Ignoring Yezhe, Yudong dragged her feet and walked straight past him, heading toward the corridor of the inpatient department.
Besides the sound of her soles scraping the floor, Yezhe even hallucinated the sound of water dripping.
“Hey! How is Auntie?”
Seeing Yudong getting farther and farther away, Yezhe hurriedly called out to her.
And that shout, without a doubt, was an admission that he was here looking for her.
Lies didn’t matter. Anyway, Yudong probably saw right through me just now…
“It’s just like that, heh, what else could it be…”
As her voice faded, hearing Yezhe bring up that woman, Yudong’s features unconsciously twisted together.
The hand gripping her arm tightened, the pain from her flesh being squeezed and the sensation of the wounds reopening all surged into her heart.
“Liar…”
Silently reciting those two words in her heart, Yudong took another step forward.
The hand he had stretched out hovered in the air for a while before dropping. Yezhe hesitated, words stuck on the tip of his tongue.
I should just leave. Yudong probably doesn’t want me involved, anyway.
Let’s go, the Elevator is still on this floor. It’ll be quick to get down…
Yezhe turned around and pressed the button for the Elevator to go down.
Let’s go.
The Elevator doors slowly opened, tearing through the darkness filled with regret and helplessness.
He stepped forward half an inch, his fingertips clutching two sticks of Candied Hawthorn, their glossy sugar coating sparkling under the Elevator’s bright white light, actually stinging Yezhe’s eyes.
Blinking at the dazzling light, Yezhe stared blankly at the Candied Hawthorn in his hand.
He stood there for so long that even the Elevator couldn’t wait any longer and let out a piercing alert, urging Yezhe to get in.
Go…
Go where…
At the very least, at least give this to her.
After a round of inner struggle, Yezhe pulled back his foot from the Elevator, and driven by a strange obsession, he turned and followed that unsteady figure.
The worst had already happened. At this point, what was he still afraid of?
At worst, it would all blow up.
The Elevator doors opened and closed again, and Yezhe jogged to catch up with Yudong.
The sound of the Elevator doors echoed in Yudong’s ears.
Hearing footsteps catching up behind her, Yudong said nothing, only slowed her pace, silently permitting Yezhe to follow.
The two finally stopped in front of a door.
“Come in.”
The door was pushed open, and Yudong and Yezhe entered the place that had troubled Yezhe all night.
So this is…
There were two beds in the Ward. A woman, her complexion as pale as the hospital gown she wore, was lying on one of them.
The other bed was empty, but the sheets and pillow still bore the creases left by someone having lain there.
The 11th floor was roughly the middle of this building, but the location was remote. Although not high up, it was just enough to block out the street noise and other sounds from outside.
In short… it was eerily quiet.
Apart from the occasional beeps from the machine on the bedside table, all that remained was the sound of their own breathing. Yezhe’s heartbeat grew faster, even more flustered than when he’d bumped into Yudong by the Elevator earlier.
Yezhe’s gaze fell on the pale figure on the hospital bed. He wanted to say something, but the words were stuck in his throat, refusing to come out.
This situation… After thinking it over for a long while, he still couldn’t figure out what to say, so he simply asked about the woman’s condition.
“How is Auntie usually? Is she eating okay?”
“Coma.”
Huh?
Yudong’s voice was very calm.
“She’s been in a Coma until now. They said there was a problem with her brain.”
“This…”
Realizing too late that he’d asked a really stupid question, Yezhe quickly swallowed any other questions, even trying to breathe more quietly.
And so, the two of them stood there stiffly, Yezhe at the bedside with the two sticks of Candied Hawthorn in one hand, the other hand sometimes on his head, sometimes hanging by his side, while Yudong sat quietly on the empty bed beside them, her back against the cold headboard.
The silence from the Elevator hall spread into the Ward. Both their gazes settled on the woman in the bed, neither of them saying another word.
“So, why are you here?”
The silence was cut off by Yudong’s questioning voice, and the atmosphere suddenly became tense.
Before her words even faded, Yezhe felt a piercing chill flash over him, then stop on his face.
Yudong… was staring straight at Yezhe.
“You still haven’t answered that question, have you?”
Sitting on the bed with her back to the misty moonlight outside the window, her profile shrouded in shadow, Yudong’s tone was interrogative, even though she already knew the answer.
Even knowing the answer, she’s still angry…
You’re just like them, all liars.
All here to deceive me…
“I, um, saw your Video on my phone tonight, so I came over.”
“And then I ran into you.”
“Heh, didn’t you say earlier your friend had something happen? Why change your story now? Hm?”
“Is it fun lying to me?”
Yudong’s laugh was like an icicle, mercilessly piercing through Yezhe’s feeble disguise.
“Or do you pity me?”
Her emotions surged, some things Yudong could no longer hold back.
“Haha, pity me? Yeah, how could I not be pitiful.”
“When I was little, classmates mocked me for not having a dad. I worked so hard to leave those who looked down on me far behind… finally made it so she could hold her head high in front of others…”
“Haha, … … …sob…”
Yudong laughed so loudly it echoed, but the laughter was tragic and almost mad, her gaze buried by sorrow with no hint of light.
After the laughter faded, there was barely a few seconds of silence before a heart-wrenching sob spread through the room.
“Why…”
She hugged her knees, buried her face in her arms, her shoulders shuddering with each breath, hair falling to hide her face, her sobs smothering the air, making even Yezhe feel like he couldn’t breathe—he felt suffocated hearing it all.
“Go ahead, laugh at me. You saw that Video, right? Wasn’t I pathetic?”
“Do you know what people said when that Video went online? They called me a Network Beggar.”
“Yeah, they’re right. I am a beggar, what else can I do?”
“I have no pride, I am a beggar, do you think I want this!”
“What else can I do… tell me, what else can I do!”
For her sake, Yudong had given up everything.
Her future, her studies, even her ever-pursued dignity.
As long as Mother could get better, nothing else mattered, as long as she could live well and happily…
At first, Yudong firmly believed this wish would come true.
She had suffered enough. For Yudong, Mother had worked from dawn to dusk for half her life, finally seeing the light at the end, she couldn’t just close her eyes and die so unclearly.
Yudong believed in miracles.
Though the money was gone, the surgery had gone well, her condition was stable, she just needed a few days to wake up… Yes, it wouldn’t be long, just wait a little more.
Just a little more…
“Hello? Are you the family of Ms. XX? Please come over.”
The voice on the phone was as serious and regretful as before the surgery.
The girl’s expression was also as disbelieving as it was before the operation.
“I’m sorry, there’s nothing we can do in this situation… The severity of the aftereffects depends on the patient’s own constitution. Some might wake up in a week or two, others might… never wake up again…”
As the Doctor’s words fell, so did the Test Report tightly gripped in Yudong’s hand.
The sheet spun in the air a few times before plummeting, the soft sound as it brushed the tiles echoing faintly in the corridor.
“What?”
When Yudong heard that, she felt something in her chest crack with a snap.
“Your mother’s condition is indeed rare. My suggestion is to stay in the hospital…”
“She won’t wake up?”
With a bang, Yudong slammed her trembling hands onto the desk, her knuckles turning white from the impact, roughly cutting him off.
Not just her hands, even Yudong’s voice was shaking.
She hadn’t been this worked up in a long time.
“Based on the current situation, the odds aren’t low.”
Liar.
You’re a liar…
“Doctor, didn’t you say my mom would get better? Didn’t you say you could cure her?”
Just now, her eyes filled with anger suddenly softened, as if all hope had been drained away.
“I was so happy back then, Doctor.”
In the end, despair replaced everything, even the pleading in her pupils vanished.
“Why did you lie to me?”
Why?
————
Thank you so much to the editor for featuring my brainchild. I really didn’t expect just a few thousand words could get four hundred collections, I’m truly grateful.
There are fewer classes now, so besides Exam days I have more time to write. This month and next I’ll work hard!
Thank you again for everyone’s support. Also, it’s a new week—could you please bookmark and like the stream for me? Thank you all!
If you have any thoughts or things you want to say, be sure to comment, I’ll read every one carefully hehe.