"Cough it out, Huahua," Mu Qingyi said, his voice low and steady, though the tightness under it was so clear that even Lin Huahua could hear it through the ringing in her ears. "Do not swallow it. Breathe slowly. I am here. Baiyu is here. You are out now."
Lin Huahua tried to nod, but another cough tore out of her throat, and more water came up.
Hu Baiyu made a broken sound.
It was not a word, because he could not speak, but it came from so deep in his chest that Lin Huahua felt it against her cheek. It sounded like a wounded beast trying not to roar. His arms tightened by mistake for one second, then loosened at once when he realized she was already struggling to breathe. His eyes went wide with panic, and he looked at Mu Qingyi as if asking what do I do, what do I do, why is she still coughing, why is she still shaking.
Mu Qingyi understood him immediately. "Hold her up a little. Not too tight."
