Chapter 278: I’m Not Hovering
"You need an IV?" Zhou Chenghai asked, already reaching for a pair of gloves as he turned to look at Yuche.
"And help cleaning the wound properly," Yuche answered, nodding his head.
Every promise he was just whispering to me was completely gone from his voice. But he gave me a hot look before he turned his attention back to the other man.
Zhou Chenghai stepped toward Lingyun and reached out, but the baby vine snapped around his wrist before he reached the bed. He stopped without trying to pull away and looked at me instead.
"The zombie should never have reached him," he spoke quietly. "My strike changed its direction, and I owe him for that. Let me pay what I can."
It wasn’t an apology, which somehow made it easier to accept.
Apologies were words people used when they wanted forgiveness without earning it. Debt had rules. Debt could be collected. I understood debt and collections.
"If your hand goes anywhere it shouldn’t, the vine will remove it," I warned.
"I understand."
I studied his face for another moment before ordering the vine to loosen. It didn’t release him completely, remaining curled around his wrist like a bracelet with teeth while he moved toward the bed.
Zhou Chenghai didn’t complain.
Instead, he prepared the tubing, checked Lingyun’s arm, and started the IV while Yuche continued flushing the bite. Both men worked quickly and quietly, which should have reassured me but only made everything feel worse.
They were too calm, as if this were an ordinary injury and not one of my favorite people lying unconscious on the bed in front of me.
The wound looked worse after the fresh blood was gone. The teeth had torn through muscle, leaving deep punctures surrounded by ragged flesh that had barely begun to close. Yuche removed a piece of fabric trapped near the edge while Zhou Chenghai secured the needle and attached the saline.
Lingyun didn’t react.
"Why isn’t he feeling any of this?" I demanded.
"He may be feeling it," Zhou Chenghai answered without looking away from what he was doing. "His body is exhausted enough that he can’t respond."
"That sounds like a nicer way of saying you don’t know."
"It’s the answer we have."
Nodding my head, I continued to look at the man. "How long will he be unconscious?"
"I don’t know."
"An hour? A day? Longer?"
His expression tightened. "I don’t know."
Those three words were quickly becoming the most offensive phrase in the entire human language.
The IV began dripping, and Yuche prepared one of the antibiotics while Zhou Chenghai held Lingyun’s arm steady. I watched the medication disappear into the tubing and waited for his color to improve, his breathing to deepen, or his eyes to open.
Nothing changed.
"Is it working?"
"It only just started," Yuche reminded me.
"I know when it started. I’m asking whether it’s working."
"It’s too early to know."
I glanced at Lingyun’s chest and counted the seconds between each breath until I became aware that Yuche was watching me. I stopped before he could comment.
Once the IV was secured and the wound had a giant white Band-Aid over top of it, Zhou Chenghai began gathering the bloody gauze and ruined fabric. He kept his hands where I could see them, either because he understood my current mood or because the vine remained wrapped around his wrist.
"You can leave," I told him.
"If the bleeding starts again or his breathing changes, call me."
"Don’t worry. I won’t."
Yuche gave me a look, but Zhou Chenghai only nodded toward him. "Then call Yuche, and he can decide whether I’m needed."
"Fine." All three of us knew that I wouldn’t hurt Lingyun just because I didn’t trust Zhou Chenghai. Hell, if Jiang Meilan was still alive and could have helped Lingyun, I would have let her work on him.
Thankfully we didn’t have to put that to the test, but you get the idea.
Zhou Chenghai’s jaw tightened for a moment, even though he didn’t argue. Before stepping into the hall, he looked at Lingyun one last time. It wasn’t the look of a friend worried about another friend. It was the look of a man staring at a debt he hadn’t begun to repay.
Whatever. That was between the two of them.
The vine released him only after the door closed.
Once Zhou Chenghai was gone, the room became unbearably quiet. Yuche adjusted the IV bag and checked Lingyun’s temperature while I examined the fresh bandage to make sure no blood had come through.
"It hasn’t," Yuche pointed out.
"I can see that."
"Then why are you checking?"
"Because I wanted to."
He accepted that answer without argument, but I could feel his eyes following me as I moved to the other side of the bed. The IV line blocked my view of Lingyun’s face from there, so I went back to the first side, then moved toward the foot of the bed when Yuche needed room to adjust the blankets.
By the time I returned to Lingyun’s side again, Yuche was openly watching me.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"That’s the second time today you’ve claimed nothing while clearly thinking something."
His mouth curved, which immediately irritated me.
"See?" he murmured. "It’s normal to hover when someone you love is hurt."
I stared at him long enough that most people would have reconsidered the wisdom of continuing the conversation. "This isn’t me hovering. This is me..." I looked down at Lingyun, frustrated all over again by how completely useless he was being. "Frustrated. Right. Frustrated with the fact that he can’t do anything at the moment."
Yuche nodded with far too much seriousness. "Of course."
"He should be awake by now. He should be complaining about the needle, threatening Zhou Chenghai for touching him, or setting something on fire because he thinks it’s funny. I’m not asking for much."
The humor faded from Yuche’s eyes, leaving behind an understanding I didn’t want. I turned away from him and focused on Lingyun instead, willing him to move simply so I could stop feeling like something inside me was trying to tear its way free.
A small white flame flickered over Lingyun’s fingertips.
I leaned closer before I could stop myself, but his eyes remained closed. Yuche’s shadows slid across the sheets and curled around Lingyun’s hand, smothering the flame before it reached the blankets or tubing.
"See? He’s still fighting," Yuche murmured.
I dragged a chair beside the bed and sat down, keeping my eyes on Lingyun’s face while the baby vine curled around the nearest bedpost. "Then I will give him a reason to keep fighting."
"You should sleep," Yuche suggested, his voice filled with worry. "You’re still recovering, too."
"I’m not tired."
"You’ve been awake since early morning."
"I’ve been awake longer than that before."
"He’ll still be here when you wake up."
"That isn’t the reassurance you think it is."
Yuche went quiet for several seconds before looking between me, Lingyun, and the vine guarding the bed. "If he wakes and sees you sitting here, he’ll never let you forget it."
I settled deeper into the chair without looking away.
"At least then he’ll be awake."
