Shen Moyu sighed with some relief, and looked him over as if she hadn't seen him in a long time.
Watching Shen Moyu enter the study, Su Jinning turned around and sat back down by the window. His gaze was fixed on the lustrous jade pendant, but he didn't seem to be lost in thought. No one knew what he was thinking, and no one tried to guess.
He righted the desk, but the mess on the floor remained untouched. Shen Moyu looked at the still-wet tear stains on his cuffs and his dejected expression, and felt a wave of unease wash over her.
He didn't dare say much, but gently placed the chicken soup on the desk, walked over, patted his shoulder, and said in a voice as gentle as his movements, "Drink some soup to soothe your stomach."
Su Jinning turned his head blankly, only to find that Shen Moyu had already scooped up a spoonful of soup and was gently blowing on it, as if afraid that he would burn himself.
He placed the bottle to Su Jinning's chapped lips, met her bloodshot eyes, and forced a smile: "Drink it, it's not hot."
The rich aroma of chicken soup filled his nostrils, but Su Jinning turned his head away in repulsion. He genuinely couldn't eat it; the smell made him nauseous, and he felt an overwhelming urge to reject it from head to toe.
But Shen Moyu wasn't in a hurry. She coaxed him, saying, "Your stomach was upset yesterday, and you haven't eaten in a long time. Even just half a bowl of soup would be good."
Su Jinning leaned wearily against the back of his chair, his chest rising and falling calmly. The coat that had once fit him was now hanging loosely on his body. For a moment, Shen Moyu had the illusion that he could no longer wear that coat.
A wave of tingling sensation washed over Shen Moyu, and she quickly lowered her head.
Sometimes he really didn't know how Su Jinning, who was usually strong and cheerful, had become like this.
Those eyes, once as bright as the Milky Way, were now filled with a chilling, heartless look, devoid of any tenderness.
Su Jinning hesitated for a long time, but still held his breath and drank the chicken soup. His mouth, which had been bitter for so long, finally tasted a little different. He swallowed it with great effort, but his stomach was incredibly sensitive. Before he could even take a second sip, the feeling of nausea returned.
That bowl of chicken soup, which I loved to drink as a child, now feels like poison to me.
Shen Moyu didn't notice his unusual behavior and fed him spoonful by spoonful. Listening to the pattering rain outside the window, Shen Moyu started chatting with him again: "This morning I wanted to go to Sakura Road to buy you a bowl of fish balls, but I thought they probably weren't open yet, and your stomach can't handle spicy food, so I didn't buy any."
Shen Moyu smiled gently at him: "Once your stomach is better, I'll take you out to eat, okay?"
All he received in response was Su Jinning's silence and her gray eyes.
But Shen Moyu seemed to have no intention of waiting for his reply from the start. She scooped up the last spoonful of chicken soup and brought it to his lips: "I heard that the milk tea shop that's popular in the summer has moved to Sakura Road. It's not too far, let's go together sometime."
Su Jinning looked at him, and for some reason, Shen Moyu's words plunged her heart, which had just calmed down, into a swamp again.
He could hear the composure in Shen Moyu's eyes, and he knew exactly what Shen Moyu meant by "when your stomach is better."
He just really didn't know... when he would get better.
Seeing Shen Moyu's forced smile, he couldn't bear it. Unfortunately, he was at a loss about his own situation, so how could he possibly comfort Shen Moyu?
Perhaps drinking this bowl of chicken soup is the best comfort for him.
But as soon as he swallowed it, his stomach, which had been howling for so long, finally couldn't hold back and exploded. He almost instantly felt dizzy from the pain. He stood up and rushed into the bathroom, his stomach churning, and vomited directly into the sink.
The urge to vomit seemed beyond his control. Each time he forcefully vomited something, his vision would be obscured by something. He blinked tremblingly, feeling only an abstract view before him, unable to discern any shape.
Shen Moyu panicked and followed Su Jinning into the bathroom, patting her back repeatedly.
He vomited violently, as if his condition had worsened considerably. He vomited up the entire bowl of chicken soup he had just drunk. Finally, when the vomiting became so severe, he vomited several more mouthfuls of something with traces of blood.
Su Jinning's head was a little dizzy, and she could barely stand by gripping Shen Moyu's sleeve.
He was completely drained, but that damned stomach wouldn't give up, as if it wanted to torture him to death.
Shen Moyu was completely terrified. She had just finished drinking, so why did she vomit so quickly, and with blood in her mouth?
Su Jinning bent over, her strong shoulders trembling violently, like a birch tree that had been battered by wind and rain, finally breaking its roots in the last storm.
Perhaps it was because the bathroom light was too dim, but at that moment, the shoulder that Shen Moyu once felt most at ease on, the shoulder that could hold all his complaints, seemed to be crushed.
He stroked Su Jinning's back again and again, his eyes stinging so much he could barely open them.
Why should such a gentle person have to endure all this?
He was so heartbroken he couldn't speak, as if he only had this one sentence left, silently confronting God in his heart.
But fate is always unbearable, and reality is always cruel, wrapped in drama.
It is said that a mother's love is a towering mountain. No matter how great your difficulties, she is always a reliable shield. That towering figure shelters you from the wind and rain, bringing you peace of mind.
But what will happen to a child who has lost their support?
Shen Moyu didn't know.
All he knew was that Su Jinning would be in a lot of pain.
Shen Moyu wanted to say "Let it go" and "Move on" more than ten thousand times.
But those words were insignificant; how could such a farewell, riddled with holes, be glossed over so easily?
Shen Moyu sniffed and reached out to wipe away the traces from Su Jinning's lips.
"No." Su Jinning weakly grabbed his hand and struggled to take a step back.
He said in a weak voice, "It's dirty, I didn't wipe it."
Those three words instantly brought tears to Shen Moyu's eyes, which she had just managed to hold back.
Su Jinning didn't say a word to him from beginning to end, but as soon as she opened her mouth, it pierced straight to his heart, its temperature as high as molten lava that could burn a person to death.
Shen Moyu choked back tears, grabbed his wrist, and rubbed it hard.
You're always like this; even when you're feeling terrible yourself, you insist on considering my feelings.
Shen Moyu seemed to understand: the statement that gentle people are treated gently by the world is utterly false.