Her eyes met Jin Boyuan's across the narrow cabin, and something wordless passed between them—understanding, fierce and immediate. She didn't have to explain. He already knew.
Mu Yunchen couldn't find out from someone else. Couldn't hear it secondhand through a nurse's careful voice or a phone call or a well-meaning friend trying to soften the blow. He had to see her. Had to know with his own eyes that she was real, that she was alive, that this wasn't some cruel trick his grief-stricken mind was playing on him while he lay sedated in a hospital bed, clinging to the last fragile threads of hope.
"How bad is he?" Zhou Yuxi asked, her voice still rough, scraped raw from shouting into the wind and swallowing seawater. The words came out barely above a whisper, but they carried the weight of every fear she'd been holding back—every image she had refused to let form in her mind during those long hours of survival.
