Yufan's hands were still shaking. Not visibly. Not enough for anyone to call him out. But inside, something had been vibrating nonstop since the doctor said she survived and she lost the child in the same breath.
Their last conversation had been a fight. He hadn't even looked back when he walked out. Now the only thing he could do was sit under merciless fluorescent lights and pray to a god he hadn't spoken to in years.
Let her live.
The hallway had fallen into that suffocating kind of silence hospitals created, where even breathing felt too loud.
Then footsteps.
Fast. Urgent. Echoing.
Xiang burst through the corridor doors, chest rising and falling like he'd run the entire length of the city. "Where is she?"
Guo Min swallowed. "…ICU."
Xiang froze.
For a few seconds he didn't move.
Then he walked, slowly, controlled, until he stood in front of Yufan. And grabbed him by the collar. The fabric twisted tight in his fist.
"How did this happen?!" Xiang whisper-yelled, voice shaking with a fury he was barely containing.
Yufan's brows pulled together. He looked down at the hand gripping him, then back up.
A scoff left him. Low. Bitter. "What?" he said. "You finding someone to blame now?"
He let out another scoff, harsher this time.
"You're asking me that like I was at the scene," Yufan scoffed, a harsh sound dragged from a chest already burning. "Like the three of us, Zihan included, weren't on our way to Paradise Celeste just a while ago."
His jaw tightened. He had been holding it in since the call. The fear. The guilt. The anger. Now it clawed at his throat, begging to be let loose all at once.
Xiang stepped closer, eyes blazing.
"Oh, I'm asking because someone should've been with her."
The hallway air turned sharp. Just before they could tear into each other, Zihan's voice cut through like steel.
"Now?"
He looked at both of them, gaze cold enough to freeze bone.
"You want to do this now?"
Silence.
The tension snapped but didn't disappear. Yufan looked away first, breathing hard. Xiang clenched his fists, then stepped back.
At that moment, the ICU doors opened.
The doctor stepped out, his mask pulled down, his expression professional but tired.
"You can see her… but only a few people at a time."
He didn't even finish the sentence before Guo Min slipped out of Zihan's embrace.
Her steps were quick but unsteady as she moved toward the ICU doors. The sterile scent of antiseptic filled her lungs, sharp and suffocating. Each step felt heavier than the last, like her body was resisting what she was about to see.
The nurse pushed the door open.
Machines.
Beeping.
Humming.
Cold.
Lixi lay in the center of it all, swallowed by white sheets and wires. Tubes trailed from her arms. A ventilator rose and fell with mechanical patience. Her skin was pale, her lips drained of color.
For a moment, Guo Min didn't move.
She almost stepped back, not wanting to believe that this… this was the same girl who used to cling to her arm and whisper secrets late at night. The girl who cried too easily, laughed too loudly, and apologized for everything.
But she stepped forward anyway.
Slowly, she approached the bed, her throat tightening until it hurt to breathe.
"…Lixi," she whispered.
No response.
Her fingers trembled as she reached out and carefully took Lixi's hand. It was warm but limp. Unresponsive.
"I'm here," she said, her voice breaking despite every attempt to steady it. "Lixi, you have to wake up quickly. I miss your little banter with Ruoxi."
Nothing.
Guo Min swallowed.
"You always cry and then cling to me like a child," she murmured. "So wake up and do that again."
Her voice cracked.
Still nothing. Only the steady beeping of machines. The quiet hiss of oxygen.
Her eyes burned. Tears gathered, but she forced them back, jaw tightening.
"You still owe me an apology," she continued softly. "And I still haven't decided if I'll forgive you." A shaky breath left her. "So you don't get to run away like this. You wake up and face me properly."
She squeezed Lixi's hand gently.
"…You're going to wake up," she whispered, like a promise she was trying to force into reality. "You have to."
The door opened behind her.
Zihan stepped in first silent as always, his presence steady and grounding. He didn't speak. He simply stood a few feet away, giving her space but remaining close enough to catch her if she broke.
Then Yufan entered.
He stopped the moment he saw the bed.
For a man who had faced battlefields and bloodshed, this was different.
His wife lay there.
Lifeless.
Breathing only because a machine told her to.
The that child they never even got to meet… gone.
Each step toward the bed looked like it cost him something.
After a few strides, he stopped beside her.
He stared.
His lips parted, but nothing came out.
What was he supposed to say?
Sorry?
Wake up?
Don't leave me?
All of it felt too small.
Finally, he reached out and touched her fingers but they didn't curl back around his.
"…Lixi. I'm sorry," he murmured hoarsely.
That was all he could say.
Silence answered him.
Eventually, the others stepped out, leaving Yufan alone with her.
Zihan had to physically guide Guo Min away from the bedside. She resisted at first, fingers reluctant to let go, but exhaustion finally forced her to yield.
Zhu Mansion Garage
Zihan's car rolled to a smooth stop in the underground garage. The engine fell silent.
"We'll stay at my family's estate for a week," he said calmly. "The villa is a wreck for now."
No response.
"…Guo Min?" he called.
"What?" She turned toward him with a sharp glare, her eyes red and rimmed with exhaustion.
He frowned slightly. "Did I do something?"
A humorless laugh left her. "Just because I didn't say anything doesn't mean I forgot you promised protection yesterday." Her voice hardened. "My life is a mess because I got tangled in your family's affairs. I can't even walk a few meters without worrying about getting shot in the head."
She shoved the car door open and stepped out.
Zihan remained seated for a moment, stunned into silence. Then he dragged a hand through his hair and exhaled slowly.
She wasn't wrong.
He knew that.
The people had come for his wife. Lixi had only been caught in the crossfire, an unfortunate casualty of a war that wasn't hers.
He stepped out of the car and followed Guo Min into the mansion, the weight of the day pressing heavily against his shoulders.
---
Guo Min had already entered.
Her steps were sharp with anger, but they faltered the moment she was met with a warm smile from Li Yan.
"My child, welcome home." The words were gentle.
Guo Min swallowed and forced a small smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. She slipped off her sneakers and stepped inside.
Li Yan noticed everything immediately, the exhaustion, the stiffness in her posture, the faint bruising along her cheek that hadn't fully faded. She had already heard what happened.
Without a word, Li Yan stepped forward and pulled her into a soft embrace. Guo Min stiffened for a brief second before allowing herself to be held.
"Go and freshen up," Li Yan murmured gently. "Then come down for dinner." She paused before adding, quieter, "Grandfather and Zixuan will be downstairs by then."
Guo Min stiffened slightly at that but only gave a faint hum in response. She pulled away and turned toward the stairs.
Her steps were slower now. Heavier.
She made her way to Zihan's room in the mansion, hers too now, though the thought brought little comfort. The door shut behind her with a soft click.
Silence settled over the hallway.
A few minutes later, the front doors opened again.
Zihan walked in and Li Yan turned to him immediately. The warmth in her expression softened into something more serious as her gaze swept over him, checking for injuries.
She offered him a small, polite smile before lowering her voice. "She's upstairs."
"I know."
A brief silence stretched between them.
"…She's angry," Li Yan said carefully. "Rightfully so."
Zihan didn't argue. He loosened his tie slightly, fatigue evident in the movement. "I'll handle it."
Li Yan studied him for a moment before sighing quietly. "Take your time, my son. It may take a while this time."
He didn't respond.
Instead, he gave a small nod and headed toward the stairs, his footsteps measured and heavy. By the time he reached the bedroom door, he paused, his hand hovering over the handle as if bracing himself.
Then he pushed it open and stepped inside.