Please make love to me.

"Does it hurt?"

"Yes!"

I slowed down and gently entered her. It was a little dry, even cold, but gradually a slight warmth rose up and slowly enveloped me, just like her eyes, which were now filled with tears.

I closed my eyes, feeling a little intoxicated, after all, she was a woman as beautiful as white jade. But I immediately opened my eyes again with alertness. The door was closed, and the other beds in the room were empty. The blinds of the window were drawn, and silvery moonlight shone on us through the gaps, shining on her face. Tears had already crossed her cheeks and were lingering hesitantly...

The moonlight flashed on her teardrops, and I was startled! It was as if something flashed in my pupils. I looked around blankly. There were no lights in the room, and the sunlight in the corridor was still a dead white. Only the small green light of the power outage lamp was dimly lit in the room, like a motionless firefly.

Her fingers tightened slightly, digging into the muscles of my arm. I quickened my pace a little, and her brow slowly unfurled, like a flower slowly opening in slow motion on television—in fact, she herself was a flower, a fragile, easily broken little white flower.

I closed my eyes and saw the scene of flowers falling to the ground, a scene that was heartbreaking, even despairing, if one knew that these flowers would never bloom again next year.

Lying beneath me now was a woman completely paralyzed from the neck down.

I was truly shocked when they brought her to the hospital. As an intern, I wasn't frightened by the chaos of the emergency room, nor was I afraid of seeing patients' bleeding and contorted limbs; it was just that she was so beautiful! Beautiful beyond compare. Her

snow-white skin made one wonder if she was perpetually frozen; her exquisite appearance made one biasedly think that she shouldn't be in the hospital; even more peculiar was her ethereal aura, as if she had never tasted the flavors of earthly life. At first, I even suspected someone had played a prank, sending in an extremely lifelike wax figure from a museum.

However, she wasn't far from being sculpted. A major car accident had turned her little Corsa into a pile of scrap metal, and due to severe cervical spine damage, she was completely paralyzed from the neck down, possibly never to move again. I saw on her medical record: born in 1980, not yet twenty years old, God had robbed her of the right to laugh and run in this life.

I hid in the lounge and practiced hundreds of times:

"I'm sorry, we've done our best." "

Your daughter may have difficulty moving around for a considerable period of time."

"It's not necessarily hopeless to recover, it's... hard to say."

It was indeed hard to say, especially after I discovered she had no family.

Although I already knew the term "orphan," I still found it hard to believe that someone could live without any relatives. Was this why she was so "cold"?

"Tell me the truth." "

Don't lie to me."

"Am I... never going to be able to move again?" "

It was indeed incredibly cold, like an interrogation of a criminal. I suppressed my slight anger and answered truthfully, without even offering any words of comfort.

'Of course, rehabilitation is possible, but the chances are slim. Like Superman Levi or something, that's the best-case scenario.'

I helped another patient lean against the wall in her wheelchair. She turned her head away, biting her lower lip tightly, a slight bluish tinge on her pale face, which made my heart ache.

'I want to ask you for a favor.'

Her words surprised me and filled me with joy. According to the nurse, she was almost completely silent. Even when in excruciating pain and drenched in sweat, she wouldn't ask for help, not even when needing to use the toilet. Patients in this condition usually groan or complain all day, or ask for this and that out of loneliness and fear. But she remained as silent as a statue.

'Sometimes when I see her lying there, she looks like she's made of marble,' said a new nurse, sticking out her tongue."

I looked back at her on the hospital bed, completely unmoved.

"Has no one come to see her? Friends?" "

Yes! A few women came, but they didn't say a word, just stared at each other silently for a long time, then gave her a deep look and left. The atmosphere...it was even more heartbreaking for her to cry!"

This made me feel even more sorry for her, and I treated her with kindness and extra care. Although what I could do was limited, and her cold expression didn't change, at least one morning when I went to her bedside, a glimmer of light appeared in her dull eyes.

Her voice was weak, so I leaned down and whispered in her ear,

"Please make love to me."

"Achoo!" I sneezed violently, and the other patients and their families in the ward looked over, seeing an intern fleeing in a panic.

From then on, she only said this one sentence to me every day.

As a doctor, I couldn't abandon this patient, nor could I accept this request, which was absolutely against medical ethics. No matter how the resident physician, attending physician, or even the head nurse insulted and despised my clumsiness, I was, after all, a doctor I had sworn an oath to. But I couldn't accuse her, refute her, or even tell anyone.

No one would believe me anyway—a beautiful patient who can't move from the neck down asking to have sex with you? In the hospital room? Or were you just driven mad by lust and wanting to take advantage of her? Regardless of her sincerity or consent, if I did it, I deserved to die, I deserved to be torn to pieces.

But I still couldn't help asking her why. On a night when there were no other patients in her room, the nurses were dozing off, and I was the only one on duty, she quietly told me about her life filled with pain: orphaned at a young age, abused by her adoptive father, and her adoptive mother tried to marry her off (actually, sell her) to a mentally disabled man. She left home immediately after graduating from junior high, working part-time while studying to support herself. Because of her heart condition and the constant harassment due to her beauty, she kept her distance from all men, focusing solely on work, hoping to save enough money to travel the world and never return to this place that caused her so much pain and sorrow.

"Now nothing is possible." "

In my whole life, I've never had what I wanted." "

Not even love. If only someone could love me."

I'm not a sentimental person, but her words brought tears to my eyes. Life is truly unfair! I couldn't help but grasp her thin hand. Her expression faltered; perhaps she wanted to respond but couldn't.

"Please, love me, just once."

"I won't tell anyone. I'll be grateful to you for the rest of my life." "

Even if it's just to celebrate my twentieth birthday... please?"

I shook my head again, slowly walking away. When I looked back, I saw her face was streaked with tears.

I swept stacks of medical books off the shelves, resenting that these things couldn't help me save a kind and helpless person. The only thing that could offer a little comfort to her tragic life, reducing even the slightest regret, was something absolutely forbidden by medical ethics. What was the point of my decades of hard work to get into medical school and seven years of studying to become a doctor?

That night I couldn't sleep. Every time I closed my eyes, all I saw was her pale face, her bloodless lips parting slightly: "Please make love to me."

After that, she didn't speak again, not even to me. She just cried whenever she saw me. Even the patients and nurses next door noticed something was wrong. When they saw her crying, they all turned to look at me. Although I hadn't done anything, I was filled with unbearable shame.

Perhaps my shame stemmed from the fact that I hadn't done anything.

The vase of lilies by her bedside had withered. The nurse told me that no one had visited her in a long time; it seemed she herself didn't want her friends to come.

"She seems to have no will to live. She refuses to take her medicine; I have to force-feed her. Even when I turn her over and wipe her back, she won't cooperate. When I try to feed her, I soon find she's vomiting almost everything into the trash can." "

No wonder, she's so young and beautiful. If I were her, I wouldn't want to live either." "

Without someone to love you, it's hard to have the will to live."

Those words struck my conflicted and bewildered heart again! If I really agreed to have sex with her, would she even have someone who loved her, would she even have experienced love? On my night shift, I paced back and forth in the corridor like a restless wild beast. Without realizing it, I found myself outside her ward.

I could hear voices inside. Two nurses were transferred to the nursing home today; her ward should be empty again. It wasn't visiting hours. I glanced at the night nurse leaning over the counter and quietly opened the door.

The window wasn't closed properly; the blinds swayed in the cold wind, the howling sound like someone roaring. I quietly closed the window, glancing at her before leaving.

I thought she was asleep, but she opened her eyes, tears welling up instantly. "Okay, I promise you… I'll make love to you." I swallowed hard. For the first and last time, I saw a smile on her face, like ripples spreading gently across a spring pond…

I looked at her questioningly, and she nodded gently.

A surge of emotion rushed through me; I had finally fully entered her life! Her body trembled slightly, her nails digging deeply into my white doctor's coat, almost piercing my back. This must have been a violent and unforgettable experience for her! I myself was also deeply shaken, as if for the first time, a woman with a tragic fate trying to grasp the only, last happiness in her life from me.

I never imagined that what I could offer wasn't my medical skills or my compassion, but rather the most insignificant energy I produce every day. I didn't know whether to be happy or not, and just stared out the window like a frightened mouse. The fluorescent lights in the corridor remained stark white, no shadows passed by, no footsteps were heard. I had safely completed the greatest adventure of my life.

Was it for her beauty? I don't admit that this was dying under the peony flower; it was purely due to my damnably fragile and sensitive heart. My classmates from medical school used to tease me, saying I was so soft-hearted that I couldn't even bring myself to kill a lab rat. If I had the chance to treat a critically ill patient, I would definitely cry more heartbrokenly than the patient's family!

"Does a doctor have to be heartless and tearless? Can't they have love?"

I shouted in my youthful arrogance. The words still echoed in my ears. I had actually practiced a doctor's love in this way that was intolerable to the world, and I still felt ashamed of taking advantage of her vulnerability. I withdrew with a heart full of shame, straightened the doctor's coat that I hadn't dared to take off, and reached out to help her. "No, I want to stay in there... a little longer." Her expression was as sincere as a spoiled little girl's.

I couldn't insist, so I patted her cheek: "Okay."

"Take care." "Goodbye." I didn't say these words aloud, and silently turned and walked out of the room.

"Thank you." She whispered, but it sounded as loud as thunder. I quickly closed the door. Fortunately, the corridor was still deathly silent. A broken fluorescent light flickered at the end. I walked towards it lightly, one step heavy, the other light.

"That lady is looking for you."

I had been wandering around all day, deliberately avoiding her ward, because I didn't know how to see her. I dreamed about her all night, and she kept saying "thank you" to me. So we did it again and again, but then someone, I think it was an old professor from the hospital, with white hair, glared at me and said "damn it" over and over again... "

Who? Which lady?" "

Who else? The one who cries as soon as she sees you!" "By the way, how exactly did you bully her?"

What bullying? She did it willingly—I could never say those words. I could only glare at the nurse and drag my heavy steps to her bedside.

She still wanted me to lean in. I looked back to make sure no one else was in the room before slowly bending down.

"I'm going to accuse you of rape."

"Achoo!" I sneezed loudly, jumping up as if I'd been electrocuted, but she looked cold. She wasn't joking.

"That's right, you might say I did it willingly, but do you have any proof? No. No matter how you look at it, everyone thinks you, the intern, took advantage of the patient's beauty and raped her while she was paralyzed and unable to resist."

I couldn't believe my ears. How could that flawless, pitiful girl have transformed into a demon overnight, her pale face aggressively confronting me?

"Even if I wanted to, you can't do this. What kind of doctor has sex with a patient in a ward?" "Besides, now I'm accusing you of rape, you're finished! Your career, your future, are ruined, you'll at least spend a few years in jail..."

She was still so beautiful, and she didn't even flinch when she said these threatening words, but a chill ran down my spine, a fear like that of someone who had touched a zombie.

"Of course I have evidence! Look at that light behind you, the one that's out of service, don't you see that little black dot? That's right, that's a hidden camera, you and I... the whole process of you raping me was recorded, the evidence is irrefutable."

A honey trap! I didn't expect her to be so prepared, I was so stupid! Women these days are so vicious. I once read in the newspaper about a woman with polio who instigated her lover to kill her husband, but I never thought a woman paralyzed from the neck down would still have the mind to scheme against others for money.

"Of course someone helped me, otherwise how could I get your semen as evidence? You only remembered to check if anyone was outside, but you didn't notice under the bed. I heard that only the smartest people can get into medical school, I don't think it's that great!" "

She should have been screaming and laughing savagely by now, but I was filled with remorse, regret, and panic... The thought that my life was ruined, and my fate was even worse than hers, who was already crippled, made me want to burst into tears. I collapsed to my knees on the spot.

'Don't beg me. I don't want your money. What use is money to me? I'm just unwilling to let my life end like this, so I'm taking someone down with me. You can only blame your bad luck, hahaha...'

She did indeed laugh savagely, like a vampire. I wanted nothing more than to strangle her. All the care I had given her, all the risks I had taken to fulfill her life's wish, had turned out to be a terrible trap. God! Is this the end for me? Going to jail, locked up with all those monsters and freaks, coming out as a criminal with a criminal record. Forget about finding a job as a doctor; even if I went to work, no one would hire a pervert who raped a crippled woman!"

She stopped speaking, her face returning to its completely calm expression. Despite my desperate pleas and attempts to reason with her while I knelt on the cold floor, she remained unmoved. Hearing the nurses' laughter approaching, I suddenly stood up! I stared intently at the venomous beauty on the bed, a silent decision forming in my mind.

On a moonlit night, I stood by her bedside, my gaze no longer tender and loving. I had come to see her one last time.

Now it was a matter of life or death; rather than letting her destroy me, I would strike first and kill her. After all, it's much easier for a doctor to kill than to save. She was the one who acted cruelly first, so she shouldn't blame me for being ruthless. At least I had a better chance of escaping arrest than being charged with rape and going to jail. She had no family, so no one would care about the cause of her death. As for her accomplice, we'll just have to deal with it as it comes; maybe seeing how ruthless I was, he'll be too scared to make a move. Anyway, since she said she'd 'sue me for rape,' it's clear she hasn't actually done it, so I'll make sure she never gets the chance!

If she doesn't talk, I really won't have a chance at all! It seems she's not that smart after all! I originally wanted to give her pavulon, but that would take too long, and I was afraid she'd have a chance to call for help halfway through; if I gave her cynande, I was afraid the body would turn black and arouse suspicion; so the simplest option is potassium. Since she already had a heart condition, it wouldn't be strange for her to suddenly die of a heart attack, right?

I made sure no one was around and no one had seen me come in. Wearing gloves, I picked up the syringe and slowly injected the potassium—which would immediately stop her heartbeat—into the cork of her IV drip. Strangely, my hand didn't tremble at all. It seems I can be a good doctor; I really can.

Suddenly, she opened her eyes! Her eyes were unusually bright, becoming the only light source in the darkness. I was startled! But I didn't stop what I was doing. Her gaze followed my arm to the syringe to the IV drip to the tube that was delivering the life-saving fluid into her body, and then back to my face. Her expression became unusually gentle, just like the moment I entered her last night.

"Thank you."

I sat in the hospital corridor, still holding one glove in my hand. I didn't know where the other glove and the syringe had been in the chaos. The nurse's desk was empty, with only the ticking of an alarm clock. Occasionally, a patient's groan could be heard in the large ward. And in the bed in front of me lay a woman who would determine the fate of my life; she was now silent.

The IV drip continued, drop by drop, into her body. The bag under her bed was opened, revealing only the clothes she had worn when she was admitted. The wall light, which had been removed due to the power outage, was replaced by an ordinary, unremarkable lamp. The visitor logbook at the duty desk was blown page by page by the wind; apart from the first few days of her hospitalization, no one had seen her for a long time… All the so-called video recordings, evidence, and the trap of accusing me of rape were, in the end, just fabrications.

After saying "thank you," she calmly watched the IV drip flow. I was stunned, frozen as if a "stop" button had been pressed, and heard her gradually weakening voice: "I don't want to live this kind of life, and I can't commit suicide. I can only rely on you. You're a good person; you wouldn't have done it otherwise…"

Her head suddenly tilted to the side, her black hair falling to the side, covering half of her snow-white cheek, revealing only one eye, which stared fixedly at me, and then remained motionless.

Am I a good person? Am I a good person? I couldn't save anyone, I killed someone, and the person I killed said I was a good person. Am I a good person? Am I a good person? I muttered to myself as I walked out of the hospital building. There was no one outside, only the cold moonlight shining on the ground.

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