In Between Us || Zhanyi

|| 60 ||

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As the door clicked shut behind Zhan, a brief silence lingered—soft, weighted, as if the temperature in the room had shifted slightly with his absence.

Han, still adjusting the cuff on Yibo's wrist, gave a hum. "Let's get this done, then. You've got quite the devoted guardian, kid."

Yibo's gaze fell. No response—only a breath that felt a little steadier than before.

Just then, Dr. Lui, who had been standing quietly to the side, cleared his throat. His voice was composed, but the edges held a touch of nervous candor.

"I have to say," Lui began, glancing toward Han, "I've never seen Master Xiao like that before."

Lui's voice dropped a little, almost as if the memory of the night still clung to his skin.

"When he first called from the hospital... I barely recognized his voice. Breathless. Clipped. Like he couldn't form a full sentence without swallowing panic."

Han glanced sideways, a small frown settling between his brows.

"And when we rolled Mr. Wang into the emergency bay..." Lui hesitated, his eyes distant, "Zhan looked—" he corrected himself with rare familiarity, "Master Xiao looked like a man dragged out of a storm. Wet, shaken, shirt clinging to him—he must've panicked all the way to the hospital carrying him."

Han raised a brow.

Lui continued, "He stayed by Mr. Wang's side the entire night. Didn't sleep a second. Didn't even change out of those wet clothes until morning. No food, no water. Just... sat there. I tried to reason, but he didn't even blink. It was like..." he glanced toward Yibo, "...like he was holding on to the only thing keeping his world from crumbling."

Han stilled momentarily, surprise flickering in his eyes.

"I thought he was just being his usual obsessive self," Lui muttered half under his breath, "but it wasn't that. It was something else."

Han gave a low chuckle. "So that's why he sounded like he'd aged ten years when he called me this morning."

Lui gave a tight smile. "He was quite scary, especially when he orders but - ."

Han looked down at Yibo, whose head was bowed slightly, taking in the conversation but offering no interruption.

"He was so dedicated to Mr.Wang. He didn't even look up until you stirred," Lui added softly, watching Yibo with more empathy now. "Like the world didn't matter unless you woke."

Han didn't speak this time, only exhaled deeply, his expression shifting from amused to quietly thoughtful.

Yibo remained silent, looked faintly overwhelmed—as if unsure how to carry the weight of being someone's whole sky.

.

.

.

Yibo had gone quiet. His lashes cast soft shadows on his cheeks, but his mind was anything but still.

They said Zhan hadn't slept. That he stayed by his side the entire night, clothes soaked, no food, no water, his attention never faltering.

A soft warmth stirred in Yibo's chest—fragile, almost unfamiliar. He should have felt special. Treasured, even. But the thought tangled up with another—something heavier. Why would someone like Zhan go to such lengths for someone like him?