Trial
He remained frozen in the position of holding his phone, standing motionless against the cold wall.
Outside the window, the city lights up, a festive and peaceful scene, ready to welcome the New Year.
At that moment, his world collapsed into countless pieces, each piece reflecting the blood-red rainy night eight years ago and the desperate, collapsing cries over the phone.
Shanshan...
His sister...
Still alive...
To live in such a way, a life worse than death...
Xiao Jue, his best brother, kept it from him for nine years...
"Hah..." A painful gasp, as if squeezed from the depths of his lungs, finally escaped from Qi Shuo's trembling lips.
He slowly, very slowly, lowered his head, looking at the phone in his hand, which was still slightly warm, and at the familiar number that belonged to Xiao Jue.
Then, he suddenly raised his arm—
"Bang!!!"
He slammed the phone against the opposite wall with all his might. It shattered into pieces instantly, shards flying everywhere.
He seemed oblivious to the pain, staring intently at the wreckage, his chest heaving violently, his eyes instantly filled with terrifying bloodshot veins, within which churned a hurricane powerful enough to destroy everything—shock, rage, excruciating pain, betrayal, and a bottomless, icy despair.
The phone shattered against the cold wall with a loud crack, like some kind of ritualistic announcement, severing the last trace of heart-wrenching sound coming from the other end of the line.
Shards of broken plastic and glass flew everywhere, one of which sharply grazed Qi Shuo's hand, leaving a thin trail of blood.
He was completely oblivious, staring intently at the pile of wreckage, his chest heaving violently, each breath tearing at his lungs, his throat feeling as if it were filled with scalding sand.
"Shanshan..."
This name, etched into his heart like an epitaph for the past eight years, a name that draws blood with every touch, now crashed back into his mind with a vivid, desperate, shattering cry. That voice… that tone… those broken words, laced with immense fear…
It's Qi Shan.
It really is her.
She is still alive.
To live in such a way... imprisoned in an endless nightmare.
An overwhelming sense of absurdity and overwhelming pain surged over him like two giant waves, plunging him headlong into the icy depths of the sea.
He gripped the wall so tightly that his knuckles turned white, and the veins on his forehead throbbed. The world before him spun and twisted violently, finally turning into a suffocating darkness, in which only his heart-wrenching cries echoed again and again.
"ah--!!!"
A suppressed, incoherent roar, seemingly squeezed from the depths of the soul, finally broke through the constriction in the throat and exploded dully in the empty stairwell.
He suddenly bent over, gripping his hair tightly with both hands, as if trying to pry the images and sounds that were flooding in from his mind.
His stomach churned violently, and he staggered into the adjacent bathroom, where he dry-heaved in front of the cold sink, but nothing came out; only acidic fluid burned his esophagus.
Nine years. A full nine years.
He thought she had long since turned to dust, that she had died in his arms on that cold, rainy night, her body temperature slowly fading, her small body becoming cold and stiff in his embrace.
He thought it was a wound that would never heal, a sin he would carry for the rest of his life.
He lived, but lived like a walking corpse, fighting against the deep-seated pain with forgetfulness and numbness every day.
He thought that was all, the final and cruelest ending to that tragedy.
But now, someone is telling him, no, that's not true. Shanshan didn't die. She's still alive. In some place he doesn't know, in another form, she's enduring torment that might be more painful than death.
And the brother who had always been by his side, the one he considered his closest kin, the one he could entrust his life to, Xiao Jue—he…knew. He had always known! He had kept it from him! For a full nine years!
Why? !
Anger erupted like volcanic lava, instantly burning away all his reason.
Why keep it from him? What right do you have to keep it from him?! He's her own brother! He's the person in this world who should love her and protect her the most!
Even if Shan Shan really did become different because of that nightmare... she's still his sister! She's his Shan Shan! How could Xiao Jue dare?!
How dare they deprive him of his right to know the truth for the past eight years?! How dare they bear this alone?! Who does he think he is?! A savior?!
The feeling of betrayal was like the most poisonous needles, piercing his heart one after another, bringing a sharp, suffocating pain. This was more unbearable for him than any harm from the outside world.
Xiao Jue's silence, Xiao Jue's concealment, and every time Xiao Jue comforted him about his "past" over the past eight years, every time he patted him on the shoulder and said "It's all in the past, look forward," all now turned into the most vicious mockery.
Were all those so-called companionship and support built on concealing his immense suffering? Were they all tinged with pity and charity?!
Nausea. An indescribable feeling of nausea welled up in my throat again.
He hated Xiao Jue for concealing the truth, hated Xiao Jue for acting on his own initiative, and hated Xiao Jue for isolating him from Shan Shan's world.
But what I hate even more is that I, in the face of such a truth, was cowardly, pathetic, and kept in the dark for a full eight years! What kind of brother was he?!
He didn't even protect his sister, and was completely unaware of her suffering while she was still alive, while he was worrying about other things!
No, perhaps it's not that they know nothing at all.
In those years, Xiao Jue's occasional absent-mindedness, the inexplicable heaviness flashing in his eyes, the faint smell of disinfectant on his clothes when he returned home late at night, and his increasingly busy "overtime work"...
Those details that he had ignored or brushed off with the excuse that "Xiao Jue was too tired from work" have now become sharp fragments, reassembled into a shocking picture.
He wasn't unaware of it; he just... dared not think too deeply about it, or rather, he was unwilling to break the fragile, superficial peace that Xiao Jue had maintained for him.
"Heh..." Qi Shuo leaned against the cold sink, looking at his pale, ghostly face with bloodshot eyes in the mirror, and let out a few broken, low laughs like a trapped beast.
How ridiculous. His self-righteous strength and self-righteous letting go were actually built on a huge lie woven from brotherhood and self-deception.
He slammed his fist into the mirror! With a loud crash, the mirror cracked with spiderweb-like patterns, reflecting his distorted and shattered image.
Blood trickled down the cracked lines, and the stinging pain brought him back to a slight sense of clarity.
He had to see Xiao Jue immediately! He needed to find out! He needed to find out what had happened in the past eight years! He needed to find out where Shan Shan was! How was she?! He needed to see her with his own eyes! He needed to…
What is he going to do? What is he capable of doing?
The thought was like a bucket of ice water poured over his head, instantly cooling his boiling blood and bringing with it a deeper fear. Shan Shan's cries just now… what kind of fear and pain was that? She clearly didn't recognize Xiao Jue, or rather, her consciousness was trapped in some far more terrifying nightmare.
Her mental state… Qi Shuo dared not think too deeply about it. Would his sudden appearance upset her? Would it make things worse?
Was Xiao Jue keeping it from him because... Shan Shan's situation was simply not suitable for him to know? Or was Shan Shan's "existence" itself a bigger, more unbearable secret? Was it related to him? Was it related to that tragedy?
A jumble of thoughts crashed against his fragile nerves like a tidal wave. Anger, heartache, betrayal, fear, confusion... all sorts of emotions intertwined, almost tearing him apart.
He needed answers, he needed to see Xiao Jue immediately, he needed an explanation. But he was also afraid of those answers, afraid of facing that possible, even more cruel truth.
He stared intently at his shattered reflection in the mirror, took a deep breath, and slowly exhaled, trying to regain a shred of composure.
No, he can't act rashly. At least not now.
His hand trembled as he reached into his pocket, only to realize that his phone was completely shattered.
He rushed out of the bathroom, almost stumbling, and ran home. He flung open his bedroom door, frantically rummaged through his drawers, and finally found an old cell phone that had been discarded sometime in the past. He frantically turned it on and charged it. The few dozen seconds it took to boot up felt like an eternity.
The screen lit up, and he immediately found Xiao Jue's number and dialed it.
"Beep—beep—beep—"
Busy tone. No one answers.
I dialed again. Still a busy signal.
The third time, the fourth time... all he received in response was a cold, monotonous busy tone.
Qi Shuo's heart sank little by little, sinking into an icy abyss.
Xiao Jue did not answer the phone.
Is he busy dealing with Shanshan's situation, or... is he afraid to answer? Or does he simply not want to answer?
Anger surged again, but this time, it was mixed with more panic and helplessness.
He paced back and forth in the cramped room like a trapped beast, his nails digging deep into his palms, yet he felt no pain. He needed to do something, he had to do something! He couldn't just wait here!
Yes, go find him! Go to the hospital! That crying...that environment...it's a hospital! Xiao Jue must be there!
He rushed out of the room, not even bothering to explain to Sister Jin, who had just come out of the kitchen looking bewildered, and grabbed his coat and keys before dashing out the door.
"Xiao Shuo?! What's wrong? What happened?!" Sister Jin's anxious voice was left far behind.
Meanwhile, at the suburban rehabilitation hospital.
An unsettling silence filled the ward. After being given a sedative, Qingran finally fell into a deep sleep, but even in her sleep, her brows were furrowed, and tears still clung to her long eyelashes. Her body would occasionally twitch involuntarily, and she would utter mumbled, sobbing words in her sleep.
Xiao Jue's face was ashen, and he sat on a chair by the bed with his back ramrod straight, like a sculpture that had lost its soul.
He held Qingran's cold little hand tightly, his gaze blankly fixed on her restless sleeping face, even in her dreams. The terrifying scene from just now played over and over in his mind like an endless nightmare.
Shanshan's screams, filled with fear and pain, burned his heart like a red-hot iron. She cried out "Brother," "Mom," "Help!"... Those fragments of memory that he thought had been buried deep by drugs and psychological intervention were so easily and cruelly unearthed because of a phone call and a name.
He failed.
He thought he had protected her well; he thought that time, medication, and his careful companionship would at least bring her a little peace in her forgotten cocoon.
But reality slapped him hard in the face. Shan Shan's wound never truly healed; it was merely forcibly covered up with layer upon layer of gauze, while underneath it had already become festering and ulcerated.
Today, this gauze was brutally torn off, and pus and blood flowed all over the ground, causing excruciating pain.
What terrified him even more was Qi Shuo.
How much of that uninterrupted phone call did Qi Shuo hear? Did he guess? Where is he right now? What is he thinking? Will he... hate him?
Xiao Jue closed his eyes, a chilling despair spreading from the soles of his feet throughout his body.
He knew he couldn't hide it anymore. Or rather, the moment Shan Shan uttered that cry of "Help!", it was already too late to hide it.
Eight years of secrets, eight years of guarding, eight years of self-righteousness and painful struggles, all crumbled at this moment, like a castle on the beach, by a sudden wave.
“Mr. Xiao,” the attending physician pushed open the door and came in, his voice low and professionally calm, yet unable to conceal a hint of seriousness.
“The patient is temporarily stable, but this incident was very traumatic, and she has experienced a severe acute flare-up of her PTSD symptoms. We need to reassess her treatment plan, and…” The doctor paused, looking at him, “she needs a more stable and safer environment, and… perhaps, she needs to see someone who can truly evoke a sense of security in her and provide her with positive stimulation. Medication and psychological interventions have reached their limits.”
Xiao Jue suddenly opened his eyes and looked at the doctor: "You mean..."
“What I mean is, perhaps, letting her access some… clues from the past that represent ‘safety’ and ‘protection’ to her, in a controlled environment and guided by professionals, might not be all bad. Forcibly blocking them out is like burying a bomb in her heart, not knowing when it will explode, just like today.”
The doctor's words were tactful, but the meaning was clear: simply avoiding and isolating oneself may not be the best solution.
Xiao Jue's lips moved slightly, but no sound came out. Let Shan Shan touch the past? Touch that bloody past that destroyed everything she had? Touch… Qi Shuo? No, that was too dangerous! He couldn't imagine the consequences!
But the doctor's words struck him like a hammer blow. Today's events have proven the failure of the "lockdown."
What about next time? And the time after that? How many more times can he withstand Shan Shan's breakdown? How much longer can he keep this from Qi Shuo? Or rather, does he even have the right to keep it a secret anymore?
The phone in my pocket kept vibrating.
He knew who it was without even looking. Xiao Jue's fingers twitched as if in spasm, and he didn't reach for it.
He didn't know how to face Qi Shuo. Apologize? Explain? Or... accept trial?
He dared not.
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