Xu Yue burst into the nurse's office, the sterile scent of antiseptic biting at her nostrils – a harsh contrast to the fear still pounding in her chest.
The startled nurse barely had time to react. Seeing Li Miao's limp form cradled in Xu Yue's arms, the woman's expression shifted to practiced urgency.
"Lay her down, quickly!" The command cut through Xu Yue's haze of worry.
She gently lowered Li Miao onto the narrow bed, hands trembling despite her relief that they'd reached help. The nurse's touch was efficient, fingers brushing against Li Miao's pale cheek, checking her pulse. Then, the diagnosis:
"Simple exhaustion. Overwork and lack of sleep." The words should have been soothing, a promise of an easy fix.
Instead, a crushing wave of self-blame washed over Xu Yue. Tears welled up, blurring the sudden harshness of the medical room. With shaking hands, she covered her face. Didn’t she see the signs?
If only I stopped her...
Xu Yue felt she had deja vu as she sat beside Li Miao’s bedside.
She was waiting for the little cat to wake up.
Her heart throbbed with a dull ache, a constant companion mirroring the worry that tightened her chest. She watched Li Miao's sleeping face. Every frown and twitch was a fresh needle stabbing into her heart.
Her fingertips traced the curve of Li Miao's cheek, her hand cool against fever-warmed skin. Li Miao's knotted brow smoothed, her breaths softening as if guided by an unseen rhythm.
A sigh escaped Xu Yue's lips, a fragile sound in the stark room. Relief lapped at her apprehension, and her lips tilted into a bittersweet smile. Even now, her presence offered a sliver of comfort.
This little cat… why does my heart move for her so much?
Time stretched into an endless waiting game until Li Miao's eyelids finally fluttered. Confusion clouded her eyes, sharpening instantly upon recognizing Xu Yue. She bolted upright, the sudden action sending a renewed unease through Xu Yue. A flush bloomed across Li Miao's cheeks, mirroring her rising disorientation.
“W-What are we doing here? What about the rehearsal?” Li Miao's voice echoed weakly, confusion muddying her gaze as she took in her surroundings in the nurse's office.
“You collapsed from overwork,” Xu Yue said, her words clipped, concern warring with a hint of exasperation.
“Oh… was that all?” Li Miao's dismissive reply struck a sharp note against the sterile white walls. It was as if her exhaustion had become so normal it no longer warranted alarm.
Xu Yue's grip on Li Miao's hand tightened with a mix of frustration and fear. “That’s all? Why did you push yourself like this?” she said, voice strained.
Li Miao flinched, a flicker of pain shooting across her face. Xu Yue eased her grip, guilt stabbing through her.
Li Miao dropped her gaze, a shadow crossing her brow. “I… don’t know what you mean,” she murmured, barely a breath.
“You always sacrifice yourself without even a second thought! Like this time and the time before!” Xu Yue's words rang with urgency, tears prickling her eyes.
Li Miao stared back, startled by the intensity in Xu Yue's usually composed features.
“It’s okay if it’s me…”
Xu Yue's tears broke free, a sob catching in her throat. “How could it be okay? Do you think anyone's happiness could be worth watching you break yourself like this?”
Li Miao averted her eyes, a touch of old sorrow seeping into her expression.
“Who would care about someone like me?”
Xu Yue's grip tightened once more.
“I care! If no one else in the world does, then it'll be me! So please…”
Xu Yue’s tears spilled onto their clasped hands. Each drop a plea heavy with emotion.
The sight of Xu Yue's raw distress jolted something within Li Miao. She gently wiped Xu Yue's cheeks, her own sorrow momentarily eclipsed by concern.
“Xu Yue, I always seem to make you cry… I’m sorry.”
“If you’re really sorry, then please… take care of yourself…” The whispered plea vibrated with unwavering sincerity.
“Okay… I’ll try,” Li Miao's voice softened.
They clung to each other, silence filling the space between them.
Finally, Xu Yue's tears receded, leaving a flicker of determination in their wake. “Why are you working so hard right now? This isn’t like you.” Xu Yue knew Li Miao rarely chose effort over indifference.
“I… really like the lantern festival,” Li Miao admitted, her voice a fragile thread, spun with bittersweet nostalgia.
“Xu Yue, did you know? They say the lanterns guide spirits...to their final rest."
Li Miao's gaze drifted away, caught by a flickering dance of shadows. Images danced before her closed eyes: her parents wreathed in warmth, then swallowed by ravenous flames. A revolving door of kind faces, each a fleeting refuge before misfortune swept them away again.
Beneath it all throbbed a quiet plea for the original Li Miao, a girl lost to time. If these lanterns could truly guide spirits, perhaps hers would find solace too.
"I... caused so much pain to those around me, over and over again…" Li Miao whispered, the confession thick with remorse.
Xu Yue's only response was to tighten her grip, a wordless vow of solidarity and unwavering support.
"Even though I'm normally scared of fire, watching the lanterns float away on the water makes me feel like I've done my best..." Li Miao's gaze drifted to the horizon, where the sun barely made its presence known, casting a gentle light on her features.
"Each lantern, with its small flame, felt like a beacon of hope for me. In the festival that welcomes spring, it's a symbol of new beginnings, of possibilities that await us in the year ahead, well… or so they say." Li Miao mused, her voice trailing off.
"I've always dreamed of a fresh start, one that's as serene and hopeful as those lanterns on the water."
Xu Yue was at a loss for words, her attention fixed on Li Miao, who now seemed to embody the tranquility of the setting sun. They shared a quiet moment, a pause in time, until the day's last light vanished, leaving them in the comforting embrace of dusk.
Xu Yue burst into the nurse's office, the sterile scent of antiseptic biting at her nostrils – a harsh contrast to the fear still pounding in her chest.
The startled nurse barely had time to react. Seeing Li Miao's limp form cradled in Xu Yue's arms, the woman's expression shifted to practiced urgency.
"Lay her down, quickly!" The command cut through Xu Yue's haze of worry.
She gently lowered Li Miao onto the narrow bed, hands trembling despite her relief that they'd reached help. The nurse's touch was efficient, fingers brushing against Li Miao's pale cheek, checking her pulse. Then, the diagnosis:
"Simple exhaustion. Overwork and lack of sleep." The words should have been soothing, a promise of an easy fix.
Instead, a crushing wave of self-blame washed over Xu Yue. Tears welled up, blurring the sudden harshness of the medical room. With shaking hands, she covered her face. Didn’t she see the signs?
If only I stopped her...
Xu Yue felt she had deja vu as she sat beside Li Miao’s bedside.
She was waiting for the little cat to wake up.
Her heart throbbed with a dull ache, a constant companion mirroring the worry that tightened her chest. She watched Li Miao's sleeping face. Every frown and twitch was a fresh needle stabbing into her heart.
Her fingertips traced the curve of Li Miao's cheek, her hand cool against fever-warmed skin. Li Miao's knotted brow smoothed, her breaths softening as if guided by an unseen rhythm.
A sigh escaped Xu Yue's lips, a fragile sound in the stark room. Relief lapped at her apprehension, and her lips tilted into a bittersweet smile. Even now, her presence offered a sliver of comfort.
This little cat… why does my heart move for her so much?
Time stretched into an endless waiting game until Li Miao's eyelids finally fluttered. Confusion clouded her eyes, sharpening instantly upon recognizing Xu Yue. She bolted upright, the sudden action sending a renewed unease through Xu Yue. A flush bloomed across Li Miao's cheeks, mirroring her rising disorientation.
“W-What are we doing here? What about the rehearsal?” Li Miao's voice echoed weakly, confusion muddying her gaze as she took in her surroundings in the nurse's office.
“You collapsed from overwork,” Xu Yue said, her words clipped, concern warring with a hint of exasperation.
“Oh… was that all?” Li Miao's dismissive reply struck a sharp note against the sterile white walls. It was as if her exhaustion had become so normal it no longer warranted alarm.
Xu Yue's grip on Li Miao's hand tightened with a mix of frustration and fear. “That’s all? Why did you push yourself like this?” she said, voice strained.
Li Miao flinched, a flicker of pain shooting across her face. Xu Yue eased her grip, guilt stabbing through her.
Li Miao dropped her gaze, a shadow crossing her brow. “I… don’t know what you mean,” she murmured, barely a breath.
“You always sacrifice yourself without even a second thought! Like this time and the time before!” Xu Yue's words rang with urgency, tears prickling her eyes.
Li Miao stared back, startled by the intensity in Xu Yue's usually composed features.
“It’s okay if it’s me…”
Xu Yue's tears broke free, a sob catching in her throat. “How could it be okay? Do you think anyone's happiness could be worth watching you break yourself like this?”
Li Miao averted her eyes, a touch of old sorrow seeping into her expression.
“Who would care about someone like me?”
Xu Yue's grip tightened once more.
“I care! If no one else in the world does, then it'll be me! So please…”
Xu Yue’s tears spilled onto their clasped hands. Each drop a plea heavy with emotion.
The sight of Xu Yue's raw distress jolted something within Li Miao. She gently wiped Xu Yue's cheeks, her own sorrow momentarily eclipsed by concern.
“Xu Yue, I always seem to make you cry… I’m sorry.”
“If you’re really sorry, then please… take care of yourself…” The whispered plea vibrated with unwavering sincerity.
“Okay… I’ll try,” Li Miao's voice softened.
They clung to each other, silence filling the space between them.
Finally, Xu Yue's tears receded, leaving a flicker of determination in their wake. “Why are you working so hard right now? This isn’t like you.” Xu Yue knew Li Miao rarely chose effort over indifference.
“I… really like the lantern festival,” Li Miao admitted, her voice a fragile thread, spun with bittersweet nostalgia.
“Xu Yue, did you know? They say the lanterns guide spirits...to their final rest."
Li Miao's gaze drifted away, caught by a flickering dance of shadows. Images danced before her closed eyes: her parents wreathed in warmth, then swallowed by ravenous flames. A revolving door of kind faces, each a fleeting refuge before misfortune swept them away again.
Beneath it all throbbed a quiet plea for the original Li Miao, a girl lost to time. If these lanterns could truly guide spirits, perhaps hers would find solace too.
"I... caused so much pain to those around me, over and over again…" Li Miao whispered, the confession thick with remorse.
Xu Yue's only response was to tighten her grip, a wordless vow of solidarity and unwavering support.
"Even though I'm normally scared of fire, watching the lanterns float away on the water makes me feel like I've done my best..." Li Miao's gaze drifted to the horizon, where the sun barely made its presence known, casting a gentle light on her features.
"Each lantern, with its small flame, felt like a beacon of hope for me. In the festival that welcomes spring, it's a symbol of new beginnings, of possibilities that await us in the year ahead, well… or so they say." Li Miao mused, her voice trailing off.
"I've always dreamed of a fresh start, one that's as serene and hopeful as those lanterns on the water."
Xu Yue was at a loss for words, her attention fixed on Li Miao, who now seemed to embody the tranquility of the setting sun. They shared a quiet moment, a pause in time, until the day's last light vanished, leaving them in the comforting embrace of dusk.
