Chapter 44
The spreading cancer cells were devouring Qiao Yi's life force every second. The novel he was so worried about was still being updated intermittently and with difficulty, the update frequency going from twice a day to once a day, to once every few days... The number of reads and clicks didn't increase, and the comments and votes were always from the same two fixed IDs.
With his remaining energy saturated, Qiao Yi recounted Yan Qing's experiences to Shen Hanyang in detail. Although he had been writing novels for several years, to be honest, his writing was rather mediocre. His oral storytelling wasn't as fluent and seamless as a true expert's. He often jumped from one topic to another, frequently realizing that the timeline was inconsistent or that causal relationships were missing, and then he would go back to fix it.
Shen Hanyang was not impatient. On the contrary, he focused all his attention on absorbing every word of Qiao Yi's disorganized narration into his mind.
What's even stranger is that although Qiao Yi's speech wasn't entirely coherent, it unexpectedly possessed a cacophony of tension, like depicting a tree, first pulling out the trunk, then the branches, and finally adding the leaves—detailed and intricate, bringing her past to life. It was far more gripping than the meticulously worded and logically rigorous background check report presented by Assistant Hao.
Later, Qiao Yi grew tired as he spoke, his breath becoming short and his voice weak. Shen Hanyang told him to rest. But he was still not finished, and only after he had thoroughly recounted Yan Qing's twenty-seven years of life did he lie down on the bed and fall into a deep sleep.
Yes, Yan Qing is indeed two years older than her ID card age, just as that effeminate fat man said; she is twenty-seven years old this year. The reason is that her mother, Feng Fanying, didn't register her birth initially. Later, during the process of re-registering, something went wrong at some point, and she, who should have been two years old, was treated as a newborn by the registration staff, resulting in an incorrect birth date being permanently printed on her.
Later, he went along with the mistake and started school two years late. However, apart from Qiao Yi's family, no one cared about this.
Shen Hanyang stayed in Qiao Yi's hospital room until nearly midnight. When he came out, a gust of wind dispelled the smell of disinfectant that had lingered all night, and brought with it the scent of earth and grass after the rain.
He walked alone through the night, hands in his pockets. The wind carried the scent of early autumn, and the post-rain night air was chilly. Yet he was restless, unable to suppress the fervent desire and agonizing longing—a desire to chase and possess, to chase the land, the grass, the wind. But he couldn't hold any of them in his hands; the stillness of the land, the fragrance of the grass, the freedom of the wind—he couldn't possess them even for a moment. This fueled his growing resentment.
For the first time, he felt powerless, unable to control things.
He tugged at his collar, futilely trying to vent his unbearable frustration.
In the lonely night, every breath was accompanied by a quiet, heavy silence. He sat in the hospital garden for a long time, then sent a text message to his assistant, Hao, emphasizing at the end: "Get it done first thing tomorrow morning."
When they returned to Tan Chen Mansion, it was nearly 2 a.m., but they found someone outside the unit door.
Wu Yanying sat on the steps, hugging her knees and burying her head in her hands, with a large suitcase beside her.
The streetlights stretched the approaching figure into her field of vision. She looked up, her face already a mess of tear-stained makeup.
"Brother Hanyang..." she called out, sounding aggrieved.
Shen Hanyang took her home, and the maid, Aunt Chen, got up, put on her clothes, and hurriedly tidied up the guest room.
But Wu Yanying didn't go to rest. She knocked on the door of the study.
Shen Hanyang was sitting behind the table smoking.
"Brother Hanyang..." she murmured, her eyes dark and swollen, it was hard to tell whether it was smudged eyeliner or cell ischemia caused by drowsiness.
Shen Hanyang didn't stop smoking, nor did he chase her away or even look at her directly. Wu Yanying, on the other hand, didn't dare to speak. Finally, she glanced at the wall clock; it was three in the morning. She rubbed the corner of her clothes and handed a crumpled piece of paper from her pocket.
Shen Hanyang didn't take it, so she silently placed it on the table.
"Brother Hanyang, this is my medical record. I know you're very busy and I shouldn't be bothering you, but... the school counselor said I'm a bit depressed..."
Shen Hanyang finally cast a cold glance at him: "Oh, what's going on?"
Tears welled up in Wu Yanying's already dry eyes again, and she sobbed, "I don't know, I just always feel sad, lonely, helpless, and... lost."
The study was quiet. The dim desk lamp couldn't reach the spot where Wu Yanying was standing, nor could it illuminate Shen Hanyang's eyes.
"Oh, ha—"
Shen Hanyang chuckled ambiguously, and Wu Yanying shuddered, involuntarily shrinking further into the darkness.
"—Tell me, what do you want?"
Shen Hanyang's question intensified Wu Yanying's already trembling fear, filling her with an overwhelming sense of dread. For the first time, she sensed an attitude from him she had never experienced before. That casual glance he cast at her from under the lamplight wasn't indifference or weariness, but a genuine, palpable impatience—something she had never witnessed before.
"Brother Hanyang..." Wu Yanying ground her teeth in her mouth, then swallowed the rest of her words, "You should rest early, your stomach isn't good, you can't stay up late..."
After Wu Yanying left, the study was finally his own space again.
The time between three and five o'clock passed neither slowly nor quickly. As the first rays of dawn touched the windows, Chen Hanyang went upstairs to take a shower and change his clothes.
He originally intended to head straight to L University, but before seven o'clock, Vice President Gou called in a great hurry, saying that several government officials were coming to the company today to investigate the smart transportation big data model they had developed.
Shen Hanyang took a deep breath and had no choice but to turn the car around and head to the company.
When he arrived at the company, it was just 7:15, and only a few lights were on in the building. Shen Hanyang entered the elevator from the underground parking garage, but the elevator stopped briefly on the first floor, where a curly-haired, chubby man stepped in.
The fat man, like a eunuch in a TV drama meeting the emperor, almost knelt down: "Oh, President Chen, you've arrived so early!"
Shen Hanyang recognized Wang Yongxing very quickly, but he hadn't slept all night and his stomach was a little upset, so he wasn't interested in talking and didn't even bother to give a basic nod.
Wang Yongxing's thick skin sustained his spirits, and he started talking to himself as he spoke to Shen Hanyang: "I'm usually the first one to arrive at the office every day. Well, I usually catch the first few subways from school, no more than the first three. The earlier I arrive, the longer my effective working time."
Wang Yongxing spoke with great enthusiasm, his spittle flying everywhere, filling the small elevator space with the sour smell of his sweat.
Shen Hanyang snorted coldly and said abruptly, "Once Yan Qing comes back, you won't need to rush to catch the subway."
Wang Yongxing felt as if he had been slapped in the face; his face twitched a few times, and he froze, unable to speak.
The elevator stopped on the nineteenth floor, and the doors opened to both sides.
Wang Yongxing stood there motionless, like a wooden stake.
It wasn't until she received an impatient look from Shen Hanyang that she awkwardly swayed her body down the elevator, forgetting even to say goodbye to President Shen.
Shen Hanyang spent the entire day in meetings at work. During his lunch break, he sent two WeChat voice messages to Yan Qing, but neither was answered.
Fortunately, the afternoon meeting was relatively short and ended before four o'clock. After seeing off the government officials, Shen Hanyang took care of some follow-up work, told Secretary Zhao that he was leaving early, and drove straight to Wuxing Street outside the east gate of L University.
Wuxing Street has always been chaotic and disorderly. Pedestrians jaywalk, electric bikes weave through traffic, and private cars use both sides as temporary parking spaces, turning the already narrow two-way street into a one-way street. Shen Hanyang's car was wide and long, and it took him a lot of effort to find a narrow gap to park.
He drove here on a whim, and only realized after stopping the car that he couldn't get into the school without someone to guide him.
He lit a cigarette in his seat. The sky was overcast, the air pressure was low, and it looked like it would rain soon.
As dusk settles on Wuxing Street, the students strolling and relaxing create a lively atmosphere, completely masking the gloom of an impending storm.
After finishing his cigarette, the message he sent to Yan Qing remained unanswered. He pushed open the car door and got out.
The main crowd on Wuxing Street consisted of students from several nearby universities. Shen Hanyang, with his striking face, stood out somewhat among them. But he didn't care. A cigarette dangling from his hand, he wandered aimlessly, looking around without a destination in mind, unsure of where he was going or if he harbored some unrealistic expectation—a hope that he might bump into her in the crowd?
He stopped in his tracks as he passed a somewhat familiar storefront.
FANTLAND bar.
A steady stream of students filed in through the small, spring-loaded wooden door, the wind chimes hanging above the entrance tinkling softly. He couldn't recall the last time he'd been to Fantland being this popular. A quick glance revealed a blackboard by the door that read: "Boss's Engagement, 30% Off All Drinks."
Shen Hanyang felt a dull pain in his chest, as if he had been punched by something.
He took several deep breaths, but to no avail; every muscle in his body was contorted. His calm demeanor vanished, and he reached out and forcefully pushed open the two wooden doors.
The bar, which was previously a minimalist establishment, is now brightly decorated with lanterns, balloons, ribbons, and flowers, as if afraid that no corner would be left untouched by the joyous atmosphere of the owner's engagement.
He still retained a sliver of reason, clenched his fists, and chose an inconspicuous corner to sit down. Music began to slowly flow from the speakers above his head, the tune of "How Long Will I Love You." A waiter came over with the drinks menu, bowing respectfully: "Sir, what would you like to drink? All drinks are 30% off today."
Shen Hanyang glanced at the drinks menu and asked, "Such a big discount?"
The waiter smiled and said, "Today our boss and his future wife are getting engaged, so we're offering a big discount. Let's all celebrate!"
A few young men and women passed by, seemingly regulars. One of them, a short man wearing a baseball cap, meddlesomely said to Chen Hanyang, "Go ahead and spend, brother. Zhuge has never been this generous before. We have to make him bleed!" His companions walked over laughing.
The waiter then asked, "Sir, what would you like to drink?"
Shen Hanyang didn't even look at the drink menu, and casually pointed to the first one: "Let's go with the first one."
What he drank wasn't important. But he definitely needed something cold to suppress the restlessness spreading through him. He had already used up all the power he had cultivated over the past thirty years, yet the auspicious atmosphere of the hall made it difficult for him to breathe. He had to restrain himself with all his might to prevent revealing his true inner turmoil.
Engagement? I never expected that a casual joke I made to Qiao Yi yesterday would come true.
Are they really that impatient? Outside, laughter and song filled the air, but inside, Shen Hanyang's mind was in turmoil, a jumble of emotions. He had always understood that human joys and sorrows were not shared, and he had never cared. But today, for the first time, he felt that this emotional isolation—the inability to express his feelings and the lack of understanding—was a cruel and inhuman punishment. Their grand celebration only served to highlight his loneliness and despair.
Then he thought again, what does engagement mean? It means nothing. Even marriage... The waiter brought over a drink, which he grabbed and chugged down, unwilling to think any further.
At that moment, the music stopped, and the audience fell silent.
A long-haired man dressed artistically went on stage. Shen Hanyang estimated that the earrings he was wearing weighed at least two pounds.
The long-haired man gripped the microphone, his voice filled with emotion as he began to speak: "Hello everyone, I'm Justin, bassist for the Lone Wolf band. Today is an ordinary Saturday, but for all the members of FANTLAND, it's an incredibly special day. Those who frequently visit here will recognize our soul—Boss Zhuge," Justin gestured in a certain direction towards the audience. Shen Hanyang looked in that direction, his view blocked by the corner of the bar.
Justin continued, "Today is his big day. Hey, I just said 'big day,' and our leading lady blushed? Don't be shy!"
Amidst the laughter of the crowd, Shen Hanyang's heart pounded. So she hadn't answered her phone all day because she was busy with her so-called Big Day? He couldn't help but look around the corner of the bar again, his pupils trembling, both longing to see and afraid to see.
Justin: "Today is the day our prince and princess get engaged, a day when fairy tales come true. I'm so happy, so happy, so incredibly happy..." Justin went on and on, but Shen Hanyang's ears were ringing, and he barely heard a word. Finally, Justin finished speaking: "Well, although I'm just as good-looking as Zhuge Liang, today is his show, so I'll just give an opening speech to get the ball rolling. The rest of the time will go to our protagonist."
A figure in a white shirt walked onto the stage, took the microphone, and Justin, ever the busybody, grabbed a bunch of roses from the audience and stuffed them into his arms.
Shen Hanyang steadied himself and focused his gaze before confirming that it was indeed Zhuge Xiaoxiang. He looked somewhat different than usual, but Shen Hanyang couldn't quite put his finger on it. It wasn't until he grinned at the audience that Shen Hanyang grasped the problem: instead of a joyful expression, Zhuge's facial muscles seemed to sag, and his face was incongruously covered in acne, making his smile look sour, bitter, and rotten, like an over-pickled cucumber.
Shen Hanyang cursed inwardly: "What did he do to become so weak... bastard!"
Zhuge Xiaoxiang lowered her head for a long while, as if gathering her emotions, then raised her head, cleared her throat, and said in a hoarse voice, "I had prepared a long speech, but when I got on stage, my mind went blank. So many words, yet I don't know where to begin. When I first met you, you were just a little girl. Although I considered myself your older brother then, I was actually quite clueless and confused. Later, your persistence and courage made this fool of a man realize his own feelings. Thank God for His blessing, allowing an imperfect me to meet such a perfect you, my darling. I am willing to be your guardian knight forever!"
Hu Ruoting rushed forward impatiently, and the two embraced and kissed, crushing the roses and scattering petals all over the ground.
In the least noticeable corner of the audience, Shen Hanyang squinted at the girl in the white tulle dress and Martin boots, who was both crying and laughing. He heard cheers around him: "Kiss her! Kiss her!"
Shen Hanyang patted his chest, unsure whether it was his stomach ache from not eating dinner or the nausea he felt from the scene before him. He felt the wine he had drunk flowing back up, and he felt like he would vomit if it stayed in the stomach any longer.
Hu Ruoting smiled and said to the audience, "We're going home to have our own family! We won't show you!"
At a table not far from Shen Hanyang, a few people were whispering among themselves:
"It really wasn't easy for the two of them. Ruoting had a tough time pursuing Zhuge. Zhuge had been avoiding her for a while, and for a time he even dated a female student from the neighboring university, didn't he?"
"Yes, Zhuge brought that girl here a few times. I've seen her; she's quite pretty."
"What's the use of being pretty? Even a strong woman can be won over by a persistent suitor, and the reverse is also true. Ruoting's long period of suffering has not been in vain; she has finally seen the light at the end of the tunnel."
Just as everyone was cheering and whistling, a person slowly stood up and walked onto the stage.
Zhuge's forced smile froze: "President Shen?"
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