Everything will be alright
He didn't know how much time had passed, until his legs and feet went numb and a chill crept up his spine. He wiped his face hard, took a few deep breaths, and tried to suppress those chaotic emotions back to the deepest corner of his heart.
Then, he leaned against the wall, stood up somewhat unsteadily, and pushed open the door to the ward.
The indoor lighting was much softer than in the hallway, and the air was filled with the smell of crayons and paper, along with the warm glow of the sun. Qingran remained seated on the bed, in the same position, head bowed, but the crayons in her hand had stopped. She wasn't coloring; she was simply staring quietly at the sketchbook, motionless.
Hearing the door open, she slowly raised her head and looked towards the doorway.
Qi Shuo met her gaze. They were clear, untainted eyes, like two calm lakes, reflecting no worldly turmoil.
Yet, in those eyes, Qi Shuo seemed to detect a subtle emotion, different from usual. It wasn't fear, nor confusion, but a... quiet, almost instinctive perception. It was as if she could sense the heavy, cold aura he carried when he left, and the lingering, oppressive vortex that remained even after his return.
She looked at him, blinked, and then, putting down her crayon, she slowly and somewhat awkwardly extended her small hand toward him, her fingertips still stained with a little yellow crayon.
She didn't speak, but simply looked at him quietly with her clear eyes, a hint of barely perceptible childlike confusion and...reassurance in them.
Qi Shuo stood rooted to the spot, motionless, as if frozen in place. He looked at the small hand reaching out to him, at Qing Ran's quiet and bewildered face, and the turbulent emotions churning in his chest were instantly replaced by an even more intense and unbearable sorrow.
He walked slowly, step by step, to the bedside. Then, he sat down on the edge of the bed, not to take the little hand, but to stretch out his arms and gently and carefully pull the small, warm body into his embrace.
He buried his face deeply in Qingran's slender neck, which carried a faint scent of soapberry.
He closed his eyes, breathing deeply and greedily into the air that instantly calmed him. His body trembled uncontrollably; he could only hold her tighter, yet dared not hold her too tightly, as if embracing the last piece of driftwood, the last glimmer of light, in this cold world.
Qingran seemed a little stunned by the sudden hug, her body stiffening slightly. But she didn't struggle, didn't push away, and didn't make a sound as she usually did when she was startled.
She simply and obediently let him hold her, her small hands still outstretched. After a while, she slowly and tentatively placed them gently on Qi Shuo's back. It was very light, with a soothing meaning, one touch after another, like treating a wounded little animal that needed comforting.
This unconscious, gentle patting gesture was like a key, instantly unlocking the last line of defense in Qi Shuo's heart. Hot tears finally broke free of their restraint, gushing forth and quickly soaking the fabric around Qing Ran's shoulders and neck. He didn't make a sound, only his shoulders trembled uncontrollably, and scalding tears flowed silently.
Qingran felt the dampness on her neck and shoulders. Her small body stiffened for a moment, and then the patting hand stopped. She didn't move or make a sound, but simply let Qi Shuo hold her, quietly feeling his suppressed, silent breakdown.
Time seemed to stand still at that moment, with only the movement of sunlight and Qi Shuo's suppressed, faint gasps filling the ward.
After an unknown amount of time, Qi Shuo's trembling gradually subsided. He finally raised his head slowly, extremely slowly, and loosened his grip on the arms. His eyes were red-rimmed, and his face was still wet with tears; he looked utterly disheveled.
But he didn't look at Qingran; he simply pressed his forehead gently against the top of her head, like a wounded beast drawing on its last bit of warmth and strength.
"slowly……"
He paused, as if gathering his courage, or perhaps searching for the right words.
In the end, he simply asked, in that hoarse, broken voice, almost in a whisper, a question he already knew the answer to, yet still craved some illusory comfort:
"Everything... will be alright, right?"
He asked very softly, as if afraid of disturbing something, or as if he knew that the question itself was fragile and easily broken.
Qingran remained nestled in his arms, offering no reply. She couldn't comprehend the complex question, nor the despair, hope, pain, and pleading it contained.
She seemed to sense the tremor and unease in Qi Shuo's voice, and the deep sorrow emanating from his body. And so, she made the most instinctive reaction she could understand at that moment.
She tilted her head up, looked into Qi Shuo's red eyes, and then, very slowly and with a very small gesture, nodded.
Yes, nodding.
A simple, childlike, perhaps meaningless action.
But for Qi Shuo, that nod was like a faint yet firm ray of light, cleaving through the boundless darkness and chaos in his heart.
It doesn't represent a promise, a future, or even any substantial comfort. It's simply the most straightforward and purest response from an innocent child to the immense sorrow of the person before them.
But that's enough.
Qi Shuo looked into Qing Ran's clear eyes, which reflected his disheveled image, and at her gentle yet solemn nod. His nerves, stretched to their limit like a string pulled to its limit, finally snapped with a "snap".
It's not a complete breakdown, but rather a kind of exhaustion-like relaxation after utterly giving up resistance.
He pulled Qingran into his arms again, this time not out of desperate grasping, but like a drowning person finally grabbing a piece of driftwood, even if the driftwood itself was fragile.
"Mmm..." He choked up, uttering a muffled syllable from deep in his throat, as if in response, or perhaps as a self-comforting thought, "Yes, Ranran said she would, and she definitely will..."
The sunlight gently fell on the two people embracing, stretching their shadows and casting them onto the snow-white wall, where they overlapped tightly, as if they could never be separated again.
The wisteria outside the window still exudes a rich fragrance. A spring breeze drifts through the half-open window, gently stirring the curtains and bringing with it the distant, hazy sounds of human life.
Inside the ward, time seemed to flow slowly once more. A broken soul found temporary refuge in the innocent, pure comfort of a naive child, drawing upon the small but invaluable courage to move forward.
At least for this moment, in this sun-drenched hospital room with his sister's silent companionship, he allowed himself to escape for a short while, temporarily.
The storm may still be gathering, and the road ahead may still be shrouded in mist. But at this moment, the embrace is real, the tears are real, and that choked, empty promise is also real.
That's enough.
It was already dark when Qi Shuo left the hospital. When he got home, dinner was already on the table. Sister Jin glanced at him, didn't ask any questions, and simply said, "You're back. Eat."
The atmosphere at the dinner table was somewhat quiet, with everyone preoccupied with their own thoughts.
Qi Shuo was feeling down because of Qing Ran and Tan Huaiyu's situation, while Sister Jin was busy with the pressure of senior year review. Qin Zhou and Song Yungui were worried about the upcoming college entrance examination and the uncertain future.
With the college entrance exam just around the corner, Song Yungui followed Sister Jin's arrangement and moved out of the dormitory to share a room with Qin Zhou, which would make it easier to take care of him. After all, he needed to eat and sleep well during this period to have the energy to prepare for the exam.
Qin Zhou and Song Yungui buried themselves in their food, occasionally glancing at Qi Shuo. Qi Shuo ate in silence, not saying a word.
After dinner, he called to the two who were trying to sneak back to their room: "Bring me your English test paper and the reading comprehension exercises you've been practicing recently."
Qin Zhou and Song Yungui were both taken aback. They exchanged a glance, but did as instructed.
Qi Shuo sat down at the dining table and took out his old notebook and red pen. He first picked up Qin Zhou's test paper, which was full of red crosses, glanced at it, and quickly wrote a few lines in the blank space: "Relative clause, that/which is mixed up. Subjunctive mood, tense inversion rule is remembered wrong."
Qi Shuo pointed to the wrong answer with his pen and continued, "And these words, familiar words with unfamiliar meanings, are frequently tested points, and you got them wrong more than once."
Qin Zhou broke out in a cold sweat as he looked at the clearly listed knowledge points and examples.
Then Qi Shuo looked at Song Yungui's paper. It was clean and had few mistakes. Qi Shuo turned to the reading comprehension exercise at the back and pointed to a place: "Here, 'he felt very sad' is too straightforward. Try to express it with the environment or subtle actions. The ending's elevation is a bit abrupt; the transition could be more natural."
Song Yungui nodded seriously and bent down to make the revisions.
“Starting today, practice one reading comprehension exercise every day,” Qi Shuo said, closing the notebook. His tone was calm but unquestionable. “Around two hundred words, timed for twenty minutes. I’ll check it when you’re done.”
“Every day?!” Qin Zhou wailed.
“Okay. Use passages from past exam papers and mock exams. Revise them yourself first, then give them to me.” Qi Shuo ignored the wailing and pulled out a few pages of pre-prepared copy paper from his notebook. On them were categorized writing points and materials. “Look at this first, narrative detail description and setting. After you finish reading, find the paragraphs to write and hand them in before nine o’clock.”
After he finished speaking, he stopped looking at them, lowered his head and opened the English book he had brought, but didn't turn the page for a long time.
He needed to do something concrete to calm the turmoil in his mind. Tutoring his two younger brothers, who were preparing for the college entrance exam, became the only tangible thing he could focus on at that moment.
Qin Zhou and Song Yungui fell silent, pulled up chairs, turned on the desk lamp, and laid out paper and pens. The only sounds in the living room were the turning of pages and the rustling of writing.
Qi Shuo sat opposite him, his gaze fixed on the pages of the book, yet seemingly not reading at all. Only when Qin Zhou or Song Yungui hesitated and looked up would he offer a subtle hint with his eyes or a few simple words.
He made marks on their manuscripts with a red pen, his movements steady, and he spoke very little. But this silent focus only made the two boys more determined not to slack off.
When Sister Jin came out of the kitchen after cleaning up, she paused when she saw the quiet scene.
Under the light, Qi Shuo's profile was clearly defined, his jawline was taut, and there was a faint shadow under his eyes.
But when he pointed out a tense error to Qin Zhou, or helped Song Yungui find a more authentic phrase, his focused expression strangely diluted the oppressive atmosphere surrounding him, making him look...like a silent but reliable mountain.
Jin didn't disturb them and quietly returned to her room to prepare for the senior high school students' Chinese test paper next week.
As night deepened, the lights outside the window gradually came on and then thinned out. Only the light behind this window remained on, illuminating three figures bent over their desks.
One silently leads, while two strive to catch up. The sound of pens gliding across paper becomes the clearest footnote to this night, masking all the unspoken turmoil, and seemingly accumulating a little solid strength for some uncertain future.
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