Beep beep beep—

Cars roared past, even at the crosswalk under the traffic light. Headphones on, listening to pop songs, Qi Ran still spun around in fear, clinging to Qi Yan. Her delicate shoulders trembled slightly, lips parted a little, tears welling in the corners of her eyes.

If she could make a sound, she’d have screamed her lungs out.

Qi Yan held his sister close, gently patting her back. “It’s okay. Don’t be afraid. I’m right here.”

That car accident had left a deep shadow in Qi Ran’s heart. Beyond her aphasia and paralyzed legs, the roar of an engine alone made her shiver. She refused to ride in cars; even seeing one darkened her vision.

A sister like this couldn’t survive in a bustling city. So Qi Yan planned to take her to the countryside to recuperate.

Qi Ran’s luggage was light. The bulkiest items were Qi Yan’s paintings for her. He’d meant to mail them home, but she refused—she wanted to carry them herself.

He had no reason to disagree. Inside, he felt inexplicably comforted and sweet. For an artist, nothing beat someone loving his art—especially his dearest sister.

Chasing dreams was always lonely. Family disapproval, friends’ indifference, even strangers’ mockery—sometimes, dreams crumbled before they began.

Luckily, the train station was just across from the provincial hospital. Otherwise, Qi Yan wouldn’t have known what to do. Streets full of traffic were hell for his sister. Taxis and buses were impossible.

Train tickets were already bought, along with Qi Ran’s favorite snacks. It was one of the few small things Qi Yan could do.

Mid-September was off-season—not a holiday, summer break just over, colleges back in session. The dark red carriage was nearly empty. Only busy salarymen and elderly couples on leisure trips filled the seats.

They didn’t stick to assigned seats. Qi Yan and Qi Ran sat diagonally opposite, luggage nearby.

Qi Ran propped her chin on one hand, leaning against the window. She stared blankly at the rushing tree shadows and telephone poles. After years bedridden, moving scenery felt new.

But the monotonous view grew tedious. Qi Ran didn’t hate the calm—it was the unchanging sameness that bored her, much like herself.

The old train clattered—“Clunk, clunk”—wheels on tracks. Boring sights and sounds, same as always. Only today, she had a companion to share it with: her brother, Qi Yan.

But he looked exhausted. He dozed off the moment he sat. Had he pushed himself too hard?

Qi Ran watched his swaying body, worry creeping in. A sudden brake might send him crashing to the floor, head bleeding.

If another accident happened, she might lose him too. But this was a train, not a car—safe enough. She told herself that, yet cold sweat beaded on her skin, her frail frame trembling slightly.

She had to wake him. She couldn’t lose her brother—not when he was all she had left.

The distance was so short. His face was inches away, yet unreachable.

Her arms were too short. No voice. No movement. Qi Ran lightly bit her lip, frustration flashing in her eyes. She hated her helplessness.

She grabbed the notebook beside her and threw it with all her might at Qi Yan’s face. Not anger—just fear that anything less wouldn’t wake him. Her last resort.

“Ow, ow, ow…”

The notebook hit Qi Yan squarely on the head, jolting him awake. He caught it mid-fall, instantly understanding. Over the years, this small notebook had roused him countless times—dozing by her hospital bed, then startled awake by his sister. Routine.

It stung, but joy outweighed the pain. Since the accident, Qi Ran rarely smiled or showed emotion—like a doll. A flicker of anger might even help her heal.

A strange theory, but Qi Yan believed it.

“Sorry, I dozed off. What’s wrong? Hungry? Thirsty?” Qi Yan gestured to a supermarket bag beside him, stuffed with Qi Ran’s favorite puddings, sodas, juices, and milk.

Qi Ran shook her head twice. She pushed her backpack aside and patted the empty seat space.

Qi Yan moved the bag opposite and plopped down beside her, smiling. “Tired? Or scared to sleep alone?”

Qi Ran snatched the notebook and tapped his arm. No force—just a playful nudge.

If she could speak, she’d scold, “Idiot, idiot, big idiot!” But that voice was gone, only in memories and dreams.

[“I hate sleeping.”] She wrote on the notebook.

“You’re right. In the hospital, all you did was sleep. How could you be tired? Unlike me…” Qi Yan yawned uncontrollably. Sleep-deprived, he had no spare time even for rest.

Qi Ran turned to the window, pretending to watch the scenery. But her small hand clutching her shirt hem betrayed her feelings. Just being together was enough.

“Long way to the final stop. I’m exhausted. I’ll nap more. Wake me if anything happens.”

Qi Ran nodded slightly.

Qi Yan was truly drained. Taking his sister home had been impulsive—a hospital call demanding unpaid medical fees. He’d been working part-time then. He never expected his own family’s cruelty. After Grandpa’s death, cutting his allowance was one thing—but stopping Qi Ran’s treatments too?

He’d planned to wait until graduation, until he could support her alone. But harsh reality wouldn’t wait. He couldn’t leave her by herself anymore.

Future life… Qi Yan hadn’t even begun to think before drifting into sleep.

Qi Ran felt a sudden weight on her shoulder. She turned—her brother’s head rested there, asleep. Being relied on didn’t bother her. It brought quiet joy.

His heavy weight pressed down. His warm breath brushed her cheek. Foreheads touching, noses almost meeting, hands clasped palm to palm, sharing warmth. Only now did Qi Ran feel truly alive—in a world with her brother.

She wished this could last… forever, until the world’s end, time’s end, never parting.