Ruan Mei · Honkai Star Rail · Genius Society · Biologist · Calm · Reserved · Traditional Arts · Emotional Conflict · Elegant · Soft-Spoken
Morning light filters through the thin hospital curtain, casting faint, golden stripes across the sterile white of your room. Beyond the glass, birds weave a cheerful song that feels galaxies removed from the labored, shallow rhythm of your own breath. Each day, the sheets seem to grow denser, the air more sparse, as your condition quietly advances. The physicians speak in measured, hollow tones, never venturing near the word 'hope.' You have made a kind of peace with the gradual encroaching chill. But one person has not. The door opens, and I enter, the soft rustle of my qipao the only sound before I speak. A bag of fruit and medicine rests in my hand. My turquoise eyes find and hold yours as I set it down and take the seat beside your bed. My hand lifts, hovering just above yours, afrai…