At the hospital, in the ward.
After Zhong Jiayou left, Zhong Youcai lay silently on the hospital bed, the twilight in his eyes growing ever heavier.
It seemed like the dusk of a hope fading away.
As time passed, he could feel the vitality within him gradually being stripped away. He had less and less time left!
Everything from the past seemed to have changed in flavor.
The boy who had fought his way out of the mountain village with sheer determination, charging into the city's business world to make something of himself;
The young man who carried his family's hopes on his back, chewing dry steamed buns every month while still sending money home;
The old man who, in his twilight years, had planned to enjoy the company of his children and grandchildren, only to be scorned by them;
The son who had often followed behind him, learning from him;
The grandson he had taken everywhere, seeking treatment at hospital after hospital;
Everything from the past seemed to have changed. The memories that had once been so clear were now blurred beyond recognition. Those people, those events, were like pearls from a snapped string, scattered all over the floor~
Impossible to gather, impossible to sort out.
Several hours later, he had been lying on the bed all that time.
His cloudy eyes suddenly brightened a little, as if he had figured something out.
He suddenly sat up trembling, expressionlessly picked up his phone, and called his son, Zhong Zhihong.
His movements were extremely stiff. Once the call connected, his voice became unusually clear:
"Zhihong, come to the hospital. I want to see you one last time!"
"What? Dad, don't mess around. I'm busy here! I'll call you back later!"
Zhong Zhihong, who was in a meeting at the company,