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At first there was nothing but pain.
It burned and seared Tingyun’s mind and body, red hot and agonizing. It made thinking impossible, much less interacting with the world around her—even if she were indeed more and more awake each passing day.
The moment that Madam Ruan Mei said that was only a small percentage of what she had to go through way back, she was happy those memories were just as flimsy as some of her previous life.
Whenever the scientist said it would abate, that treatment would work and her body would feel more like her own, Tingyun felt like sneering. Or asking her to please give her the strongest analgesic ever just so she could shut down from the world altogether for a few minutes. Someone had told her that coming back would have its setbacks, but that… was too much to ask, wasn’t it?
Yes, Ruan Mei’s words turned out to be true. Soon the waves of suffering calmed down just enough that the world came into focus. Instead of darkness there were the bright lights of the laboratory, reduced every now and then probably so she would rest and sleep. The room was pristine, white walls undecorated and offering no source of distraction to her troubled mind. She was often alone, having just machines and their constant beeping for company; and their noise volume was settled to the barest minimum the moment she complained about them due to her sensitive hearing.
Everything felt like a lot those days, sure enough. Sensation was gradually returning to her limbs and Tingyun did her best to try and move around just like the genius had told her to. Staying in bed wasn’t as comfortable as she might have thought of in the past, not when her joints ached and her back burned from prolonged contact with the mattress. Bending her knees, turning to the sides or simply lifting an arm were costly, however, muscle and bone protesting painfully as if she had just submitted them to the most terrible exertion.
The worst part was the nights, when there was absolutely nothing to do and no one to talk to. Not even doctors and other scientists who were often coming and going from Tingyun’s room, asking her the same questions and offering little to no comfort aside from more pain meds and the promise that those would work better than the last. Lights were dimmed and that was it. Sleep wouldn’t come, not when she had done nothing but agonize and worry all day long.
After all, it wasn’t as if the pain stopped either. At least not enough so she could get some much needed rest.
Times like that made Tingyun wonder if it had been worth it. The kind voice who had guided her through the unknown maze of the lab had warned that things would be difficult. That if she chose to give up and remain in that limbo, it would also be okay. Yet going through all of it, feeling more like a guinea pig for pain medicine and other lines of research wasn’t what she had envisioned at that point in time. Nor was it what she wanted for the rest of her life, either.
But in what seemed to be just another sleepless night, it didn’t seem like she had much choice but to play those roles for the time being. And hope against hope that something would change soon.
Silence mocked her with its stillness, what with how fast her thoughts were running, how restless her mind was. Ah, if only her body would answer to her and move that quickly, too, she would already be out of that bed. Maybe on her way back… home.
Home. Did she have one to come back to, even?
Sighing, Tingyun fought the warm tears which threatened to burn their way down her cheeks. Pain from her wounds mingled with the unseen ache of the unknown, making the bare, white lab roof a perfect canvas for her imagination to play awful scenarios. Suppose no one at the Luofu wanted her back to begin with? But then why should they, when she would require so much looking after for who knew how long, and they had so many more important problems to deal with? How many more things had happened during her absence that she wasn’t aware about?
What role was she supposed to play right then and there, if any?
What was left for her?
Anxiety grasped her heart, a known companion ever since she had woken up. It squeezed hard, constricting her breathing, the machine beside her beeping faster in response. Tingyun cursed, trying to focus on that instead of her own thoughts—if that kept up, it would alert the few people who stayed at the lab during the night. And the last thing she wanted whenever such thoughts assaulted her mind was a visit from one of those cold, calloused people.
Their exchange is always brief and unfulfilling to her anyways, no balm to her emotional or physical pain.
Hence when the sound of someone knocking on the door cut through the haze of anxiety and pain, Tingyun cursed herself. If only she could have more control over her thoughts, her frame of mind, her own future…
“I’m fine,” she started saying the moment the sliding door cruised open. Her voice was small, barely over a croak and sometimes raspy due to how much yelling and whimpering she had done because of the pain. The room was so quiet though, she was sure she would be heard. “It was a simple—”
The first thing she noticed was how calm and precise the steps were, already a contrast to how harried the scientists usually were whenever they went to check on her. Turning her head to the side, curious, Tingyun’s words halted as soon as the figure came into view, the dimmed lights falling over none other than Madam Ruan Mei herself.
Her stance was cold, detached—in that manner, no different than those under her tutelage. It was her gaze that made everything so different, however, at least whenever Tingyun was concerned. Her eyes weren’t veiled, closed off to the world around her as if the one thing that mattered was their research, the numbers and data they were about to collect.
No, they were shining with interest, so intense that the moment they met Tingyun’s her mind was silenced. Her anxious thoughts muddled under the impression that she was the most important thing in the world right then and there.
“Good evening.” Ruan Mei approached slowly. There was a folder in her hands, so full of files that it was almost overflowing. Yet if they had been carried with more grace, more attention before, they were almost forgotten right then and there, fingers slacking off to the point that a few sheets of paper were askew, almost falling to the ground. “I meant to come a few days earlier, yet some other matters required my presence unfortunately.”
“It’s… okay.” Tingyun suddenly found herself unable to respond, to place words together. Strange. She had been called silver tongued before—why was that particular ability failing her in the face of her savior? “I uh, I wanted to thank you, first and foremost. For everything you have done for me.”
“There is much more to do. My job here is not complete if you are still in that much pain.” Ruan Mei shook her head, turned to glance at the monitors for a brief second. Was that all she needed in order to get a read on the situation? “My assistants have told me none of the medications seem to have a lasting effect on you. A few were good enough for a few minutes or so.”
“I was told… there would be pain.” Tingyun did her best to shrug, but her movements were sluggish, a mere hint of a muscle contraction. She couldn’t recall who had told her that, but those words and a few others had lingered at her mind for some reason or the other. Why, the voice was even familiar, calm and collected. “Given everything that happened, it doesn’t surprise me either.”
“Still. The hyperesthesia should have abated by now.” Ruan Mei placed her hands at the bed rails, eyes intent on Tingyun as if her expression alone held the answers she was looking for. Her face, albeit impassive, was so intense that the foxian girl could feel herself blushing under that scrutiny. “The opioids should have blocked the calcium channels on your nociceptive nerves and inhibited its neurotransmitters, as they do for everyone else. What is it about you that causes them to behave so erratically?”
Tingyun sighed, gave a small smile that turned into a wince as a particularly strong wave of pain took over her entire body. Unable to stop herself from reacting, she tensed and contracted, a small whimper leaving her lips. Usually she wouldn’t want others to see how much she was suffering. Why would such a thing happen in front of the lead scientist, the genius who had brought her back to life?
A hand grasped Tingyun’s arm, so cold that it shocked her for a brief moment. The contact was new, more intimate than professional, light and yet comforting. It broke through the anxiety that had clouded the foxian’s mind not too long ago, giving her a sense of respite that was more than welcome.
Had someone ever touched her that way before? It was impossible to answer with memories still half-hidden, the moon peeking through heavy, grey clouds. Something about that moment with Ruan Mei was completely unique, however, and Tingyun wished the pain away, away, so it wouldn’t ruin everything.
“It left me wondering, though… if a more traditional, unconventional approach wouldn’t be helpful.” The scientist mumbled as their eyes met, more to herself than to the patient.
“Unconventional how?” Tingyun did her best to calm her breathing, to focus on what the other woman was saying.
Well, it was easier since it wasn’t aching as bad as before, a persistent throb that still made her eyes sting nevertheless. She fought against it, despite the fact that Ruan Mei didn’t seem the type to be swerved by tears.
Hence her surprise when the woman lowered the side rail and sat down unceremoniously, carving some space between Tingyun’s bent knees.
“Unconventional as it doesn’t involve medication per se. Instead it relies on a more natural resource which is also greatly used to reduce pain in some cases—especially wounds and lesions.” She eased herself into the mattress a bit more, to Tingyun’s growing apprehension. “Will you allow me to lie down next to you?”
“Huh?” The foxian’s eyes widened, her cheeks burning due to how easily that had been said. Given the scientist’s surprised expression, it didn’t seem like she meant it any other way.
Did she? Of all people Tingyun was sure she had dealt with before, few had been as difficult to read as that woman in particular.
“My powers revolve around ice, as I am sure you can already tell.” She tilted her head towards the hand still grasping Tingyun’s arm, and it did make sense why that was indeed so cold. “Ice is a great anti-inflammatory agent; cryotherapy reduces nerve activity, which decreases pain as well. With more bodily contact I may be able to use my abilities in a bigger area, effectively reducing your generalized pain. Or so I theorize.”
Well, it did make perfect, rational sense for sure. But to have that beautiful woman so close to her like that… would it work? Was that professional or something that transcended those barriers? And did she have to really care about those when Ruan Mei had already done so much for her to begin with?
“I suppose I shouldn’t be afraid or anything.” Tingyun thought out loud. “You’ve seen me at my worst, after all.”
“Afraid? Your worst?” The scientist’s eyes widened the slightest, as if the entire statement had puzzled her for some reason. “You needed my aid. I aided you. There is nothing more to it and no need for fear. If the experiment fails, I will go back to my laboratory and try to develop a new medication—”
“No more of those, please.” Recalling the many shots, the feeling of being nothing but a guinea pig to much less sensitive scientists, Tingyun made her decision. “I’d like to try your… method instead.”
“Very well. Excuse me.”
Without more preambles Ruan Mei lowered herself so she was lying down beside Tingyun, allowing some time so both could adjust themselves. In the end the scientist had to help the foxian move a bit so there was more space, but it worked out all the same: in no time, Tingyun’s head was resting on Ruan Mei’s chest, their arms around each other so their bodies touched as much as possible. Given the position she was in, the patient almost completely forgot the pain she was in, though the heart monitor was quick to show what effects that proximity had on her.
“Tachycardia. Crimson cheeks, tense shoulders.” Ruan Mei listed what she saw, then shook her head. “Yes, that cannot remain for long. Allow me to start the procedure. Please let me know if you feel any discomfort or if the cold is too intense.”
Tingyun wasn’t sure she would ever feel any discomfort like that, but she wasn’t about to say it out loud. Not when it was pretty evident that the scientist was a bit oblivious to what she could do to others.
At first the cold was nothing but a chill running down her spine. Pleasant, cold enough to dispel a bit of the sweat which had accumulated not too long ago despite the fact that the room was always kept at a nice temperature. Tingyun sighed in relief and before her good sense got the best of her, she snuggled closer to Ruan Mei, to the source of the delicious cold. That was what she told herself the moment she realized what she was doing, sure… but no good could come out of hiding something from her own self, could it?
Well, Ruan Mei was there, lying next to her, their bodies touching as much as possible because of a scientific experiment. And why shouldn’t Tingyun do an experiment of her own, about how much time it would take for the scientist to realize there was more to that setting than what met the eye?
But alas, it seemed that the good doctor had just good intentions at heart.
”From one to ten, how would you rate your pain level right now?” Ruan Mei queried, her hand idly cradling the foxian’s head. Bringing it and all of her, even closer. “Bear in mind, ten is the worst imaginable or factual pain you have ever been in, and one is of course the lowest.”
Pain? Ah, indeed… there had been pain coursing through her whole body, not that long ago. Before her senses were more preoccupied with the other’s presence, her proximity. A closeness that was somewhat new, overwhelming in a good way and so completely distracting that by then Tingyun was barely feeling the cold. Let alone whatever ache that had made her almost scream a few minutes ago.
Yet the hand that slowly made its way to her hair, fingers intermingling with the silky strands, demanded an answer. She could feel it in the way they moved, how Ruan Mei tilted her head and adjusted her position so they were still touching, the woman finally able to get a better look at her face. Those intense eyes prodded her, searching her very soul as if the one thing that mattered in the whole world was indeed getting an answer to that simple question.
Willing to please, especially the woman who had been nothing but kind and solicitou towards her, Tingyun shook her head and tried to awaken from that strange, nice stupor. Even if her eyes were threatening to close and her mind was heavy with one too many feelings alongside growing tiredness, she had to manage at least that.
Before succumbing to how tired and comfortable she finally was, after days and nights of sheer agony in the cruel fingers of pain, she parted her lips and decided that it was in her best interest not to be a hundred percent honest right then and there.
“It’s… a bit better. But maybe it hasn’t been long enough for the cold to be effective. I would still rate it a uh, seven. Out of ten."
“Hmmm." Ruan Mei nodded, glanced at the heart monitor as well before continuing. "Yes, it is too early for a result. After all, your heart rate is still terribly elevated and shows no sign of relenting."
Unable to stop herself as she got cozier, actually closing her eyes and reveling in the very human contact, Tingyun giggled. Let her hands play absentmindedly with an ornament in the scientist’s beautiful gown.
"I don’t think that will come down anytime soon, to be completely honest."
"Oh? Are you experiencing any sort of discomfort beside the pain?"
Ruan Mei’s voice was tinged with curiosity, something that Tingyun would like to name the slightest edge of concern. It was endearing, truly, that someone considered a genius could be a bit clueless about other matters, too. Given how stunning the woman already was, the foxian was convinced that was some sort of divine retribution—-she would be entirely too powerful, if she had guile as well as knowledge and beauty.
Still, the one response she gave while smiling and edging as close as possible to a puzzled Ruan Mei was a shake of her head, a whispered wish that she hoped wouldn’t go unnoticed.
"Please stay with me. Just a little longer."
No other sound followed that. A few heartbeats passed in which the scientist was too stunned to answer, too unsure about what had happened. Her cheeks were warm for some reason she couldn’t name, her chest fluttering with an unnamed feeling—-or at least one sensation she did not know how to name. The moment she nodded was the same that she realized that Tingyun was sound asleep, her expression finally relaxed and vital signs gradually slowing down.
Which was a miracle in itself all in all: Ruan Mei had been told that the woman wasn’t sleeping at all due to how much pain she was in.
"Mayhaps I should consider this experiment a success…” She mused out loud, barely above a whisper. Another thought struck her, the intensity of it surprising even her. "Or mayhaps we should repeat it for a few more days before actually determining that the data is solid enough."
There was no way to tell what Tingyun thought about it right then and there. As for Ruan Mei, however, it suddenly felt like one of the most pleasant experiments she had conducted in the last few years.