Chapter 138: A Prayer: May She Hang High in the Starry Heavens, Shining Forever

The dozens of people in the club stared at the three figures standing at the entrance, their expressions a mix of confusion and complexity.

The trio looked disheveled, especially the one in front, whose shirt was crumpled and whose pants had a gaping hole.

"We all stayed here overnight, but they just arrived at this hour? Did they climb up in the middle of the night?" someone in the crowd whispered, "They look so familiar."

Li Zhao and Yi Chuan covered their faces. It was obvious they were freshmen; they didn't want to lose all face in front of the younger students!

"It’s that guy from the forum!"

"Gu... Gu Shiyan?" A few girls recognized him, covering their mouths and whispering, "Is that the campus heartthrob who won the top spot by a landslide? Why is he so... disheveled?"

"Even though he's dressed in rags, you have to admit, his face and physique are flawless."

Gu Shiyan’s shirt was dry, fluttering in the breeze. Aside from the bloody wound exposed by the torn fabric at his knee, there was no fault to be found. His hair hung down, softly veiling his eyes, washing away his usual wild, cold, and weary air, replacing it with a touch of melancholy and docility.

His lips were pressed tightly together, his jaw muscles taut. His gaze was incredibly sincere—passionate yet solemn. While everyone else was busy analyzing whether his outfit was some new fashion trend, he bowed three times toward the towering ancient tree in the temple. Then, to the astonishment of the crowd, he dropped to his knees on the bare ground, which lacked any straw cushions, and began to kowtow.

It was truly shocking, one wave after another; some even took out their phones to record secretly.

Li Zhao and Yi Chuan covered their faces. Brother, we climbed the mountain with you in the middle of the night, but you'll have to bear this humiliation on your own!

The boy who usually wore a mischievous, arrogant smirk even in the face of gods and Buddhas was now kneeling before the tree with his eyes closed, kowtowing with devout intensity. His forehead broke, and fine beads of blood began to seep out.

When he looked up and opened his eyes, a sudden silence fell. It was as if he were the only one in the corner where he knelt, while those who were joking, filming with phones, or murmuring mockery were blocked out by an invisible wall.

The sharp pain in his knees was hard to ignore, but Gu Shiyan forcibly suppressed it. He didn't know when it started, but he had begun to hold onto an unreasonable hope that sincerity would bring a miracle.

Under the thin, soft fabric of his shirt, his spine was faintly outlined, even trembling slightly. His palms were pressed together, eyes slowly closing, breathing shallowly. His dry lips moved slightly, and a bitter taste rose at the back of his tongue.

The sunlight was weak, casting no warmth upon him. Compared to the sharp pain in his knees and the dense, ant-like tingling on his forehead, a slow, suffocating pressure in his chest—a dull, aching soreness—was even harder to endure.

When he saw the death toll reported on the news, Gu Shiyan admitted he had never felt such panic. That sense of mental stagnation, filled only with anxiety, fear, and helplessness, persisted and refused to fade.

More than the fear of never seeing that star again, or knowing that his favorite star did not belong to him, he could not accept the thought of that star falling.

It didn't matter if he couldn't see her, or if she didn't belong to him; he just wanted her to hang high in the sky, to shine forever. No matter whom her light illuminated, as long as she was still shining, as long as she still existed... that was enough.

Perhaps every time the dawn faded and night fell, if he remembered, he would feel regret, reluctance, and sorrow.

Gu Shiyan repeated the action he had performed countless times, praying to the gods and Buddhas with devout solemnity.

A breeze stirred, and a green leaf drifted down in a spiral.

*Thud.*

Before he could rise, Gu Shiyan collapsed as if his strength had been drained. Li Zhao and Yi Chuan rushed forward anxiously.

A vibrant green leaf rested beneath his eyes. Li Zhao brushed it away, his pupils dilating in shock at the dampness on his fingertips. He stood there, stunned...

"Why are you just standing there!" Yi Chuan signaled him to help him up.

Li Zhao wiped his hands on his clothes and, still dazed, went to help Gu Shiyan.

...

When Luo Xing’s flight landed, she didn't even bother to turn off airplane mode before rushing to the hospital with her mother.

An agonizing wait. The surgery lasted nearly 28 hours.

Standing outside the operating room, neither Luo Zhou, as the older brother, nor Luo Xing mentioned resting or eating. They both knew that they had to stay, and neither had the appetite. There was no need for verbal comfort; their blood connection was like thick, inescapable glue, binding them together in a long, slow wait.

The moment the door opened, their numb, stagnant brains seemed to be rewound and set in motion again.

"Doctor..." Even Luo Xing didn't notice how strained and hoarse her voice was.

"The surgery was a success," the doctor said, letting out a sigh of relief.

Luo Zhou let out a heavy breath, closing his eyes. "That's good, that's good..."

"I heard from the doctors in Beicheng that this lady is a surgeon? She intends to pick up the scalpel again after she wakes up?"

Luo Xing, fearing another accident, nodded immediately. "Yes, at the time, the doctor told us that she could..."

"The surgery was successful, but if you want her to return to her previous state, I suggest she stay hospitalized for at least a year. Furthermore, within that year, she must avoid any activity that would strain her hands, aside from rehabilitation exercises."

Luo Xing’s lips tightened. She looked at Luo Zhou. If her mother knew she had to spend a year...

"Okay, we will convince her." Luo Zhou took a deep breath. "I will stay here to take care of her."

Luo Xing turned to look at him abruptly. "I will stay!"

Luo Zhou didn't argue with her about this for the moment.

Ms. Jiang was wheeled out, still unconscious, and moved into the intensive care unit, where she would stay for a month. Luo Xing pulled up a chair and sat by her mother's bed. When Luo Zhou returned with food, he found Luo Xing curled up in a ball, asleep on her own knees.

"Xingxing." Luo Zhou nudged her. She hadn't eaten for nearly two days. Luo Zhou had bought something light, but it was hard to find Chinese-style meat porridge in Country A, so he had only managed to find oatmeal.

Luo Xing was sleeping deeply and only woke up after several nudges. "Why are you sleeping on your own legs? Aren't your hands numb?"

Still groggy, Luo Xing just shook her head faintly. "I was afraid I might accidentally move Mom’s hand."

"Eat something. This is all I could find. I'll make what you want to eat later."

Luo Xing looked at the person lying on the hospital bed with a pale face and sniffled. "Anything is fine."

"Xingxing," Luo Zhou called her name seriously. "After the summer break, when Mom's condition is better, you should go back..."

"Brother, I have already applied for a graduate program at the University of A-Country. I can complete my studies here and look after Mom at the same time." On the phone she showed him was the message she had sent to her academic advisor.