continue
Xiao Jue's eyes instantly reddened, a surge of sourness welling up inside him. His stiff arms, hesitantly and tentatively, slowly rose, then, little by little, tightened, finally gently encircling Qi Shuo's trembling shoulders, pulling him deeper and more steadily into his embrace.
It was very light and careful, as if embracing a fragile treasure.
“I’m here… Brother Shuo, I’m here…” His voice choked, thick with nasal tone, as he repeated these three simple words over and over in vain.
He felt the body in his arms stiffen slightly, and then the suppressed sobs seemed to grow louder and the trembling more intense.
Qi Shuo didn't push him away. Instead, he used the hand that wasn't injected to grab the back of his clothes tightly, his knuckles turning white from the force, like a drowning person grabbing onto the last piece of driftwood.
No further words are needed.
All anger, resentment, questioning, and explanations lost their meaning in this time and place. Between them lay a bloody past, indelible sins, and nine years of heavy concealment and estrangement.
But at this moment, in this pale space filled with the smell of disinfectant, they were just two brothers, torn apart by fate, finally unable to hold on any longer, and only able to draw a little warmth from each other's body heat...
He couldn't bring himself to hate Xiao Jue.
I can never bring myself to hate him.
Just as Xiao Jue could never forgive himself, yet could never abandon him.
They are prisoners bound to the same thorny path, vines that have grown deformed and intertwined by blood and tears. To hurt each other is to slowly torture themselves.
After an unknown amount of time, the trembling in her arms gradually subsided, and the suppressed sobs turned into soft, nasal gasps.
Qi Shuo seemed to have exhausted all his strength, leaning against his shoulder without moving, only his hot breath brushing against Xiao Jue's neck.
Xiao Jue didn't move either, just quietly held him, just like countless times when he was a child, clumsily giving him some support after he got into fights or was beaten up by his family.
This time, however, it seems that it's not just the body that needs support.
After a long while, when the IV drip was almost finished, Qi Shuo spoke very slowly, with a heavy nasal tone, in a hoarse voice that was almost inaudible:
"Is she... alright?"
He was asking about Shanshan.
Even after he broke down and cried, even when he was high feverish, exhausted, and just regaining consciousness, the first person he thought of was his sister.
Xiao Jue felt as if an invisible hand had squeezed his heart tightly, leaving him feeling both sore and aching.
He closed his eyes, forcing back the tears welling up in them, before answering in the same hoarse voice, "I was given a sedative and fell asleep. In the morning... the caregiver said I woke up, didn't make a fuss, but... was a little dazed and didn't speak."
Qi Shuo's body stiffened almost imperceptibly, and then, very slightly, he nodded.
He didn't ask anything more, but slowly, as if using all his strength, he withdrew from Xiao Jue's embrace.
He lay back down on the pillow, closed his eyes, the traces of dried tears still remained on his pale face, but his expression had regained that almost numb calm, only a trace of deep weariness and vulnerability remained in the corners of his eyes and brows.
Xiao Jue looked at him, his Adam's apple bobbing, and finally said in a low voice, "I'll call the nurse to change the dressing. You... sleep a little longer."
Qi Shuo didn't open his eyes, only letting out a barely audible "hmm".
The nurse came in to change the dressing, took his temperature, and gave him some instructions. Xiao Jue wrote them all down. After the nurse left, he sat down on the edge of the bed, looking at Qi Shuo's tightly closed eyes and slightly trembling eyelashes. He knew that Qi Shuo wasn't asleep, but was just pretending to sleep, or rather, gathering the strength to face everything again.
"Are you hungry? I'll go buy some porridge," Xiao Jue asked softly.
Qi Shuo remained silent for a few seconds before finally humming in agreement.
Xiao Jue stood up, walked to the door, then stopped and glanced back at him. Qi Shuo's eyes remained closed, only his chest rising and falling slightly with his breath. In the end, Xiao Jue said nothing, gently closed the door, and walked out.
In the afternoon, sunlight filtered through thin clouds, casting a gentle warmth.
Qi Shuo's high fever had subsided considerably, and he was in better spirits, though he remained silent. Xiao Jue completed the discharge procedures and then drove him back to the old town.
Neither of them spoke the rest of the way. The air in the car was stagnant and heavy, but compared to the suffocating silence of the previous night, there seemed to be an indescribable sense of exhaustion and relief, as if they had survived a disaster.
When they arrived downstairs, Xiao Jue parked the car but didn't turn it off immediately. He gripped the steering wheel, his fingertips turning slightly white, his gaze fixed straight ahead, his voice hoarse: "I... I need to go to the hospital. To see her."
The meaning of "she" is self-evident.
Qi Shuo's hand, resting on his knee, twitched almost imperceptibly. He stared at the familiar cityscape outside the window for a long while before nodding very slowly and squeezing out a single word: "...Mm."
There were no questions, no obstructions, not even any extraneous emotions. Just this one word, as if it had used up all its strength.
Xiao Jue's heart sank, but at the same time he inexplicably breathed a sigh of relief.
He turned his head and looked at Qi Shuo's still pale profile. He wanted to say something, but in the end, he only whispered, "You... get some rest. Don't overthink it. The food is warming up in the pot, remember to eat. I'll be back later."
Qi Shuo still didn't look at him, but just hummed in agreement again, then pushed open the car door and got out.
His steps were still a little unsteady, but his back was straight as he walked step by step toward the familiar residential building without looking back.
Xiao Jue watched him walk into the building and disappear into the shadows before slowly turning his gaze away and starting the car.
He took a deep breath and slowly exhaled, trying to expel some of the heavy, almost overwhelming fatigue and bitterness in his chest. Then he turned the car around and drove towards the rehabilitation hospital on the outskirts of the city.
Rehabilitation Hospital, ward.
Pushing open the heavy door, the smell of disinfectant mixed with a faint medicinal scent wafted out. The ward was quiet; the curtains were half-drawn, and the afternoon sun slanted in, casting warm patches of light on the clean floor.
Qingran woke up. She was wearing a brand new coral fleece pajama set with little rabbits printed on it, which Sister Jin had bought for her.
She sat quietly on the bed, hugging the brand-new plush rabbit doll holding a carrot, her back against the soft pillows. Sunlight shone on her pale face, gilding her porcelain-like skin with a pale golden hue.
She tilted her head slightly, her long eyelashes casting small shadows under her eyes, her clear, large eyes staring unblinkingly at the bare branches outside the window, seemingly looking at something or thinking something.
Hearing the door open, she slowly turned her head.
Upon seeing that it was Xiao Jue, a faint light instantly lit up in her large eyes, which always carried a hint of confusion and timidity.
She didn't pounce on him immediately as usual. She just blinked, and then, slowly, slowly, she stretched out a small hand toward Xiao Jue.
The movements were slow, with a childlike hesitation and anticipation. Her fingers were slender, almost translucent in the sunlight.
Xiao Jue's heart softened suddenly. The heaviness, exhaustion, fear, and sorrow that had been building up since last night were temporarily soothed the moment he saw this simple gesture, as if gently brushed by a tender hand.
He walked quickly over, sat down on the chair by the bed, and then, with utmost naturalness and gentleness, leaned down to embrace that small, warm body.
Qingran nestled obediently into his arms, rubbing her little face against his neck like a little animal that had found its home.
She carried a faint scent of shower gel and a subtle medicinal smell.
Xiao Jue tightened his arms, gently rested his chin on the top of her soft hair, closed his eyes, and took a deep, greedy breath.
It was as if only this embrace, this warm and vibrant embrace, could dispel the chill emanating from his very bones, and prove that everything he had done and everything he had carried was not entirely in vain.
"Baby, have you listened to the nurse today?" He spoke, his voice deliberately softened and soothing, a stark contrast to the hoarse and tired tone he had used in front of Qi Shuo.
Qingran nodded in his arms, her small, fluffy head tickling him.
Then, she raised her little face, looked up at him, and said in a childish voice, slowly, word by word, "Little Jue... Brother... tell a story."
Her eyes were clear and pure, filled with complete dependence and trust, as if the heart-wrenching breakdown of last night, the screams of fear, and the shattered fragments of memory were just a distant, unreal nightmare that vanished with the rising sun.
She reverted to being "Qingran," whose mind remained that of a young child, needing care and stories to fall asleep.
Xiao Jue's heart ached terribly because of her completely dependent and seemingly indifferent demeanor.
Forgetting is a form of protection, but also a deeper sorrow.
He would rather she remember, remember the pain, remember the hatred, even if it would make her hate him, than live like this now, ignorant and confused in a fragile dream woven for her by others, where she could fall into an abyss of no return at any moment because of a single voice or word.
But he showed nothing. He just smiled gently, raised his hand, and very softly ran his fingers through her slightly messy hair, then picked up the brand-new fairy tale book from the bedside table—which Sister Jin had also bought.
“Okay, brother will tell Ranran a story.” He opened the book, found the page he had read yesterday, and began to tell the story about the forest, the elves, and courage in a steady, soothing voice.
Qingran nestled in his arms, listening quietly, her big eyes fixed on the brightly colored illustrations on the pages. Occasionally, she would reach out her little hand, point to a small animal, and utter a mumbled syllable.
The sunlight gently bathed them, enveloping them in a warm halo. The scene looked peaceful, cozy, and even unrealistically sweet.
Only Xiao Jue himself knew what a turbulent undercurrent was beneath this peaceful facade.
He held his sister, whom he had regained but had lost forever, feeling her shallow breaths and the warmth emanating from her frail body, yet his heart was filled with a desolate coldness.
He knew the storm had only temporarily subsided, not gone. Qi Shuo knew that Shan Shan's condition was showing more dangerous signs, and he, standing in the very eye of the storm, with fragile ice beneath his feet, didn't know how much longer he could hold on.
He gently stroked Qingran's soft hair, his gaze fixed on the small patch of sky outside the window, cut off by the window frame. The sunlight was a little dazzling, and he squinted slightly.
Life must go on. Even if the road ahead is bleak, even if thorns grow thick underfoot. For the person in his arms who needs his protection, and for... the person who just broke down and cried on his shoulder, and who may now be licking their wounds alone.
He had no way out.
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