"Sakurako, you're awake!"
Dr. Zhang and I stood outside the glass of the isolation ward, clad in heavy protective suits, our eyes lighting up with relief as we saw Kawashima Sakurako stir on the bed. Her face was still pale, but her eyes were open—that alone was enough to ease the weight on our hearts.
"Mmm…" Sakurako answered weakly, her voice barely audible. Her breathing was shallow and uneven, her chest rising with each inhale as though every breath tore painfully at her lungs.
Dr. Zhang's gaze flicked to the monitor by her bed. His brows furrowed. The oxygen saturation was slowly declining—not a steep drop, but the trend was undeniable. He drew a deep breath and murmured, "Xiudao, let's talk outside. She needs rest."
I nodded, following him out of the ward. Our movements were clumsy in the bulky suits, but neither of us had the mind to care.
"What's wrong? She woke up, didn't she?" My question tumbled out, edged with anxiety.
Dr. Zhang removed his face shield, revealing an exhausted face, his eyes shadowed with worry. "Yes, she woke up—but that's only the first hurdle. The blast injuries from the grenade aren't fatal. The real danger is that the virus has begun attacking her lungs."
My heart sank. "What do you mean?" My voice rose despite myself.
"Look at her oxygen level," he pointed at the monitor inside, "it's dropping. That means her lungs are losing their ability to exchange oxygen. If this continues, her breathing will worsen until…"
He didn't finish, but I understood. If her oxygen fell too low, Sakurako could slip into a coma—or worse.
"Is there any treatment?" I asked, my voice trembling.
He hesitated, choosing his words carefully. "According to updates from Jiangcheng, there isn't an effective targeted therapy yet. Most patients must rely on their own immune systems. But Sakurako's case is different—she has internal injuries and a viral infection. Together, her body may not withstand it."
"Then what do we do? Just watch her…" My throat closed around the words.
Dr. Zhang's eyes flickered with hesitation before he said quietly, "There is… one option. But it's risky. I'll need your consent."
"Tell me. Whatever it is, no matter the risk—I'll do it." My voice was sharp with resolve.
He nodded slowly, his tone grave. "You know the Japanese research was based on the unique antibodies in your blood. Our lab has developed a first-generation vaccine, but it has never been tested on humans. Its toxicity is unknown. The plan is to inject you with it. If your body produces antibodies, we can transfuse your blood to Sakurako, giving her the strength to fight off the virus."
He paused, then added, "Fortunately, you have the rare 'panda blood,' so there won't be issues with blood-type rejection. That's the simplest part."
Hope flickered in my chest. "Then what are we waiting for? Let's do it now!"
But Dr. Zhang shook his head, his expression solemn. "Don't rush. I need you to understand—this vaccine is experimental. In the worst case, it could kill you. No one can guarantee its safety."
I froze for only a moment before answering firmly, "I don't care about the risk. If it saves her, I'll do it."
Dr. Zhang held my gaze, searching for doubt. Finding none, he nodded. "Very well. We'll begin preparations. But brace yourself—the process will be painful."
"I understand." My eyes hardened with determination.
Half an hour later, I lay on a bed in the lab, an IV line in my arm. Dr. Zhang stood beside me with a syringe filled with pale green liquid, glinting oddly under the light, as if harboring an unknown power.
"Ready?" he asked softly.
I nodded, closing my eyes. "Do it."
The needle pricked my skin. A chill spread through my veins as the vaccine entered my bloodstream. At first, nothing unusual. Then the fire began.
"How do you feel?" Dr. Zhang's voice sounded distant.
"Hot…" I managed, my voice quivering.
My body burned as if an inferno had ignited inside me. Sweat beaded on my forehead, my chest heaving under an invisible weight. Each breath felt like knives tearing through me. My vision blurred, my ears filled with a buzzing roar, the world tilting around me.
"Hold on," Dr. Zhang urged, voice tight with concern. "The vaccine is triggering your immune system—discomfort is normal."
Discomfort? My body felt like it was being ripped apart. Every nerve screamed. My hands clenched the sheets until my knuckles turned white, sweat soaking through my clothes, dripping down my face.
"Xiudao, stay with me!" Dr. Zhang's voice echoed, growing faint, as though from another world.
Darkness swallowed me whole. I fell into a void, cold and endless.
Then her face appeared—Sakurako's. Her eyes, clear and steady, seemed to whisper: Don't give up.
"Sakurako…" I murmured, barely a breath.
I didn't know how long I drifted. At last, pain ebbed. A strange lightness filled me. I opened my eyes to see Dr. Zhang leaning over me, relief etched on his features.
"It worked," he said softly. "Your body has produced antibodies."
Relief surged through me, tugging my lips into a faint smile. "Then… what about Sakurako?"
"We'll start the transfusion immediately," he nodded. "Rest now. Leave the rest to me."
I closed my eyes, whispering a silent prayer—that this would be enough, that she would survive.
Inside the isolation ward, Sakurako lay still, her breathing shallow. Slowly, drop by drop, my blood was transfused into her veins.
Time stretched, taut and heavy. Then—her fingers twitched. Her breathing steadied. The monitor's oxygen level rose, climbing gradually until it reached a safe range.
"It's working…" Dr. Zhang whispered, unable to mask the tremor in his voice.
From outside the glass, I watched, joy swelling in my chest. Sakurako… you made it.
Days later, her condition improved steadily. Color returned to her cheeks, her breathing strong and even. When she opened her eyes again, determination and hope shone within them.
"Thank you, Xiudao," she whispered, gratitude softening her voice.
I shook my head with a small smile. "No need to thank me. This is what I had to do."
She looked at me, her gaze complex, lingering. Finally, she said quietly, "I… I want to start over."
I met her eyes and nodded firmly. "Together."
Sunlight poured through the window, bathing her face in warmth. At last, a smile bloomed on her lips—a smile long absent, but filled now with promise.
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