Ying Mao suggested they take a walk for some fresh air, but getting Jua Gu into the wheelchair proved to be more difficult than expected.
"Hold still, will you?" Ying grumbled, trying to adjust the footrests and get Jua settled properly. He leaned forward, using all his strength to help him shift into the seat.
"You call this helping?" Jua teased, wincing slightly as Ying tugged at his arm.
"Hey, I don't do this every day, okay?" Ying Mao shot back, his small hands trembling slightly as he tried to keep Jua steady. He was clearly struggling, sweat beading at his forehead. But he refused to ask for help—his stubbornness wouldn't allow it.
Jua chuckled softly. "At this rate, I might be safer crawling out of here."
"Very funny," Ying muttered, but his face was flushed from the effort. He gave one final push, and Jua finally settled into the wheelchair with a soft thud. For a moment, Ying Mao paused, catching his breath.
Their eyes met, unexpectedly locking in that brief silence. Jua was about to say something lighthearted, but the words caught in his throat. It was as if time slowed—Ying's dark eyes seemed so familiar, a spark of recognition igniting something deep within Jua's chest. Those eyes reminded him of someone… of the man who once pursued him, intent on his death. It was uncanny how similar they were.
Ying Mao's face, youthful but hardened by experience, showed no sign of the burden that haunted Jua's thoughts. But something lingered in his gaze—curiosity? Concern?
Jua's heart thudded in his chest.
"You sure you got this? I'd hate to crash into something," Jua teased, already feeling the wobble in the push.
"I've got it under control," Ying Mao shot back, puffing up his chest, trying to seem more confident than he really was.
As they navigated out of the room, Jua let out a chuckle. "You know, for someone as tough as you, I didn't expect you'd have trouble with a simple wheelchair."
Ying Mao rolled his eyes. "I'm not struggling. You're just too heavy for a 'kid' to push around."
"Oh really?" Jua Gu leaned back slightly, adding to the weight on purpose. The wheelchair veered off course, bumping into a nearby wall with a soft thud.
"Ugh," Jua groaned, but couldn't help the grin on his face. "Are you trying to kill me already?"
Ying Mao flushed, his small hands gripping the wheelchair handles tighter. "I swear, if I could wheel you off the nearest cliff right now, I would," he huffed, but the playful tone in his voice was clear.
"Well, at least warn me before you go pushing me overboard," Jua smirked. But seeing the struggle Ying Mao was going through, he sighed, "Maybe we should get some help before you send me to an early grave."
Ying Mao hesitated for a moment, clearly battling his pride, but finally gave in and waved over a passing nurse. "Fine, fine. You win this time."
The nurse, with an amused smile, took over, expertly guiding the wheelchair out into the hospital garden. As they reached a sunny spot, she excused herself to take a phone call, leaving the two of them alone.
Jua Gu leaned back, taking in the fresh air, the soft rustling of the trees a peaceful contrast to the sterile hospital walls inside. Ying Mao stood beside him, gazing at his pale face with a mix of curiosity and something deeper.
"You're staring," Jua said, half-joking, breaking the silence.
"Yeah, and?"
Jua chuckled again. "Maybe you're the one with the perverted hobbies now, huh? First accusing me of reading inappropriate books, and now this?"
Ying Mao made a face. "Please. If I wanted to look at someone, it wouldn't be you."
"Ouch," Jua laughed. "You wound me, truly."
They fell into a brief, comfortable silence, but Ying Mao's expression grew more serious. He shifted awkwardly before finally blurting out the question that had been gnawing at him.
"Did my brother try to kill me?"
Jua Gu's smile faded. The playfulness of their banter disappeared as the weight of the question settled between them. He sighed, looking away from the younger boy.
"Ying Mao... why do you ask?"