CEO’s Little Wife 6
What had he been thinking at that moment? Shen Yan felt that he could hardly remember anymore. It seemed he hadn’t thought of anything at all; he had only wanted to get the person to the hospital first.
Perhaps no one but him could know what it felt like when he returned home with a faint sense of anticipation, only to see Qiao Yu like that. Even he couldn’t put it into words.
The boy lying on the hospital bed should have been in the very prime of life, when vitality was at its strongest, but Shen Yan couldn’t see any of that in Qiao Yu.
When he was sleeping or unconscious, Shen Yan couldn’t even tell the difference. That perpetually sickly pale little face was quietly closing its eyes.
There was no vigor in Qiao Yu, no sign of someone who wanted to live or was alive. He was like a lily of the valley in winter, on the verge of freezing to death, fragile and drooping on the branch, swaying precariously.
Even if he fell into the icy snow the next second, it would only freeze the last trace of fragrance before he calmly accepted death.
Very beautiful, but also very painful.
This feeling was like everyone hoping beauty would not vanish so quickly and wanting to keep it forever, while he himself carried a carefree indifference and let himself disappear.
Shen Yan’s hand slowly tightened, then suddenly relaxed the next second. Sure enough, that delicate skin and flesh had left a faint reddish mark on the inside of his wrist.
But Qiao Yu seemed to especially like him. Even when he was in so much pain he was about to pass out, he still remembered to say something to him and nuzzle his chin.
Was this the imprinting complex?
Shen Yan couldn’t figure it out, but he still dutifully tucked him in, then stood up and covered Qiao Yu’s forehead with his broad palm. After confirming that the gastroenteritis hadn’t caused a fever, he reached for the medical cotton swabs on the bedside table.
He moistened one with a little water, then gently rubbed it across Qiao Yu’s lips, trying to keep them moist.
Those bright red, almost decadent lips, even though their owner was sick, still looked as if they had drawn away the blood. Under the ward’s warm yellow light, they were like roses glowing in the setting sun.
After finishing all that, Shen Yan pulled out the chair and sat back down beside Qiao Yu.
He had a lot of work piled up, but he still didn’t feel at ease being too far from Qiao Yu. He could only hunch over and lower his head to process documents on the small bedside table with his computer.
Shen Yan was tall, while hospital beds usually weren’t very high, not to mention the table was much lower than the bed. From a distance, the way Shen Yan bent over actually looked a little wronged.
That evening, Aunt Zhou came by once as well. In her hands was a thermos bucket filled with dinner she had made that night, which she brought to the hospital for Shen Yan, who hadn’t eaten yet.
When Aunt Zhou seemed to want to speak, Shen Yan hurriedly led her out of the ward and shut the door tightly before letting her talk.
“This is all my fault. If I hadn’t given Little Fish ice cream to eat, this wouldn’t have happened.”
Aunt Zhou had been serving the Shen family for decades. She had been working for the Shen family ever since Shen Yan was little, and even after Shen Yan’s parents passed away, she never left.
Shen Yan had always known that Aunt Zhou wasn’t careless; in fact, she was a little too warmhearted, so he didn’t blame her.
“It’s not all your fault. I didn’t make everything clear to you either.”
After all, no one had expected Qiao Yu’s body to be this weak.
“I’ll send you a list of Qiao Yu’s allergens and the things he can’t eat. From now on, don’t let those things appear on the dining table.”
As he spoke, he sent the file to Aunt Zhou on his phone. Seeming to think of something, he added, “And don’t make anything spicy anymore either. He can’t eat that.”
Aunt Zhou stared blankly, then seemed to realize something. She hesitated and opened her mouth. “You like spicy food. I’ll make half spicy, half not.”
Shen Yan thought about it, then still shook his head. “I’m afraid he’ll want to eat it too. Better not make it at all.”
Aunt Zhou nodded, signaling that she understood. When she looked up again, there was a bit of satisfaction and relief in her eyes as she looked at Shen Yan.
“So it really is true that married men are more considerate. You’ve already learned how to care about someone.”
Shen Yan: ?
Pressing his lips together, Shen Yan tapped his phone, signaling for her to look through the instructions a few more times and not spend so much of her energy on whether he knew how to care for someone.
Aunt Zhou smiled and said nothing more. Instead, she took out her phone to look at what Shen Yan had sent her. Who knew that one glance would reveal a dense, long list that was simply shocking.
“May the Bodhisattva bless him. How did this child grow up with so many things he can’t eat?”
The more Aunt Zhou read, the more shocked she became, her face full of disbelief. Not to mention her, even Shen Yan had felt the same way when he first saw it.
Qiao Yu had too many allergens. Just in terms of food, there were more than twenty kinds.
From seafood in the sea to nuts on land, mushrooms, mangoes, peaches, eggs… a long, dense list.
And what gave Shen Yan the biggest headache was that Qiao Yu was even allergic to medicine. Almost all common drugs were within the range of things Qiao Yu couldn’t take.
Such a difficult child to raise, such a troublesome one.
Afraid that something might happen to Qiao Yu, Shen Yan didn’t keep Aunt Zhou long. After a brief exchange, he sent her back and continued to watch Qiao Yu in the ward.
With no appetite, Shen Yan didn’t touch a single bite of the meal Aunt Zhou had brought. He kept sitting by the bed, working while keeping watch over him.
With the faint sound of breathing accompanying him, time passed quickly. The ward didn’t have the main light on; only a weak warm desk lamp by the bedside and Shen Yan’s computer emitted a dim glow.
At 10:05 p.m. Beijing time, Shen Yan gently closed his computer. He had finished all his work. Coincidentally, just as he was about to close his eyes and rest them for a moment, a soft whimper suddenly came to his ears.
Shen Yan, whose eyes had just closed, opened them again at once and quickly got up to lean toward the hospital bed.
Qiao Yu really was awake. His eyelids blinked open a sliver, and through the faint light he saw Shen Yan looming over him. Just as he was about to speak, he found that his voice was a little hoarse.
Unable to speak, Qiao Yu could only painfully point at his throat. Shen Yan understood. He turned around, poured a cup of water from the table into a paper cup, set it on the bedside cabinet, and then reached out to pull up the weak Qiao Yu.
Shen Yan had meant to grab his arm and support him by the shoulders to help him sit up, but along with a crisp cracking sound, the two of them looked at each other in confusion almost at the same time.
Qiao Yu blinked, then realized the sound had come from his waist.
Shen Yan clearly noticed it too. His gaze fell on Qiao Yu’s lower abdomen beneath the loose hospital gown, as if he wanted to see the waist through it.
“Does it hurt?”
A waist usually doesn’t dislocate. The most likely possibility was simply that the joint hadn’t moved for too long, which is why it made that sound, though a misalignment was still not impossible.
Seeing Shen Yan so tense, Qiao Yu tried to feel it, then gently shook his head. Only then did Shen Yan let out a soft breath.
Afraid to pull Qiao Yu’s hand again, terrified that he might accidentally dislocate it, Shen Yan could only lift him into his arms, pressing Qiao Yu’s back against his own chest, then put a straw into the water and feed it to Qiao Yu.