"Don't worry, I'm already at the airport. I'll be flying in half an hour, nothing unexpected will happen."
"But I still feel very uneasy." Jiang Liuyue bit her lower lip.
"Don't be scared, baby, I'll protect you. How about this—I'll postpone my flight until tomorrow and come to the film set today to be with you." Song Hanzheng's voice softened.
He wasn't really worried about something happening to himself, after all, he knew exactly what Lin Yizhou was capable of. But what worried him was that Lin Yizhou might not target him, but instead go after Jiang Liuyue.
"That's not good, it'll delay your work." Jiang Liuyue hesitated.
"It's fine. My assistant is very capable; the project is mostly finalized, just waiting for me to confirm a few key points." Song Hanzheng said it casually.
Jiang Liuyue hung up the phone and leaned against the wall, waiting for Song Hanzheng to arrive.
It was originally an hour's drive.
From the airport to the film set, without traffic, it would take fifty minutes.
But three hours had passed, and there was still no word.
Jiang Liuyue started to worry.
She was about to call Cen Yuan to ask what was happening, but just as her finger touched the contacts, his call came through first.
"Liuyue, are you still at the film set? Hanzheng told me to come pick you up now..." His tone was urgent.
"What happened? Did something happen to him?"
"Not to him. Song's father got into a car accident—a very serious one. He's already been rushed to the emergency room. Hanzheng got the news and went straight to the hospital. He called me to pick you up and bring you here too."
Jiang Liuyue's mind went blank.
Lin Yizhou had made his move.
And the target was Song Tianqi.
...
The hospital was thick with the smell of disinfectant. In the corridors, there was a constant stream of patients' families and medical staff rushing past, everyone's faces tense and brows furrowed.
Occasionally, a stretcher cart would roll by, the wheels screeching sharply against the floor.
When Cen Yuan brought Jiang Liuyue to the emergency room entrance, they ran straight into a doctor and several nurses opening the doors, pushing a hospital bed out.
The white sheets were stained with dark red blood—a horrifying sight.
Song Hanzheng was about to stand up, his knees just leaving the chair, but Lin Yizhou lunged forward first, throwing himself against the edge of the bed.
"Doctor, how is my father?" he choked out, his voice trembling with urgency.
"I'm sorry."
The doctor shook his head. Above the mask, his eyes held a trace of sorrow and exhaustion, his voice raspy.
"By the time Mr. Song was brought in, he had already lost too much blood. His internal organs, especially the liver, were severely damaged. We did everything we could."
Lin Yizhou's eyes reddened instantly. Those narrow, long eyes filled with tears, and in the next second, they overflowed.
His legs gave way, and he collapsed to the floor as if all the strength had been drained from his body.
He covered his face with both hands and let out loud sobs.
The weeping echoed through the corridor, drawing stares from passing patients and their families.
Lin Mei quickly stepped forward to support him, sobbing quietly herself.
She pressed a tissue to her eyes and choked out broken words.
"Yizhou, stop crying. Your father's death was an accident. If he's watching from above, he wouldn't want to see you so heartbroken."
The sound of messy footsteps came from behind. Jiang Liuyue turned her head and saw the Song family relatives arriving.
Uncles, aunts, cousins—a huge crowd of them, faces showing various degrees of shock, grief, and an indescribable, subtle look.
Some were wiping tears, others sighing, and a few just stood silently.
Their gazes moved back and forth between Song Hanzheng and Lin Yizhou.
Watching Lin Yizhou sob so violently, they stepped forward to comfort him—patting his shoulders, shaking his hands, handing over tissues—murmuring phrases like "accept my condolences" and "the dead cannot be brought back."
Then they turned to look at Song Hanzheng. He stood motionless in place.
Not a single tear fell from his eyes. His face didn't even show a hint of sadness—just an almost rigid calm.
One of the uncles couldn't help but speak up.
His voice was especially clear in the silent corridor.
"Hanzheng, I know you resent your father for what happened to your mother back then. But now that he's dead, how can you not be the least bit sad? Not even one tear?"
The words came out sounding caring on the surface.
But underneath, there was a condescending tone of a elder lecturing a junior, along with a faint hint of moral judgment.
Song Hanzheng clenched his fingers, his knuckles crackling softly. He lifted his head sharply.
Chin raised, he looked proud and defiant, speaking in a icy tone.
"The old man was going to die sooner or later anyway. What's there to cry about?"
He paused, then pointed at Lin Yizhou, who was still crumpled on the floor, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
"Besides... hasn't someone already started mourning him early for me? That's fine."
With that, he turned on his heel, the sound of his shoes hitting the floor steady and firm as he walked through the corridor.
He moved past the relatives' stunned, disapproving, and bewildered looks, heading toward the hospital rooftop.
Jiang Liuyue was worried. She quickly told Cen Yuan to keep an eye on things here and report any updates, then hurriedly followed after him.
As she passed Lin Yizhou, she didn't slow her steps, nor did her gaze even shift in his direction.
But the man who had been collapsed on the ground crying caught a glimpse of her from the corner of his eye, and in that instant, a flicker of obsession and menace glinted deep within his own.
By the time Jiang Liuyue made it up to the rooftop, the wind was blasting in violently, whipping her hair across her face.
From a distance, she saw Song Hanzheng standing at the edge of the railing. The wind on the rooftop was fierce—strong enough to knock a person off balance. His suit jacket flapped noisily in the gusts, and the hem of his shirt had come untucked from his belt. He looked like he could be blown away at any moment.
Jiang Liuyue hurried forward, the soles of her shoes scuffing against the cement surface of the rooftop, each step sharp and gritty in the wind.
Song Hanzheng heard the footsteps and suddenly spoke up.
"Don't worry. The old man kicking the bucket is a good thing. I'm not gonna jump."
"Of course, I'm not gonna cry either."
"What's there to cry about anyway? It's not like I haven't cursed him under my breath a hundred times to just hurry up and die..."
His voice kept getting softer.
By the end, the last few words were almost mumbled under his breath, as if even he didn't really believe what he was saying.
Jiang Liuyue rushed forward and wrapped her arms around his waist from behind.
Happy May Day, everyone! Hope you're all having a great holiday.
There are probably about seven or eight chapters left in this world. The pace will pick up from here—it's just that some memories and details got away from me while writing, and I wanted to cover everything as fully as possible.
Also, could I ask for a little free support—some love-fueled gifts—to give this little author some encouragement?
Thanks, my dears. And once again, happy May Day to you all—have a wonderful time!
