Every week, I also visited Aunt He Pei. Since starting her cashier job, she seemed much more cheerful, though she still lamented sadly that Chen Qiao Luo hadn’t come home.
Yes, it had been two years since he left without a word, and he hadn’t returned even once.
Sometimes, I wondered if he still resented me, or what kind of new life he was living over there.
Dad decided to go on a world tour with Aunt Shen. He quit his job, and the day before he left, he talked to me for a long time. He said I’d grown up and could start walking the next part of the road on my own. But no matter what, he would come back to me the moment I needed him.
I teased him for being melodramatic, but my heart was full of warmth and gratitude. That’s my dad—a man who loves, cherishes, and spoils me unconditionally.
Dad had been gone for over a month, but he video-called me frequently. Each time, the scenery behind him was different, as if he wanted to show me that he was still with me, no matter where he went.
It was now 2013, and I was in my third year of university. It had been two years since the accident that happened to Gu Yu. In those two years, Gu Yu had become my responsibility—a burden I couldn’t shake off.
I had dreamed countless times of him waking up, but every time I woke, he was still lying in that cold, lonely hospital bed. Sometimes, I wondered what he would be like if that incident hadn’t happened. He would have grown into a young man by now. With his grades, his future would have been so bright. Why did he have to leave the stage so quietly?
In early November, I received a call from Gu Yu’s mother at the hospital. On the other end of the line, she was sobbing uncontrollably.
My heart sank as an ominous feeling crept over me. I didn’t dare urge her, so I endured the agony of listening as she stammered through her tears: “Yun Hao, it’s bad news. The doctor just told me… Xiao Yu is critically ill.”
It felt as though the lights in my world had been switched off, plunging everything into darkness.
I don’t remember how I got to the hospital. When I stumbled into Gu Yu’s room, he was no longer there.
A nurse passed by, and I grabbed her wrist in desperation, asking, “Where is the patient from bed 32? Where did he go?”
When I arrived at the operating room doors, Gu Yu’s mother was already there. Her emotions were in shambles, and a nurse stood by her side, trying to comfort her. The moment she saw me, tears streamed down her face again. “Yun Hao, what do we do? What can I do?”
I gently patted the back of her hand and said, “It’s going to be okay. Everything will be okay.”
Yes, Gu Yu is such a good person. How could heaven be so cruel as to take his life so early?
Time seemed to slow down in that moment.
I don’t know how long I waited, but the fear inside me consumed me bit by bit.
Finally, the red light above the operating room went out, and the doors opened. A group of people emerged from inside.
Gu Yu’s mother nearly stumbled as she rushed forward to the doctor, her voice trembling as she asked, “Doctor, how is my son? How is he?”
I saw the doctor lower his gaze slightly, and at that moment, a sense of dread began to swell within me. He removed his mask with one hand and, with a hint of regret in his voice, said:
“We’re very sorry. We did everything we could, but the patient’s condition was far too severe. Please accept our condolences.”
The moment those words left his mouth, Gu Yu’s mother collapsed, unable to bear the truth. Someone rushed over to help her away, leaving me standing there, utterly alone.
A cold wind swept through the hallway, and my heart felt as though it was about to shatter.
I couldn’t understand why someone as kind as Gu Yu had to leave this world. He was supposed to have a bright and promising future.
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