Qi Ran stared at the fifty-thousand-word manuscript sprawled before her. A wave of indescribable pride washed over her, but shyness dominated.

Would anyone actually want to read this? Could she really publish it? Wouldn’t it get banned?

Unlike her past essays or travelogues—filled with made-up stories or flowery words—this was raw. She’d used simple, honest language to capture her feelings.

Every tiny moment after the tragedy was written down. Back in this town, the unchanging girl had finally begun to change.

It was small. She hadn’t taken a single step or spoken a word. But she’d changed. No longer drifting like a zombie, lost and purposeless.

Qi Ran glanced at the clock. Seven o’clock sharp. Her brother hadn’t woken to carry her to the bathroom yet. That was strange. The nightmare flashed in her mind again.

No. He’d never abandon her. He was just oversleeping a little.

Her small hand gripped the sky-blue bed curtain. It trembled slightly. Fear flooded her heart. She hesitated to pull it open.

“Xiao Ran, been holding it long? Slept in today…”

A slightly hoarse voice cut through her gloom.

Brother always appeared like Ultraman at her darkest moments.

To others, he might seem ordinary. To her, he was her personal hero.

But today, he looked off. Pale face. Dry lips. Bloodshot eyes.

[Brother, are you unwell?]

“A bit tired. Resting’ll fix it. I’m taking the day off work,” Qi Yan said, rubbing his temples.

[Mm-hmm. Balance work and rest.]

Qi Ran raised both hands in agreement. It’d been so long since they spent a whole day together.

Qi Yan hooked an arm under her shoulders and behind her knees. He gritted his teeth, lifting her with effort. His arms felt weak today.

His pure, familiar scent filled her nose—no trace of other girls’ perfumes or cheaters’ stink. It soothed her deeply.

Brother’s steady “ride” usually never faltered. But today, halfway from bed to bathroom, disaster struck.

Qi Yan moved carefully. Yet his body betrayed him. His steps were light, unsteady. The floor felt unreal beneath his feet. His mind fogged, thoughts sluggish.

Walking alone was hard enough. Carrying Qi Ran made him top-heavy. He stumbled and crashed down. No hands free to grab anything—he only tightened his hold on her, shielding her body.

His shoulder slammed into a hard wooden chair. A huge red welt bloomed. The pain didn’t clear his head. It nearly knocked him out. Dizzy and blind, he collapsed, unable to rise.

Qi Ran snapped out of her shock. She shook Qi Yan’s still form desperately. Unable to speak, she used her body to wake him.

Brother, what’s wrong? Answer me!

Tears pricked her eyes. She couldn’t lose him. Not him.

He’s just exhausted. Sleeping deeply, she told herself.

Why did this happen? It’s my fault. Because I’m a burden. A deadweight dragging him down.

She checked his breath. Quick and scorching hot. Her hand crept up—his forehead burned like boiling water. Hot enough to cook an egg.

No doubt: he had a fever.

Signs had been there a week ago. She’d sensed his discomfort but could only scribble in her notebook: [Brother, take care of yourself.]

He handled everything—daily chores, laundry, cooking, supporting them both. He wasn’t a steel giant. The weight finally crushed him.

She had to get him to a hospital now. Even a small fever could turn deadly if ignored. Her doctor father had taught her that.

One name flashed in her mind: Aunt Chunxiang. Brother always said, “Go to her if trouble comes.” Their parents’ friend. The landlord of this house.

They’d fallen near the dining table. Only 1.2 meters from the bed. The phone sat on the nightstand.

Qi Ran’s lower body was paralyzed—useless below the waist. But her arms worked. She dropped to the floor, chest-first, and crawled like a worm.

Rough floorboards scraped her smooth arms. Did Brother sleep on this every night? The thought deepened her guilt.

She couldn’t reach the bed’s edge. Stretching up, she fumbled blindly for the phone.

Her fingers brushed its edge—but fell short. Panicked, she pushed too hard. The phone slid farther away.

Now, she couldn’t touch it at all.

Despair choked her. Stupid! But she refused to quit. Her eyes scanned the room for tools.

The broom by the wall became her target. With immense effort, she dragged it back. Using its long handle, she hooked the phone and pulled it close.

Yes! Brother would be saved.

Her clean dress was now dusty from crawling. She didn’t care. She unlocked the phone, scrolling through contacts for Aunt Chunxiang.

As she typed the rescue text, a chilling memory hit her. Last night, Aunt Chunxiang had visited. She’d said she’d spend National Day at Tangquan Village’s hot springs. Not in DongSui Town. She’d even invited them.

Qi Yan had refused, citing Qi Ran’s inability to ride in cars.

Why was help gone when needed most? Was fate this cruel?

She scrolled down the contacts. A girl’s name appeared. Someone Qi Ran hated at first sight. A person who sparked endless insecurity. If possible, she’d never ask her for help. Two hundred percent sure.

But now, Qi Ran looked at her brother on the floor, groaning in pain. Nothing else mattered.