Boom!
A bolt of lightning crashed down outside the window.
Wen Chaosheng jolted awake from his light sleep, blurting out on instinct, “Xi Zhui!”
Silence surrounded him. No one responded.
Only after several long seconds did he pull himself free from the hazy dream, wearily taking in his surroundings.
He was still in the hospital.
Tonight, he was the one staying in the room to watch over Chang Ming.
Two days earlier, they had successfully moved to a new room equipped with an attendant bed, and Chang Ming’s vital signs had been steadily stabilizing.
Wen Chaosheng glanced at Chang Ming, who was still asleep on the neighboring bed, then simply rolled over to face away, quietly curling up on the narrow attendant cot.
He fumbled under his pillow for his phone and checked the time: November 22nd, 3:41 a.m.
“…”
There was a time difference between here and home.
In just over three hours, Xi Zhui would be having his birthday back in the country.
Wen Chaosheng’s gaze flickered. He had originally promised to return before the birthday, but now that clearly wasn’t going to happen.
The pent-up longing in his heart erupted without warning, impossible to suppress.
Unable to help himself, he tapped into his still-pinned WeChat chat. The conversation with Xi Zhui remained frozen on that “break up” message from a week ago.
Xi Zhui hadn’t replied.
Wen Chaosheng had no idea if he was too busy filming to see it or if he was so furious at the sudden breakup declaration that he refused to respond.
He knew his impulsive breakup message had been a terrible mistake. He didn’t dare look at it again—the thing he’d sent under so much pressure—so instead, he opened Xi Zhui’s Moments to distract himself.
Xi Zhui’s privacy settings limited visibility to the past six months, and he didn’t post much.
On the two days he’d seen Wen Chaosheng off at the airport, Xi Zhui had shared a photo of Black Boss and Kuai Kuai together: “Silly bird, dumb turtle.”
On the day he wrapped the male lead role in that TV drama, he’d posted a wrap-party shot of himself holding flowers, captioned with a cool pair of shades: “Sunglasses.”
The day he entered training camp for the movie Wolf River, he’d shared his training schedule: “Never thought I’d be back in boot camp after graduation.”
And there were two Moments pinned for Wen Chaosheng’s eyes only:
Fireworks over the snow for their “one-year anniversary,” and the Snow Bear Trophy for “Best Male Lead and Best Director.”
Wen Chaosheng scrolled through them over and over, his eyes growing sour without him realizing.
He backed out to the chat screen, his fingertip hovering uncertainly over the input box. He wanted to send a simple “Happy birthday,” but it felt like he’d lost any right to do so.
If he’d already proposed breaking up, he should cut ties cleanly. Sending “break up” followed by “happy birthday” would just be ridiculous!
What would Xi Zhui think if he saw it? What if he demanded an explanation for the breakup? How could Wen Chaosheng possibly answer?
The screen reflected the hesitation in his eyes. In the end, he never sent that “Happy birthday.”
Suddenly, a ghostly whisper slithered from behind him. “Brother Wen, what are you doing up in the middle of the night instead of sleeping?”
“…”
Wen Chaosheng jumped. Before he could react, his phone was snatched from his hand.
His palm emptied in an instant.
He scrambled to sit up. “Chang Ming, what the hell?”
Chang Ming had woken up at some point and was now propped against the head of his bed, his lifeless eyes fixed intently on the WeChat screen.
Wen Chaosheng’s breathing quickened as he lunged to grab it back. “Why are you taking my phone? Give it here!”
Chang Ming held the phone high with one hand while blocking him with the other, a mocking smirk twisting his lips. “Brother Wen, couldn’t sleep because you’re missing your ex-boyfriend that much?”
“What, is it his birthday today?”
“…”
Wen Chaosheng had always been intensely private, hating when anyone pried into his personal life.
He frowned, a rare edge creeping into his usually gentle tone. “This doesn’t concern you. Give me back my phone!”
“How doesn’t it concern me?”
A murderous jealousy flashed in Chang Ming’s eyes. In the dim light, his gaunt cheeks looked downright sinister. “Wen Chaosheng, everything you said before was just lies, wasn’t it?”
“You never planned to stay and take care of me! Your heart’s already flown back home!” He forced a cold laugh through clenched teeth. “Your movie crew ruined my life!”
If he hadn’t been desperate to catch Wen Chaosheng’s attention, he never would have climbed that high!
If the crew hadn’t botched the safety checks, he never would have gotten hurt!
Someone had to share this suffering with him!
“Brother Wen, you gonna pretend like nothing happened so you can go enjoy your love life and career? What about me? What am I supposed to do?”
“…”
Wen Chaosheng stared at the raw desperation and madness in Chang Ming’s eyes, a heavy stone lodging in his chest.
The doctor had specifically warned them: patients facing sudden amputations rarely accepted their new reality easily. They often developed psychological trauma of varying severity.
In extreme cases, they harmed others or even themselves—recent evaluations showed Chang Ming was already in a dangerously unstable state.
So the family and friends staying by their side had to be as patient and supportive as possible, guiding them through their emotions.
Wen Chaosheng forced out the bitter truth. “You saw it yourself. We’ve broken up.”
“I have no intention of getting back together, and while you’re still in treatment, I won’t abandon you to go home and restart my career.”
“Is that so?”
Chang Ming glanced at the still-lit WeChat screen, a obsessive hunger for control burning in his gaze. “If you’ve broken up, why keep his contact? Here, Brother Wen—I’ll take care of it for you.”
Wen Chaosheng’s thoughts froze. “What?”
Ignoring his protests, Chang Ming crossed the line, swiftly deleting Xi Zhui from his friends list.
“No!”
Snapping to his senses, Wen Chaosheng lunged forward. He barely registered that Chang Ming was still a patient as he snatched the phone back in a panic—but it was too late.
The pinned spot at the top was now empty.
Xi Zhui’s WeChat contact, along with all their past messages, had vanished completely from his world!
“…”
Wen Chaosheng’s mind went blank. Every lingering hope extinguished with that single “delete.”
A sharp pain stabbed through his heart, radiating everywhere and sapping what little strength he had left. His throat felt gripped by an invisible hand, on the verge of suffocation.
Chang Ming toppled back onto the bed, off-balance, but he didn’t cry out in pain. Instead, he turned his head to savor the shifting agony on Wen Chaosheng’s face.
Pleased with himself, he said, “Brother Wen, doesn’t your contact list look nice and tidy now?”
Wen Chaosheng felt dead inside.
Staring at the near-stranger on the bed, he lost all desire to communicate for the first time. He just wanted to flee this suffocating room.
“Brother Wen! Don’t go!”
Chang Ming changed faces faster than turning the page, pleading pitifully again. “You promised to stay and take care of me yourself! You can’t go back on your word!”
“…”
Wen Chaosheng paused for a second but kept walking toward the door without a word.
Crash!
Caught off guard, Chang Ming tumbled off the bed!
Agonizing pain shot from his wound. He cracked his eyes wide in torment and screamed, “Wen Chaosheng, if you abandon me and walk out that door today, I’ll die right here for you to see!”
That final, hoarse “die” became an invisible chain, trapping Wen Chaosheng in place once more.
He gazed at Chang Ming sprawled helplessly on the floor, threatening suicide, a boundless sorrow filling him.
The education drilled into him since childhood reminded him:
Nothing in this world mattered more than a living person’s life.
Ignoring the pain from his stump, Chang Ming dragged his broken body across the floor to clutch at Wen Chaosheng’s pant leg, begging desperately.
“Brother Wen, I was wrong. Don’t be mad. I… I know I wasn’t acting like myself again… I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…”
He sobbed and trembled through his apologies.
“I’m just so scared you’ll leave me. Now that Mom and you are all I have left, no one else would care…”
“Please don’t go, okay? My leg hurts so much. It hurts too bad…”
“…”
Could he escape?
No. Not at all.
If Chang Ming came to harm tonight because he left, Wen Chaosheng would drown in endless guilt.
He drew a deep breath, forcing himself to confront this inescapable cruelty. “I’ll help you up first. We’ll call the nurse to check your wound. Just don’t move anymore.”
…
Beep… beep… beep.
The monitoring equipment by the bed emitted its steady rhythm as Xi Zhui, comatose for days, finally showed signs of waking.
It took immense effort to lift his heavy eyelids. His unfocused vision couldn’t make out his surroundings, and his foggy mind held only confusion.
“…”
Where was this?
Why was he here?
The oxygen mask forced air into his nose and mouth, making him frown uncomfortably. Then a nurse’s excited voice rang in his ears.
“He’s awake! The patient’s awake! Quick, notify the director!”
“…”
Several monitoring leads were taped to Xi Zhui’s body, pinning him motionless to the bed as pain assaulted his emerging awareness.
Only after the medical team’s examination did his thoughts clear a little. From his manager, he learned what had happened.
A major accident during the stunt explosion on set. He and the other two leads had all been injured to varying degrees.
Of the three actors, Xi Zhui’s injuries were the worst. He’d been rushed to the provincial hospital for emergency surgery and spent four days in the ICU before stabilizing.
Today marked the seventh day since the accident.
“…”
Had it really been that long?
Xi Zhui’s mind was consumed by the pain in his abdomen. There was no relief at surviving.
Wen Hui, who had been keeping vigil by his bedside, explained. “Your family rushed to the hospital the first day and has been taking shifts to watch over you this whole week.”
“Your parents went back to the hotel to rest this morning, but I’ve already messaged them. Uncle and Aunt are on their way. You’ll see them soon.”
“…”
His whole family had come.
What about Wen Chaosheng? Had he returned from overseas? Did he even know what had happened?
As thoughts of his long-unseen lover filled his mind, a trace of urgency flickered across Xi Zhui’s pale, weakened face. He strained to force a few broken syllables from his parched throat.
“Where’s my phone?”
“Oh, it’s right here. Your assistant handed it over to me.”
Wen Hui rummaged through her backpack and pulled out Xi Zhui’s phone. She plugged it in to charge, powered it on, and asked, “Do you want to look at it now?”
Xi Zhui hadn’t yet made his relationship with Wen Chaosheng public. With great difficulty, he lifted the hand attached to the IV drip. “…Give it to me.”
“You just woke up. Who are you trying to contact?” Wen Hui had no choice but to hand it over. “Be careful. Can you hold it steady?”
“…”
Xi Zhui’s throat hurt too much for him to respond.
Muster all the strength he had left, he gripped his phone and opened the WeChat interface, intending to let his lover know he was safe.
In an instant, countless red notification dots flooded the screen. Xi Zhui’s gaze instinctively fell on the pinned conversation at the top.
There were no frantic messages of concern as he’d imagined, no routine check-ins as they’d agreed upon. Instead, the first thing that caught his eye was the last thing he ever expected:
“Xi Zhui, let’s break up. I don’t think we’re right for each other.”
“…”
For a few seconds, Xi Zhui thought it was a hallucination brought on by his severe injuries.
But the relentless pain in his body kept jabbing at his consciousness, clearly telling him that every word in that WeChat message was real.
Wen Chaosheng had asked to break up with him?
Why? What had he done wrong? How could this be possible?
Xi Zhui felt an inescapable agony laced through every breath. Questions exploded in his mind as he poured his last ounce of strength into sending a message to Wen Chaosheng.
But what greeted him was a red exclamation mark: message failed to send!
“…”
Wen Chaosheng had deleted him from WeChat?
In that moment, a surge of inner torment overwhelmed even the trauma of his physical wounds, crashing through Xi Zhui’s mental world like a tsunami.
The oxygen mask strapped over his mouth and nose seemed to lose all effect. Not only did it fail to deliver any air, it squeezed down on him, leaving him unable to breathe.
“Beep—beep—beep—”
The heart rate monitor suddenly blared a warning.
The sudden turn of events startled Wen Hui out of her wits. “Xi Zhui? What’s wrong?”
She hurriedly pressed the call button by the bed. Worried the medical staff might take too long, she dashed out of the room to shout for help.
Thud!
The phone clattered to the floor.
Why?
He had to find Wen Chaosheng and get some answers!
Xi Zhui didn’t know where he found the strength and determination, but he rolled off the bed. A tearing pain ripped through his abdomen. Like a wild beast trapped in a snare, unable to move yet still thrashing in its death throes, he struggled on.
“Ah—”
Suddenly, people burst into the room.
Xi Quxin and Shen Ruo, at the forefront, saw their son sprawled on the floor and panicked.
“Xi Zhui!”
“Xiao Zhui!”
“…”
Xia Fengyi, who had come along with them, was equally shocked but kept the composure expected of a medical student. “Uncle, Aunt, quick! Get Xi Zhui back on the bed first! Lying on the floor like that could easily pull at his abdominal wounds!”
“…”
Blue veins bulged on Xi Zhui’s forehead, sweat poured down, and his eyes were terrifyingly bloodshot. Even though he could no longer utter a single word, only one thought consumed his mind—
He had to find Wen Chaosheng!
He had to find Wen Chaosheng right now and get answers!
Xia Fengyi could see that his friend had fallen into some kind of emotional delirium. He shouted urgently, “Xi Zhui! Snap out of it! Don’t move around!”
No one knows a son better than his mother.
Shen Ruo instantly realized what Xi Zhui was trying to do. “Xiao Zhui! Where are you going? Who do you want to find? Don’t scare your mom like this!”
“Xi Zhui! You just woke up. Be good and don’t make trouble!”
Seeing the blood seeping from their son’s abdomen, Xi Quxin grew frantic and invoked Elder Xi, whom Xi Zhui had always respected. “Your grandfather was so frightened by you that he had a heart attack. He’s in the hospital right now!”
“Don’t make him—or the rest of us—worry any more!”
“…”
Xi Zhui suddenly went limp, ceasing his struggles.
His expression vacant, he stared up at the glowing white ceiling. In the second before he lost consciousness, he was still lost in an indescribable sense of absurdity and confusion—
Why?
What on earth had happened?
Wasn’t it supposed to be just five or six months?
Wasn’t he supposed to come back for his birthday? Why had he suddenly cast him aside?
