The private room in Jiankang Hospital was bathed in the soft, fading light of the setting sun. Golden-orange rays filtered through the large window, illuminating the sterile white walls and the single bed where Shen Guoxing lay sleeping. The room carried the sharp, clean scent of antiseptic mixed with the faint, comforting aroma of fresh orange.
Monitors beeped steadily in the background, their rhythmic sounds a constant reminder of the fragile life they were watching over. The air felt heavy yet intimate, the kind of quiet that wrapped around the three figures like a fragile blanket.
Su Wanyan sat beside the bed, her fingers gently stroking Shen Guoxing's soft hair. Her eyes were puffy from earlier tears, and though her expression remained mostly neutral, the natural small upcurve of her mouth made her look even more sorrowful in the warm light.
