She slept soundly throughout the day.
In the middle of the night, Wen Han's heartbeat suddenly accelerated, and she woke up in a flash. She was panting violently. In the panic and darkness, someone held her hand tightly.
This temperature is too familiar, it's him.
The breathing mask on her face was taken away, she opened her mouth slightly, and her throat was so dry that it hurt a little. As if he knew what she wanted at this time, Cheng Muyun pressed Wen Han's lips, and cold water slowly poured into her mouth from his mouth, and the water flowed down her throat.
After so many times, he stopped: "Comfortable?"
Wen Han frowned, confused, couldn't tell whether it was reality or a dream, looked into his eyes, and in a long and quiet time, slowly regained his consciousness: "I... It's actually not uncomfortable." Yes Yes, it's not as uncomfortable as it looks.
In addition to being in a coma for a moment, unable to breathe, unable to speak, and waking up several times during the day with numb hands and feet, unable to move. There is no superfluous feeling.
That's what scares her the most.
"Really?" he replied simply.
"I don't think, what have I done," Wen Han said in a rustling voice. He woke up just now and was struggling to speak, "Why? Yes... Is there something wrong with the mango?"
She couldn't think of anything special that would make her like this.
Moreover, because she couldn't see Zhuang Yan when she woke up in the morning, there was always a strong unease in her unconscious subconscious.
"It's Mango." He was confirming her guess.
Wen Han immediately wanted to ask Zhuang Yan what was wrong, but he coughed violently because he was in a hurry. Cheng Muyun threw aside the respirator tied to her body, picked her up, put it on her lap, and patted her back. Wen Han slowed down, and he put him back on the head of the bed, raising the pillow against it.
Someone was coughing in the corner.
Only then did she notice that there were not only her and Cheng Muyun in this room, but also the dark shadow standing in the corner smoking against the open bar window. Can't see who it is.
"Where's Zhuang Yan?" she asked softly.
The coughing person seemed to be choking on the smoke and coughed even harder.
Cheng Muyun didn't answer, and began to take off the hospital's wide and ventilated patient clothes for her. He took clean clothes from the foot of the bed and put them on her. When he was dressing her, his body was slanted, blocking the view from the window.
"Where's Zhuang Yan?" She became more and more uneasy.
Cheng Muyun half squatted down, tucked her feet into her sneakers, tied the shoelaces as usual, and tied a knot: "I'll take you to see him."
Wen Han's always tense heart finally fell a little, at least he was still there, still good, and he didn't escape, at least it wasn't him. Not him. But this kind of peace of mind disappeared when she and him walked out of the room, walked all the way down the stairs to the first floor, the first basement, and reached the entrance of the stairs on the second floor.
This is not a ward at all.
There are only a few rooms from the beginning to the end of the corridor, and only one door is locked, that is, outside the locked door, there are a few strange Indians, including Fu Yiming and Cheng Jia. The remaining Chen Yuan came down with Wen Han and Cheng Muyun.
Wen Han looked around and looked at Cheng Muyun in a panic: "What do you mean? Is he here? Where is he? Why didn't I see him?"
Impossible, no, how could...
Even she doesn't feel uncomfortable, it's just something in a coma, impossible...
Fu Yiming was arguing with several Indians, and when he saw Cheng Muyun, he let out a curse and strode towards Cheng Muyun.
In the blink of an eye, there was an extra gun in his hand, and the muzzle pointed directly at Cheng Muyun's heart: "He is only nineteen years old! He has followed me since he was a child! Is he okay now? Ah? He is dead, and death will prove his innocence, Isn't it a ghost? This is your method?!"
"Put down the gun." At the same time, a gun also pressed against Fu Yiming's temple, Chen Yuan coughed and warned Fu Yiming.
Fu Yiming completely thought that the muzzle on his head didn't exist, and sneered at Cheng Muyun: "You might as well just kill us all, it's over.
Cheng Muyun narrowed his eyes slightly, stretched out his hand, grabbed Fu Yiming's shoulder, and dragged him fiercely in front of him. He suddenly drew closer, making Fu Yiming's gun slammed into Cheng Muyun's chest: "You want to kill me?"
Fu Yiming didn't answer, he slid off the safety catch of the pistol.
Cheng Muyun looked at Fu Yiming and tortured the other person's soul again: "Do you really want to kill me?"
Two guns, three people.
A dangerous world has been constructed.
Wen Han seems to be isolated from that world.
It seems that there is an abyss that is constantly collapsing. Buildings and cars are falling down with the collapsed pit, making people want to escape and leave...
Can't escape!
She suddenly grabbed Fu Yiming's gun.
Because of this unexpected action, everyone looked at Wen Han.
"Zhuang Yan said—" She tried her best to make every word clear, "he was very happy. The first time he saw Cheng Muyun on the train, he recognized him as a brother. He was very happy to be able to follow Cheng Muyun. "..." That boy must have been sincere when he said this to her while sitting in the stairwell. She could feel Zhuang Yan's admiration for Cheng Muyun.
Quiet.
No one responded.
Wen Han's hands began to tremble, but he refused to let go.
"Go away!" Finally, Fu Yiming shook her off.
Cheng Jia, who ran over, also supported Wen Han.
Fu Yiming smashed the hand holding the gun against the wall.
All of a sudden, Wen Han swore that he heard the sound of bones breaking.
With red eyes, he took the gun from his painful hand, pinned it behind his waist, forcibly squeezed out every word, and made a coherent sentence: "Your woman is right, Cheng Muyun. Zhuang Yan just regards you as a hero. The same worship. Cheng Muyun, it's my fault, he has never seen you at all, and you are the person who has nothing to do with you. I brought him here just so that he could see you. "
Fu Yiming said, his eyes began to blur, and a mist blocked everything in front of him: "You suspect him because he is the one who follows me closely. It's my fault, it's all my... "
He closed his eyes, let himself recover for a few seconds, then opened his eyes to look at Chen Yuan and Cheng Jiayi.
"You two, no matter who did it, no matter who it is, I will cramp and peel you with my own hands. Trust me, I will do what Fu Yiming says."
He turned around, walked to the locked room, kicked hard, walked to another staircase, and disappeared at the end of the corridor.
This dispute happened too fast and too hastily.
Those five or six Indians were all stupid, and they didn't even talk to each other, they all stared blankly at them. Wen Han woke up from the fierce confrontation just now, and slowly felt the cold seeping into the gaps in her bones. She knew that Zhuang Yan's body must be in that room.
But she dared not go to see it.
When all the Indians came over, they came to communicate with Cheng Muyun in English, saying that an autopsy would be arranged immediately according to Cheng Muyun's request. Cheng Muyun waved his hand and told them that there was no need, no need to check, someone would come to pick up the corpse in a few days.
He pulled Wen Han over and asked her softly if she wanted to take a look.
Wen Han shook his head.
She couldn't accept it and went to see this so-called last look.
She would rather keep her memory on the ordinary Indian train, where the nearby Indian passengers gather, chat, and even laugh and sing to the accompaniment of musical instruments at night, and in this compartment, she doesn't know that the tourists have bad intentions , everyone is sharing their experiences on the journey.
The train was on the rails, bumping forward rhythmically.
He was dressed in ordinary lama clothes and flipped through a book.
She lay on the top bunk watching him.
Occasionally deliberate exchanges are all about Buddhist scriptures, and Omara fruit is a cocoon.
In such an atmosphere,
Teenager appeared.
…
The hospital arranged a simple examination for Wen Han, and after confirming that she had no abnormality, it instructed Cheng Muyun that although there were no sequelae now, it did not mean that there was no problem. The responsible Indian doctor must also write a detailed case in English, and ask Cheng Muyun to take him back to Moscow for Wen Han's follow-up reference.
Wen Han only heard that when the doctor explained the words she couldn't see clearly in the medical record, he carefully asked a few words, knowing that Cheng Muyun didn't lie to himself, and that his coma was related to food.
Zhuang Yan did not have an autopsy, and the cause of death was determined to be food poisoning.
The car and driver sent by the owner of the manor took them back.
Cheng Muyun sat in the co-pilot seat with Wen Han behind him. The remaining three people are sitting in the same car, and it is inevitable that there will be physical contact with their legs and arms. But apparently, all the joyous harmony dissipated.
Everyone was silent and thoughtful.
No one speaks.
How exactly did this happen? Wen Han looked out the window, not thinking about it all the way.
The mangoes were bought by Cheng Muyun. When they were ready to eat, only Zhuang Yan and himself expressed interest. What happened in the middle
She lowered her head and looked at her right hand in a daze.
Hard, cold, with a sense of oppression to life.
It was the first time she had ever touched a gun in her life.
Cheng Muyun sent the three of them back to the small white building, and brought Wen Han back to the humble two-story building. She guessed that he wanted to stay in a place where he could calm down tonight.
The peacocks had already entered the grass shed deep in the fence. The bonfire outside the building was still burning. There were still two days left, and the day after tomorrow would be the big day for the manor owner to become a monk.
It is said that the bonfire will not be extinguished until then.
In the already cold weather, these ascetic monks sitting around the bonfire are still wrapped in a rag around their lower bodies. Sitting around the fire is not for warmth, but for some light.
Cheng Muyun was silent all the way.
When he got here, he seemed to relax a bit. In the cold wind, he took off his jacket and shirt, and threw it at his feet. He also sat down cross-legged and asked the ascetic beside him for a bowl of water, which he drank in two gulps. The cold water was poured in, and the cold wind was blowing, so as to keep my mind clear.
Wen Han sat down next to him.
Zhou Ke, Zhuang Yan.
It seemed like every time she just learned their real names, they died. It was like a curse, she thought of Fu Yiming and Cheng Jiayi, and then she didn't dare to think any more. She would rather not know what their names were, and miss the scene in the coffee plantation where they each introduced themselves by false and ordinary names...
"I sometimes envy these ascetic monks. From the beginning of the monks' door, there is no love or hatred, abandoning fame, abandoning sexual desires, and letting go of human relationships." Cheng Muyun suddenly said.
Wen Han looked at him.
All night she was immersed in her own grief, ignoring that this man was the one who needed comfort the most. Zhuang Yan's death, Fu Yiming's muzzle, and Cheng Jiayi's malicious speculation about Zhou Ke. She just saw the tip of the iceberg and felt unbearable, and she was not familiar with these people, let alone have any deep feelings.
She could see the tight lines and scars on his body.
"What they want is liberation, true liberation," Cheng Muyun put down the wooden bowl full of dirt, turned his head, and put his icy palm against her warm profile face, "In the past, such as death yesterday, in the future, , such as today's birth."
However, being unable to let go of all the hatred he had in the past was Cheng Muyun's biggest karma.