Su Lanqiao had another nightmare. At the moment when he fell off the bridge, his mother lost her breath and let go of his hand, leaving him alone to fall off the bridge. His mother’s face was full of despair before him, with a fast-flowing river beneath him, and he was instantly engulfed.
The whole dream was dim and colorless, with no sound or color, like a black vortex ready to swallow him.
Amidst the overwhelming waves, he suddenly woke up, gasping for breath and drenched in sweat.
It had been eight years, but he still dared not dwell on the details, aside from the chaotic scenes that replayed in his dreams. The other fragments had become blurred in his memory. The doctors had said that he was experiencing "flashbacks", being repeatedly tortured by past emotions.
But every time he had that dream, nothing good happened upon waking.
Wiping his face with both hands, Su Lanqiao sat up. It was still dark outside, and the clock on the bedside table pointed to four o'clock. Chu Cheng was sleeping soundly beside him.
He picked up his phone from under the pillow and saw a message from the butler, Ryan, which had arrived a few hours ago with a red exclamation point. Su Lanqiao's heart sank upon opening the email.
The email contained only a simple line in English: "Young Master, the doctor said that Mr. Zhang may not make it through the next two days. Please come back."
After digesting this news, Su Lanqiao felt disoriented for a second, then quickly rose in a flurry, booked the next flight to London in a hurry, and left in the darkness without even saying goodbye to Chu Cheng.
First-class tickets were not in short supply, and a few hours later, Su Lanqiao was on the plane back to London.
His mind buzzed all the way, his palms were sweaty, and he didn't know if it was from cold or shock.
What if his father died? What would happen then?
He would be left with no immediate family in this world.
Su Lanqiao had always had a distant relationship with his father, which had become more pronounced after Alan and his mother arrived. They had drifted apart, until his mother's death when he was thirteen and he developed PTSD. During the three years of continued treatment, he grew increasingly distant from his father, becoming anxious, irritable, and volatile, often plagued by endless guilt, wondering why he had to let his mother take him to the Blue Bridge to play, and how it was his responsibility for her death.
Later, he started learning Chinese and came across a sentence, "In love and desire, one lives and dies alone, traveling alone through suffering and happiness, with no one to take their place," which suddenly made things clear.
In simple terms, everyone has their own destiny.
Su Lanqiao slowly exhaled a breath, trying hard to suppress his guilt and bury the old, distant memories.
Eight hours later, the plane landed at Heathrow Airport. Su Lanqiao checked his phone and saw a message from Chu Cheng, which consisted of only a short sentence.
【Su Lanqiao, why do you always leave after falling asleep?】
Su Lanqiao reached up to touch his neck, where Chu Cheng's kiss marks were still visible, but he was too lazy to cover them up.
He typed a reply on the screen, 【I'm sorry, Mr. Chu, I'm back in England, this time it's really urgent】
Chu Cheng: 【When will you come back?】
Chu Cheng had woken up to an empty bed with even the covers thoroughly cooled, indicating that Su Lanqiao had been gone for a long time. He lay on Su Lanqiao's bed, smoking a cigarette as he sank into contemplation. If Su Lanqiao really didn't come back, would he feel lost?
This person always appeared and disappeared inexplicably, without giving any reasons, coming and going at his own whim.
Indeed, he had no position to demand anything, but this time was different from the last, and he felt a hint of panic and loss of control.
Su Lanqiao clenched his fist, his fingertips trembling: 【I don't know, it might be a few days】
He really didn’t know the current situation. If his father passed away, the subsequent situation would be complex, and he had no experience, feeling at a loss.
He was just a twenty-one-year-old kid.
Chu Cheng didn't reply, and Su Lanqiao put away his phone and walked to the parking lot. Ryan was standing in front of the car in a poised manner as always, waiting for him. "Young Master, the hospital is nearby, let’s head there directly."
Su Lanqiao nodded, his throat hoarse from the previous night's indulgence. "What’s his condition like now?"
"Very bad. The doctor said he might not make it through tonight... be prepared," Ryan tightened his grip on the steering wheel, his face marked by exhaustion, with dark circles and wrinkles under his eyes.
Sulanqiao's eyes fell on him, the butler too showed signs of aging. It's not easy to maintain the same dedication for so many years, for decades.
He wasn't a good son. No matter how bad his relationship with his father was, no matter how much he blamed him, he shouldn't have taken so long to come back.
Would it be regretful if he didn't see him one last time?
Yes, it would.
The car stopped at the hospital entrance. The entire white building looked even more oppressive in London's gloomy weather. Sulanqiao followed behind Ryan, walking up to the first VIP ward. Even before pushing the door, he could hear the tragic cry of a woman.
Sulanqiao closed his eyes and pushed the door open. A whole group of people stood by the bedside - the company's executives, the father's friends, some relatives, and the woman lying by the bed, his stepmother. It was she who had been crying just now, and now her pale face still bore tear marks.
Everyone was here, presumably notified by the butler.
"The young master finally deigns to come back," Alan sneered on the side.
Sulanqiao pushed through the crowd and walked to the bedside. It had been a long time since he last saw him; he almost didn't recognize the emaciated figure lying on the bed.
When he was young and practicing horse-riding and archery, his father always showed great competitive spirit, wanting to compete with his family teacher. But the person lying on the bed now had clouded eyes and was so thin that only crumpled skin remained.
The old man moved his mouth, but could only produce unintelligible sounds.
Sulanqiao bent down, trying to listen closely to what he was saying.
Suddenly the old man began to gasp rapidly, his eyes widened abruptly. After struggling for a few seconds, his hand dropped from the edge of the bed.
"Call the doctor quickly!!!" Anna's sharp voice pierced the silence, pushing Sulanqiao aside. "What are you here for? You've only just appeared and already upset him like this, are you waiting for him to die so you can split the inheritance?"
Sulanqiao pushed her back with some force. "Shut up, is this the time to talk about this?"
Several doctors filed in and, looking at the two people expressionlessly, said, "Make way, we need to perform emergency resuscitation."
Sulanqiao turned and walked outside the glass door, watching the electric shocks administered to his father and the subsequent pulling away of the equipment. The lines on the nearby machine had already steadied into a flat line. Grief suddenly surged at this moment, almost suffocating him.
Some things are simply beyond anyone's control. Like back then, it was the same feeling of helplessness he experienced when his mother's hand fell, yet he had no way to change anything.
Sulanqiao slowly slid to the floor, watching the crowd coming and going with uncontrolled expressions. He felt like a puppet with his limbs fixed, unable to move or make a sound.
His ears were buzzing, as if he had gone deaf. The doctors seemed to have said something and then walked away, their expressions seemingly filled with pity.
Is it going to end like this?
Sulanqiao's eyes hollowed. It had been the same eight years ago. Before his mother was even taken to the ambulance, the doctor had told him, "Your mother's breathing has stopped, may God bless you."
Damn God's blessing. It couldn't secure anyone's safety and well-being; it was just an empty consolation.
He was radical when facing death.
The doctor had said, "You've just experienced a trigger. It will get better in a few years." Now Sulanqiao realized that it hadn't gotten better at all, not one bit.
Ryan walked over, lowered his eyes, and looked at him for a few seconds, then reached out and pulled him up from the ground. "Master, the lawyer has come to discuss the inheritance division. You need to pull yourself together."
Sulanqiao was almost devoid of energy, his legs weakening, allowing Ryan to lead him into the ward.
His father had already been swiftly moved elsewhere. The snow-white walls, glaring lights, everything seemed particularly ironic.
Seeing him enter, the lawyer cleared his throat and said, "The gentleman drafted the inheritance division agreement a month ago. Apart from the company, which has already been transferred to other shareholders, all movable and immovable property will be inherited by Elvis and Alan, that is, the both of you."
The lawyer pointed to Sulanqiao and Alan with his hand. "Inheriting the estate is very simple. The gentleman's requirement is that whoever marries first, and stays married for at least six months, can receive all the property under the gentleman's name. The gentleman expressed the hope that you could be happy."
Leaning on the rail of the bed, Alan said with a wry smile, "I forgot to mention that I'm already engaged, looks like little brother won't have a share of the inheritance."
Sulanqiao found it absurd. Just ten minutes ago, his father had just breathed his last breath, and this group of people could stand in the ward discussing the division of the inheritance with indifferent expressions.
The requirement for inheritance was even more ridiculous. Binding them with marriage when one of them was having an extramarital affair, all in the hope for their happiness.
Everything that had happened today was filled with immense irony.
He leaned against the table, supporting himself, and said in a low voice, "I don't want the inheritance, I just want that house."
All his memories with his mother were there, and her grave was still in the garden. He wouldn't back down on this.
The lawyer shook his head. "The agreement didn't mention splitting it, so it's not possible. I've said my part, I wish you both success and condolence."
Alan walked over and patted his shoulder, "Quite the choice, that castle is worth a lot, too bad I won't even let you have a tree."
Sulanqiao lowered his gaze, watching the group of people gradually leaving the room, leaving it silent once again.
Ryan closed the door and walked over to squeeze Sulanqiao's cold hand. "I know why you want that house, but the agreement is set, and it can't be changed. If you insist, you could find someone to enter a contractual marriage, just six months, and the price can be negotiated. After all, I've been the old butler for decades, and I have some connections, if you need..."
"Ryan, why are you helping me?" Sulanqiao looked up at this non-relative old man, now that everyone had no relationship with him.
Ryan sighed and suddenly asked, "Do you still have that dream now?"
"It's been a long time since I had it." Sulanqiao felt there was more to what he was saying. He lied.
"Your PTSD has improved a lot." Ryan hesitated, "I've been tormented by your mother's death. She was very kind to me, and I'm grateful. I've always wanted to find the opportunity to tell you the truth, but you were too young and shouldn't have had to bear it. I'm helping you now, just to ease my conscience a little bit."
Sulanqiao frowned. "What do you mean, explain."
Ryan stared at him for a long time, his voice trembling uncontrollably, "Your mother's death wasn't an accident."