The hallway smelled of antiseptic and something colder, like loneliness that clung to every wall. An Ran held the pen with trembling fingers, scrawling her name across the hospital forms. The receptionist barely looked at her, just pushed the clipboard back as though she were nothing but a shadow passing through.
Qin Mo Ran's uncle hadn't shown up, and deep down she knew he probably wouldn't. The thought settled in her chest like a stone. How lonely must it be… to collapse, and no one in your family comes running?
When Jiang Cheng pushed open the ward door, a nurse's eyes flicked sharply toward An Ran, narrowing in a silent question. The judgment in that gaze made her shrink back, almost turning to leave, until Jiang Cheng's voice cut through.
"She's with me." Cold, clipped, dismissive.
The nurse stepped aside immediately.
An Ran couldn't even register that strange tension, because her eyes had already fallen on Qin Mo Ran.
He lay pale against the white sheets, the rise and fall of his chest shallow, almost fragile. The sight pulled her back into fragments she couldn't escape, he scars on his wrist and neck, the panic in his gaze when he broke, the hollow sound of his breaths. That helplessness. That hopelessness. And she... she hadn't been able to do anything.
Her fingers clenched around the strap of his schoolbag, knuckles whitening. Greedy. I'm being greedy, she thought bitterly. He had always found ways to look out for her, even when he seemed detached from the world. He carried her burdens, quietly, without asking for thanks. And yet… she hadn't done enough for him.
This is my fault.
I shouldn't have asked him to come that day.
If I hadn't, he wouldn't be here now, broken in front of everyone, rumors waiting to bloom.
The thought of people whispering about his panic attacks, his wounds, his weakness... it crushed her chest. Her throat burned with words she couldn't say, apologies that would never be enough.
So she said nothing. She sat beside him, silent, clutching his bag to her chest as though it could anchor her to the room.
Time slipped by in hushed footsteps and the muted beeps of the monitor. The sky outside shifted, soft gold bleeding into evening.
Finally, Jiang Cheng spoke from the doorway. His voice was calm, as if not to disturb the stillness.
"Come. Let's get lunch."
Her head snapped up, panic rushing through her veins. "What if he wakes up, and… and he needs me here?"
"If he wakes up," Jiang Cheng replied evenly, "the doctors are what he needs." His gaze lingered on her, something unreadable flickering in his hazel-brown eyes. Then softer, almost an afterthought, "You care too much."
Her lips parted. For a moment, no sound came out. Then, with her heart trembling, she asked in a whisper, "Is… is that wrong?"
He didn't answer immediately. He only looked at her, long enough that she dropped her gaze, flustered. Then he let out a quiet hum, noncommittal, but heavy in the air between them.
They walked down the quiet corridor together, the sound of their steps too loud in her ears. When they reached his car, the silence followed them inside, filling the small space with tension.
She couldn't hold it anymore. Her fingers twisted in her lap as she spoke, voice low and trembling.
"You… you don't understand. Jiang Cheng, you're already perfect. Strong. Brilliant. Everyone looks at you like you're untouchable. If I don't care for him… if I can't at least be there for someone like Qin Mo Ran, then what good am I?"
The words slipped out before she could catch them.
Jiang Cheng's hand froze where it rested on the steering wheel. His jaw tightened. Something unreadable passed over his expression, something sharp, almost dangerous, but when he turned to look at her, his smile was faint, practiced.
"So." His tone was light, but there was a subtle edge beneath it. "You don't care about me then?"
Her eyes widened, startled. "That's not what I meant... I just... "
"Relax." He cut her off, leaning back into his seat with that same cool composure. "I was joking."
But he wasn't. And she knew it.
Her chest tightened. Words tangled on her tongue, but she couldn't untangle them. The silence that followed was suffocating, filled with unspoken truths neither dared name.
The engine hummed to life. Jiang Cheng glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, then suddenly leaned toward her.
An Ran stiffened, breath catching... until she realized what he was doing. His hand reached across, tugging the seatbelt from her shoulder and snapping it into place with a sharp click.
"Don't forget this," he murmured, his voice low, brushing against her ear in the small space. His face was close, too close, his scent sharp and clean.
Her pulse stumbled. She couldn't move, couldn't breathe properly, as his hand lingered for a moment longer than necessary before pulling away.
She stared at him, wide-eyed, but he only started the car as if nothing had happened.
And yet, the ghost of his touch stayed with her all the way into the night.