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Don't be soft-hearted, Wen Changling.
"We—"
She wanted to say let's break up.
Xie Shang interrupted her, "Changling."
She saw the back of his hand, its pale skin stretched tight from exertion, blue veins clearly visible.
As if possessed, she changed her words, "Let's go to the hospital." The temperature her palm felt was very hot, probably from an infected wound.
Xie Shang had once been fond of skydiving, the long moments of weightlessness followed by the sudden taut pull of the tether, like being reborn after a calamity.
Wen Changling was like that tether.
He finally got a moment to breathe, "No need for a hospital, there's medicine at home."
"Where is the medicine?"
"In the drawer."
Wen Changling went to get the medicine.
There was water on the table; she touched the cup with her finger, it was warm.
"How many pills?"
"Two."
She poured two pills out, took Xie Shang's hand, and placed them in his palm.
He cooperated, swallowing the medicine.
