Li Yan bowed his head: "Yes."
He turned and hurriedly left the ward, not daring to say another word.
Jingmin leaned back against the hospital bed, his gaze falling on the pale, cold light streaming through the window.
In the fifth-floor ward,
Yang Jinchu had just leaned against the headboard, his forehead still bruised and swollen, his lips slightly pale, and an IV drip hanging from his wrist. He looked barely conscious.
The balcony door clicked open, and Chu Wuyang hurried in.
His face hadn't recovered from the conversation, and he exuded an air of urgency.
Before she could even put her phone away, she quickly walked to the bedside and gently supported Yang Jinchu's slightly swaying body.
"What do you need? I'll help you."
Yang Jinchu glanced at her, a hint of tenderness flashing in his eyes, but his tone carried a teasing chuckle.
There are some things you can't help with.
Chu Wuyang frowned and gave him a disgruntled look.
"Are you kidding me? You're not crippled,"
"If you want me to help you to the toilet, I'm not unwilling to do it for you."
Upon hearing this, Yang Jinchu blushed inexplicably, her ears turning red.
"She's about to become a mother and she's still so shameless."
His gaze flickered for a moment, and his tone became slightly hesitant.
"I... I saw you weren't very happy, so I wanted to cheer you up."
Chu Wuyang glanced at him, a half-smile on her face.
"Do you think you can talk nonsense just because you're handsome?"
"That depends on who the person is."
Yang Jinchu gave a soft hum, then let out a weak "Ouch" and leaned back against the headboard, speaking half-jokingly and half-seriously.
"Well... I actually feel more like drinking water right now."
Chu Wuyang had no choice but to help him sit up straight.
"Wait, ancestor."
She went to the counter in the corner, poured a glass of warm water, and carefully handed it to him.
Yang Jinchu took it, slowly drank a sip, and the warm water went down her throat.
The slight ache in my stomach seemed to have subsided somewhat.
But after that phone call—her expression clearly changed.
Yang Jinchu's heart skipped a beat. His lowered eyelashes concealed his emotions. He asked, as if casually,
"Yangyang, was that Jingmin on the phone just now?...Did he yell at you?"
Chu Wuyang paused slightly, then shook her head.
"No."
But that "no" was spoken so softly, like the wind rustling through paper, that it was obvious it wasn't the truth.
Yang Jinchu put down the empty cup.
He reached out and gently grasped her wrist, his fingertips touching her cool skin.
“I told you, you can trust me.”
He looked at her intently, his voice gentle yet firm.
"I want to know if you're doing it all alone again."
Chu Wuyang looked at his face, which was still somewhat bruised and purple, and her gaze finally wavered for a moment.
Like a hesitant act before shedding a disguise, she slowly opened her mouth.
"...People around Jingmin said he was in a car accident."
There was no panic in her tone; rather, it was as if something was suppressing her emotions, carrying a hint of bewilderment.
"But... on the phone, I wasn't sure if he was lying to me or making up an excuse, or if he was just throwing a tantrum."
Yang Jinchu looked at her quietly, not in a hurry to speak, but slowly tightened his grip on her hand a little.
"If you're worried, go see him."
He spoke calmly and softly, but his hand never loosened its grip on hers.
Chu Wuyang shook her head and lowered her eyes to avoid his gaze.
"It's better not to... Giving him any more illusions at this point will only cause him more pain in the end."
Her tone was so calm it was almost agitated, as if she were talking to herself.
"I don't think he's seriously ill. At most, it's just a mental illness... As long as he gives up on me, listens to the doctor, and gets proper treatment, his mental illness can be cured."
Yang Jinchu listened, but at that moment her fingers released her.
"Now that you've figured it out yourself, stop putting on that long face. I'm a patient too, after all."
He smiled slightly and nodded in a relaxed tone.
"Does your gloomy face make me look particularly unlucky?"
Chu Wuyang choked, glancing at him.
"Your bad luck is destined."
Being wrongly accused and beaten, and not fighting back, isn't that just bad luck?
Yang Jinchu smiled, the smile slowly spreading, as if brightening the room a little.
He pointed to the head of the bed.
"I'd like something sweet."
"You have diabetes?"
Chu Wuyang raised an eyebrow.
"Tsk, what are you saying?"
"I also feel a bit bitter inside."
He spoke frankly.
Chu Wuyang ignored him.
She got up, walked to the cabinet next to the hospital bed, rummaged around, took out a piece of fruit candy from her bag, unwrapped it, and put it in his mouth.
"Don't choke."
When Yang Jinchu tasted that sweetness, his eyes seemed to melt gently as well.
He watched her retreating figure, his voice lowered.
"Thank you for remembering that I love this."
The moment Yang Jinchu tasted that sweetness, her eyes seemed to melt gently.
He stared at her retreating figure, his voice lowering.
"It's great to be sick; at least you have people who care about you and take care of you, and you can even give orders."
And the people you want to see are always there for you, so you won't find them nowhere to be found when you want to see them.
Chu Wuyang paused, then turned and glanced at him.
"Is he delirious from illness?"
Yang Jinchu smiled slightly, but said nothing more.
She was just smiling, and the sweetness in her eyes was overflowing from the corners of her eyes, even though she had candy in her mouth.
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