"Uncle Ming, are you saying my father wants me to go back to the Shen family?"
Sang Yuwan's eyes widened instantly, her pupils dilating uncontrollably, and fine red veins appeared around the whites of her eyes. She opened her mouth slightly, but couldn't make a sound; only a faint, unbelievable gasp came from deep in her throat.
"This is impossible?"
Mingyu's face was pale, and the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes seemed to have deepened. The incandescent light shone on his face, making him look even more haggard.
The room was so quiet that only his rapid and uneasy breathing could be heard, along with the occasional voices coming from outside the window, which sounded particularly jarring.
Sang Yuwan clenched her fingers, pressing her fingertips hard against her palm.
"Uncle Ming, my father..."
Mingyu's gaze fell on a small table in front of him, and he slowly said, "I still remember vividly what your father said to me before he passed away..."
His voice was as thin as a whisper, as if a gentle breeze could dissipate it; each syllable trailed off with a heavy final note, revealing extreme physical exhaustion.
Sang Yuwan felt a lump in her throat and her eyes reddened.
She didn't say anything, just listened quietly.
"I've never mentioned this to you all these years, actually because I had my own reasons..."
Sang Yuwan was taken aback, her eyes filled with doubt as she looked at him.
Mingyu continued, "Old Master Shen has always been against your parents being together. If you go back to the Shen family, he definitely won't like you. He might even vent all his resentment towards your parents on you..."
Sang Yuwan sat quietly, without saying a word, but tears began to well up in her eyes.
It is a complex emotion that is hard to describe, intertwined with loss, regret and a faint sadness, as if a thin mist is gently shrouding the heart, blurring the vision and filling the mind with countless thoughts.
Mingyu's eyelids felt heavy, trembled twice, and he half-closed his eyes.
“I also found out that the eldest son of the Shen family has been ruthless since childhood. If you go, he will definitely torture you… Therefore, I plan to give up my promise to your father…”
The light shone on Sang Yuwei'an's face, but it couldn't penetrate the dark corner of her heart. Tears welled up in her eyes involuntarily.
"Uncle Ming, let's just pretend I never heard you mention this. Okay?"
Mingyu shook his head, "Wanwan, Grandpa Shen and Shen Yilin are no match for you now. Besides, you have Rong Zhi by your side..."
"Uncle Ming?" Sang Yuwan was shocked. It was a sudden and intense emotional shock, as if a huge stone had been thrown into a calm lake, causing waves that were difficult to calm down.
Is everyone already aware of her relationship with Rong Zhi?
"Wanwan, the father of your child is Rong Zhi, right?"
Mingyu's voice was low and weak, like the last ray of sunshine in winter, warm but unable to dispel the surrounding chill, revealing an indescribable desolation.
Sang Yuwan felt as if a huge rock was pressing on his chest, making it hard for him to breathe.
She lowered her head and admitted it.
"That's right."
Mingyu chuckled silently, a complex expression flashing in his eyes.
After a long while, he spoke again.
"Wanwan, don't feel guilty. Bo Xingzhi is dead. Besides, he and Rong Zhi are not related by blood..."
“Uncle Ming, you…” Sang Yuwan looked at him in disbelief.
From childhood to adulthood, Mingyu was very strict with her, both in terms of her studies and her upbringing.
Unexpectedly, he was so open-minded about her relationship with Rong Zhi.
Sang Yuwan's eyes welled up with tears.
Her breathing became soft and slightly trembling, each breath like a fluctuation of emotion deep within her heart. Her clenched fingers slowly loosened. She raised them and gently wiped the corners of her eyes.
"Wanwan, I still owe you an apology. Six years ago..."
Sang Yuwan interrupted him in a hoarse voice, "Uncle Ming, please stop talking..."
Mingyu pursed his lips and nodded weakly.
The two sat quietly for a few minutes.
Mingyu tilted his head and looked at the cabinet beside the bed.
"Wanwan, open the left drawer."
Sang Yuwan didn't ask any further questions and immediately got up.
Inside the drawer were two sandalwood boxes.
Seemingly aged, the sandalwood box resembles an artwork imbued with rustic charm and a profound sense of history. Under the light, it exudes an indescribable allure.
The box is decorated with exquisitely carved auspicious cloud patterns.
"Take out the innermost box," Mingyu continued to instruct.
"Okay," Sang Yuwan replied, carefully taking the box out.
“Open it,” Mingyu said again.
"good."
Sang Yuwan opened the box, and a delicate and lasting sandalwood fragrance wafted out.
"These things are my dowry for you. Wanwan, I may not live to see your wedding day..."
Sang Yuwan's eyes reddened, and she raised her voice slightly, "Uncle Ming, don't talk nonsense."
She knew very well that Mingyu was nearing the end of his life.
From childhood to adulthood, he rarely wasted words with her.
He would never apologize to her.
Even when Mingmei bullied her, he wouldn't comfort her; he would just ask her why she let others bully her.
Memories flooded back like a tide; those once warm moments now felt like the sharpest knives, cutting into her already fragile heart. Each recollection was a cruel farewell to the beautiful past, leaving her with a lingering pain.
"Okay. That's all. I'm tired too..."
Mingyu's voice was as soft as a mosquito's buzz.
Just as Sang Yuwan was about to speak, he suddenly closed his eyes.
"Doctor...doctor..."
Sang Yuwan hurriedly closed the box in her hand and shouted outside.
Doctors who have been waiting outside, hurry in!
While he was trying to save Mingyu, he said to Sang Yuwan, "Madam Bo, get an ambulance quickly."
“Okay.” Sang Yuwan quickly took out her phone and dialed the emergency number.
Ten minutes later.
Mingyu was carried onto an ambulance.
Sang Yuwan asked Lan Xiya to go to the hospital with her.
She carried the sandalwood box to the funeral hall.
The night wind whistled by, and it was a bit chilly.
Just as she was about to tighten her coat, Xiansi walked over with a cashmere shawl.
"Madam, it's almost midnight, aren't you going to rest?"
Sang Yuwan shook her head.
Xiansi straightened her shawl and boldly advised, "Madam, I just went to check. Young Master Mingyi is keeping watch in the mourning hall. Oh, and Mingmei is there too. Why don't you go and rest?"
Sang Yuwan's voice was a little hoarse. "I can't sleep anyway, so I'll go keep my older brother company."
Xiansi dared not try to persuade her any further and could only follow her to the mourning hall.
Mingxiao's portrait hung quietly in the center of the mourning hall. The frame was simple yet dignified. The face in the photo seemed to still carry the warm smile he had when he was alive, which made people feel nostalgic.
Beneath the portrait, bouquets of flowers clustered together—white for purity, yellow for sorrow, and purple for depth. They silently expressed respect and reluctance to part with the deceased, their fragrance mingling with grief, filling the air.
Sang Yuwan sat down, unconsciously stroking the edge of the box. Every sharp corner of the pattern felt like a razor-sharp knife, piercing her heart.
Tears welled up in her eyes, but refused to fall, freezing into a blurry mist.
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