Recalling the past, Qiguan Yuan unknowingly fell asleep in the tree.
His head rested on his clasped hands, and his long silver hair hung down from the branches, the ends swaying gently in the wind.
A red robe lay spread out on the brown tree trunk, its hem hanging down, rising and falling slightly with the rhythm of breathing.
It resembles a painting of a hermit living in seclusion.
Even the idle staff and viewers in the live stream couldn't help but spare a bit of attention for him, carefully admiring the person in the tree.
Pei Yubai moved a chair under the tree, with the back of the chair facing the trunk. He straddled the chair, holding the script in his hand.
The script was turned to Act 3, and there were many pencil marks next to the lines.
He looked down, his gaze moving from one line to the next, occasionally pausing to write a few words in the blank space.
His fingers were long and slender, and he held the pencil with perfect posture, making almost no sound as the pencil tip moved across the paper.
People were moving around in the warehouse; prop masters were tidying up shelves, stagehands were moving boxes, and lighting technicians were adjusting equipment.
No one looked towards the camphor tree, and no one made any noise, all afraid of disturbing the people sleeping in the tree.
Pei Yubai turned a page, his pencil making a soft scratch on the paper.
He looked up and glanced at the tree.
Qiguan Yuan was still asleep, and his posture hadn't changed much.
When Qiguan Yuan woke up, the sunlight had already moved to the other side of the tree.
His eyelashes fluttered, and he opened his eyes to see the branches and leaves of the camphor tree and the gray-blue sky above.
He tilted his head and saw the chair under the tree and the person sitting on it.
Pei Yubai sat in a chair, one leg bent with his foot resting on the chair's crossbar, the other leg stretched out straight. The script lay open on his lap, his fingers held between the pages as he read.
Very serious.
Qiguan Yuan stared at him for a few seconds, then bent his leg, pushed off the branch with his toes, and tumbled down from the tree.
His red robes billowed in the wind, his silver hair rose and fell, and his body spun halfway through the air, toes pointing downwards, like a red leaf blown away by the wind.
Pei Yubai did not look up.
He removed his fingers from the script, closed it, and placed it on the back of his chair. As if sensing something, he quickly stood up and reached out to catch Qiguan Yuan.
The action was swift, almost as if they knew in advance that Qiguan Yuan would fall at this moment.
He supported Qiguan Yuan's knees with one hand and wrapped his other arm around his waist, Qiguan Yuan to fall into his embrace, his silver hair entwined around his arm.
Qiguan Yuan leaned against Pei Yubai's collarbone, his voice hoarse from just waking up, muffled. " Pei Yubai, I don't want to move."
Pei Yubai tightened his grip on the back of his legs, and sat down again with him in his arms. "Then let's not move."
Pei Yubai put one arm around his waist and reached for the script on the back of the chair with the other.
The script slipped, Qiguan Yuan reached out to take it from him and hand it to him.
Pei Yubai took the script, turned to the page he had just been looking at, and continued reading.
Qiguan Yuan leaned against him, her silver hair cascading over Pei Yubai's chest.
He reached out and plucked a small tuft of his hair, gently sliding the end of the hair against Pei Yubai's apple.
Pei Yubai's apple bobbed slightly, Qiguan Yuan's fingers stopped, the ends of his hair still resting on the protruding bone.
It causes a slight itch.
However, Pei Yubai still tolerated Qiguan Yuan's actions.
"Is Chenchen's surgery tomorrow?" Qiguan Yuan asked.
Pei Yubai turned a page of the script. "Hmm. Nine o'clock in the morning."
Qiguan Yuan pulled the strand of hair away from Pei Yubai's apple. "I'll go with him tomorrow. I promised him."
Pei Yubai's finger paused on the paper for a moment, then he continued writing, "Okay, I'll have my assistant send it to you tomorrow."
Qiguan Yuan looked at his profile, while Pei Yubai's gaze was fixed on the script, his chin taut and his lips slightly pursed.
Qiguan Yuan reached out and poked Pei Yubai's cheek with his finger. Pei Yubai didn't flinch. "After you finish filming, will you come pick me up?"
Pei Yubai readily agreed, "Okay."
Qiguan Yuan withdrew his hand, leaned on his shoulder, and closed his eyes.
The next morning, the assistant drove Qiguan Yuan to the hospital.
Qiguan Yuan wore a dark red robe, and his silver hair was loose, reaching down to his waist.
When he got out of the car, people at the hospital entrance were all looking at him.
Some people stopped, some turned around, and some took a picture of him with their phones.
She still manages to catch everyone's eye wherever she goes.
Qiguan Yuan walked into the hospital gate.
As soon as I stepped inside, a crying sound came from the direction of the payment area.
It was a young woman kneeling on the ground, clutching a stack of receipts in her hand, the edges of which were crumpled from her grip.
Her face was buried in her arms, her shoulders were shaking, and her sobs were muffled, but everyone in the hallway could hear them.
An old man stood before her, his hair completely white, his back slightly hunched, carrying a cloth bag in one hand, the strap of which was broken, which he clutched with his other hand.
The old man's lips were moving, but he was speaking too softly to hear clearly.
Qiguan Yuan walked past the payment area, the hem of his red coat brushing against the ground with a soft rustling sound.
The woman kneeling on the ground raised her head, her eyes red and swollen, tears clinging to her eyelashes.
She saw a flash of red pass by, but couldn't make out who it was, only seeing silver hair and a red hem.
Instinctively, she reached out and her fingers grabbed Qiguan Yuan's hem.
Qiguan Yuan stopped and looked down at her.
The girl tilted her head back, tears welling up in her eyes and streaming down her cheeks, dripping onto her hands.
She opened her mouth, but her voice was so hoarse she could barely make a sound. She hadn't realized how rude she'd been, and quickly said, "I'm sorry."
She loosened her grip on Qiguan Yuan's clothes, and slowly withdrew her fingers.
Qiguan Yuan looked at her for a few seconds. "It's nothing."
He turned and walked away.
The woman squatted down, watching his figure disappear around the corner of the corridor.
She sniffed and wiped the tears from her face with the back of her hand.
She stood up from the ground, her knees red from kneeling, and pulled her trouser legs down to cover them.
Clutching the stack of receipts, she took a deep breath and was about to walk toward the payment window when a middle-aged woman ran over from the other end of the corridor. Her face was covered in sweat, but her eyes were shining with obvious joy.
" Yanyan! Xiaohai is saved! A suitable kidney donor has been found! The hospital just called to say it's a match!"
The receipt in Yanyan's hand fell to the ground, but she didn't pick it up.
Her mouth gaped open, stunned for a moment by the news, then overjoyed—her lover wasn't going to die?
She turned around and ran towards the ward. After a few steps, her shoelaces came undone, but she didn't tie them and kept running.
As she ran past the corner of the corridor, a flash of red caught her eye, but she didn't stop.
He brushed past Qiguan Yuan.
Qiguan Yuan and his assistant walked to the ward and stood at the door of Chenchen's ward. Chenchen was sitting on the bed, still clutching the golden feather in his hand.
The feathers shimmered in the sunlight. Seeing Qiguan Yuan, his eyes lit up. "Brother, you've come!"
Qiguan Yuan entered the ward and sat down on the edge of the bed.
Chenchen held the feather up to him. "Brother, this feather glows, even at night. When I can't sleep at night, I look at it, and then I fall asleep."
Qiguan Yuan took the feather, glanced at it, and then handed it back to him. "Keep it safe if you like it."
Chenchen placed the feather next to the pillow and then pulled out a piece of drawing paper from under the pillow.
There's a person drawn on the paper with crayons. They're wearing red clothes and have long, white hair that reaches their waist.
The face is a circle, with two dots inside the circle for the eyes and an arc for the mouth.
Chenchen held up the drawing paper in front of Qiguan Yuan: "Brother, does the drawing of you look like me?"
Qiguan Yuan looked at the drawing for a while, then chuckled at the little figure's rather adorable style, "It's lifelike, very beautiful."
Chenchen smiled, revealing his front teeth. He folded the drawing paper and stuffed it into Qiguan Yuan's hand. "For my brother."
The nurse pushed open the door and came in, holding a document in her hand.
She glanced at Qiguan Yuan, then at Chenchen: " Yang Zichen, it's time to go to the operating room."
Chenchen put down the feather in her hand, climbed off the bed, and put on her slippers.
His slippers were blue and had little dinosaur patterns printed on them.
His assistant specifically chose it for him.
He took two steps, then looked back at Qiguan Yuan, Qiguan Yuan reached out and touched his bald head.
Qiguan Yuan's fingers slid from the top of his head to his wrist, took out a red rope from his sleeve, wrapped it around his wrist, and tied a knot.
The nurse glanced at the red string on Chenchen's wrist, opened her mouth as if to say that jewelry was not allowed in the operating room.
Chenchen looked up at her, his eyes round and his eyelashes long, fluttering up and down. "Sister, can I wear it? This is the second gift my brother gave me, and I really like it."
The nurse shut her mouth; it was just a red thread, it wouldn't hurt to wear it.
She pushed Chenchen toward the operating room.
Chenchen took a few steps, then turned back to look at Qiguan Yuan: "Brother, wait for me to come out."
Qiguan Yuan stood at the door of the ward, looking at him. "Okay. You'll be out soon. The gods will protect you, my cute little one."
Chenchen was wheeled into the operating room, the door closed, and the red light on the door turned on.
Qiguan Yuan stood in the corridor, looking at the red light for a few seconds, then casually leaned against the wall, waiting for the surgery to end.
The assistant waited nervously beside him.
The lights in the operating room were very bright.
Chenchen lay on the operating table, covered with a green surgical drape.
The red string was still tied around his wrist. When the nurse covered him with the surgical drape, she deliberately and discreetly stuck her hand out, leaving the red string exposed.
The anesthesiologist put a mask over Chenchen's face and gently asked him to count.
When Chenchen counted to three, he closed his eyes.
The surgery began.
The surgeon's hands were steady; he twirled the instruments in his hand and handed them to his assistant.
The numbers on the monitor were fluctuating: blood pressure, heart rate, and blood oxygen saturation were all normal.
No one spoke in the operating room; only the sounds of instruments clattering and monitors beeping filled the room.
Everything was going smoothly until halfway through the stitching, when the monitor suddenly emitted a sharp alarm.
My heart rate is dropping, down to fifty, down to forty. My blood pressure is also dropping, down to sixty, down to fifty.
The surgeon paused for a moment, but not for long.
"Inject adrenaline." The assistant handed over the syringe, which the surgeon took and injected into Chenchen's vein.
The numbers on the monitor weren't going up; they were still dropping.
My heart rate dropped to 30 and my blood pressure dropped to 40. The surgeon frowned and started administering the medication again.
The monitor's alarm grew increasingly shrill, reaching the ears of everyone in the operating room.
Some people were pushing the ambulance, while others were adjusting the IV drip rate. The atmosphere was tense, but everyone remained calm and meticulous in performing their duties.
The surgeon didn't stop; his hands were still moving, but the numbers on the monitor were dropping, falling to twenty.
Chenchen felt like she was dreaming.
He stood in a vast expanse of white fog, unable to see ahead or behind.
He called out "Mom," but no one answered.
He called out "Dad," but no one answered.
He walked forward with his head down, and after a long time, the fog slowly dissipated.
There were two people standing in front, a man and a woman. The woman was wearing a white dress and had long hair that fell over her shoulders. The man was wearing a dark coat and was very tall.
Chenchen recognized them as his parents, and he ran towards them.
His feet sank silently onto the soft ground.
The woman knelt down, opened her arms, and hugged him.
Chenchen buried his face in the woman's neck and smelled his mother's scent—the fragrance of laundry detergent and a hint of sun-dried air.
The man's hand rested on his back; the hand was large, the fingers were long, and the palm was warm.
Chenchen lifted his head from the woman's arms and looked at them. "Mom and Dad, have you come to pick up Chenchen?"
The woman didn't answer, and the man gently patted her back with his fingers.
For some reason, Chenchen suddenly looked down at her wrist.
A red string was tied around his wrist, the other end of which extended outwards, through the white fog, and into a place he could no longer see.
He tugged at the red rope, and it taut. There was a force on the other side pulling him back.
The woman let go of him, and the man let go of her hand as well.
The two people stood in the fog, looking at him, without saying a word.
Chenchen took a step forward, but the red rope pulled him back.
Chenchen looked up and could vaguely see a red figure walking towards him from the depths of the white mist, its silver hair seemingly glowing in the fog.
The hand was touching his head, its fingers piercing through the mist and landing on his scalp.
Chenchen turned around, and his parents were still standing there, not having left.
He looked at them for a while, then looked down at the red string on his wrist.
The other end of the red rope was pulled again, this time with more force than before.
Chenchen raised his hand and stretched it out towards his parents.
He didn't touch them. The fog grew thicker and thicker, and his parents' figures faded into the white mist.
Chenchen lowered his hand, turned around, and walked back in the direction of the red rope, puzzled.
He took a few steps, looked back, and there was nothing in the fog.
The heart rate on the monitor began to rise.
The surgeon's hands didn't stop; he continued the operation.
The assistant handed him the gauze, which he took and wiped the sweat from his forehead.
The monitor's alarm stopped.
The surgeon calmly said, "Continue," and everyone sprang into action.
After the surgeon finished stitching the last stitch, he handed the instruments to his assistant, took off his gloves, and threw them into the trash can. "Surgery successful. Observe for 24 hours."