Chapter 61
Jiang Mu never imagined that Chris would come to China alone to find her. When she learned that her mother hadn’t returned with him, a sense of unease had already taken root in her heart.
Before this, Chris had already spoken with Jin Qiang for a while. It was only after Jiang Mu returned home that Chris asked if he could speak with her privately.
In a small private dining restaurant, Chris told Jiang Mu the reason he had come to China.
He knew the college entrance exam was over and had heard from her mother that she did well.
He congratulated her and then brought another piece of news.
Back in March of last year, five and a half months after Chris and Jiang Yinghan met, she was diagnosed with 78% narrowing of her cardiovascular artery. If it progressed further, there was a high risk of complete blockage. Doctors advised her to undergo surgery as soon as possible, or she would be in danger at any time.
At that point, Jiang Mu was only two months away from the college entrance exam.
Jiang Yinghan couldn’t bring herself to undergo surgery at such a critical moment.
After understanding both the success rate and the risks of the operation, she hesitated even more. Once she was wheeled into the operating room, the long recovery process could potentially derail her daughter’s future. She worried that if Jiang Mu were to study in another city, her condition would become a burden, dragging her down.
That was when she confided in Chris, assuming their relationship would end there. But to her surprise, two days later, he showed up with flowers and a ring and proposed on the spot.
During those two days, Chris had reached out to an old classmate, a renowned cardiovascular specialist, and made arrangements to bring Jiang Yinghan to Australia for surgery.
In global rankings of advanced healthcare systems, Australia ranked second only to the UK.
Especially in the field of cardiovascular treatment, Chris’s old classmate, Professor Avik, gave Jiang Yinghan tremendous encouragement and emotional support.
After Jiang Yinghan sent her medical reports from China to Professor Avik through Chris, he responded with a detailed surgical plan and expressed hope that she could come to Australia as soon as possible to discuss the follow-up treatment in person.
When Jiang Yinghan showed the surgical plan to her attending physician in China, to her surprise, Professor Guo actually knew of Professor Avik. He had attended one of his lectures abroad over ten years ago. Professor Guo advised her that if she had the means to undergo surgery with Professor Avik, it would be a great opportunity.
However, paying out of pocket for medical care in Australia was extremely expensive. Considering the possibility of long-term follow-up treatment, immigration was the most cost-effective option.
But Jiang Yinghan’s primary concern wasn’t the cost; it was minimizing both the surgical risks and the burden on her daughter. Accepting Chris’s help and going to Australia for treatment would achieve both.
She hadn’t told Jiang Mu any of this, as Jiang Mu was still young and emotionally unstable.
Jiang Yinghan didn’t want to put too much pressure on her before the college entrance exam.
She planned to wait until the exam was over before finding the right moment to explain it all. But then Jiang Mu stumbled upon the immigration documents prematurely. Jiang Yinghan had no choice but to confess her relationship with Chris. She knew her daughter would object, but she hadn’t anticipated the sheer intensity of her reaction.
Jiang Yinghan felt a deep sense of guilt over Jiang Mu’s poor exam performance. She knew exactly what her daughter had been worrying about. But even more than that, she feared Jiang Mu finding out that her chance of survival was less than 50%, and she would completely break down. So, in desperation, Jiang Yinghan hardened her heart and sent her to Jin Qiang.
If it weren’t absolutely necessary, she would never have wanted Jiang Mu to have any further ties to that side. But with her own future uncertain, Jin Qiang was the only person in the country whom Jiang Mu could still rely on. He was, after all, Jiang Mu’s father.
Perhaps Jiang Mu would resent her for heartlessly leaving her behind to go abroad at such a time, for suddenly choosing to marry Chris and emigrate. But Jiang Yinghan didn’t want her illness to affect her daughter’s future. Rather than letting Jiang Mu spend months of her youth worrying and exhausting herself over a surgery that might fail, she chose to keep it hidden.
“Your mother had heart surgery three months ago.”
Chris sat on Jiang Mu’s right. When he told her this, despite the season’s sweltering heat, a bone-deep chill surged through her, wave after wave. Her tears burst forth uncontrollably. She had always known her mother suffered from angina for years, and that she took long-term medication. But she hadn’t realized that the oral medication had become less effective, or that it had reached the point where surgery was needed. She anxiously asked for details.
Chris reassured her that the surgery had gone fairly well. Though some follow-up treatment was still needed, her mother’s life was no longer in danger. She had already been discharged. Before he came to China, his eldest daughter had returned from Melbourne to take care of Jiang Yinghan and would remain there until he got back.
He had come to seek Jiang Mu’s opinion. If she agreed to study in Australia, he would handle her student visa and bring her over. Of course, if she refused, he and Jiang Yinghan would respect her choice.
Yet in the end, Chris patted her hand solemnly and said, “Your mother needs you.”
Jiang Mu looked at Chris through tear-filled eyes. He seemed older than when she last saw him during the New Year. He and her mother had found each other later in life, yet he had accepted her illness, accompanied her to countless appointments, and stayed by her side to care for her without hesitation. Meanwhile, Jiang Mu accused him of being a fraud right in front of her mother, fought with her about whether to spend the New Year in Suzhou, and failed to understand why she had sold the house.
Now, looking back, she realized every single thing she had done had only driven the knife deeper into her mother’s heart.
Jiang Mu was already crying so hard she couldn’t form words. After her parents divorced, she was very young, she was raised solely by her mother. All those years, her mother never remarried, choosing instead to raise her alone, working tirelessly to afford her tutoring classes, nurturing her guzheng lessons, and taking her to competitions and performances through wind and rain.
From the moment Jiang Mu entered this world, Jiang Yinghan had poured all her energy, love, time, and money into her. And yet, at the most critical moment, when her mother was on the brink of life and death, being pushed alone into the operating room, she wasn’t there. She had been overseas, with not a single family member nearby. How desperate her mother must have felt, lying on that surgical table with her life hanging by a thread.
Jiang Mu buried her face in her hands. What right did she have to refuse Chris’s offer? What right did she have not to return to her mother’s side to care for her? What right did she have to let Chris’s daughter shoulder that responsibility for her? She had no right at all.
The moment she learned about Jiang Yinghan’s condition, she wanted nothing more than to fly to her immediately. Overwhelming guilt consumed her entirely. She hated herself for not discovering her mother’s illness sooner. Hated herself for not being there to support her through such a terrifying ordeal. Hated her own stubbornness, which had caused her mother so much worry, again and again.
All she could do was say, over and over, again and again, “I’m sorry…”
She didn’t even know if she was apologizing to Chris, to her mother, or simply letting the shock of the news reduce her to instinct where guilt flowed out of her mouth in endless, helpless apologies.
In the days that followed, Chris took her everywhere, handling the paperwork for her to go abroad, contacting schools, and submitting applications.
Jin Qiang was hardly of any help. He invited Chris over for dinner twice, thanking him sincerely for all the effort he was making on Jiang Mu’s behalf.
From researching schools to comparing curriculums, from choosing a major to preparing documents, from obtaining certificates from her high school to undergoing medical exams at designated hospitals, from paying insurance fees to filling out endless forms, taking photos, and completing facial recognition checks, Chris was by her side through every step, discussing and solving each problem together. Without him, at a time when Jin Chao was missing and her mother’s health was critical, Jiang Mu would have been completely lost, tangled in chaos with no idea how to move forward.
During this period, she never stopped sending messages to Jin Chao’s phone. She texted him everything about her mother’s condition. She explained that she needed to travel to Australia to visit her mother and that she might temporarily stay there for school. But even these plans for the future had been made in just a few rushed days, and she felt completely lost and unsure about what lay ahead.
She no longer had time to visit the garage every day. Lightning was temporarily being cared for at San Lai’s shop, but San Lai himself had been unusually busy lately. More than once, when Jiang Mu went to see him, his shop was closed.
Once all the formalities were finally completed, Chris booked their flight to Melbourne. By then, it had been nearly a month since Jiang Mu last heard from Jin Chao.
The moment she received the flight information, she stood by the small bedroom window, staring blankly at the waning moon. Time had run out. If there was still no word from Jin Chao, she couldn’t afford to wait any longer.
She picked up her phone, tapped on Jin Chao’s profile picture, and began typing a long message, telling him about her plans, when she intended to return, and even her thoughts about their future.
But as she looked at those hollow words, it suddenly struck her: none of it mattered. None of it meant anything. No matter how perfectly she imagined it, as long as Jin Chao remained missing, everything she wrote was pointless.
She deleted everything she had written and only sent him one short message: I’m leaving. If you see this, please contact me as soon as you can, no matter what. Missing you — Mu Mu.
She expected this message to sink into silence like all the others, never to be answered. But at 3:30 AM, her phone lit up beside her pillow. As if sensing it, she woke instantly, staring for a moment at the glow reflected on the ceiling before grabbing her phone. The account that had been dormant for so long had finally replied.
Chao: I’ll have San Lai pick you up tomorrow morning. Let’s meet.
Jiang Mu shot upright and stared at that message, reading it over and over again, as if afraid it would disappear. She was so overwhelmed that she thought she might be hallucinating. After that, she didn’t sleep another wink. At the first light of dawn, she was already dressed and had contacted San Lai.
She still remembered that day wasn’t particularly nice. Thick clouds had gathered early in the morning, and there was a chill in the air. Odd for that time of year.
Wearing a light-colored dress, she wrapped her arms tightly around herself and waited on the roadside. San Lai pulled up in his small white car to pick her up.
The ride felt endless, so long that Jiang Mu began to wonder if they were leaving the province altogether. But in reality, it was just over 200 kilometers.
With her heart full of anxiety and anticipation, she kept her eyes fixed on the scenery outside. They exited the highway into another city, the only nearby area with an airport, slightly more developed than Tonggang, with a few more high-rises. As they entered downtown, shopping malls and office buildings lined the streets. The address Jin Chao had sent San Lai led them into a narrow alley, where traffic slowed to a crawl. Finally, San Lai parked along the one-way lane. To their right stood the blue-fronted lounge where they were supposed to meet.
He told Jiang Mu, “This should be the place Youjiu mentioned.”
Jiang Mu glanced at the wooden “Welcome” sign hanging on the door and suddenly asked, “You’ve been in contact with him all along, haven’t you?”
San Lai didn’t answer. She turned to face him fully. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
His gaze remained hollow, fixed straight ahead, before he shrugged slightly. “Youjiu’s orders. Ask him yourself.”
Jiang Mu’s brows furrowed deeper. San Lai nudged her gently. “Go on up. He’s on the second floor.”
……
The place was a dessert and cocktail lounge, nearly empty at this hour. The first floor housed the counter, while the second and third were seating areas. Jiang Mu climbed the stairs step by step until she reached the second floor.
The second floor was still quiet, all the tables and chairs unoccupied except for one figure by the window. A man in a white shirt sat alone on the sofa, his gaze cast outside. When he heard Jiang Mu’s approaching footsteps, his eyes slowly turned from the window toward her.
Dappled sunlight filtered through the leaves of the parasol tree, casting flickering shadows across his spotless white shirt like a moving projection screen. Beneath his sharply defined brows were eyes dark and deep as ink. When those eyes met hers, they seemed to hold a thousand unspoken stories, like the weight of years condensed into one glance.
No matter how much time passed, Jiang Mu would never forget that moment. That was… her last memory of Jin Chao.
She still remembered that meeting, how the moment she sat down across from Jin Chao, they simply looked at each other and smiled, without a single word exchanged. They simply gazed into each other’s eyes, sharing the joy of surviving a disaster, the thrill of a long-awaited reunion, and the sorrow of an impending farewell.
She also remembered how he had ordered her a coffee, a vanilla latte with a hint of cinnamon.
He was the first to speak. “You must have been worried sick all this time, huh?”
Just like that, the floodgates opened. All the pent-up grievances and heartache came rushing out. She asked him, “Is your mission over?”
Jin Chao folded his hands around the coffee cup and replied, “Almost.”
The shirt he wore was borrowed, slightly ill-fitting. To keep Jiang Mu from noticing, he’d rolled the too-short sleeves up to his elbows, leaving him looking neat and clean.
She pressed further, “Did you see the night pearl that night?”
He lowered his gaze with a faint smile. “I saw them.”
Jiang Mu, overwhelmed, reached out and grasped his hand. “So, you weren’t in the car? You weren’t there during the explosion, right?”
Jin Chao lifted his coffee cup to his lips smoothly, effortlessly evading her touch in the same motion. It was a subtle shift, but her heart sank without reason.
Her expression tightened as she stared at him, eyes brimming with unconcealed hurt. He took a sip of the bitter black coffee, set the cup down, and finally met her gaze as he said softly, “I’m no god. Honestly, I’m just an ordinary man.”
Jiang Mu’s eyes flickered with unease, and she asked with an unsteady voice, “What do you mean?”
Jin Chao lifted his eyes to look at her worried face, already small to begin with, and now so gaunt her cheekbones stood out sharply. His brows drew together slightly, then he quickly shifted his gaze out the window, masking whatever emotion had surfaced, and said, “How’s your mom?”
Jiang Mu lowered her head, her voice choked, “The surgery’s over. It went… okay, but she’s still recovering. We won’t know the outcome until later.”
Jin Chao was quiet for a moment before nodding. “It’s good you’re going over. When people are sick, it really matters to have family nearby.”
Jiang Mu’s eyes welled up. “I asked you before if you wanted to go to Nanjing with me. But now I can’t go myself anymore. Will you blame me?”
Jin Chao turned his gaze back to her, and in his deep, dark eyes, there was a tenderness that lingered. His voice was low and steady as he said, “You’re still young. We have so much time ahead of us. But your mom doesn’t. After such a major surgery, emotional well-being is everything. She’ll feel more at ease with you by her side, and that’ll help her recover.”
Jiang Mu pressed her lips together tightly, not saying a word. Then she heard him continue, “That time, you asked me what my plans were for the future. I told you I’d give you an answer after a few days.
I’ve been thinking about it ever since, about us. And honestly, it always felt a bit… against the grain.
I never expected to be thinking about any relationship at this point in my life. It wasn’t the right time, and I didn’t have the energy. But it’s you. Not someone else.”
“You’ve always said you used to mess around with me since we were kids. Outside, quiet and well-behaved around others, but the moment you’re with me, you cry at the drop of a hat, and throw tantrums whenever you feel like it. What can I do about you? You wanted to be with me, and you know I could never refuse you. Have I ever denied you anything since you were little?”
Jiang Mu listened carefully to his words, her grip tightening around her cup. He just looked at me with that faint, indulgent smile.
He said to her, “But how much of this is a habit, and how much of it is real feelings between a man and a woman? I honestly can’t tell. You’ve never had any male friends besides classmates, and maybe all these years, I’m the only guy you’ve really been close to. It’s normal for you to rely on me. Just like when you were eight or nine, do you remember how mad you were when you saw me walking with a girl from school, and I didn’t talk to you? Did you like me back then? Of course not. So have you ever thought about whether what you feel for me now is actually what a woman should feel for a man, or do you just want me to be someone who’s always by your side, looking after you like a big brother?”
Jiang Mu’s heart was in chaos. She couldn’t make sense of Jin Chao’s subtle shift in logic and only found herself pulled deeper into the emotions stirred by his words.
Jin Chao sighed softly, took a sip of his coffee, and as he set the cup down, watching the liquid ripple gently, he said to her, “I am, after all, a man. I have impulses that go beyond just feelings. What I did to you before… that was reckless of me. Now that you’re going abroad, let’s both take this time to step back and think clearly.
If your mom ever finds out about us, it’s not going to help her condition at all. You know how she feels about me. Those grudges won’t disappear overnight. Don’t add stress to her, don’t make her angry over me. Understood?”
Jiang Mu clenched her jaw, fighting to keep her composure, but her lashes trembled uncontrollably.
Jin Chao lowered his gaze, his throat tightening briefly before he forced out the words, “You’ll meet new people out there. Might even realize there are plenty of guys out there better than me.”
Her vision blurred, and the world before her dissolved into watery streaks. She widened her eyes, desperate to hold back the tears, but her voice betrayed her when she spoke, raw and shaking, “Are you breaking up with me?”
Jin Chao gave a faint smile, leaned forward slightly, and said, “Come here.”
She bent across the table, bringing her face closer. He lifted his hands to gently cradle her cheeks, his eyes moving from the tears welling in hers to her reddened nose, lingering at her trembling lips. His fingertips, cool and tense, twitched several times with the urge to pull her into his arms, but in the end, he only wiped away her tears. His breath was warm as he spoke close to her, “You know that’s not what I mean.”
Jiang Mu couldn’t utter a single word. She stared down through damp lashes as he continued, voice soft but deliberate, ” When you get over there, try to get along with your stepfather’s family. Even if you can’t get along, keep things civil, and don’t make things harder for your mom. I heard there are a lot of beautiful places there. When you have time, go out and explore. Don’t just stay cooped up in your room sleeping all day. Make some new friends. Don’t be afraid to talk to people. Strangers become friends after a few times, and that goes for foreigners too. If you meet a nice boy, just… don’t go home with him right after you meet. Not many men have the kind of self-control your brother does.”
Jiang Mu’s tears slipped across Jin Chao’s fingertips, and he patiently wiped them away again and again, never once showing irritation. Her voice was thick with emotion as she mumbled, “Do you think I’d just go home with anyone? I’d never do that. The only reason I ever went with you was… because your home was always mine too, wasn’t it?”
All along, Jin Chao looked at her with that soft, faint smile, so calm that it made Jiang Mu feel like this parting wasn’t such a big deal that they’d see each other again soon. She was just going away for school, after all. When she was older, more certain, she’d come back and say to him with absolute certainty, “See? I’m in my twenties now, and I still haven’t forgotten you. That must mean it’s true love, right?”
But deep down, she was scared. Scared that once she left, their lives would be turned upside down. They weren’t kids anymore. They didn’t have another nine years to be apart and find each other again.
She lifted her tear-drenched lashes, biting her lip hard as she stared at Jin Chao and asked, “If I leave and you end up with someone else, I’ll cut ties with you for good. I’ll never come back to this country again. I’ll make sure you regret it for the rest of your life. You hear me?”
Jin Chao tugged at the corner of his mouth in exasperation. “Wouldn’t that be a waste of this handsome face, then?”
Jiang Mu, furious, straightened up and sat back, glaring at him with red-rimmed eyes. Her tear-streaked face looked so fragile as if the whole world had turned against her.
Unable to tease her further, Jin Chao relented, his voice softening into a vow, “Until I’m sure you’ve started a new relationship, I won’t be with anyone else.”
Only then did Jiang Mu feel a little more at ease. She clutched the small jade bead resting between her collarbones and asked him, “Then… then do I need to return this to you?”
Jin Chao looked at the way she held it so cautiously, so unwilling to part with it. His gaze softened, and he said, “Keep it.”
They didn’t stay long, just enough for a cup of coffee. Soon, Jin Chao reminded her, “It’s a no-parking zone downstairs. San Lai’s probably suffocating in the car by now. Time to go.”
Jiang Mu studied him for a long time before standing and stepping toward him. For a fleeting moment, a trace of panic flashed across Jin Chao’s face, but he quickly regained his composure and looked up at her. She stopped beside him, raised her arms slightly, and asked, “Can I have a hug before I go?”
Jin Chao’s fingers tightened around his cup, knuckles whitening as if he might crush it. But he only gave her a faint smile and said, “Better not. Next time we meet, I’ll let you hug me as much as you want. You go ahead. I’m waiting for someone.”
Jiang Mu’s arms dropped into the empty air, like a drowning person who had finally stopped fighting the current.
……
After the sound of footsteps on the stairs faded, Jin Chao kept his gaze fixed on the window. Jin Fengzi came down from the third floor and walked over to him, saying, “You’ve really gone too far. Didn’t you tell me you could get a prosthetic leg? Dr. Gu just chewed me out over the phone, saying the wound won’t even be ready for a prosthetic for at least another six months. You even lied to me. He said if you don’t want a second surgery, you’d better get back to the hospital right away.”
Jin Chao didn’t look away from the window; his voice carried a quiet sorrow he couldn’t fully conceal. “No rush. Let them leave first. I just… didn’t want her to notice.”
Jin Fengzi wiped his nose. “She’s leaving, and you still won’t tell her? Aren’t you afraid she’ll fall for some foreign guy and ditch you?”
Those words finally stirred something deep in Jin Chao, his eyes flickered with a sharp intensity. Every person has their cravings. If he’d never tasted it, it’d be one thing. But once he had, how could he ever let go?
His throat moved slightly, burying that unwilling ache deep inside. His voice was low and heavy when he finally spoke, “She just found out her mom is sick, and it’s already hit her hard. If she found out about me, too, what do you think she’d do? Stay behind to take care of me, or go be with her mom? She’s just a teenager, and she’s already going through so much. She’s about to start university and I can’t hold her back. If both of us end up miserable, what’s the point? Better that one of us be free.”
Suppressing the pain in his left leg, Jin Chao watched Jiang Mu get into the car. He didn’t blink, afraid that if he did, it might be the last time he ever saw her.
He was just glad he hadn’t touched her that night. At least this way, she could still start her life clean and unburdened.
Jiang Mu rolled down the window, her fair little face peeking out, looking back in his direction with longing written all over it.
He was a man without tear ducts. After more than twenty years of drifting through life’s ups and downs, there was little left in the world that could truly break him. Yet in that fleeting moment when the white Honda drove off, his eyes still turned red.
…
On the way back, Jiang M’s heart was uneasy. When she was little, parting from Jin Chao always felt temporary, just a short while before they’d see each other again. But now that she was grown, she finally understood how terrifying distance could be. A few provinces apart had already been enough to lose contact. Now, with an entire ocean between them, their paths would become parallel lines, never to cross again. The road ahead stretched endlessly, vast and uncertain.
As they drove back to Tonggang, San Lai asked her, “What day are you leaving?”
Jiang Mu snapped out of her thoughts and replied, “The 28th.”
San Lai fell silent.
Then Jiang Mu seemed to remember something. “Oh, right… about Lightning. I checked, and his vaccine’s about to expire, so he can’t enter the country with me. Could I trouble you to get him his shots next month and help send him off? I’ll book the pet carrier for him ahead of time.”
San Lai gripped the steering wheel without saying a word. After a long pause, he suddenly said,
“Mu Mu… I might have some bad news for you.”
Jiang Mu straightened in her seat. “What is it?”
“Lightning’s gone missing.”
For a second, Jiang Mu thought she must have misheard. Her voice trembled in shock. “What did you say? Missing? That’s impossible!”
San Lai shot her a glance and said, “Didn’t I tell you a while ago that it’d be best to get him neutered? Now that he’s in heat, once he’s out the door, there’s no telling where he’s run off to. Last night I figured he was just doing a quick round out back and would come right back, but when I went to look for him again, he was already gone.”
As he spoke, San Lai parked the car in front of Jin Qiang’s building. He looked at Jiang Mu, his eyes filled with guilt as he saw how upset she was. He said gently, “I didn’t keep a close enough eye on him. Don’t panic, though. When it comes to dogs in heat, I know how they are. Maybe he got lured away by some seductive little lady stray dog nearby. Might be off having his fun for a few days, but he’ll find his way back. Dogs know their way home. Who knows, he might even come back with a wife in tow. If he turns up, I’ll let you know.”
“And if he really doesn’t come back, we’ll have Xishi give birth to a prettier one and I’ll ship it to you, sound good?”
Jiang Mu wiped her tears and turned to look out the window. She’d raised Lightning for so long, of course, she was attached. She had wanted to bring him with her, and now, of all times, he was missing. How could she not be anxious? But this wasn’t something she could really blame San Lai for.
Sniffling, Jiang Mu said, “Then I’ll have to trouble you to keep an eye out. If he comes back, you have to tell me.”
San Lai stared at the windshield, nodding subtly with an unreadable expression.
Jiang Mu glanced over at San Lai’s grown-out, wavy curls fluttering at the ends, starting to give off a distinctly disheveled Japanese vibe. She couldn’t help but ask, “We’ve known each other this long, but I still don’t know your full name.”
San Lai looked like he was about to say something, but stopped. Then he casually tossed the vehicle registration booklet over to her.
Jiang Mu flipped it open and looked at the name field. It read: “Lai Ha Mo.”
Startled, she said, “Your name is Lai…Ha…Mo?”
“…Not important.” San Lai snatched the booklet back and tossed it aside again.
If had to trace it back, the irreconcilable feud between him and Old Lai probably started the moment he was given that cursed name at birth, which was exactly why he never let anyone call him by it.
After Jiang Mu got out of the car to say goodbye, San Lai suddenly rolled down the window again and called after her, “Little Jiang Mu!”
She turned around, her delicate face bathed in light. This was her at her most radiant, having passed through this place, leaving behind her fleeting beauty.
San Lai looked at her and gave a grin that was half-joking, half-serious, that usual irreverent smirk carrying a trace of something unreadable. He said to her, “Listen, if that bastard Youjiu ever ditches you, or if life abroad sucks, just come back. Brother San Lai wants you. I’ll make sure you get a big chicken drumstick every day, fatten you up all nice and rosy.”
Sunlight poured down through the cracks in the clouded sky, casting a fleeting glow of youth in her eyes.
…
From the hospital balcony, you could see the silk tree blooming downstairs. In summer, its blossoms bloomed, pale pink corollas with a feathery softness that swayed in the gentlest breeze. Jin Chao sat in his wheelchair, staring for hours.
He kept thinking about those two nights when Mu Mu had slept beside him. Her short hair brushed lightly against his face, ticklish and warm, making it impossible to sleep and yet somehow, filling him with an odd sense of peace.
But now… there was nothing left.
The door creaked open behind him. Jin Chao didn’t turn or move. Since the day he last saw Jiang Mu, he’d stopped caring much about anything around him.
San Lai stepped out onto the balcony, leaned casually against the railing, and glanced at the untouched meal beside Jin Chao. He let out a long sigh.
Jin Chao didn’t lift his head, only asking quietly, “She’s gone?”
San Lai clicked open his flip lighter with a crisp snap and replied, “What, you want her to stick around for New Year’s?”
Jin Chao fell silent again, his whole figure still as if frozen in time.
“I heard you even got someone to make a prosthetic so you could see Jiang Mu? Seriously, you’re out of your mind. What’s the rush to stand up again? Let yourself heal first.”
“There’s no rush now. She’s gone. I don’t need to rush anymore.”
After a long pause, San Lai suddenly said, “Tie Gongji has been caught.”
Tie Gongji’s real name was Wang Mu. Back in March, one night after drinking with the boys, Jin Fengzi had gone back to the garage to grab something. On his way out, he tried to hail a cab and happened to see Boss Wan’s Audi speed by. Just a flash, but he caught a glimpse of the man in the backseat, and he looked a lot like Tie Gongji. But he’d been too drunk to trust his own eyes, so he kept it to himself. If he was wrong and said something reckless, it could damage the trust between the brothers.
It wasn’t until the day of the race that things didn’t sit right. When he saw Tie Gongji suddenly trying to leave, he called out, “Where are you going?” Tie Gongji looked nervous and muttered something about going back to the garage to get something. But when Jiang Mu and San Lai arrived later, they said Tie Gongji never went back at all.
That’s when the pieces started to fall into place. But by then, it was already too late.
Back when Jin Chao was fighting his case, his family had been drowning in his sister’s medical bills. The only people standing by him were his brothers, every single one of them. Even the cigarettes he smoked inside were bought with money pooled together by his friends, carton after carton smuggled in for him.
Later on, when things fell apart between Jin Chao and Boss Wan, many of the guys who valued loyalty left Wanji as well. When Jin Chao decided to strike out on his own, Wang Mu didn’t ask a single question, he just handed him the money and joined him in starting the garage.
Leaving Wanji was one thing, but opening a garage with Jin Chao meant openly going against Boss Wan. Even so, Wang Mu still stepped up at the hardest time in Jin Chao’s life.
Jin Chao was someone who valued loyalty above all else. Over the years, he’d held his brothers close to heart. But he was still just a man, a man with feelings, with weaknesses.
He had met Wang Mu back in high school when they both worked at Wanji. After years of working side by side, they were more like real brothers. And precisely because Wang Mu knew Jin Chao so well, he understood how cautious he was, how obsessively meticulous he could be with cars. They had supported each other for years. There would never be another Tie Gongji in Jin Chao’s life.
At the race day, Wang Mu was Jin Chao’s most trusted partner. Even when it came to eating, smoking, or using the restroom, they took turns, just to make sure no one else touched the car.
That’s why Wang Mu didn’t act until the very last moment, right before the final inspection.
By then, Jin Chao had no time left for a test drive. When the engine hit peak torque, the failure was inevitable. The car was doomed to fail.
Between family and brotherhood, Wang Mu chose family. And this time, Jin Chao had been sold out by the one person he trusted most. For him, it was a betrayal he never saw coming, and one he couldn’t possibly defend against.
Wang Mu paid the price for the choice he made, but in exchange, his family remained safe. In this world, how many decisions are truly made by one’s own free will? And how many paths only seem like choices, when in truth, there’s no choice at all?
In the end, the same hand that giveth, taketh away.
Ironically, Jin Chao’s accident ended up clearing him of suspicion. Instead, the man who came in second was identified as the primary suspect. Officer Lu and his team arrested him ahead of time, but after a night of secret interrogation, they released him the very next day. Not long after, that man became unusually close with Boss Wan and started leaking information, which eventually drew the attention of higher-ups toward Wan’s dealings.
Once Boss Wan’s supply chain was cut off, Jin Chao’s channel began to flow again. That gave him access to an even larger network of names, which proved to be a turning point in the investigation. But he had lost his left leg forever.
The fireworks Jiang Mu set off bought Jin Chao two extra seconds, just enough time to unbuckle his seatbelt. Those two seconds saved his life.
By the time Officer Lu and his team arrived, Jin Chao had already lost consciousness.
Tonggang didn’t have the medical resources to handle his condition, so he was rushed overnight to a larger city hospital. He remained unconscious through both surgeries. His left leg had suffered ischemic necrosis, and to save his life, it had to be amputated.
He was no god. He had no armor of steel, no gift of foresight. He was just a man, walking each step with care on the path he believed was right, even if that path was lined with thin ice.
Every gain comes with a price.
……
San Lai looked at Jin Chao and asked, “Are you going to press charges?”
For the first time, the unshakable resolve in Jin Chao’s eyes showed cracks. His gaze fixed blankly on some distant point. San Lai had no idea what memories were playing out in his mind. But in the end, he uttered just two words, “Let it go.”
San Lai knew he wasn’t taking it well. And truthfully, neither was he.
He slapped his lighter down on the balcony rail and said, “Last night, Jin Fengzi dragged me out for drinks. A big grown man, crying his eyes out, saying he was sorry for letting you down and he’d been careless. I told him to come today, but he said he didn’t have the face to see you.”
Jin Chao lowered his gaze and shook his head. “Tell him I still have a bunch of things I need his help with. Not seeing me isn’t an option.”
San Lai nodded, then suddenly grinned, shifting the mood, and teased, “Before Mu Mu left, I told her if you don’t want her, and she has a hard time out there, she should come back. I said I’d take her in. Wanna guess what she said?”
For the first time, Jin Chao’s eyes stirred slightly, and he turned to look at him.
San Lai curled his lip. “She said, ‘You won’t ever not want me.’”
The two of them fell into silence. After a long while, San Lai’s expression sobered. He asked seriously, “So… you’ve really made up your mind?”
Jin Chao looked out at the clear blue sky beyond the balcony, lost in memory. “Her mom wasn’t in good health during the pregnancy. She was born premature, just over eight months. She weighed a little over four pounds when she came into the world. Her dad and I stood outside the glass, watching her lie there in the incubator. I remember thinking: Can someone so small really survive?
So, from the beginning, I gave in to her whenever I could. Just keeping her alive felt like a miracle. She was a picky eater and barely touched her food. Always running fevers, always catching colds, every season change means hospital visits. She cried so easily. Even the tiniest bug would send her reaching for me, sobbing for hours.”
San Lai leaned quietly on the balcony rail, listening quietly, a faint smile tugged at his lips as he pictured the scene. Remembering Jiang Mu as a child finally brought some light back to his eyes.
“She was easy to cheer up, too. Just distract her with something, and she’ll be giggling again. When she was little, I used to think whoever marries her better knows how to make her laugh. Should understand her temper, what she likes to eat, what she hates, and what scares her. If she ends up with someone who makes her suffer… I swear, I’d beat the crap out of him.”
His expression slowly darkened, the light in his eyes dimming again. A shadow crossed Jin Chao’s face as he continued, turning bitter and hollow, “But you tell me… I can’t exactly beat myself up, can I? Keep her by my side to live off disability benefits with me?”
“…San Lai, I’m a useless man now.”
He lifted his head slowly, the breeze rustling through the silk tree blossoms. Beyond, the last glow of sunset faded, sinking into darkness.