But my cries were swallowed by the noise. I watched helplessly as he was pushed to the ground, his body curling in on itself as the blows continued to land.
Despair and guilt overwhelmed me. I screamed his name again and again, but the chaos drowned out my voice.
This is all my fault. If I had just been a little more patient, a little less prideful, Chen Qiao Luo wouldn’t have to suffer like this.
Self-blame consumed me like a relentless tide, leaving me drowning in regret.
Time seemed to stretch endlessly. All I could see was Chen Qiao Luo’s crumpled figure on the ground, and tears blurred my vision until everything around me faded.
I don’t know how long the torment lasted. A sharp, commanding voice suddenly cut through the noise, breaking my trance.
Before I knew it, someone had pulled me into a protective embrace. A familiar, gentle voice spoke.
“Zhu Yun Hao, are you okay?”
I looked up to see Xu Xuan gazing down at me with concern. I didn’t know when he had arrived.
Shaking my head, I quickly broke free from his arms and ran to Chen Qiao Luo. Kneeling beside him, my voice cracked and hoarse, I called out desperately, “Chen Qiao Luo, Chen Qiao Luo…”
It felt like forever before he finally opened his eyes. After a moment, as if suddenly remembering something, he scrambled to his feet and dashed away without a word.
I hurriedly followed after him.
This was all my fault. If it weren’t for me, Chen Qiao Luo wouldn’t have been hurt so badly. As I trailed behind him to the hospital, guilt threatened to overwhelm me. When I saw him at the nurse’s station asking about Auntie He Pei with his battered face, I quickly walked over and said, “She’s on the third floor. Brother Xiao Hei told me earlier.”
Before my words had fully left my mouth, Chen Qiao Luo was already dashing up the stairs. I couldn’t keep up with him, and by the time I reached the third floor, I found him standing at the door, hesitating to go in.
Slowly approaching, I understood his reluctance. He didn’t want Auntie He Pei to see him like this—it would only upset her.
Through the small glass window on the door, I saw that Auntie He Pei was asleep. Brother Xiao Hei sat in a chair by her bedside.
Noticing us, Brother Xiao Hei carefully moved the chair aside and stepped out. The moment he saw Chen Qiao Luo, his eyes widened in shock. “What happened to you? How did you end up like this?”
Before Chen Qiao Luo could respond, I interrupted, filled with self-reproach. “It’s my fault. If it weren’t for me—”
He cut me off mid-sentence, turning urgently to Brother Xiao Hei. “What happened to my mom? Why did she suddenly collapse?”
Brother Xiao Hei quickly explained, “The doctor already ran some tests. It’s nothing serious—just exhaustion from overwork. She’ll recover with some rest.”
Hearing this, both of us let out a sigh of relief.
Chen Qiao Luo glanced back at the hospital room. After a long moment, he said to Brother Xiao Hei, “Don’t tell my mom about my injuries. I don’t want her to worry.”
“But like this, she’s bound to find out sooner or later,” Brother Xiao Hei said, clearly concerned.
“She won’t. I’ll make sure she doesn’t,” Chen Qiao Luo replied firmly, his gaze fixed on Auntie He Pei through the window.
Brother Xiao Hei sighed but didn’t argue further.
We all knew this was just the kind of person Chen Qiao Luo was. No matter how badly he was hurt outside, he wouldn’t let Auntie He Pei see even a trace of it. She was his most cherished person—the only one in this world who truly shared his life.
After Brother Xiao Hei went back into the room, Chen Qiao Luo stayed rooted outside, staring through the window. I remained by his side. A few nurses passing by tried to convince him to get his wounds treated, but he waved them off each time.
0 Comments