In the silence of the ICU, Ou Chen’s eyelashes fluttered once, then his eyes slowly opened.
His gaze was a deep, somber green, yet when he looked through the large, bright glass window and saw Yin Xia Mo’s clear eyes, the blood in his post-operative body seemed to freeze.
Her eyes were like the ocean, filled with profound, tender emotion… separated by the expanse of glass… the pale Ou Chen gazed at her.
As if she were merely a phantom.
Deeply.
For a long time.
Fixated on her, afraid to breathe, as if the slightest sound of his breath might shatter her illusion… *The hospital room window was open.
The cool night wind drifted in, ruffling the edge of the patient gown worn by Luo Xi as he sat by the window.
The moonlight was brilliant, casting his profile even more fragile and pale than the light itself.
Shen Qiang stood silently behind him, a dull, aching pain in her chest—a pain she couldn't pinpoint as belonging to Luo Xi or herself.
Outside the operating theater, she felt like an invisible person; even standing directly behind Luo Xi’s wheelchair, neither he nor Yin Xia Mo seemed to notice her.
In their world, there was only each other… She had always believed Luo Xi was the one harmed by Yin Xia Mo, that Yin Xia Mo was the most cold-blooded and ruthless woman she had ever encountered.
But the Yin Xia Mo she saw today, so frail and thin she seemed to surpass even Luo Xi’s pallor, suggested that the woman she thought she knew was just a facade; stripped of that strong, indifferent shell, she appeared devastatingly vulnerable.
Which one was real? The Yin Xia Mo she had known and heard about… or this version she didn't know at all? Yet, regardless of which Yin Xia Mo she was, coupling her with Luo Xi seemed utterly incompatible.
Both were masters of the perfect performance, both habitually maintained a polite yet distant composure, both accustomed to hiding fragility beneath armor of strength.
Such a pair, perhaps, would only ever touch each other’s cold exteriors, unable to lean close for mutual warmth.
The moonlight shed a faint sheen over Luo Xi.
He sat motionless in the wheelchair, profoundly silent, devoid of thought or expression, facing a void of empty, chilling paleness.
*After the surgery, Ou Chen spent one night in the ICU.
Seeing no anomalies, he was transferred to the general intensive care ward.
When he next awoke from his slumber, it was late morning.
A brilliant ray of sunshine flashed across his eyes—a rich, golden light.
Her face, bathed in the sunlight, looked as soft as gold as she bent down over him and whispered, “You’re awake…” With gentle care, she wiped his face and hands with a warm cloth.
Seeing him struggle to sit up, she cautiously adjusted the head of his hospital bed higher so he could lean back comfortably.
“Are you hungry? Would you like something to eat?” She produced a thermos, unscrewed the cap, and the fragrant steam of warm rice porridge immediately filled the air.
Had her own illness healed? Then the woman he saw through the ICU glass last night wasn't a hallucination.
But were those eyes, filled with ocean-like emotion in the deep night, also just a figment of his imagination? Ou Chen watched her silently.
“The porridge was made by the Young Madam herself.” A familiar voice sounded from nearby.
Ou Chen looked up, finally noticing Butler Shen standing in the room.
He hadn’t informed Butler Shen about this surgery; it must have been her who alerted him.
Summer of Foam III