Chapter 120 The Last Question of Concern

Winters in Beijing seem to get colder year by year. The Huo family's old residence is filled with a strong smell of traditional Chinese medicine and a somber atmosphere.

Old Master Huo's body, like a withered leaf in late autumn, had stubbornly stood firm in the cold wind for a long time before finally reaching the brink of death. Several hospitalizations and resuscitations followed, with doctors subtly indicating that the old man was advanced in years, his organs were failing, and it was only a matter of time before he passed away. The old man himself seemed quite philosophical about it, insisting on going home, saying he didn't want to spend his final days in the smell of disinfectant in the hospital.

When the news reached New York, Song Zhiyi had just finished an emergency coordination meeting regarding the prevention of election violence in an African country.

Huo Yanli's deep, restrained voice on the phone, though barely concealing his exhaustion and hoarseness, said, "Grandpa... he might only have a few days left." His voice, though strained to maintain its composure, continued, "He keeps talking about you. If... it's convenient for you..."

Without any hesitation, Song Zhiyi said into the phone, "I'll take the earliest flight back."

More than twenty hours later, she arrived at the Huo family's old residence, travel-worn and weary from the international flight. Her eyes were bloodshot, but her expression was clear and resolute. Huo's mother, her eyes red-rimmed, greeted her, saying nothing but squeezing her hand tightly. Huo's father, Huo Zheng, and the rest of the Huo family were all present, and a sorrowful yet quiet atmosphere enveloped the house.

The old man lay on the bed in the inner bedroom, covered with a soft brocade quilt. He was emaciated, but still relatively lucid. When he saw Song Zhiyi walk in accompanied by Huo Yanli, his cloudy eyes brightened, and he managed a weak smile.

"Zhiyi...you're back..." The old man's voice was as weak as a whisper.

"Grandpa, I'm back." Song Zhiyi walked quickly to the bedside, knelt down, and gently took the old man's thin, cold hand. Her hand was steady, and her voice was soft and clear, "How are you feeling?"

The old man shook his head, his gaze slowly shifting between her and Huo Yanli, who was standing at the foot of the bed. After a long while, the last bit of his strength gathered in his eyes, and he turned his hand over and, with all his might, gently tightened his grip on Song Zhiyi's hand.

"Zhiyi..." he gasped, each word spoken slowly and laboriously, "Grandpa... is probably... going to find your maternal grandfather... to play chess..."

Song Zhiyi's nose tingled, and her eyes instantly reddened, but she held back her tears and squeezed the old man's hand even tighter.

“Grandpa…” Huo Yanli stepped forward, his voice choked with emotion.

The old man waved his hand, signaling him to be quiet, his gaze still fixed on Song Zhiyi's face, filled with love, reluctance, and a trace of... a final, unwilling expectation.

His breath was weak, but he tried to make his words clear, "You and Yanli... really... can't be together anymore?"

Song Zhiyi felt the hand she was holding trembling slightly, and she also felt Huo Yanli behind her holding his breath and looking at her with a hot and nervous gaze.

She lowered her head, looking at the old woman's hands, covered with age spots, bearing the marks of time and hardship. A thousand thoughts and countless considerations churned in her mind. Her life plans, her ideal path, her concerns about risks, her complex and unspeakable feelings for Huo Yanli... all of these seemed less absolute in the face of this departing old woman.

But she is still Song Zhiyi. A clear-headed, rational Song Zhiyi who is responsible for herself and others.

She looked up, meeting the old woman's expectant gaze, and forced a reassuring, warm smile to her lips. Instead of directly answering "possibly" or "impossibly," she spoke in the softest yet most resolute voice:

“Grandpa, I’m doing very well now.” She paused, her gaze clear and open. “Yanli… is doing very well too.”

She shared her current situation and understanding. She's doing well, moving forward on her own path; he's doing well, growing in his field. This is perhaps the most honest answer she could give regarding their relationship—neither a denial nor a promise, but an acknowledgment of each other's current state.

The old man's eyes dimmed for a moment, then he seemed to understand something, and closed his eyes slightly in relief. He turned his head with difficulty to look at his grandson at the foot of the bed.

"And you?" The old man's voice was almost inaudible, but the question in his eyes was crystal clear. "Are you still waiting?"

Huo Yanli didn't look at Song Zhiyi; he just looked deeply at his grandfather, and then nodded heavily and without hesitation.

"Wait." He uttered only one word, his voice hoarse, yet as resounding as a rock.

This single word struck the silent room and also resonated in Song Zhiyi's heart, stirring up a silent tidal wave.

A genuinely relaxed, even slightly helpless, smile slowly spread across the old man's face. He looked at Song Zhiyi, then at Huo Yanli, and sighed weakly:

"Fine...you two...are both...stubborn..."

After saying this, he seemed to have exhausted his last bit of strength. He slowly released Song Zhiyi's hand, his eyelids drooped, his breathing became long and even, and the helpless yet knowing smile on his lips remained frozen on his face.

Suppressed sobs could be heard from inside the room.

Grandpa Huo has passed away. After asking his last question and receiving answers from his two stubborn children, he left peacefully.