Chapter 179 Attending the Banquet
Just thinking about what might happen later made the corners of her lips involuntarily turn up slightly, and a barely perceptible smile flashed in her eyes.
She turned and walked towards the bathroom, her steps light, like a cat walking in the moonlight, leaving behind a room of silence and undercurrents.
Sheng Tingzhou clenched his teeth tightly, veins bulging on his forehead, cold sweat trickling down his temples.
His gaze swept inch by inch toward the telephone on the bedside table, his eyes revealing struggle and urgency.
Finally, he suddenly lowered his head and slammed his chin against the microphone—it fell to the ground with a "thud" and landed on the carpet with a dull thud.
His teeth gripped the plastic barrel of a pen tightly, his fingers trembling yet determined as he gripped the microphone, his fingertips almost embedded in the rubber casing.
He pressed the keys one number at a time with all his might, each press accompanied by heavy breathing and muscle spasms, as if his whole being was fighting against some invisible erosion.
—
Song Zhiwei was sitting by the hospital bed, carefully peeling an apple for Zhou Yuce.
The fruit peel rolled off in circles and landed on the clean white sheets, like petals falling in spring.
Her expression was focused, her eyes gentle, as if at this moment the world consisted only of the fruit in her hand and the person in front of her.
Suddenly, her phone vibrated slightly and continuously in her pocket, breaking the silence.
She glanced up, then continued what she was doing, and gently handed the peeled apple to him: "Uncle, have a bite."
Zhou Yuze tilted his head slightly, his gaze falling on her constantly shaking phone, and his brows furrowed almost imperceptibly.
His voice was deep and gentle: "Could you cut it into smaller pieces for me? That would be easier."
The phone kept ringing, one ring after another, relentlessly, like a fine needle constantly piercing her nerves.
Her brow twitched slightly, a vague unease rising within her. She couldn't help but ask, "Uncle, may I take this call?"
He shook his head, his movements slow but undeniable, his voice still calm: "I want to eat now. Is that not allowed?"
She froze, her fingers hanging in mid-air.
The sentence sounded ordinary, and the tone wasn't intense, but the continuous vibrations made her heart tighten, as if some kind of danger was approaching.
She hesitated for a second, but finally gently placed the apple on the bedside table, saying apologetically, "I'll take it and be right back."
She walked quickly to the end of the corridor, her steps becoming increasingly hurried, until she was far away from the ward before pressing the answer button.
On the other end of the phone, Sheng Tingzhou's voice came through, hoarse and broken, like an echo slowly crawling out of a bottomless abyss, so faint that it seemed as if a gust of wind would completely dissipate it: "Zhiwei...save me."
She gripped her phone tightly, her knuckles turning white, her heart pounding as if it were being squeezed by a hand, almost stopping: "Where are you? What happened? Tell me quickly!"
He was breathing heavily, each word sounding like it took all his strength, as he uttered an address in broken sentences.
"I'll be right there!"
She practically screamed it out, her voice filled with an unprecedented resolve.
Before she could finish speaking, she hung up the phone, turned around and rushed back to the ward, "Uncle, I have something urgent to attend to, I have to go!"
Zhou Yuze's eyes suddenly darkened, and his originally gentle and refined gaze instantly turned sinister and cold.
His lips moved slightly, but he didn't say another word.
The next second, his body swayed violently, as if he had lost his support, and he fell heavily to the ground with a loud "thud," the sound of the impact being particularly jarring in the quiet ward.
Song Zhiwei turned around abruptly, startled and frozen in place: "Uncle!"
His forehead was covered in cold sweat, his face was pale with an unnatural flush, and his eyes were bloodshot. He trembled as he reached out his hand to her, his voice weak but persistent: "Zhiwei... help me... don't go..."
But all she could think about was that phrase, "Save me"—it was Sheng Tingzhou's voice, but it sounded like something she had never heard before.
So soft, so frightened, like the last plea of a dying person, trembling with despair.
She gritted her teeth, her nails digging deep into her palms, forcing herself to calm down.
She pressed the call bell on the wall, and the bell rang sharply.
He immediately lifted his leg and rushed out without hesitation.
As Zhou Yuze watched her resolute departure, a smile suddenly appeared on his lips.
The smile started faintly, gradually spread, and eventually turned into a wild laugh.
The laughter grew sharper and higher, like knives scraping against glass, so piercing it sent chills down one's spine.
Before long, the nurses and doctors rushed in and were all panicked when they saw the scene: "Mr. Zhou! What happened to you? Let us help you!"
"Get out of here—!"
He suddenly grabbed the water glass from the bedside table, swung his arm in an arc, and smashed the glass against the door, shattering it into pieces.
Water spilled all over the ground, reflecting the stark white light.
The doctors and nurses were so frightened that they backed away one after another. No one dared to take a step forward. They could only stand frozen at the door, looking at each other with fear in their eyes.
Zhou Yuze's eyes were bloodshot as he stared intently at the blackened apple on the corner of the table, his gaze fixed on it, unmoving.
The fruit was already rotten, its skin shriveled and twisted, with dark brown mold spots along the edges, resembling a silent accusation.
His fingers trembled slightly, and his throat felt like it was being choked by something, making it difficult to breathe.
In that almost suffocating silence, a tear silently slid down his cheek, down his chin, and landed heavily on the floor with a soft but jarring "thud."
—
Song Zhiwei slammed on the gas pedal, and the engine roared to life. After a brief slip on the ground, the tires suddenly surged forward.
The car sped off like an arrow, cutting through the night and hurtling towards the entrance of the banquet hall.
The hospital wasn't far from here, but for her, every minute and every second felt like it was stretched out indefinitely.
Her heart pounded violently in her chest, and images of Sheng Tingzhou's injuries flashed through her mind—blood, cold sweat, pale lips, and those once-bright eyes that might now be closed forever.
Before the car had come to a complete stop, she abruptly pushed open the car door, her high heels clicking rapidly on the ground, and her figure rushed towards the banquet hall entrance like the wind.
Just as she was about to cross the threshold, a tall figure blocked her way, his voice calm and distant: "Miss, please show me your invitation."
She frowned sharply, beads of cold sweat forming on her forehead, her heart burning with anxiety, almost bursting with rage.
Invitation?
Who cares about invitations anymore!
She bit her lower lip, preparing to force her way in regardless of everything, when a familiar voice suddenly came from behind her, making her heart tremble: "Zhiwei? You're here too?"
She shuddered, turned around abruptly, and her gaze met those calm, watery eyes—it was Mo Huaizhi.
In an instant, as if a drowning person had grabbed a piece of driftwood, hope surged in her eyes amidst despair.
She grabbed his arm, her fingertips almost digging into his sleeve, her voice trembling and choked with sobs: "Brother Huaizhi, save me! Tingzhou is in trouble! He... he might have had an accident on the third floor, but I'm afraid to go in, the door is locked... please, help me!"
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