Chapter 30: Extra Story 3

Chapter 30: Extra Story 3

Time flew by in the blink of an eye. Before he knew it, Luo Jiatai had already become a grandfather. He pushed his mother's wheelchair, and Luo Fang's hair had long turned white, her legs no longer what they used to be. But ever since He Yubin collapsed without warning that day, she had insisted on coming to the hospital every day.

The doctor said He Yubin wasn't sick—his time had simply come.

He Yubin even tried to comfort Luo Chengxing, saying that living to this age without much suffering or illness was already a stroke of luck, right?

"Do you think people have a next life?"

Lying on the hospital bed, He Yubin wore a faint smile. His voice had grown so soft from weakness that it seemed a gust of wind could blow it away.

Luo Chengxing avoided the spot on his hand where the IV needle was inserted and slowly took He Yubin's hand.

He whispered, "There is."

He slowly buried his face in He Yubin's hand. Before long, He Yubin felt tears soaking his hand.

They had spent nearly seventy years together, side by side.

He Yubin looked at Luo Fang, who was sobbing uncontrollably, and at the others in the room quietly wiping away tears—all of them dear to him.

Finally, he managed a faint smile at Luo Chengxing. "I have no regrets in this life, except that I haven't had you wait on me enough."

"If there really is a next life, I want the first thing I see to be you."

Luo Chengxing froze. The moment He Yubin's words faded, countless fragments flashed through his mind, but they drifted away like feathers and scattered, leaving him with nothing but a blur.

"A Yu..."

He murmured softly.

The machines in the room let out a single "beep," and the line on the heart monitor went flat.

He Yubin slowly closed his eyes.

Luo Chengxing held his hand tightly and sat there for a long, long time—until He Yubin's hand had gone completely cold.

The room filled with the sound of weeping.

...

Luo Fang was deeply worried about Luo Chengxing. On the day He Yubin left, Luo Chengxing seemed to have had his soul ripped away, his gaze hollow.

She was afraid her brother had already given up on living.

But he hadn't.

At the funeral, Luo Chengxing greeted the guests calmly.

After He Yubin's funeral, whether in speech or in action, Luo Chengxing was the same as before—except that an extra pair of chopsticks and a bowl sat on the dining table every day, never to be used again.

Luo Chengxing thought, at least He Yubin had gone before him. Otherwise, how could he have been at peace?

The one left behind in this world was undoubtedly the one in pain, bearing the memories and longing of both of them as he continued to live.

One night, three years later, Luo Chengxing seemed to sense something. He set the framed photo of He Yubin beside his pillow, and his breathing slowly faded.