At Oakwood Hospital
A broken man sat on a steel bench outside the operating theater, his clothes stained with blood, his red eyes swollen from misery and tears. His hands trembled, numb with fear and helplessness. It was as if life had been drained from him, leaving only a shell of who he once was.
This man was Zi Haoran.
Shen Mu sat a few seats away, equally troubled, unsure of what to say to comfort his boss. He could see how deeply shaken Zi Haoran was, but words felt empty in the face of such despair. After a moment, Shen Mu tried, "She'll be alive… She's strong."
But there was no response. Haoran remained listless, staring straight ahead, frozen in his grief. His mind had replayed the scene of Han Xue's battered body far too many times to count. Her blood, her injuries—all to protect him.
At that moment, the sound of hurried footsteps broke the silence as Han Xue's parents rushed into the hospital. Han Zihan, her father, and Mo Lihua, her mother, looked frantic with worry. Mo Lihua, in particular, was tearful, her eyes swollen with fear for her daughter's life. The sight of Zi Haoran, covered in blood, made her heart skip a beat.
She approached him immediately, kneeling beside him, her voice trembling. "Haoran... What happened to her?" she asked, her hands gripping his bloodied ones. "Is this her blood?"
Her questions came in quick succession, each one laced with rising panic. "She's not hurt badly, right?"
Zi Haoran looked up at her with empty eyes, his face devoid of hope. Mo Lihua's heart shattered further as she saw the truth in his gaze—Han Xue's injuries were severe. Tears streamed down her face uncontrollably. Han Zihan tried to console his wife, pulling her into his arms, but her grief was too great.
She turned back to Zi Haoran, her voice rising in desperation, "Who wants to kill her? Tell me!"
"Why is she the only one hurt?"
"Where were you?! What were you doing when she got hurt?"
Each word pierced Haoran's heart, making him curse himself.
What was he doing?
Where was he when she was being wounded,
when she needed him the most?
The guilt and self-loathing gnawed at him, his mind spiraling into a pit of regret.
Before he could say anything, the light outside the operating theater flickered off, signaling the end of the surgery. The door opened, and the doctors emerged. Zi Haoran rose from his seat, numb and unsteady.
Dr. Zheng approached, his face somber. "Mr. Zi, the surgery went well," he began cautiously. "She has two fractures in her arms, one in her clavicle, and one in her foot… she'll recover physically."
Haoran stood there, shaking, waiting for the inevitable "but."
The doctor hesitated, then added, "But she's gone into a coma. Her head injury was more severe than we initially thought. We don't know how long she'll be unconscious… it could be days, weeks, or even months."
Haoran's world shattered. The room felt like it was closing in on him as the words hit him like a physical blow. His legs gave way beneath him, and he stumbled back into the bench, his mind blank with terror. Han Xue's motionless body was wheeled out of the operating room, her face bruised, barely recognizable, her hand resting on her side—the same hand that wore her wedding ring.
Zi Haoran's eyes locked onto the ring, and for the first time in a long while, he felt tears stream down his face. He watched, frozen, as her body was taken away, his world crumbling before his eyes.
Nothing else mattered—neither the Zi family, nor his grandfather. It all faded into the background. All he could think of was Han Xue—the fearless woman who had thrown herself into the path of danger to protect him, the woman who had confessed her love for him with her dying breath.
Each cell in his body ached with regret, with sorrow. She had loved him, even when he had never believed in her, never trusted her. And now she was lying in a hospital bed, suspended between life and death, because of him.
Haoran could only think of the woman who had been bold and brave enough to shield his car from the truck's wrath. He felt as though his heart had been ripped from his chest, and all he could do was sit there, drowning in the pain of knowing he might never hear her voice again.
At Zi Mansion
Kang Manchu and Liam stood in the grand hall of the Zi Mansion, their posture radiating smug satisfaction. They had finally succeeded in their years-long plan to dismantle the Zi family, and the weight of victory was intoxicating. Surrounded by subdued family members and loyal men, the two dictators of the chaos felt unbeatable.
Kang Manchu leaned back, a sinister grin playing on his face as he admired the web of manipulation he had spun, every piece falling into place. Liam stood beside him, basking in the glow of their success.
It was at that moment that one of their men called, his voice crackling over the phone. "Sir, the crash was successful. Both the Volkswagen and Corolla guarding Zi Haoran's Ghost were destroyed, and the bodyguards' car was taken out as well."
A satisfied smirk spread across Kang Manchu's face. He exchanged a look with Liam, nodding in approval. But before either of them could celebrate, the man on the other end of the line hesitated, his tone shifting.
"However... Sir, Zi Haoran's body... it's not there. Neither is his car."
The words hit like a thunderclap, and the smugness evaporated from the room. Kang Manchu's grin faltered, his face hardening as the reality of the situation set in. Liam's expression mirrored his father's, shock and confusion darkening his features.
"What do you mean his body isn't there?" Kang Manchu barked, his voice sharp. "We saw to it that no one would survive that crash."
"Sir, I don't know how, but the Rolls-Royce isn't at the crash site. We've searched everywhere."
Liam clenched his fists, anger surging through him. "Impossible. He should have been there. How could he escape?"
Kang Manchu, his mind racing, narrowed his eyes in suspicion. "So... Zi Haoran lives." His voice was low, dangerous. The triumph he had felt moments ago now tasted bitter, and the realization that their plan had not gone as flawlessly as they thought was unsettling.
The call ended, and for the first time, a sliver of doubt crept into the minds of the father and son duo. They thought they had won, but Haoran's survival was a loose thread, one that could unravel everything they had worked for.
The room, once filled with their confidence and control, now simmered with unease.
They both looked at each other.
It must be her!
[===o===o===]
WDD Mini Series: "Help, I'm in a Novel!"
( A hilariously chaotic series of banter where the characters double as their own story's spectators, breaking the fourth wall with mischievous humor, exaggerated emotions, and side-splitting commentary about their tangled, dramatic lives. )
Title: "Karma's a Truck (ಠ_ಠ)"
ZH:
"Wifey, you jumped in front of a truck for me! What kind of lunatic does that?! (⊙_☉)"
HX (imagined):
"The kind who doesn't trust you to save yourself. Hmph. (¬‿¬)"
ZH:
"Trust?! You're in a COMA! How is this better?! (╥_╥)"
HX (imagined):
"Better than you crying over spilled tea like last time… Be grateful. (¬_¬)"
ZH:
"GRATEFUL?! Wifey, I'll tie your soul to mine for eternity if you don't wake up! (ノಥ益ಥ)ノ"
[===o===o===]