The Greatest Showman - Chapter 1156: Sweating

"Jiashu, Jiashu, what should I do? Doctor, please, save my Jiashu, please..."

Who would have thought that a mouthful of phlegm could take a life?

A thick glob of phlegm lodged in his throat. He couldn't spit it out, nor could he swallow. His efforts to cough only intensified the suffocation, turning his face a shade of deep purple. Despite his desperate struggles, his body refused to move. Trapped in that moment, his soul seemed to crack, but life outside was strangely calm.

That suffocating feeling, the tightness in his throat, was unbearable.

In that instant, he wanted to die. The thought of giving up crossed his mind, feeling that this might be the best way out. It was like being slowly suffocated, as though Ryan Stone had deliberately cut off his oxygen.

But he didn't give up.

Even more terrifying was the intervention. The doctor performed an emergency tracheotomy, extracted the phlegm, and inserted the tube to save his life. But what followed was a wave of humiliation. He felt exposed, like a fish with its belly sliced open on a cutting board, vulnerable, without dignity. His throat lay bare, his saliva running down his face, and yet no one wiped it away.

In that moment, he abandoned the fight.

Then Heather appeared. She stood silently by the bed, her gaze fixed on him like he was nothing more than a dead fish. A smile crept up on her face. "So this is how you give up? You're so strict with me, but so lenient with yourself."

He tried to speak, but no sound came out. No matter how much he wished to protest, he was as helpless as a fish stranded on land, unable to defend himself.

Heather smiled wider, seemingly enjoying his silent struggle. "I forgot, you can't speak."

For a brief moment, he wanted to smile too. Though his mouth couldn't move, a glint of amusement shone in his eyes.

"You're just like me," Heather continued, and the two of them locked eyes. Two souls, adrift in the currents of life, conversing silently in the deepest pit of despair. At this moment, in the absence of words, they communicated freely.

Heather asked gently, "Have you tried everything?"

His eyes widened, tears welling up before slipping down his cheeks. He was caught off guard. His soul, once numb, now felt the raw sting of pain—pain so deep it cut into his bones. But amidst the ache, he found clarity.

I'm alive.

Heather faded, and Alex took her place. Chu Jiashu became Ryan Stone, the ward transformed into a lit box. The world around him shifted as the pain became fuel, reinvigorating him, reinforcing his spine.

"Ka!" Alfonso's voice rang out, "Perfect! Perfect! God, this is amazing! That's exactly it!"

The excitement in the studio was palpable, but before they could celebrate, a violent cough seized Renly. His body convulsed as the sharp, painful coughs wracked him, almost suffocating him. He heaved, stomach acid rising in his throat. He retched desperately, but his stomach was empty, nothing but sour water came up.

"Cough, cough, cough."

He felt as if his entire soul was on fire, as if his insides were burning. His body felt as though it was collapsing. He tried to gesture to Rooney to assure her that he was okay, but the pain was too intense, and the effort was too much.

Tears blurred his vision, and he collapsed to the floor, curling into himself in a ball of agony. His body was hot to the touch, each tremor reverberating through his nerves.

Finally, the coughing stopped. His lungs calmed, and his mind, once consumed with pain, began to clear. Slowly, his vision came back into focus, and he saw familiar faces around him—Rooney, Nathan, Alfonso, Emmanuel.

The crowd of people seemed endless, and Renly, exhausted, closed his eyes. After a moment of peace, he whispered, "Everyone's gathered here, no wonder I can't breathe."

A beat of silence passed before Rooney was the first to laugh. Soon, the whole group joined in.

Renly opened his eyes again, his voice weak. "So, was that take okay? If it wasn't, I think I need a rest before we start again tomorrow."

Alfonso stood there, tears streaming down his face. He wiped them away hastily, as if embarrassed. "Sorry, Renly. That scene was perfect. Absolutely perfect. How did you do it? I love you, I really do."

Renly smiled faintly. "Thank you. That's the best compliment I could receive. So, does that mean I get a rest?"

Alfonso broke down, a flood of emotion pouring out of him. Renly looked at Rooney, who looked like she was about to tear up too. "It was really wonderful," Rooney said, her voice trembling slightly. "You made me jealous. Your performance was so raw, so real."

Renly chuckled lightly, but his body was still wracked with exhaustion. He glanced around, trying to find Heather. But all he saw was Ryan's brother, holding a baby, watching him with a soft smile. The sight registered in his mind, but by the time he tried to look again, the figure was gone.

Confused and still drained, Renly closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and allowed Nathan to help him sit up. His body was recovering, but the exhaustion lingered.

He turned to Emmanuel. "How did those shots turn out?"

Emmanuel gave an "okay" gesture, his voice faint but sincere. "Thank you."

Renly smiled. "My pleasure."

With Nathan's assistance, Renly left the light box. Roy was waiting outside with a wheelchair, prompting Renly to laugh. "I should have refused. But today, I'll reluctantly accept."

The joke lightened the mood, and the heavy atmosphere lifted. Renly, despite his fatigue, seemed to return to normal, and the rest of the crew scattered as they wrapped up for the day.

Rooney, however, remained behind, her eyes following Renly until he disappeared into the distance. As an actress, she could see through his mask, the crack of vulnerability beneath it. The sadness in his eyes lingered, resonating with her own feelings.

She thought back to that night—the Oscar night, the song "Another Light."

The day ended, but Rooney couldn't shake the memory of Renly's eyes. His soul, laid bare on screen, had given Ryan Stone a life that felt all too real. She couldn't stop thinking about it.

After dinner, Renly disappeared into the night, and Rooney found herself walking aimlessly outside. She wandered towards the forest, the cool night air mixed with the freshness of the trees.

There, sitting cross-legged in the moonlight, was Renly. He held a guitar, gently strumming it, the soft music floating in the air.

Rooney paused, her footsteps halting. She didn't want to interrupt, but something about the scene made her want to stay just a little longer.