Shen You’an put down her chopsticks and stood up, walking over.
She reached out to touch the boy’s forehead, but he flinched instinctively, retreating a step back.
As though she was so kind of ferocious beast.
Shen You’an paused, slightly stunned. "Is your brain working properly?"
The boy said nothing, pressing his pale lips together.
He looked frail and small, only reaching her shoulder. His clear eyes carried a lancholy shade of gray-black.
Like a stubborn yet fragile little lynx.
For so reason, a fleeting mont of tenderness surfaced in Shen You’an’s heart.
She smiled and spoke in an exceptionally gentle voice, "Don’t be afraid. I won’t hurt you."
Perhaps it was the girl’s tenderness that eventually lted his tension. The boy began to lower his guard.
"I just want to check if you still have a fever."
This ti, the boy did not resist Shen You’an’s touch.
Fortunately, the fever had subsided.
Shen You’an let out a breath of relief.
"What’s your na? Where’s your ho? What’s your parents’ contact number?"
Shen You’an fired off several questions, but the boy remained silent throughout.
Suddenly, a thought struck Shen You’an.
"You’re not deaf and mute, are you?"
The boy continued his silence.
"In that case, I’ll have to call the police and ask them to help find your parents."
To her surprise, the boy suddenly shut the bedroom door, isolating Shen You’an outside.
Stunned again, Shen You’an knocked on the door. "What kind of tantrum is this? Open the door and co out."
She wondered, had she really brought ho a lunatic?
No matter the case, Shen You’an decided she would call the police. If he was a lost child, his parents might be desperately searching for him. It would be a cri not to help.
After deliberating, Shen You’an walked into the kitchen, grabbed an empty bowl, scooped so food into it, and entered the bedroom through the connecting balcony to the neighboring room.
The boy was squatting on the floor, his back against the door. His arms were wrapped around his knees, and his head was buried deep within them.
The small, frail boy curled himself into a ball, enveloped by an overwhelming loneliness, as if the whole world had deserted him, leaving only himself behind.
This scene stung Shen You’an’s eyes slightly.
Shen You’an had a strong sense of emotional empathy, which made her adept at reading people’s expressions and moods. She could tell that the boy’s heart was saturated with sorrow.
His soul was like soone slowly drowning in Da Hai, suffocating bit by bit...
If no one reached out to save him, he might forever sink to the bottom of the sea.
There was a ti when she had felt the sa way.
Fortune had granted her a chance to start over.
But for so, all they could do was watch themselves sink into the endless darkness, until they were utterly consud.
Softly and cautiously, Shen You’an approached him, sitting down next to him. She placed the bowl of food in front of him, then did nothing more—just stayed by his side.
Her past mories rarely surfaced anymore. Ti had a way of erasing all things, whether joy or sadness. It all washed away in the ruthless current of the years, leaving behind only broken shards scattered deep within her mories.
Perhaps in a dream—or on so idle afternoon—the unpleasant monts might resurface unbidden. No matter how agonizingly painful they once were, all they brought now was a faint, resigned smile.
Everything will pass.
This was the wisdom Shen You’an carried from a previous life.
Any grand truths seed pale in the face of obvious, searing pain.
The journey must be walked alone. als must be eaten by oneself. Pain must be lived through, firsthand.
Only by walking through the thorns could one see the oasis.
The most one could do for another was to pull them along when they could no longer bear the weight.
Or perhaps, offer silent companionship in the void-like cracks of ti.
After an indeterminate amount of ti, the boy finally slowly raised his head.
Instinctively, he turned and froze at the sight before him.
The girl’s cheek rested against her knees, her profile angled in his direction. Her lashes gently closed, her breathing faint and steady—she appeared to be asleep.
The sunlight at four in the afternoon filtered through the wall, casting a soft stream of light onto her eyelids. The interplay of light cut her lashes into narrow pillars of shadow that fell delicately against her fair, supple skin.
Outside, the droning of cicadas heightened the tranquility, and the chirping of birds beca faintly lodious. The breeze stirred the gauzy curtains, the world fell silent, leaving only the girl’s gentle breaths, barely audible.
One breath after another—they seed in sync. Until he could no longer distinguish whether it was her breathing or the sound of his own heartbeat.
As if compelled by an instinctive pull, he reached out his hand, wanting to touch the softness of her skin. Just at that mont, like a butterfly’s delicate fluttering, her eyes slowly opened.
The boy reflexively retracted his hand, whipping his head to the side in panic, his heart pounding like a drum.
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