Gu Jin rubbed her fingers and thought for a while.
She didn't feel anything was wrong with her, so she smiled.
Mrs. Gu tucked the blanket more tightly around Gu Jin, then glanced down at her daughter's pale, calm face.
That strange, distant look hadn't left Gu Jin's eyes since she woke up. No relief. No tears. Not even confusion.
Just silence.
"Jin'er," Mrs. Gu said softly, testing again, "do you remember how I burnt my hand last week? You told me not to cook when I'm distracted."
She raised her hand slightly, revealing the faded, healing burn along her wrist.
For a long moment, Gu Jin didn't react.
Then, just for a flicker, her eyes moved, the emptiness in them shifting slightly. It was small, almost invisible, but it was there.
Gu Jin blinked, her gaze settling on the red mark.
"You burned yourself?" she asked, her voice soft. And for the first time since waking, there was something real in her tone—faint concern, barely audible, but not hollow.
