In Between Us || Zhanyi

|| 49 ||

Gently, Zhan loosened his hold around him, careful not to startle or disturb him. His fingers brushed against Yibo's cheek in a soft caress before he whispered, "I'll be right back, love. Just for a moment."

With great care, Zhan eased him back onto the pillow. Even then, as if sensing Zhan's warmth leaving, Yibo's fingers twitched against the bedsheet. Zhan hesitated, watching Yibo, his heart tightening.

But he needed to do this.

Rising from the bed, he moved with quiet precision, ensuring not even the rustle of his clothes was too loud. Each step backward was slow, reluctant. His hand lingered near Yibo's for a final moment before he turned away, slipping soundlessly out of the ward.

Once outside, Zhan's demeanor shifted. The tenderness from moments ago was replaced with sharp intent. He pulled out his phone, removing all the notifications in one swipe, he dialed a familiar number.

The call barely rang twice before a voice answered, the voice alert despite the late hour. "Master Zhan?"

"Dajo!!! I want you at my place Right now!!!! I am sending rest of the details by text. I want everything done with precision...No mistake!!"  he ordered, his voice low but firm. "And do not inform anyone at the Xiao house. Understood?"

A brief pause. Then, without question, "Understood, Master. I'll be there shortly."

Hanging up, he exhaled slowly, pushing a hand through his hair before shoving the phone back into his pocket. His decision was firm—With the first light of dawn, he would take Yibo home—where he belonged.

Steeling himself, he re-entered the ward.

The sterile, dimly lit room welcomed him back with its quiet hum of monitors. His gaze immediately found Yibo again, still lying there, unchanged—except for the faintest crease on his forehead, as if he felt Zhan's absence.

Zhan moved to the bed, his steps slower now, deliberate. Sliding onto the mattress beside Yibo, he adjusted carefully, ensuring Yibo remained undisturbed. As he gathered him into his arms once more, the warmth of Yibo's body against his soothed something deep inside him.

Yibo's breathing remained shallow but steady, his lashes fluttering slightly against Zhan's shirt. Zhan placed a gentle kiss on Yibo's hair, his fingers tracing calming circles on his back.

"Sleep, love," he murmured, his voice a breath against Yibo's skin. "I'm here. I'm not leaving again."

And this time, he meant it.

Zhan's eyes remained open, watching over Yibo like an unyielding guardian, waiting for the first rays of dawn to set his plan into motion.

◉◉◉◉◉◉◉◉

As the first golden streaks of dawn filtered through the hospital window, Zhan remained where he had been all night—on the bed, holding Yibo close, stark awake. Time to time only nurse and doctor had visited for records. The steady rhythm of Yibo's breathing had calmed, and though he was still unconscious, the faint tension in his features had eased long ago.

A soft knock at the door broke the silence. Zhan glanced up, already expecting it.

A person in his late fifties stepped in, his posture straight, his presence efficient yet unobtrusive. "Everything is prepared, master," he said in a low voice, his eyes briefly flickering toward the younger in his arms. "The arrangements at your apartment have been made exactly as you instructed. The car is waiting downstairs."

Zhan gave a firm nod, carefully loosening his hold on his husband before slipping off the bed. He brushed his fingers over the younger's hand, a silent promise, before turning to the newcomer. "Good. Now let's get this done quickly."

The hospital corridors were quiet in the early morning, the faint echo of his footsteps steady as he made his way to the reception desk. The head nurse was already aware of the request, and the discharge papers were waiting.

Just as he reached for the pen, the doctor arrived, his expression unreadable but unsurprised.

"You're really taking him home first thing in the morning," the doctor remarked, more of an observation than a question.

"I said I would," he replied simply, signing the last document with swift, deliberate strokes.

The doctor exhaled, giving him a final, knowing look. "Fine. Take him home and take care. Please note down that he'll likely remain unconsciousness until late noon, given the sedatives we've administered. As I told you before, I'll visit by the clock with all his updated reports. I have only one thing to mention again—no stress, Mr. Xiao. He needs rest, care, and above all—your patience."

"He'll have everything he needs," he assured without hesitation. "Thank you, Doctor"

...TO BE CONTINUED

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