Some students had already rushed toward the office, shouting for the teacher.
I quickly wriggled out of his arms and anxiously went to check his injuries.
I wasn't hurt, but Chu Qingci had hit his forehead, and blood was flowing out rapidly; his leg seemed to be twisted as well.
Seeing this, I wasn't the only one in a panic—when the teacher arrived, even he looked shaken.
He first asked if I was okay. After I shook my head, I turned to look at the now-standing Chu Qingci.
When the teacher saw that blood was still pouring from his forehead, he considered calling an ambulance to take him to the hospital for a check-up.
But Chu Qingci refused, insisting he only needed to go to the infirmary.
The teacher immediately called a few classmates to accompany him to the infirmary, and I followed behind.
Fortunately, the school nurse examined him and said there was no serious harm. The scrape on his forehead was deep but not life-threatening, though he would need to rest and change the dressing regularly.
His ankle was twisted as well, likely requiring a few days of rest. He could walk, but it would hurt.
Relieved that the situation wasn't severe, the teacher quietly sighed with relief.
He gave Chu Qingci some words of comfort before leaving, reminding me to rest as well.
Chu Qingci lay on the bed, and the nurse had already left. There was a thin veil separating us from the outside, and I sat quietly beside him.
He gazed out the window, calm and silent.
"Chu Qingci, do you need to rest at home for the next few days?"
He turned to look at me. The soft sunlight bathed his face, giving him a warm, gentle glow. His amber eyes, when they locked with mine, seemed like a whirlpool, pulling me in deeper, making me feel as though I could drown in them.
His gaze was soft, but I could sense that he wasn't quite the same as before.
"No need," he replied.
In the warm, gentle atmosphere, his words sounded particularly lonely.
I knew that the original Chu Qingci had returned, but in my heart, it felt as though a part of me had been hollowed out, leaving an emptiness that gnawed at me, making me constantly uneasy.
A sense of melancholy rose within me, one so sharp it seemed embedded in my eyes, difficult to dispel.
He simply watched me, noticing the unhidden sorrow in my gaze.
He softly inquired,
"What's wrong, Shen Jia? You don't seem well." With that, his cool fingers brushed my forehead, perhaps checking if I had a fever, thinking that might explain my current state.
I gently took his hand away.
"I'm fine."
I smiled at him, and in that moment, the cloud of gloom lifted from my eyes.
Seeing me like this, he didn't ask further.
The bell rang, signaling the start of class. Our situation had already been reported to the head teacher by the other teachers.
I helped Chu Qingci slowly climb the stairs.
When we reached the classroom door, the head teacher came out quickly.
He took hold of Chu Qingci's arm and, after a few words of concern and learning that nothing was seriously wrong, asked a few students to help him to his seat.
Chu Qingci didn't agree, instead walking slowly toward his seat. I didn't let go of his arm, staying by his side.
The desks were a bit cramped, so he walked ahead, then suddenly reached out and grasped my hand, leading me forward.
Though the teacher didn't notice, a few students did. They looked surprised but didn't make any remarks.
When we reached my desk, he let go of my hand and walked to his own seat.
After class in the afternoon, as usual, he waited for me, as if nothing had happened.
Because of his injured ankle, our pace was slow.
While walking, he suddenly spoke in a low voice.
"Shen Jia, I haven't contacted you much lately because I was busy moving." I responded,
"Did you move to the old house on Yunhai Road?"
We stepped on fallen branches from the trees, and the crunching sounds beneath our feet were the only noise.
"Yes," his voice sounded particularly cold in the quiet atmosphere.
"Well, that's not too far from my house."
After a pause, I asked,
"Does this mean you've completely cut ties with your foster father?" I wasn't sure about his current relationship with him, as we hadn't been in touch for a while.
His gaze darkened.
"He hasn't gotten the house, so how could he possibly sever ties with me?"
His tone became somewhat distant.
Whenever we discussed his foster father, he always seemed off, so I rarely asked.
When the bus arrived, we got on, sitting side by side instead of front and back like usual.
The scenery on the way was beautiful, and we quietly watched as the sunset slowly dipped into the western sky.
As we approached Yunhai Road, Chu Qingci spoke again,
"Shen Jia, do you want to come to my house?"
It was still early, and my parents were relatively lenient with me, so it would be easy to tell them.
I nodded and agreed.