Chapter 45: The Call That Won’t Connect

Chapter 45: The Call That Couldn't Get Through

Gu Hansheng still hadn't come home, and Zhao Yu's messages had gone into the void. He had lost contact with Gu Hansheng, and he wasn't sure if this was a signal of the silent treatment—telling him: take the hint, leave on your own, there's no place for you here anymore.

He had already experienced Gu Hansheng's ruthless side when he had turned on him, yet he still clung to the hope that they had gotten along so well during this period, that maybe Gu Hansheng had even a sliver of feeling for him.

He could still unlock the door to Gu Hansheng's house using his fingerprint, but walking into the villa, the place felt utterly foreign to him.

It was truly over now. Once he got the money, his deal with Chen Li would come to an end, and he wouldn't need to keep pleasing Gu Hansheng anymore. But he didn't feel the relief of a weight lifted—only a hollow, gutted feeling.

His phone suddenly vibrated several times as messages from Meng Qi came flooding in.

"Xiao Yu ge, my mom's condition suddenly worsened today. I'm so scared."

"She's been in the ER for half an hour and still hasn't come out. The doctor told me to prepare for the worst."

"Xiao Yu ge, when are you coming back? I'm so scared."

Zhao Yu's heart sank. He immediately called Meng Qi: "What happened? Weren't things fine just a few days ago?"

"Xiao Yu ge..." Meng Qi choked up for a moment before speaking. "I don't know. She was in really good spirits last night. She talked to me a lot, even stood up and walked around the garden for a while. But this morning, she suddenly lost consciousness. She's in the ER now."

A sudden burst of energy—this was very much like the last burst of energy before death.

Zhao Yu's head buzzed. He was dazed for a moment, and when he snapped back to reality, he had already pulled out his passport, speaking incoherently: "Y-you, don't be scared... Aunt Guo, she'll definitely... I'm coming right now..."

He rushed outside, staring at the empty late-night streets, gradually getting a grip on himself.

He hadn't even bought a plane ticket—where could he go with just a passport?

He took a deep breath, steadying himself: "Xiao Qi, don't be afraid. I'm booking a flight right now to come back. Aunt Guo is going to be fine. First, call the school and ask for a couple days off. Stay by Aunt Guo's side, do whatever the doctors say. Once she's out of the ER, tell me what happened right away, okay?"

"Okay." Meng Qi's voice trembled with tears. "Xiao Yu ge, is my mom really going to be okay?"

"Yeah, she's going to be fine."

Zhao Yu covered the phone's mouthpiece, hiding his trembling breaths. He couldn't let his own emotions affect Meng Qi—he had to put on a brave face.

After hanging up, he stood by the roadside looking up flights. The shadows of trees swayed over him, as if the ground beneath his feet might give way.

He didn't believe in religion or gods, but he couldn't help praying inwardly—Guo Lin was the most important person in his life; please don't take her from him.

Meng Qi paced restlessly outside the emergency room. Another half hour passed before Dr. Watson walked out, looking at him with sympathy.

"Doctor!" Meng Qi stepped forward. "How is my mom?"

"Do you have any other family, son?"

"I... I have an older brother."

"Have him come as soon as possible. Your mother is very strong, but we've done all we can. I think she needs you both by her side every minute from now on."

...

The life-support machines in the ward hummed quietly. Her body looked calm on the surface, but it was already shutting down. Every time Dr. Watson came to check her vitals, he was amazed.

The emergency treatment had saved Guo Lin, but the doctors all believed she wouldn't survive the night. Yet she had held on for two days—it was a miracle.

Meng Qi sat curled up in a chair, dozing off whenever he got tired.

Suddenly, hurried footsteps approached from outside, and the door was pushed open. A disheveled young man rushed into the ward. When he looked at Guo Lin on the bed, his face showed the hesitant, fearful look of someone nervous about returning home.

"Xiao Yu ge!" Meng Qi stood up, tears falling the moment he saw him. Then he rushed to Guo Lin's side and grabbed her hand: "Mom, Xiao Yu ge is back. Please wake up."

It was over ten thousand miles from China to Los Angeles—even a direct flight took fourteen hours. Zhao Yu had bought the fastest ticket available and hadn't slept for two days. This was a foreign land to him by blood, but because of Guo Lin, it was also home.

A few months apart felt like an eternity. Zhao Yu approached the bedside hesitantly and took her other hand.

She was so thin—even thinner than in the photos. He could feel nothing but bones when he touched her arm. She used to be such a vibrant person, full of life, able to carry a huge pot of bone broth into the kitchen by herself. When dealing with unreasonable customers, she'd argue with them at full volume, hands on her hips, with a fierce, take-on-anyone spirit.

But now she was gaunt, her cheeks sunken, hair lost from chemotherapy, lips pale, tubes connected to her body. Her face showed no sign of life, and her chest barely rose and fell.

Zhao Yu's eyes stung. He gripped her hand, his own trembling: "Aunt Guo, I'm back. Open your eyes and look at me."

Dr. Watson let out a soft sigh. It was a miracle she had held on this long. Continuing would only prolong her suffering. He gave her painkillers every day, but they did little to help. She probably couldn't hear anything from the outside world, and she was completely unconscious.

Miraculously, Guo Lin's deeply sunken eyes actually opened. Her gaze was unfocused. Her gaze shifted slightly to the right, toward Meng Qi, then to the left, toward Zhao Yu.

As if she were at peace, the heart monitor emitted a long, continuous tone, and all the waves flattened into a straight line. Having waited for the other child she'd been holding on for to come see her one last time, she closed her eyes and left quietly, like she had fallen asleep.

Zhao Yu held her hand, still faintly warm—but that warmth quickly faded. No matter how tightly he gripped, he couldn't hold onto it.

Operation after operation, rescue after rescue had taken a devastating toll on her body. There was nothing more they could do. Dr. Watson turned off the heart monitor and quietly left the room.

Zhao Yu was slow to come back to his senses, his face blank, his expression dazed. Everything had happened so suddenly. Aunt Guo was still lying in front of him, he was still holding her hand—to say he had lost her forever felt completely surreal.

He crouched by the bed, Meng Qi's sobbing echoing in his ears. Everything felt like it was submerged in deep water—muffled and blurry. He reached out and touched Guo Lin's cold face, calling softly: "Aunt Guo?"

In his daze, he thought he saw her lips move, so he leaned in closer, holding his breath and listening intently. But after a long while, he heard nothing.

He didn't know how long he sat there in silence, still holding her hand, watching Meng Qi cry until he couldn't breathe. He wanted to cry too—he blinked, but his eyes stayed dry. His chest was just so tight, his breathing growing heavier, as if he couldn't get enough oxygen. Wave after wave of suffocating grief built up in his throat.

Meng Qi choked out: "...I... I don't have a mom anymore."

In that instant, Zhao Yu's heart was wrenched. The pent-up sorrow overflowed, finally breaking through and spilling out.

His vision blurred, and tears dripped down onto the blanket. He tried to wipe them away to see Guo Lin's face clearly, but the more he wiped, the blurrier everything became.

She was the lighthouse of his life, his only place of belonging, the most important piece of his future plans. The person he loved like a mother, the one he called "aunt" but was truly his mom—no matter what he gave, he could never wake her again.

The room was filled with heavy, muffled sobs. Even though the sunlight was shining directly on the hospital bed, Zhao Yu felt cold all over. It wasn't until the doctor issued Guo Lin's death certificate and reminded them that her body needed to be moved to the morgue that the reality of his loss slowly crept up his spine.

The hearse wouldn't come until tomorrow. Zhao Yu sat in a daze in the corridor outside the morgue, eyes swollen and red, staring blankly at the white wall.

"Xiao Yu ge." Meng Qi pressed a bank card into his hand. "This is part of the medical expenses you sent my mom. There's still about thirty thousand yuan left."

Zhao Yu traced the hard edge of the card and asked: "How is there still this much left?"

"After my mom woke up from her stroke, she refused aggressive treatment. Later, she even stopped chemotherapy and just took her meds. She knew she didn't have much time left, and chemo was torturous—she wanted to live her last days with some quality of life. Besides, in case something happens to you in the future, having some money on hand can help you out."

"No, you keep it. You'll need it for tuition."

Meng Qi waved his hand. "This is only part of it. My mom already put the restaurant up for sale. My tuition and living expenses are covered. There's also the rest of the inheritance that will be transferred to you after everything is settled—that's the money she left for you, about fifty thousand dollars. She wanted you to live well."

"The restaurant... was sold?"

"Yeah, my mom started arranging the sale as soon as she woke up. She said if she'd sold it earlier, you wouldn't have had to work so hard to make money."

Zhao Yu was stunned for a moment. The corner of the bank card pressed into his palm, leaving two deep indentations. Guo Lin had planned for both his and Meng Qi's futures, but the restaurant that held so many good memories for him would now belong to someone else.

In these past few months, he had put up with Chen Li's blackmail for money, kowtowing to Gu Hansheng, all in the hope of keeping Guo Lin safe. But Guo Lin was gone, and she'd left the money to him.

The future he'd dreamed of had dissolved into nothing. He could never again hear the laughter and joy that once filled Guo Lin's restaurant, nor could he care for her in her old age. Just when he thought the future was full of hope, everything crumbled in an instant.

Zhao Yu's chest ached something fierce. He rose and walked toward the stairwell. Suddenly, his phone buzzed with a text message, showing that two hundred thousand dollars had been deposited into his account—the final payment Chen Li had promised.

He realized with a jolt that he, who had once been penniless, now suddenly had a great deal of money. Yet aside from the money, he had nothing left at all.

Having lost that one place he could call home, a crushing sense of weightlessness hit him, as if he were falling from a great height. His mind went blank, his heart felt as though it were being hollowed out bit by bit. The world became lonely and cold, and no matter where he looked, there was only vast emptiness.

He wanted to pour his heart out to someone, to yearn for the scorching warmth of someone who'd held him as he slept, to long for the faint, cool fragrance that lingered on someone. Knowing he would be hurt, he still wanted to see him, to beg for even a sliver of security that he wasn't abandoned by the world.

So he dialed that number—the one he had secretly saved under the name "Brother."

A long, continuous tone came through the receiver. He waited for a long time, but no one ever picked up.