Guan Longji, whose consciousness was blurry on the bed, seemed to hear her voice and opened his unfocused eyes, staring directly in her direction.
“Ju… mamo… Maria… ti…” he was mumbling, which didn’t sound like English, but more like French. Then a string of rapid, broken English, “The hope, the fear… the jealous care…”
“What?” Shuijing said angrily. “Speak Chinese.”
“You… destroy me…” he muttered incoherently, “Hope… worry and jealousy… frost will melt… your heart… made of steel…”
Another string of broken words escaped his mouth. Shuijing had some impression – it was Byron, whom she had always disliked and who had given her a hard time during her British literature report.
“A patient should look like a patient!” Shuijing lightly scolded. “Go to sleep!”
Enough already!
She reached out to feel his forehead temperature.
Still a bit hot.
“…Is your heart made of steel?” he asked.
His burning hand grabbed her cold hand, his stubbled chin lightly pricking her delicate palm, and his long fingers caressed his thin face.
Warm breath blew across her fingertips, and he sighed gloomily.
“…How can I win back your heart?” Guan Longji asked. “If begging works… I’ll kneel down… beg you a thousand, ten thousand times…”
His neighborly tone suddenly became serious, and in his confused state, he accused like a wronged child, “You said you loved me!”
How did he become so talkative?
“You’ve burned out your brain!” Shuijing awkwardly tried to withdraw her hand, but he held on tightly.
Was this “truth-telling in illness”?
His resolute lips kissed her palm and fingertips, leaving a warm electric current.
“Shuijing… Shuijing…” he murmured her name, hoarse and sad, both sweet and bitter, “You said you’d love me for a lifetime… were those promises empty? Like moonlight in water, a reflection in a mirror…”
His emotions transmitted to her word by word were immensely shocking.
Reflections and illusions ultimately proved to be a fantasy…
Shuijing felt heartache.
She opened her mouth to argue but closed it again. He was just a patient with unclear consciousness!
Her fingertips touched a dampness, unsure if it was sweat or tears?
She trembled and took a deep breath.
For a fragile patient, she couldn’t be harsh. Her panicked heart had an ominous feeling.
Being begged like this would soften even a heart of stone, right?
