As Jian Yuming began to hum a tune, the atmosphere in the hospital room lightened. His voice was melodious, and when he sang, it resonated with warmth and emotion. He chose sentimental songs, and their soft melodies wrapped around Jian Yiling like a comforting embrace. Although she wasn't particularly musically inclined, she recognized that his singing had a soothing effect, flowing into her heart like a gentle stream.
Once the first song concluded, Jian Yuming smiled and asked, "How was that? Am I good enough to charge for my performance?"
Jian Yiling nodded, her lips curling into a faint smile as she inquired, "How much will it cost?"
Caught off guard by her question, Jian Yuming paused for a moment. He had jokingly suggested a performance fee, never expecting her to take it seriously. In reality, if he were to charge a real fee for his singing, it would easily be in the hundreds of thousands.
Grinning, he replied, "Since you're my little sister, I'll give you a discount. How about 8.88? It's a lucky number, and the price is fair. What do you think?"
With a playful nod, Jian Yiling reached for his phone, wanting to transfer the payment.
"Just relax and don't play with your phone while lying down. You might end up smacking yourself in the face," he cautioned.
After a moment of consideration, he looked at her small face, realizing he couldn't resist her request. Jian Yiling's belongings, including her phone, had been brought to the hospital by the butler shortly after her arrival. She quickly added Jian Yuming as a friend and sent him a red envelope.
When he opened it, a delighted grin spread across his face—it was exactly 8.88, not a cent more or less.
"Alright then, how about I sing a few more songs for you? That way, I can earn a decent amount this morning," he proposed, his enthusiasm infectious.
"Sure," Jian Yiling agreed, her spirits lifted.
Thus began a mini concert in the hospital room, with Jian Yuming serenading his sister. After each song, she would send him another 8.88 red envelope, turning it into a lighthearted game. By the time their grandmother and the butler returned, Jian Yuming had collected five envelopes, totaling 44.4.
The elderly lady and the butler arrived with a plethora of food, including plain congee, but also a variety of snacks that smelled delicious.
"Do you want plain congee or millet congee?" Jian Yuming asked, his brow furrowing in concern as he realized that she would have to choose carefully. For now, she could only have congee; anything else would have to wait until she was well enough to enjoy more substantial meals.
"Millet congee," Jian Yiling decided after a moment's thought.
Once she made her choice, Jian Yuming adjusted her bed slightly higher, then scooped a spoonful of congee, bringing it to her lips.
"I can eat myself," she protested, feeling a bit embarrassed at the idea of being fed.
Having never been in a situation where someone else fed her, she felt awkward.
"What if you drop it and spill everywhere? It'll just create more trouble. Let me feed you; it'll be safer that way," he insisted, his tone leaving no room for argument.
Reluctantly, Jian Yiling accepted his offer and took small bites of the millet congee he offered.
Just as he was feeding her, Jian Shuxiang, Wen Nuan, Jian Yuncheng, and Jian Yunao arrived. They had been notified by their grandmother about Jian Yiling's condition.
Wen Nuan rushed to the bedside, her expression filled with concern as she gazed at her pale little sister. "Xiao Ling, are you feeling any better?"
Her voice trembled, and tears began to form in her eyes as she fought to hold them back.
Jian Shuxiang and Jian Yuncheng stood by the door, both frowning deeply, worry etched on their faces. Jian Yunao was instructed by Jian Yuncheng to wait outside, and he glanced inside, his heart heavy as he took in the scene.
He felt a wave of unease wash over him as he recalled his older brother's earlier words—the tears of their mother, the melancholy in their father's gaze, and the heavy silence that loomed over them all.
Jian Yunao's eyes flitted over to Jian Yiling, lingering momentarily on her ashen face. Though he didn't stop to dwell on it, the sight of her fragile state struck him with an unsettling feeling in his chest.