CHAPTER 77

——

Inside the brightly lit operating room, the air was heavy despite the sterile coldness. Machines hummed. Monitors beeped. Yibo's body lay still, pale against the blue surgical drapes, his chest gently rising and falling under anesthesia.

Doctor Mianmian stood at the head of the operating table, sweat beading under her cap. Her hands moved precisely but her heart clenched every second. Yibo was her friend—no, her brother in soul. She knew what this surgery meant, not just to his life, but to Zhan's entire world.

"Cauterize here. Hemostasis. We're close to the lesion." But then—BEEEEEEEEEP. The flatline.

For a second, everyone froze."No pulse!""BP crashing heart rate gone!""Start compressions!"

The nurse immediately began chest compressions, the sound of her palms pressing against Yibo's ribcage breaking through the sterile silence. Another nurse brought over the defibrillator. "Charging—clear!" Yibo's body jolted. Once. Twice. But the line stayed flat. Mianmian's voice cracked as she barked, "Again!"

⸻

Outside. Zhan sat like a statue, elbows on his knees, hands trembling. Ayuan sat beside him, arms wrapped tightly around himself, as if holding in every sob. The clock ticked so loudly it felt like a hammer in their heads.

Zhan whispered, as if to himself, "Why is it taking so long?"

Ayuan looked up, eyes red. "They said it was normal... didn't they?"

Zhan didn't answer. He couldn't. His fingers gripped the edge of the seat until his knuckles turned white. He hated waiting. Not because of impatience. But because waiting meant you couldn't do anything. He couldn't hold Yibo's hand. Couldn't stroke his hair. Couldn't whisper into his ear, "Come back to me."

His heart was breaking and he couldn't even scream. Ayuan reached over and placed his hand on Zhan's. "He told me once," the boy said softly, "that no matter what happens, he wants you to smile again. Even if he can't."

Zhan's lips quivered. He turned away."He doesn't get to leave," he said fiercely. "He doesn't get to say goodbye. We still have a baby to bring into this world. He made promises."

⸻

Back in the OR

Still no heartbeat. The silence in the room was stretching thin. Mianmian's jaw clenched."Don't do this to me, Yibo. Don't you dare, don't you dare. If you don't wake up, I have a handsome friend—and I'll introduce him to Zhan," Mianmian threatened playfully, her voice trembling just enough to betray the fear beneath her joke. It was as if Yibo heard her, even in the silence.

Then—Beep... Beep... beep... The ECG came back to life.

Hours Later. The doors finally opened. Zhan stood up so fast the chair behind him toppled over.

Mianmian walked out slowly, her surgical mask hanging around her neck, her face pale and exhausted.

Zhan took one step forward. "Tell me. How is he?" She gave a weak smile, voice raw with emotion. "He stopped breathing for almost two minutes."

Zhan froze. Ayuan grabbed his hand, eyes wide. "But..." Mianmian continued, her eyes glistening, "he came back. We were able to remove the entire mass. He's stable. He made it."

Zhan dropped to his knees. His whole body gave in. Not out of weakness. But out of relief so heavy it broke him. Ayuan wept beside him, sobbing into his hands, whispering "Thank you... thank you..." Mianmain excused herself and went back to the OR.

Zhan wiped his face, eyes red and shining. "I knew it," he said through tears. "My Bobo... he promised he'd come back. Before they could speak again.

"Zhan, Ayuan!" Yibo's parents were the first to reach them, their faces stiff with worry, followed closely by Zhan's longtime friends, Jiyang and Haoxuan, who had barely spoken a word during the flight.

The moment Zhan saw them, he forced himself to stand straighter. He wiped the tiredness from his face and tried to speak, but Yibo's mother rushed forward, pulling Zhan into a tight embrace.

"How is he?" she asked in a trembling voice. "Is he—?"

"He made it," Zhan whispered, tears springing again. "He stopped breathing... but he came back."

The others gasped—Jiyang staggered back, and Haoxuan whispered a soft curse under his breath, pressing a hand to his chest.

"He's still inside?" Haoxuan asked, stepping forward.

Zhan nodded, his eyes darting toward the corridor, as if afraid that looking away for even a second might somehow make Yibo disappear again.

Just then, Doctor Mianmian approached again still in her scrubs, her hair a mess under her cap, exhaustion clinging to her like second skin.

"I'm glad you're here," she said, her voice calm but hoarse. "I need to explain what we did and what comes next."

They gathered in a small consultation lounge. Mianmian pulled up a scan and pointed to the before-and-after. "The tumor was deep," she began. "Too close to several sensitive areas. We had to be aggressive, but we removed it all."

Zhan's grip on Ayuan's hand tightened. "But there's something else," Mianmian added. "As you all know, the tumor was pressing against the fusiform gyrus, which caused his prosopagnosia, his face blindness. We believe that with time, and healing, there is a chance he might regain facial recognition"

Zhan's eyes widened, heart stopping. "You mean, he might be able to see their faces again?"

Mianmian gave a slow nod. "Yes. It's not guaranteed. But the compression's gone. The brain just needs time to reconnect those pathways."

Yibo's mother choked on a sob. Jiyang clutched Haoxuan's arm. And Ayuan's lips trembled—his father's eyes might finally see him clearly.

"We've moved him to a private suite," Mianmian continued. "He's stable. But still unconscious. We're monitoring him closely."

Zhan stood immediately. "Take me to him."

⸻

The room was quiet, lit only by the soft glow of the monitors and the dim evening light seeping through the window. Yibo lay still, his face pale, dark lashes resting gently against his cheeks. There was oxygen on his nose, and the rhythmic sound of the heart monitor echoed in the room like a lullaby fragile but constant.

Zhan stepped inside first, his knees nearly giving way. But he didn't cry this time. He just reached for Yibo's hand and brought it to his lips.

"You fought so hard," he whispered. "You survived, bobo. We survived." He kissed Yibo's forehead. Yibo's hand was still warm. Ayuan entered next, quietly. He tiptoed to the bed and leaned down.

"Dad," he whispered. "You scared me. But I know you'll open your eyes soon. I'll be right here, okay?" Zhan let Ayuan have that moment, watching his son press his forehead gently to Yibo's hand as if transferring every piece of his heart through that touch.

Then Jiyang and Haoxuan came in, staying back to let the family have their space. They stood by the door, quiet tears in their eyes. Yibo looked peaceful but fragile. And every beep of the monitor felt like a prayer whispered into the silence.

Zhan hadn't moved all night. He sat on the chair beside the bed, one hand tightly holding Yibo's, the other gently brushing through his dark hair.Ayuan had fallen asleep curled at the foot of the bed, his hand still wrapped in Yibo's blanket.

And then — a faint twitch. A flutter of lashes. A soft, broken inhale.

Zhan straightened immediately, his heart leaping to his throat. "Yibo...?" His voice cracked with desperate hope. "Bobo?"

He pressed the button beside the bed to call for the doctor. "He's awake!" he shouted.

Yibo's brow furrowed as if the world was too bright too new. And then slowly his eyes opened. For a moment, he just blinked, adjusting to the light. Then, he turned his head. And he saw Zhan.

Zhan's eyes welled with tears as he let out a trembling breath. "You're awake... thank God..." Yibo's voice came out rough, hoarse from disuse—but laced with a familiar, mischievous glint.

"...Who are you?"

The world stopped. Zhan froze mid-breath. Ayuan jerked awake with a gasp beside him. "Daddy?"

Yibo turned to look at the boy no, the young man before him. That face. Familiar and foreign. His son. Grown. Beautiful. Painfully real. His eyes shimmered, lips trembling. But Yibo only smiled wider.

"And who's this handsome boy?" he added playfully. "Did an angel get lost and wander into my room?"

Zhan still didn't move. His breath caught in his throat. Yibo tilted his head and teased, "I think, mister you've entered the wrong room."

Zhan's heart cracked, tears rolling down his cheeks. Just then, Doctor Mianmian stepped into the room, her eyes widening as she took in the scene. "You're awake?" she rushed to the bedside, hands already reaching to check the monitors. "Well, I guess congratulations are in order—"

But Yibo narrowed his eyes and frowned. "And who are you?"

The confusion in his tone silenced everyone. Mianmian blinked, caught off guard, and immediately reached for her tablet. "Get me a CT scan. Full neurological check."

Ayuan, beside the bed, was now crying silent, panicked sobs.Then suddenly. Yibo burst into laughter. It was sharp, strained, and short-lived. He winced as pain tore through his body, the laughter faltering. Zhan, without thinking, slapped his chest lightly, trying to jolt him out of it.

"Yibo! Don't joke like that!" Zhan snapped, tears sliding down his cheeks as he glared at him. Ayuan let out a breathy giggle between sobs. "Dad! That's not funny!"

Yibo let out a choked laugh and shook his head, the emotion bursting through his teasing mask. Slowly, his trembling hand reached up, brushing Zhan's wet cheek."I'm sorry," he whispered. His voice cracked. His tears came freely now.

Then his gaze found Ayuan. He blinked. His chest rose, halted. "Come here," Yibo whispered.

Ayuan crawled onto the bed and sat beside him just as Yibo's parents stepped into the room, stopping in their tracks at the sight.

And for a moment, time slowed. Yibo stared at Ayuan as if seeing him for the very first time. Not through scent or sound. Not through the feel of fabric or the memory of cologne he'd chosen to mark his son from others.

Now, he saw him. Truly saw him. A sharp intake of breath escaped Yibo's lips. His fingers trembled as they reached forward.

"Ayuan..." His voice fractured on the name. "Come here. Let me, let me really see you."

Ayuan didn't hesitate. He collapsed into his father's arms, trembling. And Yibo he held him like he was trying to make up for every lost day, every touch denied to him, every memory he'd only imagined.

But his eyes... they never left Ayuan's face. "So handsome," Yibo whispered, tears falling freely. "You have my eyes but your smile—that's Zhan's."

Ayuan sobbed, burying his face into Yibo's neck. "Daddy, you can see me now?"

"I see you," Yibo whispered, voice breaking. "Not just your laugh, not the scent I created to find you in the dark I see your face. You're so, so beautiful."

Zhan couldn't hold it anymore. He turned away, hand over his mouth, trying to stifle the sob that erupted from his chest.

His baby. His husband. Together. Zhan stepped forward again, knelt beside the bed, and kissed Yibo's forehead, then Ayuan's. His voice trembled.

"You scared me, idiot... We thought we lost you."

"I know," Yibo whispered. "I heard you... Even when I couldn't answer. I held onto your voice. It kept me alive."

Ayuan wrapped his arms around them both, clinging. "I love you both," he cried. "You have no idea how happy I am right now."

Zhan and Yibo spoke at once, their voices breaking. "We love you too. More than anything else, baby radish."

Yibo pressed a kiss to the top of Ayuan's head. "You've grown so much, my little radish. I'm sorry I missed your face for so long."

Mianmian, finally stepping back, shook her head and muttered, "Drama kings!" They just smiled at her.

For the first time in years—they were together. No pain. No blindness. No illness. Just them. A broken life that somehow still built a beautiful home.

His parents came forward, equally shocked and overwhelmed. Yibo's mother had a tissue crushed in her hand, her other covering her mouth as she wept. His father who rarely cried was visibly shaking.

"I don't need to guess anymore," Yibo choked out, staring at them with wonder. "I don't need your perfume, or your voice, or the color of your scarf. I can finally see you. I remember how you looked from the old pictures, but now"He broke off, overwhelmed.

His mother knelt beside him, cradling his face. "And we've missed your eyes seeing us."

"We've always been proud of you," his father added, voice breaking. "But now..now we can stand in front of you and have you really see us. It's everything."

Ayuan clung to his father tightly, whispering, "Don't ever leave me again, Daddy ."

Yibo kissed the top of his son's head. "Never. I fought through the dark for this. For you, for your Nana, for everyone I love. And now that I have your faces. I'll never let go."

Zhan stepped back in, kneeling beside them. His arms wrapped around Yibo and Ayuan, completing their circle. All of them were crying. None of them cared.