The emotions that ravaged his rationality seemed to be perceivable only to him. A single word or glance from this person would send him into a frenzy of mixed feelings. Every nerve in his body responded to them, even though he knew there was no hope. Yet he couldn’t stop himself. But this person remained oblivious, indifferent.
The mild breeze of the summer night brought a chill, making his skin feel cool. Time seemed to elongate, and Shen Muchuan’s complexion turned pale. His teeth clenched, and even his mouth seemed filled with the taste of blood.
After an uncertain amount of time, he finally managed to suppress that violent emotion. He whispered, “I would be really disappointed and upset if you didn’t come, brother…”
The invitation card in his hand bore elegant silver lettering, the handwriting graceful and slender, emitting a subtle sheen under the light.
For a moment, while looking at the card, Chu Yan’s fingers slightly curled unconsciously. He lifted his gaze and observed Shen Muchuan in silence. Eventually, he sighed and took the invitation from Shen Muchuan’s hand, asking, “When?”
In the glow of the building’s lights, Shen Muchuan could see Chu Yan’s eyes lower slightly, seemingly trembling involuntarily. Perhaps it was the cold light, but he could sense a touch of melancholy in the other person’s expression.
Chu Yan asked calmly, “Are you truly decided? This isn’t a trivial matter.”
For some reason, under his gaze, Shen Muchuan’s words caught in his throat, and the prepared response couldn’t find its way out: “Brother…”
“If you’re sincere and you’ve truly thought it through, I should indeed offer my blessings, no matter what…” He paused for a moment, his words halting abruptly. Then he gave a faint, bittersweet smile, “I’ll attend.”
The air around them seemed to hang still for a moment, carrying a mix of emotions that were too complex to unravel.
“But I hope this is our final encounter. I believe you understand what I mean. This is the responsible thing to do for both yourself and others.”
Shen Muchuan’s body tensed completely, the night air rushing into his mouth, his chest feeling as though it had been suddenly compressed. His mind went blank for a moment, and then, almost instinctively, he made a move that he himself hadn’t anticipated.
With lightning speed, he snatched the invitation from Chu Yan’s hand and tore it into pieces in a few swift motions. Then, in the face of Chu Yan’s surprised gaze, he casually tossed the torn pieces into the nearby trash bin by the door.
After completing these actions, he lifted his eyes and shot a malevolent and icy gaze at Chu Yan, a gaze so intense it seemed tangible.
In a matter of moments, his expression underwent several changes. Any hint of a smile vanished from his face. In this night, an air of malevolence seemed to emanate from him.
Instinctively, Chu Yan took a step back, only to watch as Shen Muchuan, without saying a word, turned away, forcefully pulled open the car door, and slammed it shut with a fierce backward motion.
Immediately, the car’s headlights flashed twice, the engine roared to life, and the next moment it sped out from the entrance of the residential area, disappearing into the dark night.
The road ahead was pitch black, illuminated only by sparse lights. A silver Lexus raced down the highway at high speed. Shen Muchuan sat inside the car with a voice in his head that incessantly tore at his sanity.
—Qiao Yue
The voice grew clearer in his mind, bringing with it a pungent and bitter taste that seemed to fill his nasal cavity.
The wind rushed in through the slightly opened window as the car sped by, the blaring horn sounded harsh, and the rush of air entered his chest along with his breath. His throat felt dry, his heart raced at an alarming pace, and a nerve in his brain was stretched taut to the point of almost snapping.
At that moment, a black sedan suddenly approached from behind at high speed. When the two cars were about to collide, Shen Muchuan instinctively turned the steering wheel to avoid the collision.
Accompanied by the sharp sound of urgent brakes, Shen Muchuan didn’t even realize when he had come to a sudden stop. The airbag deployed, and blood started to trickle down his forehead. His consciousness blurred in an instant.
—
Chu Yan was awakened around 4:30 in the morning by the ringing of his phone. He answered the call, and a male voice came from the other end, sounding extremely anxious.
“Hello, Mr. Qiao, are you there…”
Upon receiving the message, Chu Yan rushed to the hospital and found Shen Muchuan’s assistant standing outside the operating room. The assistant’s expression was extremely uneasy, and when they saw Chu Yan approaching, their anxious gaze suddenly froze.
“Mr. Qiao…”
It was evident that the assistant had rushed there, wearing a loose home shirt as if there was no time to change. Their face was pale. After arriving, they stared at the still-lit light outside the operating room for a good half-minute before looking at themselves with trembling lips.
In a strained and hoarse voice, they asked, “How is he?”
The assistant remained silent for a moment. This was the first time they had seen Qiao Yue in such a state. In their impression, Qiao Yue had always been calm and composed, as if no matter what happened, he could maintain his cool.
But at this moment, his eyes were bloodshot, and he looked disheveled. His usually composed face was now filled with anxiety, and his eyes were bloodshot.
“He was in a car accident on the highway last night, and he’s been in there for almost an hour now.”
After saying this, the assistant saw him pause when he heard the news, and then he stumbled as if he couldn’t stand still.
The last trace of color drained from his face, leaving him pale with a hint of blue underneath. The assistant quickly supported him, helping him sit down. However, in just this short moment, he could feel the faint trembling in the other person’s body.
The assistant sighed inwardly. He had followed Sheng Muchuan for many years, and his impression of this so-called “brother” was quite complicated. While he couldn’t know all the underlying circumstances between them and couldn’t make rash judgments, if he had to put it into words, it might be cold and ruthless.
But now, it seemed that the situation might be far more complicated than he had assumed.
After waiting outside the operating room for nearly half an hour, the door suddenly swung open, and a nurse hurriedly ran out from inside.
Almost in the next second, Chu Yan rushed up and stopped her, his movements so swift that even the assistant was startled. “How is he?”
The nurse was momentarily taken aback by his urgency but quickly regained her composure. She took a breath and explained, “The patient has a rare blood type, and our hospital’s reserve blood supply is insufficient. We need to urgently request blood from other hospitals.”
Chu Yan breathed a sigh of relief and decisively said, “I have the same blood type as him. Use mine.”
The nurse exclaimed, “Ah!” and then quickly apologized, “Direct relatives can’t directly donate blood.”
Chu Yan shook his head and stated, “I’m not a direct relative.”
The nurse was puzzled by the unusual coincidence of someone having the same blood type as the patient who wasn’t a direct relative. However, saving a life was the priority, and this thought only flitted through her mind before swiftly fading away.
Chu Yan was immediately taken by the nurse for a quick examination, and the preliminary blood test results were soon available.
However, when the doctor saw the results, they were utterly shocked. Severe anemia, with all organ indicators failing to meet the requirements—how could someone with such health conditions donate blood?
“No, it’s not possible. The risk is too high, and we can’t take on that responsibility,” the doctor stated firmly.
The assistant stood by, listening with a sinking heart. He heard Chu Yan speak coldly beside him, “Time is precious. Just like how you can’t afford to waste his rescue time, you can’t afford to be overly cautious either. If you’re not reassured, I can sign a waiver.”
With no other choice, the doctor produced a waiver for him to sign. They quickly arranged for the patient to be taken to the transfusion room.
The assistant was still worried, so he followed them into the transfusion room. He watched as the nurse sterilized Chu Yan’s arm with alcohol and inserted the cold, sharp needle into his vein. The process of transfusion seemed incredibly lengthy, and the assistant’s eyes remained fixed on Chu Yan’s arm. The crimson blood slowly flowed through the thin tube, filling the blood bag rapidly.
Once the bag of blood was full, the nurse’s expression began to show hesitation. Generally, a person’s maximum daily blood transfusion amount can’t exceed 400 milliliters. For someone with anemia, this was already a limit.
Drawing more blood would lead to complications.
“Mr. Qiao,” the nurse said, devoid of any hesitation. The assistant watched with a heart pounding in fear, despite Chu Yan’s unflinching expression.
As the second blood bag was being drawn halfway, Chu Yan’s body suddenly trembled violently. He then leaned over the edge of the bed, involuntarily retching. The nurse was taken aback by this sight and immediately halted her actions.
The assistant quickly poured him a glass of water with added glucose. Chu Yan’s face was ashen, his lips cracked, and he appeared to be on the verge of fainting.
“Mr. Qiao, how are you feeling?” the nurse asked.
Chu Yan managed to shake his head slightly, but his vision was immediately clouded by dark mist, taking a while to refocus. “I’m fine.”
The assistant sighed, feeling a mixture of emotions.
—
Due to not damaging any internal organs and mostly external injuries, the surgery was quickly completed within two hours.
Shen Muchuan was transferred to the intensive care unit, while Chu Yan, having donated 800 milliliters of blood, fell into a complete coma. His heart even stopped beating for half a minute.
Mainly, his physical condition was poor, with slow recovery in terms of hematopoietic capacity and various bodily functions.
As a result, three days later, when Shen Muchuan woke up in a regular ward, Chu Yan still remained unconscious.
When Shen Muchuan woke up, it was still in the evening. As his consciousness gradually returned, he found doctors and nurses around his bed conducting examinations.
Shen Muchuan asked, “How many days have I been asleep?”
The doctor made a few notes in his medical record, “Three days, Mr. Shen. Please rest assured, your recovery is progressing well, and as long as you take good care, there shouldn’t be any issues.”
After the doctor left, Shen Muchuan lay on the hospital bed, gazing at the bright ceiling. He felt a bit dazed, and his mind wasn’t occupied by anything else but the moment of the accident. He was thinking about what he thought in his mind at that time—whether he were to die just like that, would his brother feel sad or shed even a single tear for him?
Perhaps he wouldn’t, after all…
At this point, he let out a faint sigh, and waves of dull pain and bitterness rushed over him.
He picked up the phone placed on the bedside table, his slender fingers hesitating over the “Brother” entry in his contacts for quite a while. Finally, he pinched the bridge of his nose yet still dialed the number.
The phone rang for about a minute without anyone answering. Shen Muyuan’s heart went from cold to hot and then cold again. Reluctantly, he dialed the number once more, but even after the call was automatically disconnected, no one picked up…
Hearing the icy “beep beep” sound, Shen Muyuan suddenly felt as if a bucket of cold water had been poured over his internal organs. From head to toe, his heart turned ice-cold!
He just couldn’t believe that he wouldn’t know about this news. Now, not even bothering to answer his call, it was like they didn’t care whether he lived or died!
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