Xiang Wan had been running a fever for three consecutive days.
At one point, her temperature soared to 40 degrees Celsius, and her breathing became labored, prompting the hospital to put her on a ventilator.
Yu Zhou had learned that bacterial infections often cause fluctuating body temperatures, which typically trend downward eventually. However, Xiang Wan’s case was different; her temperature kept steadily climbing, as if testing the limits of her body.
Chao Xin barely dared to sleep, occasionally resting her head by the hospital bed briefly. Yu Zhou couldn’t stand to watch this any longer. So she, along with Paipai and Su Chang, came to pick up Chao Xin, urging her to go home and rest for the afternoon. After storing away the day’s medical reports, Chao Xin asked Su Chang, “What did the production team say?”
“I talked to them. Ms. Ji will replace you for one more episode, and I’ve requested for Wanwan to withdraw from the competition.”
In Xiang Wan’s current state, she couldn’t possibly continue in the competition.
“But the production team said, since both Ting Chao and SC have been affected, the PD is discussing with other studios whether they can pause filming for an episode. If everyone is back next week, they can continue recording back-to-back. After all, we’ve been filming ahead of schedule, so the show won’t miss a broadcast.”
“The producer’s idea is to hope for as much coordination as possible, to have the original team participate until the end.”
After all, with Chao Xin already absent, Xiang Wan’s potential withdrawal due to illness would be a significant blow to the show, and it is foreseeable that the public reaction would create ripples.
However, when Su Chang mentioned next week, both she and Chao Xin were uncertain if Xiang Wan would wake up by then.
In the evening, the doctors made their routine rounds, and this time the chief physician came along with several doctors, all in white coats. They examined Xiang Wan’s condition, and the chief physician reported on Xiang Wan’s temperature and indicators for the day before saying, “We’ve done a CT scan, a full body check, and tested for tumor markers. So far, we haven’t found any other abnormalities, but the fever just won’t subside.”
“She was able to eat on her own two days ago. The nurse said she had a total of 150 ml of liquid food and about 100 ml of water the day before yesterday, but then she stopped eating altogether in the evening. She’s been on IV fluids since, but if she doesn’t resume eating, IV fluids alone won’t be enough.”
In front of the family, the doctor didn’t say much, however, everyone understood what was left unsaid. Xiang Wan’s condition was too abnormal. Commonly, with the medication administered for a common bacterial infection, a reduction in fever would have already occurred. The persistent high fever, and one that was rising, usually wouldn’t be due to a single cause of fever; it was very likely that there were other complications.
But there were none.
There were no substantial abnormalities found in Xiang Wan’s body for the time being, yet if the fever continued, it would undoubtedly pose a life-threatening risk. Even if she were to pull through, there could be irreversible brain damage.
Especially since she couldn’t eat, the eventual failure of her bodily functions was a matter of when, not if.
The situation was thorny—they were dealing with a patient for whom no medicine seemed to work, and her resistance was extremely weak. All her vitals kept dropping, as if the injections could only delay the inevitable a little longer.
“Did she have seizures?” the chief physician asked.
“Yes, she had one at 9:10 this morning, lasting 2 minutes and 30 seconds. After it stopped, I massaged her a bit,” Chao Xin replied.
“Move her to the ICU and prepare for a lumbar puncture.”
Chao Xin’s face paled, looking at the doctor, she asked softly, “ICU… can I stay with her?”
How did it come to this? How had it escalated to the ICU? Chao Xin was so bewildered that she couldn’t even react.
“Family members are not allowed to accompany patients in the ICU, but rest assured, our medical staff are very experienced.”
After a pause, Chao Xin said, “She will be scared.”
The attending physician tried to comfort her, “She’s currently unconscious; she won’t feel scared, and the ICU is just like any other ward—there’s nothing to be frightened of.”
Chao Xin glanced down at Xiang Wan, whose hands were swollen from the IVs, remaining silent.
Others might not think a person in her twenties would be afraid, however, Xiang Wan was different. She had never been to a hospital before; she hadn’t seen these cold machines and instruments. If there was no one by her side when she awoke, hearing the beeping of monitors and seeing the tubes and needles on her body, she would certainly be terrified.
“Putting aside the regulations,” the doctor spoke, “Given her condition, which is initially a bacterial infection and for which the exact cause has not yet been identified, having someone accompany her poses a risk of secondary infection. I would advise against even visiting, but if you’re really worried, you can visit for half an hour after three in the afternoon each day.”
What to do? Xiang Wan… Chao Xin held onto her hand, feeling helpless.
After a moment, the doctor heard the sound of tears hitting the hospital bed. The woman, who appeared as calm as she was indifferent, shook her shoulders slightly, hung her head, and said, “Okay.”
Chao Xin was terrified, afraid that if Xiang Wan woke up alone in a strange place, she might think the world had abandoned her again, and in her sadness, she might not want this world as well.
Chao Xin’s voice trembled, barely able to suppress her sobs. After speaking, she sniffled harshly, gripping Xiang Wan’s hand without looking back.
The chief physician sighed, “Then you can pay the fees after you get ready. I’ll have them schedule it right away so as not to delay any further.”
The door closed gently, and Chao Xin’s sobbing became more distinct.
Chao Xin clung tightly to Xiang Wan’s hand that wasn’t hooked to an IV, the other hand covering her own eyes, as she cried out in helpless anguish.
Why? Why did she insist on taking Xiang Wan to that place? She knew the environment was filthy, she knew Xiang Wan had a delicate constitution and hadn’t been vaccinated, yet she still took Xiang Wan to the countryside, even letting her stay a night in that rundown hotel.
That night, when she was too scared to sleep, Xiang Wan stayed up with her, chatting. She didn’t pay much attention to Xiang Wan’s coughing, and even when Xiang Wan developed a fever in the car, she thought she was just resting.
Chao Xin had never shed so many tears, they seemed unceasing, racing each other to stream out. Chao Xin cried until her lips trembled, trying hard to swallow the sour sobs. Whimpers leaked from her constricted throat, and eventually, she could no longer hold them back.
Guilt and remorse were finally unleashed in full.
Chao Xin broke down. She always knew, whether it was affection or hope, no matter how much she desired, she never dared to speak it out loud. She knew fate had never been kind to her—if she didn’t speak, fate would forget about her, and then she could steal a bit of sweetness like tasting the forbidden fruit.
However, as soon as she voiced it, reminded fate that there was someone named Chao Xin, it would come like the messengers of death, carrying chains to drag her hopes down to the deepest hells.
Regardless, even if she got carried away that day, envisioning the future with Xiang Wan, did fate have to retaliate so swiftly?
Did it have to be so quick?
Chao Xin remembered the last phone call from Chao Wang; she was already exhausted but still patiently instructed Chao Xin, “Little sister, take your time, don’t rush, I’ll wait for your return.”
When Chao Xin received news of her father’s death, even though she really hated him, for several nights, she couldn’t help but sneak out to the stairwell to smoke, wondering what it felt like for him to freeze to death outside during a stroke.
That year when she got the call from her mother, crying that Chao Xin had such a cruel heart, not even allowing her to speak a few words to her own grandchild, “I won’t live much longer,” her mother said, “I’ve found a spot for my grave. When I die, remember to bury me with your father, so we can keep each other company in old age. Anyway, I don’t expect you to come back to offer incense.”
When Paipai first came to Jiang City with encephalitis, Chao Xin didn’t understand the hospital admission procedures. When the nurse told her to wait, she sat in the hospital corridor holding Paipai for four whole hours, not daring to move.
Chao Xin never cried, not once did she cry.
Yet now, tears were streaming down her face. Chao Xin covered her face in despair and whispered, “Xiang Wan.”
Please.
Don’t be afraid, just hold on a little longer.
This world is cruel, but I beg you, for my sake, hold on a little longer.
Xiang Wan was the little angel in many people’s hearts. If she truly was an angel, Chao Xin was greedy, longing for her to save her faltering self once more.
CNYuriTranslation 