Siheyuan: tomb robbing? I am serious about hunting.

Chapter 1065 Rub Her

"This pen is for you," he said, "when you get better, use it to draw, okay? Didn't you love drawing the most in the past?" Shen Zhiyi stared at the pen for a long time, and suddenly seemed to remember something, grabbed the pen and threw it to the ground. "I don't want it!" she screamed, "They are all fake! Mom is gone, and there is nothing left!" The pen fell to the ground with a "clang", the pen cap broke off and rolled to Fu Shiyan's feet. He picked it up silently, recapped it, and put it back in his pocket. He was not angry, but just looked at her deeply, and the look in his eyes was so complicated that Shen Zhiyi still couldn't understand it. "It will be fine," he said with a firm tone, "Zhiyi, believe me, everything will be fine. "But later, Shen Zhiyi realized that Fu Shiyan's so-called "getting better" was exchanged for his own health. Her thoughts were pulled back to reality. Fu Shiyan was still standing in front of her, his eyes as sharp as a knife, as if he wanted to cut her apart from the inside out. Shen Zhiyi's heart was beating wildly in her chest, almost bursting through her throat. She knew that what she had just said hurt him, but she couldn't control it. For the past three years, she has lived in guilt and self-blame every day. Fu Shiyan's existence is like reminding her all the time that she is a predator. She has robbed him of his health and future that should have belonged to him. "Isn't I a sinner, then what am I?" Shen Zhiyi's voice trembled slightly, but she still met his gaze stubbornly, "A predator? Fu Shiyan, tell me, am I a predator? "Fu Shiyan's body stiffened for a moment, and his eyes suddenly became cold. He stared at Shen Zhiyi, as if he wanted to look into a hole in her face. The yard was terribly quiet, with only the rustling sound of the wind blowing through the ginkgo leaves, intertwined with the rapid breathing of the two. After a long time, Fu Shiyan slowly opened his mouth, his voice low and suppressed, as if squeezed out from between his teeth: "Shen Zhiyi, you have never been." His words were like a stone thrown into the lake of Shen Zhiyi's heart, stirring up layers of ripples. She wanted to refute, wanted to say that this was not the case, but when the words came to her lips, she couldn't say it. She looked at the scar on Fu Shiyan's wrist bone, and thought of the wound on her tiger's mouth, and suddenly felt powerless. Perhaps, since that rainy night three years ago, fate has tied an inescapable chain between her and him. This chain is rusty, with blood and pain, binding them tightly together. Whether forward or backward, it is a thorny swamp. Ze. Shen Zhiyi turned her head away, no longer looking at him, her eyes fell on the tall ginkgo tree. The leaves had begun to turn yellow, and the sunlight shone through the gaps between the branches, casting mottled light and shadows on the ground. She remembered that when she was a child, she and Fu Shiyan often played under this tree. He would climb up to pick ginkgo nuts for her, and she would draw under the tree, drawing him climbing the tree, the falling ginkgo leaves, and everything in the yard. He took out the silver pen from the pocket of his white coat and turned it around on his fingertips. "I'm Fu Shiyan," he said patiently, "Do you still remember me? We buried time capsules together under the ginkgo tree when we were young. "Shen Zhiyi shook her head blankly. Her memory seemed to be covered by a thick layer of fog, and many things became blurred. She only remembered that it was raining heavily on the day her mother died, and... and the dazzling lights on the operating table. Fu Shiyan looked at her empty eyes, and a trace of pain flashed in his eyes. He stretched out his hand, as if he wanted to touch her head, but stopped in mid-air, and finally just put the pen on the table in front of her. "He called her name softly, with a hint of imperceptible fatigue in his voice. Shen Zhiyi raised her head, her eyes unfocused, as if she didn't know him. Her hair was messy, and there were undried tear marks on her cheeks. She looked extremely embarrassed. "Who are you?" she murmured, her voice very hoarse. Fu Shiyan's eyes dimmed, and every stroke seemed to be written in blood. "Fu Shiyan!" she cried, tears blurring her vision. At this moment, a warm hand gently stroked her forehead and brushed away her sweaty hair. The palm of his hand held a familiar warmth, like the touch of him ruffling her hair that summer many years ago. Shen Zhiyi clutched the hand as if it had been saved, her nails almost digging into the other's flesh. She could feel the other's body stiffen, but she ignored it and just kept repeating frantically: "Don't donate... Please... Fu Shiyan, don't donate..." A suppressed sigh came from the darkness, thick with fatigue. "It's too late," Fu Shiyan's voice sounded in her ears, with a rare hoarseness, as if it had been rubbed by sandpaper. "Zhiyi, everything is too late." His voice was like a basin of cold water, extinguishing her last glimmer of hope. Shen Zhiyi was completely lost in the nightmare. Before her consciousness was swallowed by the darkness, she felt the hand gently squeeze her back, the strength gentle, as if protecting a fragile treasure. The moonlight outside the window was obscured by dark clouds at some point, and the room was plunged into complete darkness. Fu Shiyan sat by the bed, looking at Shen Zhiyi's pale sleeping face, a complex emotion swirling in his eyes. The back of his hand still bore a distinct crescent-shaped pinch mark, dripping with tiny drops of blood. But the pain was nothing compared to what he'd endured in the intensive care unit three years prior. He'd just undergone a bone marrow transplant, and the rejection reaction had left him with a persistent fever, his joints feeling as if they were being torn apart and reassembled. Every breath was a stabbing pain, but the thought of Shen Zhiyi in the next ward gave him the confidence to hold on a little longer. The nurses would update him daily on her condition: "Miss Shen ate half a bowl of porridge today." "Miss Shen is asleep and not having nightmares." "Miss Shen drew a picture of a ginkgo tree." These small glimmers of information, like glimmers of light in the darkness, sustained him through those most difficult times. He'd believed that if she could live, everything would be worth it. But now, watching her struggle in agony amidst her nightmares, he began to question for the first time the validity of his decision. He gently pulled his hand free from Shen Zhiyi's grasp, took out the ointment he carried with him, and carefully applied it to the wound on the back of his hand. The ointment had a refreshing minty scent, but it couldn't dispel the chill in my heart. The moonlight penetrated the clouds again, illuminating the tears in the corners of Shen Zhiyi's eyes. Fu Shiyan stretched out his hand, wanting to wipe them away for her, but his fingertips stopped a few centimeters away from her cheek, and finally drooped weakly. Some wounds cannot be healed by tenderness. Some debts cannot be repaid by time. He stood up and walked to the window, looking at the flower bed full of lilies of the valley in the courtyard. Under the moonlight,