Qiu Yayu's body was covered with a white sheet and pushed by a caregiver to the quietest and coldest place that every hospital has—the morgue.
She lay there quietly, as if she were merely asleep. But she would never wake up again, never again show that clear, bright smile like autumn, never again run towards the person she so longed to see.
The last scene she left for this world was the silhouette of a stretcher covered with a white sheet being quickly pushed away under the flashing blue and red lights of an ambulance.
The birthday surprise, the light blue camera box, now lies as a "memorial item" in the police station's evidence room, separated from its young owner by death.
The night sky outside the hospital remained deep and dark. The city lights still shone brightly.
However, the lamp that belonged to Qiu Yayu has been extinguished forever.
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