Christmas Monsoon - 50 I'm Afraid

Grandpa and Grandma didn't get to rest for long, as old friends kept coming to visit in the afternoon. Congcong helped Grandma downstairs, had a cup of tea with her, and said, "Grandma, I'm going back to school now. I'll come back to see you next week."
Grandma pinched her cheek, wanting to say a few more words of advice, but held back, giving her face, and only said, "Eat your food properly!"
Congcong went back to her room to tidy up her things and sat there for a while because Xu Huanyi and Du Ji were talking intimately and tenderly outside, and she didn't want to interrupt them.
She waited until they left before finally calling a car and going downstairs. The guests were all in the living room, and the foyer was quiet. Only Xu Huanyi came out to pour coffee and asked her, "Something going on at school? I'll have the driver take you."
She said, "I've already called a car, and he's waiting for me at the garage door."
Xu Huanyi watched her leave and go down to the garage, then strolled back with his coffee. "What's wrong with you two today? Long-distance relationships really have problems. You can't always be away from home."
Xu Huansi seemed absent-minded, and after a long while, he asked, "She's gone?"
He went upstairs anyway and pushed open the door to Cong Cong's room.
She didn't close the window, but the curtains were drawn, creating a dark and quiet atmosphere. He remembered that day was just as dark, with a cool breeze blowing, and she had covered her face with a book and fallen asleep on the balcony. Another day, she burned her calf and dozed off by the bathtub, the soft, shiny fabric outlining the delicate, unfamiliar curves of her young body.
Was it from that time? But that's not necessarily true. Going back further, when he was jet-lagged and sleeping, he once grasped her slender wrist in his sleep. He was annoyed then, inexplicably annoyed, thinking, "Xu Yicong, you crybaby, sickly, clingy girl, why is she here?"
He took out a cigarette, not wanting to light it and create a smoky smell, so he just held it to his lips. The cigarette butt between his lips and teeth was an odd sight, but it was good this way; he could smell her scent, and he knew he wasn't dreaming.
After an unknown amount of time, a buzzing sound came from somewhere. It turned out that Congcong had forgotten her phone. After clearing away the clutter on her desk, she found her phone lying underneath, with seven or eight missed calls already accumulated, all from the same unknown number.
He answered the phone anyway. The voice on the other end was that of an agitated man, practically ready to yell, "Are you a passenger going to Yaocheng Hospital? Are you getting on or not? I've been circling around for ten minutes, there aren't any parking spaces at the entrance, and parking isn't allowed outside the garage..."
The garage is downstairs; it only takes a minute to get out. So why is she going to the hospital?
He suddenly pushed open the door and went downstairs. The automatic door to his private garage was a bit slow to respond; he slapped the emergency button, and it finally opened a crack.
The glass door slid open slowly. The dark underground was deserted; Cong Cong lay collapsed not far away. He helped her up; she was unconscious, her head slumped heavily in his arms. His palm touched her dress—slippery, cold, and wet with blood.
His mind went blank for a moment, then he bent down, picked up Congcong, and hurried to the garage door. The space was empty; the taxi had gone off in circles again. His throat was filled with the sweet, metallic taste of blood. It took him a while to realize his car was right behind him. He carried Congcong inside, started the engine, and called a doctor he knew. The doctor was silent for two seconds on the other end, then shouted, "To the ER! The nearest one!"
The nearest hospital was Yaocheng Hospital. The streets were deserted in the afternoon. He called his secretary to bring cash and asked Chen Ang to contact a specialist. He felt the car was too slow and wished he could floor the gas pedal. The hospital was always crowded with people, and scalpers asked him through the window, "Want to register?"
He practically slammed the car door open and carried Congcong out. Congcong seemed to have regained some consciousness; she frowned, her eyes slightly open as she looked at him, her jaw trembling slightly, whether from cold or pain, she couldn't make a sound.
He held Congcong tightly and headed for the emergency room. The doctor glanced at her and knew the situation was serious. He immediately checked her pulse, and a nurse asked him, "Patient's name?"
He could only hear his own breathing and heartbeat scraping against his chest like saw teeth. After a second, he suddenly answered, "Xu Yicong. Yi as in intention, Cong as in forest."
The nurse went to the system to find her file, and the doctor pulled over the operating table, telling him to put Congcong down. He repeated, perhaps worried someone hadn't heard him clearly, "Xu Yicong."
The nurse pulled her from Xu Huansi's arms and placed her on a mobile bed, speaking quietly to the doctor: "The patient came to the clinic two weeks ago with signs of threatened miscarriage, but the gestational sac was of poor quality and developing slowly, so we had to wait. She had an appointment with Dr. Chen for the abortion surgery next Wednesday. Should we call Dr. Chen? Is it too late?... Okay, the operating room is ready..."
They wheeled her in, and the nurse could tell she was disoriented. She bent down to comfort her, saying, "Your condition is very dangerous. Listen to me, let go of her hand. Go in and get some sleep, and you'll be fine."
Congcong's face was deathly pale, her forehead was soaked with cold sweat, and her eyes were still wet as she looked at him. She called him softly, "Brother."
Xu Huansi stared at her stiffly.
She didn't realize she was crying; she just clung tightly to his fingertips. He tried to pull his hand away, to tell her to let go, but she wouldn't. In her most helpless moment, she struggled to make a sound, trying to tell him, "...Brother...I'm scared."
She strained until her knuckles turned white, but it was only a little bit of strength, and besides, the place where her fingers were clasped was cold and sticky. He pried open Cong Cong's fingers, watched her being wheeled into the operating room, and blankly looked down at his own clothes, cuffs, fingers, and palms.
It was all blood. Clumps of blood.
The rain finally started.
————
Finally someone... (shut up)
Sorry I'm late! I'll also be updating extra tomorrow at 11:00 AM.

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Christmas Monsoon - 50 I'm Afraid

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