The nurses outside exchanged uncertain glances. "Director Zhu, this..."
Director Zhu shook his head. "It is fine, let them be for a while. Dr. Lin knows what she is doing."
"Yes, sir."
Lin Zhilan sat by the hospital bed, holding Su Lang's hand.
The coldness of his hand seeped through her palm straight into her heart.
Su Lang had gone into hemorrhagic shock. By the end of the surgery, he had received over 3,000 milliliters in blood transfusions.
It was the equivalent of replacing nearly half the blood in his body with someone else's.
Given the limited medical conditions of this era, it was already a miracle that Su Lang had made it off the operating table alive.
But Lin Zhilan could not let him go.
She had told Su Lang that as long as he came back alive, no matter how badly injured he was, she would save him.
She could not break her promise.
She touched the birthmark on her collarbone, and with a mere thought, a small pool of clear water appeared in her palm.
Lin Zhilan did not know if this spiritual spring water would actually help Su Lang.
But right now, she had to try everything she could.
It was a desperate last resort.
Lin Zhilan brought her palm to Su Lang's lips and tilted it carefully.
The spiritual spring water trickled down through her fingers, touching Su Lang's dry, cracked lips.
But he simply would not open his mouth.
The water swirled against the seam of his lips before trailing down the corner of his mouth and slipping into the stubble on his jaw.
Lin Zhilan frowned and tried again.
The result was the same.
Su Lang's jaw was clamped shut, his lips pressed into a tight line, as if he were stubbornly rejecting something even in his coma.
Lin Zhilan gritted her teeth, lowered her head, and took a mouthful of the spiritual spring water.
Then, she leaned over and slowly pressed her lips against his.
Lin Zhilan closed her eyes, pressing the tip of her tongue against his tightly clenched teeth.
Little by little, she patiently pried open the gap.
Su Lang seemed to sense something in his unconscious state and relaxed his jaw.
The spiritual spring water was slowly passed over to him.
Su Lang's throat shifted.
He felt as though he were having a very, very long dream.
In the dream, the sky was filled with yellow sand, burning hot, as scorching winds swept the dust right into his face.
Su Lang only knew to walk forward aimlessly. His limbs were heavy and weak, his throat was so dry it felt like it was on fire, and his internal organs burned with an agonizing heat.
An extreme thirst swept through his entire body. Before his eyes was nothing but an endless expanse of sand.
He almost wanted to collapse, but somewhere in the void, a voice told him he could not fall, urging him to keep going.
Just as he was on the brink of despair, a touch of cool, refreshing sweetness suddenly covered his parched lips.
A stream of sweet water slowly flowed into his mouth and slid down his throat.
His muddled consciousness instinctively craved this sweetness. Su Lang vaguely furrowed his brow, unconsciously leaning in to meet it, sinking into this sudden, gentle rain.
He swallowed greedily, his Adam's apple bobbing. He even slightly tilted his chin up on his own, as if chasing after it.
And then, it was suddenly gone.
Su Lang's brow furrowed again, and his lips moved unconsciously.
Lin Zhilan straightened up and wiped the corner of her mouth.
Su Lang had lost too much blood; she did not dare let him drink too much water, not even the spiritual spring water.
Su Lang's eyelids fluttered, and then he forced his eyes open with great difficulty.
He stared blankly at the ceiling, initially out of focus, before his consciousness returned to his body bit by bit.
"Su Lang?"
Lin Zhilan's voice was hoarse.
Su Lang felt completely paralyzed; he could only slowly turn his eyes toward her.
His head was splitting with pain, feeling completely empty. He could not even remember where he was or what had happened.
"You are awake?"
Su Lang saw a beautiful woman.
The moment she saw him, pure joy washed over her, and her face seemed to light up instantly.
Su Lang heard his own heart give two heavy thumps.
An unfamiliar warmth flowed from his heart to his limbs, and an inexplicable emotion surged within his chest.
To his own surprise, Su Lang wanted to embrace her.
"Take it easy," Lin Zhilan stroked his face tenderly. "You just had surgery, and the anesthesia has not worn off yet. You will feel better in a little while."
Su Lang could not make a sound; he could only lay there and look at her.
Unable to hold back any longer, Lin Zhilan gripped his hand tightly, buried her face in his palm, and wept.
Su Lang could feel the dampness on his hand, and his fingers twitched involuntarily.
He remembered now.
Su Lang had not expected to make it back alive.
But looking at his wife's state, and considering his own condition, things probably were not too optimistic.
Su Lang gritted his teeth and moved his fingers again.
"What is it? Does something hurt?" Lin Zhilan looked up, her face still streaked with tears.
Su Lang closed his eyes, his finger slowly and painstakingly tracing something in Lin Zhilan's palm.
Lin Zhilan carefully felt the path of his moving finger.
It took her a long while to make out the character "Zhou."
Zhou?
Lin Zhilan looked up into Su Lang's eyes and asked nervously, "Is it a spy? Do I need to report this to the leaders?"
Even though his internal organs felt like they were about to explode from the pain, for a moment, Su Lang actually wanted to laugh.
Su Lang had once thought that no matter what happened, and no matter what methods he had to use, he would tie his wife to his side for the rest of his life.
But when he was at death's door, Su Lang felt as though he had become a saint.
He wanted his wife to live well.
Even if he was no longer around.
Even if her happiness involved someone else.
Because he was jealous of the Zhou Chen of the past, Su Lang had wanted to be petty and hide the truth about Zhou Chen for a lifetime.
At this point, if he did not tell her, his wife might never know for the rest of her life.
When a person dies, everything becomes nothing.
Su Lang certainly did not want to die.
But if he did die, he still hoped his wife would be able to make her own choice.
When he wrote the word "Zhou," his wife had not immediately thought of Zhou Chen.
He had to admit, his first reaction was happiness.
"Never mind, never mind," Lin Zhilan patted his hand. "You rest first. Whatever it is, we can talk about it when you are better."
Su Lang could not bear to rest.
His eyes remained fixed on Lin Zhilan.
Lin Zhilan covered his eyes with her hand. "Sleep. Be good."
Smelling the fragrance of her palm, Su Lang's body finally gave out, and he drifted off into a heavy sleep.
In truth, Lin Zhilan had already figured out the words Su Lang was writing on her hand.
"Zhou Chen."
The original host's husband who had died young.
She obviously was not sure what Su Lang was trying to say, but it likely had nothing to do with this recent incident.
Lin Zhilan did not let him continue.
She did not like this will-leaving atmosphere; it felt like he was giving his final words.
That night, Su Lang began to run a fever.
The doctor on duty gave him more antibiotics, and Lin Zhilan continuously applied physical cooling methods to bring his temperature down.
The high fever spiked again and again, making the entire night a chaotic blur.
Lin Zhilan did not dare close her eyes for a single moment all night.
It was not until 4 a.m., when she was certain the fever would not return, that Lin Zhilan finally let her guard down.
She leaned against the edge of the bed, resting her forehead on Su Lang's arm, and fell asleep without realizing it.
The next morning, it was Su Lang who woke up first.
