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墨書 Inktalez
A middle-aged man took Qiluo Ling for an examination. The cold instruments glided over Qiluo Ling's warm skin, and waves of pain surged from the depths of her heart. The discomfort in her body intertwined with the fear of death, leaving her feeling extremely distressed.
The agony of waiting for death far exceeded that of death itself; the pain of death was trivial in comparison. Time passed slowly, and death approached without a doubt, while she remained powerless.
"Congratulations, Miss Qi, you are indeed pregnant!" After a series of complex examinations, the middle-aged man smiled as he presented the final report to Qiluo Ling.
Qiluo Ling hesitated and nodded. There was no joy in her heart, only sadness. The father of the child was now like a woman in deep slumber, his soul curled up in some dark world. If she were to truly die, she would prefer that her soul could bring him out from that corner. If not, she would be willing to stay with his soul in that place forever.
"I find it surprising that you came to this hospital and are also pregnant. Everything seems so coincidental; it feels like something is meant to happen," the middle-aged man said after a long silence.
Qiluo Ling remained silent.
"Also, she has been asleep for so many years, and no one has come looking for her. Do you know who the father of the child in her womb is?" the middle-aged man asked again.
Qiluo Ling shook her head.
"Then, do you plan to stay here tonight?" the middle-aged man asked.
"Yes." Qiluo Ling thought for a moment before nodding.
Night fell, and a thin mist rose. Darkness gradually engulfed the entire city. Qiluo Ling turned off the lights in the ward and lay down on a small bed beside her. The bed was narrow, a simple wooden cot. The hard wooden bed made Qiluo Ling feel very uncomfortable.
Qiluo Ling tossed and turned, finding it hard to sleep. Sometimes she turned to gaze at the sleeping figure beside her, and other times she looked up at the ceiling in the darkness; in reality, apart from pitch blackness, she could see nothing at all.
When did her deep sleep begin? Was it really twenty-four years ago? If so, then time is truly like a fierce devil, hideous in appearance, with every minute and every second feeling like the slow unraveling of a cocoon, thread by thread, painfully long enough to make one feel as if they are being torn apart.
Did the woman in slumber enjoy music? If she did, what kind of music did she like? Did she prefer the works of Beethoven, Mozart, or Chopin? Was she also as captivated by classical music?
The increasing doubts and thoughts made Qiluo Ling more and more awake. This awakening allowed her to hear a silent emptiness, a passage of time that slipped away like sand through an hourglass.
A soothing melody drifted through the dark room, long and gentle, like a trickling stream. This spiritual enjoyment was akin to sipping a fragrant brew, leaving one with an endless aftertaste and not feeling exhausted at all. In this dreamlike music, Qiluo Ling fell into a deep drowsiness...
It wasn't until morning that a middle-aged man gently knocked on the door, waking Qiluo Ling. After waking up, she felt revitalized, her body and spirit refreshed; it had been a long time since she had slept so well. It was time for breakfast, and the middle-aged man took Qiluo Ling to the hospital's cafeteria.
"It's really unfortunate; she still hasn't woken up. I thought that once you arrived, she would wake up," the middle-aged man said regretfully.
"I don't understand either. What is she waiting for me to arrive for?" Qiluo Ling gazed blankly at the white walls of the cafeteria.
"We shouldn't give up hope too soon. I believe you are the one she has been waiting for, even though I am not entirely sure of the reason."
"Time is running out; I only have one day left."
"Where exactly are you going?"
"I'm not quite sure either; anyway, I won't be staying here."
Time trickled away slowly as the large clock in the hospital lobby swung back and forth. Every hour it chimed with a dull sound that fell upon Qiluo Ling's heart like a mournful dirge slowly playing.
The night began to envelop everything once again, and the final night had arrived.
Midnight came, and Qiluo Ling did not linger in that hospital room. She walked into the hall and stepped outside. Gray clouds drifted across the sky, revealing a pale moon. The cold twilight cast its light on the ground, falling upon her and stretching into a long shadow.
Qiluo Ling stepped forward, one step after another, following that shadow. The surroundings were empty and silent; everyone was asleep, and the entire world was in slumber. Only she remained alone, walking toward the direction of the moonlight, feeling a loneliness that nearly broke her heart.
The chilly night wind brushed past her fragile ears, and the dark clouds carried a sense of oppressive silence, as if playing a symphony of fate—defiant yet so isolated and helpless.
Suddenly, Qiluo Ling heard an inexplicable sigh behind her, and a long shadow approached her...
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