These few days, which felt like a dream, were enough for Zhou Zhengchu.
My mother had a very happy and fulfilling life, with both parents alive, a brother who could protect her, and a husband who truly loved her. I suppose I, in this world, also love her very much.
Unsurprisingly, Zhou Zhengchu suffered from insomnia that night.
Since I can't sleep, I need to find something to do.
He sat up in bed; the books on the bookshelf were similar to his aesthetic taste.
Some books look like they've been read many times, with only a few notes on them.
Looking at these words, it feels like we are communicating across time and space.
Zhou Zhengchu stared at the words. He had a fountain pen that looked like it had been used for a long time. He picked up the pen and wrote a few words on the first page of the poetry collection.
Even if they are two different worlds.
The two people's handwriting is identical.
The strokes are all very sharp and forceful.
Zhou Zhengchu stared at the words he had written, his eyes lowered, and remained silent for a long time. After a while, he quietly closed the poetry collection and placed it neatly on the top of his desk.
He glanced at the time; it was nearly midnight, but he was still wide awake.
He went downstairs, poured himself a glass of cold water, added a lot of ice, and gulped it down several mouthfuls.
It seemed like I calmed down completely.
Only two lights were on in the restaurant, casting a dim, yellowish glow.
It was indistinct and hard to see clearly.
After a while, Zhou Zhengchu turned off the lights, went upstairs, and walked very quietly to the master bedroom door. He raised his hand and knocked on the door.
This point in time.
It's actually quite inappropriate.
Mother is probably already asleep.
It might wake her up. Normally, Zhou Zhengchu wouldn't do something like this, but tonight, just this once, just this once.
He stood outside the door, waiting patiently.
After a moment, he heard footsteps through the door. The door opened from the inside, and his father appeared in front of him, raising an eyebrow: "What is it so late at night?"
Zhou Zhengchu lowered his eyes and asked in a low voice, "Where is Mother?"
Zhou Ji looked at his son, who had been out of sorts these past two days, and scrutinized him for a long time. Surprisingly, he didn't say anything unkind.
In his silence, he heard his son ask again in a muffled voice, "Is she asleep?"
Zhou Ji initially wanted to say yes, but after thinking about it, he decided it wasn't so cruel and said, "Not yet."
The words had barely left his lips.
A small figure peeked out from behind Zhou Ji. Jiang Yue was about to go to sleep, but she had been chatting with Zhou Ji all night and had unknowingly missed her usual beauty sleep time.
She poked her head out: "What's wrong?"
Looking at the woman with a rosy complexion who looked well-cared for, Zhou Zhengchu didn't feel so bitter, but he also felt a vague sense of resentment.
He knew very well that he wasn't upset for himself.
He opened his mouth, but some things, if he didn't say them now, he would never have the chance to say them again.
Without hesitation, he replied, "It's nothing."
After a brief pause, the young man pursed his thin lips and said, "Mom, I love you."
Jiang Yue exclaimed in surprise. Her son rarely said such sweet things anymore since he grew up. She felt a little embarrassed. She looked at him very seriously and said very seriously, "Mom loves you too."
Zhou Ji's expression didn't look so good.
After a long silence, having waited long enough for the mother and son to share their tender moments, he coldly gave them the order to leave: "Are you done talking? If you're done, it's time to go to sleep."
Zhou Zhengchu nodded; he had finished speaking.
That night, Zhou Zhengchu stayed awake until dawn, recalling many things and carefully experiencing every detail.
He found every episode of his mother's life in this world.
There are so many, you can't watch them all in one night.
She shone brightly in the center of the stage, like the most radiant sun, dazzlingly beautiful. She was the center of attention, surrounded by many true friends.
Zhou Zhengchu also downloaded a Weibo account, but his mother didn't follow many people.
There are about twenty of them, but she seems to interact well with each of them, and her friends also sincerely praise her under every blog post.
Zhou Zhengchu was happy for her.
I finally figured out what I was sad about from the moment I woke up in this world.
What exactly is that deep, powerless, inner calm hysteria, that indescribable resentment?
I want to know why.
The mother in that world could have had such a brilliant and fulfilling life.
She should be living a very good life.
But it's just like this now, unclear, ambiguous, confused, and with nothing.
Zhou Zhengchu felt so sad that he almost cried just thinking about it.
His eyes stung with tears, and he only felt sleepy when dawn broke. The heavy curtains kept the light outside out.
Only a few rays of sunlight pierced through the gaps in the curtains, vying to squeeze into the room, with one slanted ray falling precisely on the desk.
Zhou Zhengchu closed his eyes and slowly drifted off to sleep as drowsiness overcame him.
Bright, clear sunlight shone on the first page of the poetry collection.
Love for one's mother.
I can never express myself enough.
The few words written with a black fountain pen were strong, slender, and extremely clear, each stroke written with utmost sincerity.
The four characters, each one seemingly etched into the paper.
When Zhou Zhengchu of this world opens this page of the poetry collection, he should be able to understand what's going on.
The sunlight swayed, and the wind rustled.
On the faded paper, the black characters stand out clearly, strong and resonant, each word sincere.
—Love her well.
*
When Zhou Zhengchu opened his eyes again, the sounds around him were still indistinct. His eyelids twitched, and he slowly opened his eyes.
This time, what came into view was his familiar bedroom.
He tried to move his hand, and the nurse in the bedroom exclaimed in surprise and delight, "Dr. Chen, he's awake!"
Dr. Chen is the Zhou family's family doctor.
Zhou Zhengchu slowly sat up, with a needle in the back of his hand and an IV drip hanging at the head of the bed. The nurse was talking incessantly in front of his bed, but he didn't pay attention to what she was saying.
He just breathed a sigh of relief.
I'm back.
When Dr. Chen heard that he was awake, she came over and took his temperature. Only after seeing that the temperature had returned to normal did she dare to relax her tense body.
Zhou Zhengchu looked at them, all of them trembling with fear, still unaware of what had happened.
Dr. Chen explained, "You fell asleep the day before yesterday and didn't wake up. Your wife found you unresponsive, and she even..."
Dr. Chen stopped mid-sentence, not finishing his sentence.
Mrs. Zhou assumed her son was dead because she couldn't wake him. She sat by his bedside for a long time. The bedroom window was open, and she was wearing a thin nightgown. She felt cold all over from the wind before she remembered to go downstairs.
She grasped the hand of the housekeeper and said earnestly, "Is he dead? It seems like he's dead."
The maids had long since developed strong hearts from Mrs. Zhou's eccentricities, and could remain calm no matter how outrageous her words were.
I initially thought it was just my wife talking nonsense again.
When the servants realized that the young master hadn't come downstairs, the butler went up and knocked on the door, but no one answered.
Before going in, I was really worried that something might have really happened to the person.
Fortunately, it was just a fever; he might have fainted from the fever.
But it's also scary if you can't wake them up.
The housekeeper quickly notified the husband and called the family doctor, who then came over.
They gave me an IV drip, administered medication, and used physical methods to lower my temperature.
But it didn't help; the person seemed to still be asleep.
The doctors and nurses were all gathered around the bed, but the wife stood timidly in the doorway, her hands gripping the door frame tightly, her fingertips white. She asked softly, "Is he dead?"
Only a wife would dare to speak so recklessly.
They are not afraid of taboos at all.
Saying the word "death" is considered very unlucky.
However, the butler was very patient and did not dare to deceive his wife just because she was not quite sober. He explained, "Madam, the young master is just sick."
This illness just came on too suddenly.
Like a sudden downpour in summer, it's quick and intense, and those who aren't prepared can find it difficult to cope.
The young master's illness was indeed strange. He was usually very healthy, rarely even catching a minor cold or fever. Let alone falling into such a frightening coma.
She nodded as if she understood, and after a while asked, "Will he get better after taking the medicine?"
She muttered to herself in a low voice, so softly that you might not hear what she was saying unless you leaned close to listen carefully. She kept talking to herself, muttering incessantly: "I just called him, and if I couldn't wake him, I thought he was dead."
"Why can't I wake him up? Is he sleeping so soundly? If I use an alarm clock, will it wake him up?"
After she finished speaking, she probably realized that she had talked too much, so she slowly stopped talking and did not say anything more.
The housekeeper hesitated, but he couldn't care less about her right now and didn't know how to explain things to her.
In fact, he didn't know what was going on either.
After the doctor finished administering the IV to the young master and said that everything was fine and he would wake up soon as long as he rested, the butler finally breathed a sigh of relief, no longer feeling the tension he had felt earlier.
If something really happens to the young master, they will have a hard time explaining themselves.
As the housekeeper escorted the doctor downstairs, he overheard the lady muttering to herself, "It's better if he doesn't die. He's still so young. Just a high school student."
In her memory, Zhou Zhengchu was still a high school student who hadn't grown up. Although she didn't like him that much, and although she sometimes didn't like what he said.
but--
But why should she argue with a high school student who hasn't even grown up?
She felt a little guilty thinking this, because she seemed to have said a lot of bad things about him before. Could it be that God really heard her and came to grant her wish?
She regretted it a little; she wished she hadn't yelled at him so fiercely.
She didn't want him to die; he was a high school student who had crawled out of her womb, and raising him was no easy feat.
Moreover, not only did she raise him, but she also survived being driven to her death by him, which is what makes her most proud.
The person was unconscious for nearly three days.
The housekeeper was so anxious that several strands of his hair turned white. Several times he couldn't sit still and wanted to send the person to the hospital.
Although Dr. Chen was puzzled, he remained calm and came to give the young master his medicine and IV drips on time every day, measure his temperature, and conduct blood tests. All the results came back normal.
He didn't even have a fever.
Dr. Chen, being a man of great experience, advised the housekeeper not to rush, saying that the more anxious you are, the worse you will do things.
The housekeeper called the master and received a positive answer before daring to follow Dr. Chen's arrangements completely.
The young master finally woke up, and they no longer had to live in fear. However, the first thing the young master did upon waking up was to ask where his wife was.
The butler told him, "Madam has already gone back to sleep."
Actually, the wife might not be completely ignorant or confused. When he woke up just now, she secretly hid by the door, leaning against the door frame and whispering to the nurse if he didn't have to die.
Her face was pale and her chin was pointed. She hadn't eaten much, so she probably looked a little thinner.
Its dark eyes looked bright, large and round, with a somewhat cautious gaze, making it appear rather pitiful.
Even the housekeeper felt some sympathy for her.
If something really happens to the young master, the madam will lose someone to protect her.
Hearing the butler's words, Zhou Zhengchu breathed a sigh of relief and nodded in response.
The butler continued to tell him, "The master has returned from England ahead of schedule, and the mistress hasn't been getting enough rest these past few days. The master is currently in the master bedroom next door."
Zhou Zhengchu nodded again, thinking that this was a good idea.
Father is back, and Mother should be happy for a few more days.
He thought that his counterpart in another world had taken his place for a few days, but unfortunately, this fantastical experience, which no one would believe if told, happened while he was in a coma with a high fever.
Zhou Zhengchu could clearly sense that the few days he had experienced were not a dream, but a real parallel universe.
It's both frustrating and comforting.
Zhou Zhengchu pulled out the needle from the back of his hand. The butler hesitated for a moment, but still advised, "Young Master, the saline drip isn't finished yet. You should take care of your health first."
He just said calmly, not really caring, "I'm fine."
He had important business to attend to at the moment; he needed to find out the truth about his mother's background.
She lived a muddled life, but her background couldn't remain unclear.
If the mother is not Sun Chengfeng's biological daughter, this would actually make more sense, because Sun Chengfeng is not like a normal mother; everything she does seems to be aimed at destroying her daughter.
Every time he looked at her, there was a hint of malice in his eyes.
The housekeeper saw that he was in a hurry to get up, so he didn't try to persuade him. He knew he couldn't stop him.
After hesitating for a moment, he still said a few words to the young master that he shouldn't have said: "Young master, Madam was very worried about you these past few days while you were unconscious."
Otherwise, they wouldn't be clinging to the door frame, peering eagerly, yet hesitant to get too close for fear of disturbing the doctors and nurses.
Although he never goes to the bedside, he must be very worried.
Even if she is confused, the blood relationship between mother and child cannot be severed.
Everyone says that my wife isn't in good mental health; she's rarely lucid and often confused.
Even when she was confused, she still had deep feelings for the child she had given birth to.
However, she didn't realize that this feeling of "fearing he would die" was actually worry; she was always too naive to be clever.
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