Wen Ruan rushed to the hospital, finding a swarm of medical staffoutside the ICU. Her parents stood with the chief physician, who was explaining, "Given your father's condition, these are the two treatment options we can pursue. You should prepare yourselves emotionally."
"Uncle Yang, what are the options?" Wen Ruan pushed through the crowd, breathless from running."Ruan Ruan, when did you get here?" Min Qing exclaimed, spotting her daughter.Dr. Yang turned to Wen Ruan. "A craniotomy or burr hole drainage. But at his age, we don't recommend open skull surgery.""What happens if we don't operate?" Wen Ruan asked, voice steady despite the tears brimming in her eyes.The room fell silent, the weight of unspoken answers hanging heavy."Success rate for the drainage procedure?" she whispered."Fifty percent," Dr. Yang replied gently.
"Let's do the drainage," Wen Ruan said, locking eyes with her father.He held her gaze for a moment, then nodded. "We'll go with Ruan Ruan's decision."
As the doctors detailed post-surgery arrangements with her parents, Wen Ruan pressed her forehead against the ICU window, staring at her grandfather's frail form. The man who'd once swung her onto his shoulders, promising to "protect his moonlit Ruan Ruan from all harm," now lay motionless, a shadow of his former self.
Min Qing joined her after speaking with the medical team, tapping her cheek fondly. "Silly girl, why didn't you tell us you were coming? Your uncle—""—did the right thing by informing me," Wen Ruan interrupted, her face pale. "I deserve to be here."
Min Qing's worry spiked at her daughter's clammy skin. "Where's your oxygen? Your medication?" She rummaged through Wen Ruan's bag, pulling out a portable oxygen cannula and pills. "Breathe, baby. Your grandfather needs you strong."
As veterans, students, and colleagues of Grandpa Wen began arriving, Min Qing went to greet them, leaving Wen Ruan alone on a nearby chair, oxygen tube in hand.
A tall figure blocked her light. He Yanci stood before her, wearing a dark coat, his presence as imposing as the first time they'd met in months. Without a word, he draped the coat over her shoulders, the scent of sandalwood faint but reassuring."The air here is stifling," he said, voice neutral. "Oxygen won't help much in a crowded corridor."
When she didn't respond, he frowned, gently but firmly taking her wrist. "Come with me. You need fresh air."
He led her to the hospital rooftop, producing a key to unlock the door. The crisp wind hit her face, easing the tightness in her chest. They stood in silence, him leaning against the railing, her wrapped in his coat, the distant city skyline glowing in the dusk.
"Feeling better?" he asked after several minutes.She nodded, clutching the oxygen cannula less tightly. His coat was warm, surprisingly so, like a shield against the chill.
An hour passed in quiet companionship before he checked his watch. "Let's go. The surgery should be over by now."
They returned to find the ICU doors open, the lead surgeon smiling. "The procedure was successful. Now we wait for him to wake."
Tension dissolved into cautious relief, but Grandpa He's booming voice cut through the hallway. "Yanci, Ruan Ruan—follow me. And you two," he said, gesturing to both sets of parents, "don't dawdle."
In the conference room, Grandpa He wasted no time. "I know this seems sudden, but Old Wen thrives on celebration. A wedding might just be the tonic he needs to pull through."
Shocked murmurs rose from the parents. Wen Ruan froze, her eyes darting to He Yanci, who stared at the floor, jaw clenched."Father, is this appropriate with Wen Lao still in recovery?" Song Yanhua ventured."Perfectly appropriate!" Grandpa He insisted, turning to Wen Ruan with a soft smile. "What do you say, Ruan Ruan? Marry Yanci and give your grandfather a reason to fight."
The nickname "Brother Yanci" hung in the air, a relic of childhood she hadn't heard in years. All eyes—including He Yanci's cool, distant ones—turned to her. She searched his face for a clue, a sign of the man who'd shielded her in Jicheng, but found only the unreadable mask of the heir she'd always known.
Before she could speak, He Yanci stood abruptly, his chair scraping the floor. "Grandpa, Uncle Wen, Aunt Min—Wen Ruan and I need a moment alone."
He took her wrist and pulled her into the hallway, ignoring Grandpa He's outraged shouts and the hurried footsteps of their parents. In the empty corridor, his grip was firm, his posture rigid.
"Let go," Wen Ruan said, yanking her arm free. "What are you doing? We agreed—""Agreed what?" He Yanci interrupted, voice low. "That we'd end this? Or that we'd let our grandfathers' friendship shatter because of some childhood grudge?"
His words hung between them, sharp and unexpected. The distant beep of monitors and murmur of voices faded as Wen Ruan searched his eyes, finding a storm beneath the ice—a storm she hadn't anticipated.
"You said you'd handle it," she whispered."I tried." He paused, jaw tightening. "But plans change. Sometimes… duty outweighs convenience."
Before she could respond, Grandpa He's angry voice echoed around the corner, accompanied by Min Qing's anxious calls. He Yanci stepped back, the mask firmly back in place.
"Come," he said, voice neutral once more. "We can't keep them waiting."
As they returned to the conference room, Wen Ruan's mind raced. The man before her was no longer the boy who'd avoided her, nor the gentleman who'd lent her his coat in Jicheng. He was a paradox—cold yet caring, distant yet duty-bound.
And as Grandpa He began outlining wedding plans with gusto, Wen Ruan realized with a chill that this wasn't just about her grandfather's health or their families' bond.
This was a choice: to reject the life laid out for her, or to step into a role she'd never wanted, with a man she barely knew.
The weight of tradition pressed down, but beneath it, a flicker of defiance lingered. She would decide her fate—not her parents, not the grandfathers, and certainly not He Yanci's sudden shifts in demeanor.
But as she glanced at him, now nodding politely to the elders, she wondered: Did he feel it too—the pull between duty and the unknown? Or was he simply playing his part, as he'd always done?
The answer, she feared, would cost more than just her pride.