When Lu Wenchuan woke, the first thing he heard was the sound of medical equipment.
Beat after beat, pulsing against his eardrums.
He opened his eyes to the white lights of the Medical Room at Headquarters. The lights had been dimmed, and a curtain was drawn halfway around the bed. The air smelled of disinfectant, with a faint trace of blood.
A Fixator held his right wrist down, thick gauze wrapped his shoulder, and monitoring pads were attached to his chest. Every breath felt like a dull knife scraping between his ribs. Lu Wenchuan stared at the ceiling for a few seconds, then moved his fingers.
A very soft sound came from beside the bed.
Xu Zhihan sat there.
He wore a black jacket with the sleeves rolled to his wrists, and his hands were bandaged too. Only half of his Silver Nameplate remained, resting against his palm with a thin chain wound around it. The edges of that half were badly cracked, and only the character "Han" remained on it.
Lu Wenchuan turned his head toward him, his voice impossibly hoarse.
"You didn't sleep?"
Xu Zhihan looked up.
"You woke up, and your first words were a pointless question?"
Lu Wenchuan gave a faint laugh, and the pain in his chest immediately made him frown.
Xu Zhihan's expression darkened.
"Don't laugh."
"So strict."
"Too strict for you?"
Lu Wenchuan looked at him, his voice dropping.
"No."
Xu Zhihan said nothing. He rose to pour some water, dipped a cotton swab into it, and touched it to Lu Wenchuan's cracked lips. His movements were gentle, but his expression was cold.
Lu Wenchuan watched his hand.
"Your hand's hurt too."
Xu Zhihan set the cup back down.
"Better off than you."
"That's good, then."
Xu Zhihan's gaze turned icy.
"Lu Wenchuan,