Chapter 395: A Hundred Years of Dreams, Those Who Come Can Chase Them
Lin Jingzhe gently pushed open the door, wanting to see if Lin Jingchun was sleeping soundly.
But the room was pitch black.
Lin Jingchun likes the night light at the head of the bed the most and always turns it on when he goes to bed.
The dim warm light enveloped the empty half of the bed, as if it was waiting with its new owner for the lover who would take them home.
It went out early tonight, probably because the light bulb exploded.
Lin Jingzhe did not turn on the incandescent lamp on the wall, but opened the door completely, and slowly walked to the bed with the dim light flowing into the bedroom from the living room.
I bent down and tried the night light switch, but there was no response. It was indeed broken.
I need to buy a new light bulb as soon as possible, he thought.
Then I lowered my head and realized belatedly that there were no slippers by the bed.
Lin Jingzhe was stunned for a moment, then raised his hand to touch the bed. The slightly raised quilt sank back down with a light press, revealing no one was on the bed.
Lin Jingzhe's first reaction was that Lin Jingchun got up and went to the bathroom. "Brother?" he called.
No response.
The room was very quiet, and the senses were infinitely magnified by the silence of the night. It seemed that I could hear the sound of air flowing in my ears.
The sound of water dripping continuously and continuously, is like the lingering drizzle in early spring.
Lin Jingzhe turned his head suddenly, walked quickly to the bathroom, and pushed the door open.
"Splash!" He stepped into the water.
"Snap!" He turned on the light.
The sudden bright light made him squint subconsciously, but the instant brightness was enough for him to see the situation in the bathroom clearly.
The shower head was running with hot water in the shabby bathtub. I don't know how long it was left there, but the whole bathroom was flooded with water.
Lin Jingchun was lying in an old bathtub filled with blood, his mouth and nose completely submerged below the water line, with only a pair of tightly closed eyes half exposed above the water.
Perhaps it was because of the water temperature or the color, but his face wasn't pale. His wet black hair stuck to his calm and handsome face, making him look like a mermaid sleeping lightly in the water.
But he was not a mermaid. He was a human, a fragile patient who had just escaped the threat of death.
His body and his wounds could not bear this dangerous association.
Lin Jingzhe's mind went blank. It took him two seconds to realize that he should send Lin Jingchun to the hospital as soon as possible.
But just as he hugged the person, he saw a sudden wound across Lin Jingchun's neck artery, which was whitened by hot water. The skin and flesh were rolled up, and the tissue and blood clots were swaying gently in the shaking blood water.
Lin Jingzhe's eyes went dark, he suddenly lost his strength, and fell into the bloody pool with the person in his arms.
Then he felt the hideous wound on Lin Jingchun's wrist.
He continued to touch and found that not only his wrists, but also his elbows, abdomen, and thighs were all covered in blood.
At the bottom of the bathtub, there was only a pair of scissors.
Lin Jingzhe picked it up and took a look. It was about the length of a palm, with a black handle. It was the scissors he bought in the supermarket to cut gauze for Lin Jingchun after the original scissors in the medicine box were lost.
Lin Jingchun used this multifunctional pair of scissors to cut off several major arteries throughout his body and lay in hot water to maintain the state of blood loss.
Lin Jingchun wanted to die.
And he was completely unaware.
Lin Jingzhe trembled all over, and the scissors he couldn't hold slipped out of his hand and sank to the bottom of the water again.
He couldn't lift the person on top of him, and the limp body slid along the edge of the bathtub into the bloody water again.
The crimson water waves swayed gently, and the sound of splashing water was clear and lingering. In the silent night, it quietly took away a bunch of stunning spring flowers.
Accompanying it was a bunch of branches with roots and stems still attached.
Before the end of spring, they withered and fell in a hurry.
*
The news of Lin Jingchun and Lin Jingzhe's death spread before Yu Ming and Yi Pingbo arrived in Xincheng.
The circumstances of the celebrity brothers' deaths were consistent with their close-knit public persona.
The same suicide method, the same suicide tool, less than an hour's time difference in death, they were as close as a pair of twins.
At this time, two months had passed since the "Cui Empire" incident was exposed, and the public opinion storm had gradually subsided.
As the most insignificant ants in the incident, they used their resolute death to draw a shameful gap in this absurd farce.
This is not the end, this is the beginning of a new era.
"idiot."
Qi Yan was painting in the studio when he heard the news. The pencil in his hand slid quickly across the sketch paper, and the tip of the pencil made a constant squeaking sound. Under the easel was a pile of broken and shattered black pencil tips.
His movements were rough and violent, full of a desire to vent, but this irritability did not affect the painting. Muscles that had been trained thousands of times would guide each stroke to the right place, and one stroke at a time, they slowly pieced together to form a familiar face.
He seemed tireless, painting one picture after another repeatedly and without stopping.
Looking throughout the studio, there was no blank space on the floor, table, or easel. They were all covered with the same faces, some laughing, some making noise, some sad, some happy.
"Idiot." Qi Yan's voice was hoarse and cold, and his bloodshot eyes were fixed on the tip of the pen, as if he was not moved at all.
His right hand quickly sketched the outline, and the black pencil created light, shadow and space at his fingertips.
Almond eyes, rosy cheeks, a smile so bright that it pales in comparison to the spring sunshine. Time and memory remain unchanged under his skills, blending with the finishing touch into a tenderness that haunts his dreams.
"A pair of idiots."
He cursed coldly, his voice hoarse and flat, as if he was not scolding anyone, but reciting a boring line by heart, "Only fools commit suicide."
Only two months had passed since Gu Nan's death, and Lin Jingchun and Lin Jingzhe, unable to withstand even a little pressure from public opinion, committed suicide one after another.
Useless coward, he died such a cowardly death.
Not worthy of sympathy, only worthy of ridicule.
"Crack!" The pen tip broke.
Qi Yan picked up the pencil sharpener at his feet and started sharpening the pencil, one circle, one circle... slowly turning it, turning it continuously, until only a small tail half a finger long was left of the pencil. He threw it away, put in a new pencil and continued sharpening it.
The long pencil skin and black pencil ash all fell on his legs, blending into the hill-like skin and ash, not conspicuous at all.
After sharpening his pencil, he continued working on the unfinished painting.
On the morning of New Year's Day, he and Gu Nan were making a snowman in the yard. He refused to cooperate and threw snowballs at her, which made the angry Gu Nan press him into the snow and kick him several times.
He looked up at her, and she looked down at him.
He was leaning on the crutch that he had snatched from him, with one hand on his waist, and stepping on his knee neither lightly nor heavily, as if he were stepping on an insignificant defeated opponent.
She is outspoken and lively, a gentle deity embraced by white snow and golden light, and also the leader of the team who has the final say.
She is the most intense fire in the cold winter, and the most turbulent emotion in his life.
She died, was reborn, and died again.
He was reborn, died, and was reborn again.
Always seems to be one step behind her.
But it doesn’t matter, a hundred years are just a dream, and those who come can pursue it.
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