The charged silence stretched, thick with the unspoken answer he demanded. His brow arched, waiting. When her voice finally came, it was smooth as polished stone, carefully distant: "Of course we worry. You're the most beloved president this nation has seen. Yesterday's news about your possible injury... it weighed heavily on all of us at the office. Everyone felt it."
Bai Yeqing's eyes darkened, the warmth leaching from them. "Is that all?" His voice was cool, probing.
She feigned innocence, smoothly pivoting. "You need rest more than conversation. Drink the congee while it's warm." She offered another spoonful, her gaze deliberately avoiding the intensity of his. "Get well. The people need you."
He searched her face, his gaze shifting like storm clouds, trying to pierce her practiced calm, seeking a crack in the facade. Nothing. His interest waned visibly. Accepting the spoonful, his expression cooled, the brief intimacy shattered completely.
Within her, however, a silent tempest raged. Whose worry truly fills this room? The answer pulsed, undeniable, deep in her core.
...
That afternoon, Dr. Fu Yichen arrived to change the dressings.
Bai Yeqing lay still, asleep once more.
"He burned all night, but the fever broke this morning," Xingchen reported softly, mindful of disturbing him. "He barely ate – only two bowls of congee. Was awake briefly, then slept deeply. Doctor Fu… he is alright, isn't he?"
"Expected, with injuries this severe," Fu Yichen replied, his glance at her perceptive. "I'll need your help with the dressings."
"Of course."
Following his instructions, Xingchen picked up the surgical scissors. She leaned over Bai Yeqing's chest, ready to snip the soiled gauze.
Her hand hadn't descended before his eyes snapped open. Instinctively alert, his gaze locked onto the gleaming scissors near his skin. A faint frown creased his brow. "Problem?" His voice was thick with sleep.
"Dr. Fu is here. Time for fresh dressings," she murmured, her voice instinctively softening. "It might sting."
That unconscious tenderness smoothed the tension from his face. He struggled to lift heavy eyelids. "Give me the scissors. You can wait outside."
"Why? Dr. Fu needs me."
"Go. Now." His hand reached weakly for the scissors, but she was faster, pulling them out of reach.
His frown deepened. Is she exploiting my weakness?
He shot Fu Yichen a look. "Escort her out."
Fu Yichen's gaze flickered between them, a knowing smile touching his lips. "Miss Xia," he explained, deliberately piling on unnecessary details, "the President fears the sight of his wounds may distress you. They are... quite severe. If you're squeamish, please step out. He can assist me." He gestured vaguely at Bai Yeqing's uninjured hand.
Bai Yeqing's glare could have frozen lava. Who asked for the commentary?
Xingchen blinked, surprise flickering across her face. She stole a glance at Bai Yeqing. He was worried about... scaring me? His lack of denial was confirmation enough.
A strange warmth bloomed in her chest. A small, defiant smile touched her lips. "I'm tougher than I look. Besides..." Her gaze swept over his bandaged form. "...he's hardly in any state to play nurse."
Fu Yichen nodded briskly. "Excellent. Your assistance is invaluable."
"..." Bai Yeqing's expression soured. His authority, it seemed, had evaporated before this unlikely alliance.
...
While Fu Yichen prepared the antiseptic solution, Xingchen carefully cut away the gauze on his chest and hand.
Each snip tightened her breath. She'd seen the raw wounds before, but the memory still sent a chill down her spine. Her movements grew increasingly gentle, terrified of causing him more pain.
Bai Yeqing's gaze never left her face, noting the tightness around her eyes and the pallor of her skin. "Don't force yourself," he muttered, his voice low.
"Don't underestimate me." She met his eyes briefly, fierce pride flashing in hers before she returned her focus to the task. "I haven't seen wounds this bad before, true. But I have faced down my own battlefield."
"You?" The question was idle, but his gaze lingered on her concentrated profile, finding it unexpectedly compelling. "What battlefield?"
"When I gave birth to Dabai." Her tone was light, almost conversational, a faint smile playing on her lips. "Massive hemorrhage. Flatlined. Doctors handed my father the death notice." She paused, her scissors steady. "Obviously, I clawed my way back. Otherwise, you wouldn't have the pleasure." She looked up again, the ghost of a challenge in her eyes. "So, does that count as a 'big scene'?"
Bai Yeqing's jaw tightened. A muscle leaped in his temple. His face hardened to granite. How can she joke about that?
"Don't look so grim," she chided softly, seeing his reaction. She ducked her head, a strand of hair escaping to veil her cheek. "Alright, bad timing. Sorry."
She bent back to her work. Bai Yeqing watched her, the image suddenly vivid: Xingchen, alone and terrified on an operating table, fighting for her life. Leng Fei's reports had chronicled her struggles, but never this brutal detail. The omission felt like a blow. An unexpected, heavy ache settled deep in his chest.
Almost unconsciously, his uninjured hand lifted. His fingers brushed against her cheek, tucking the stray strand tenderly behind her ear.
The touch, light as a feather grazing her skin, sent a jolt through Xingchen. Her breath hitched. She looked up, startled, meeting a look in his eyes that was startlingly complex – a storm of unspoken emotions swirling in those dark depths. Her heart stuttered.
Flustered, she smoothed the hair again herself, avoiding his gaze as she silently resumed cutting. Yet, his expression burned in her mind.
What was that look? What does it mean?
Fu Yichen observed the entire exchange from his sterile tray. A slow, knowing smile spread across his face. Having served alongside Bai Yeqing since their military academy days, this was new territory. The President was unraveling. The spark was undeniable...
But the chasm of status between them? A bridge too far. Impossible.
...
Finally, the last strip of gauze fell away. The raw, angry wounds lay exposed. Even braced, Xingchen flinched, forcing her eyes away after one harrowing glance. The sheer brutality of it stole her breath. How much pain is he enduring? Right now?
Fu Yichen's expression was grave. "The antiseptic is potent. This will hurt."
"Just get it done," Bai Yeqing ground out, bracing himself.
Fu Yichen nodded. He began applying the solution directly to the inflamed tissue.
Instantly, Bai Yeqing's free hand shot out, clawing into the mattress. Excruciating pain locked his jaw, draining every drop of color from his face. Beads of sweat bloomed across his brow and upper lip. Yet, not a sound escaped him – only the ragged hiss of breath sucked through clenched teeth and the white-knuckled grip on the sheets.
Watching, Xingchen felt her own heart twist into a knot of helpless agony.