Shang Qing felt around in her pocket and pulled out a phone enclosed in an exaggeratedly large, bright pink case. The combination of color and style had nothing to do with being cute at all.
The corners of her mouth twitched. She had no time to ponder whether it looked good or not; she had an urgent matter to deal with.
Using the emergency method, Shang Qing dialed the police and reported: a gang fight had taken place in the alley and the perpetrators had fled. Because the beaten boy was severely injured, she needed to take him to the hospital, and requested the police officers to meet her at the hospital. She remembered the appearance of the three boys and could provide clues.
Looking at the flashy, latest-model phone in her hand, Shang Qing sighed. If only she could remember the password and take pictures, she wouldn't have to go through the trouble of describing the three guys' looks to the police officers later.
Tucking the phone back into her pants pocket, she frowned slightly and looked helplessly at the frail boy lying on the ground.
The ground was already like a sizzling hot iron plate, radiating a burning pain. Yet the boy was exceptionally docile, making no struggle at all.
The boy had been beaten beyond recognition. His palm-sized, thin face was swollen badly, a cut on his forehead was oozing a lot of blood, and it was unclear if he had suffered any other hidden head injuries.
The exposed skin on his body was bruised and battered, a ghastly sight. One arm was fractured, blood was seeping from his lower leg, and his ankle and lower leg were strangely and unnaturally twisted.
The boy had not lost consciousness; his half-open eyes were looking at her, though his pupils lacked focus. Clearly, his breathing was somewhat labored now.
The chest that had just been heaving heavily gradually turned into weak tremors, and his body suddenly jerked upward as he vomited a large mouthful of blood.
Oh no! Was this boy about to die? She couldn't waste any more time!
When calling the police, she had already made a plan. Familiar with the layout of the surrounding area, she had figured out the best solution.
This was a maze of intertwining alleyways where private cars could not easily enter, and even if they could, it wasn't as convenient or fast as walking or riding a bike. Furthermore, an ambulance was simply too large; it would get stuck the moment it drove in. That was definitely ruled out first.The City Hospital was undoubtedly the best-equipped medical facility, but it was far too distant. If she were to take the boy there, he might not even survive the journey; the risk was too great. She was not the type to take chances; she preferred to play it safe.
There happened to be a hospital nearby, one that was by no means small. As soon as she cleared this maze of alleyways, she would be there. Calculating the time, at her running pace, she could certainly reach it in six or seven minutes.
Shang Qing wasted no more time. She crouched down, carefully straightened his twisted arm, then slid one hand behind Ji Xun’s back to grip his shoulder, while reaching the other under the hollows of his knees to steady his legs.
Shang Qing felt a chill. This boy’s skin was ice-cold. On such a sweltering day, having lain on the scorching ground for so long, his skin should have been hot—yet aside from the areas that had been in contact with the pavement, his body was freezing.
After securing him in the most suitable hold, she lifted him horizontally with a surge of effort. His head, limp and heavy, tilted back as she stood, exposing his small, rounded, and delicate Adam’s apple.
As Shang Qing rose, his arms and legs dangled loosely, swaying slightly with the momentum. A strange, rattling sound emerged from his blood-filled mouth.
Perhaps it was the sudden change in position, or perhaps the excruciating pain, but his head throbbed violently, and his half-lidded eyes rolled back, showing the whites.
Seeing the painful, limp way his head lolled backward, Shang Qing knit her brows. She steadied herself, putting extra strength into her right arm to cradle his head firmly within the crook of her elbow, keeping his entire upper body under control.
For a slender girl of five-foot-five to lift a five-foot-ten boy without much apparent effort seemed incredible. Yet, Shang Qing never even considered the difficulty. Perhaps, to her, it had never felt strange at all.
What she noticed now was how unexpectedly light he was—pitifully thin. His arms and exposed ankles were so delicate and frail they seemed as though they would snap with the slightest pressure. As they hung there limply, they carried a certain aesthetic of a sickly, fragile youth.However, considering the urgency of the moment, she had no time for further reflection. She could only hold him tight and sprint toward the hospital at top speed. After all, the boy’s life was slipping away, and she might just be able to win him a chance to survive.
She thought this way because, in Shang Qing’s memories from her past life, this boy had indeed died. So now, could she rewrite his fate?
Because it was the hottest part of the afternoon and they were in a maze of alleyways—areas usually devoid of people—the streets were completely deserted. No one witnessed the bizarre sight: a petite girl cradling a boy taller than herself. It would have been quite a spectacle.
Ji Xun was well-shielded in Shang Qing’s arms, but since it was summer and he was wearing a thin shirt, the sequined material of her outfit chafed against his exposed skin, causing him discomfort. Yet, his injuries were so severe that the physical pain was eclipsed by a duller, more profound agony.
As his broken body jolted and swayed with each stride, Ji Xun’s consciousness grew foggier. He could see the small, fair curve of Shang Qing’s chin and hear the sound of the wind mixed with her labored, breathless gasps as she ran. To him, it became the most beautiful symphony he had ever heard that summer.
For some reason, his icy heart felt a flicker of warmth. The word "security" popped into his mind. Besides his grandfather, she was the first person to ever make him feel this way.
Throughout the run, Shang Qing did her best to hold Ji Xun steady and minimize the impact of her movements, but even so, Ji Xun coughed up another mouthful of blood, his face turning even paler.
Holding the boy as he grew colder, Shang Qing felt an increasing sense of panic. She was terrified that he would lose his life in her arms. Yet, all she could do was try to hold him as steadily as she could.
"Doctor! Doctor! Help! Save him! He’s dying!" Shang Qing shouted as she burst through the hospital doors, drawing the attention of everyone nearby.
The doctor on duty saw a strangely dressed girl running in, carrying a blood-soaked boy. She rushed over to assess the situation and called for the emergency team.
Once Ji Xun was placed on a gurney, Shang Qing stayed right beside him, rushing alongside the doctors as they wheeled him toward the trauma room.
Before his eyes, the white fluorescent lights on the ceiling streaked by, row after row, flickering like something beautiful and surreal. Before death, he thought, this light was truly magnificent.
"Hey, hold on! You have to hold on!"
"I didn't go through all this trouble to save you just for you to die!"
"You have to live!"
...
This soft, sweet voice was hers, calling out constantly. It was almost noisy... Ji Xun wanted to drift off to sleep, but her voice persisted at his ear, and he couldn't let himself fade away.
But where was she? Ji Xun grew anxious, hearing her voice but unable to see her.
At the very end of his strength, Ji Xun dug his fingernails into his palm, fighting to stay conscious.
As his awareness flickered back, he realized he could see her. She was running alongside the gurney. The way she ran reminded him of a pink bubble—quite amusing.
Thinking this, the corners of Ji Xun’s mouth struggled to lift. He felt happy. This pink bubble was glowing.
Still, her face was so ugly! Covered in multicolored smears—did she know how ugly she looked?
Shang Qing leaned in, tense and close, grabbing Ji Xun’s hand and squeezing it tightly. She stared intently at the boy, whose consciousness was fading, and practically screamed, "You have to keep fighting! I’m saving you, so you must live, do you hear me!"
Ji Xun’s eyes were heavy, but he struggled to keep them open. He wanted to answer her; he wanted to say thank you and tell her he would try his best. But he couldn't speak. As his mouth opened, a tickle rose in his throat, and a mouthful of blood sprayed out.
"Quick! Quick, start resuscitation!" the doctor shouted to her colleagues. Shang Qing was pushed aside as the boy was wheeled into the trauma room.
Ji Xun felt the girl’s fingers slip away, and with that final warmth gone, he sank completely into darkness.