The nurse was startled.
She had dealt with plenty of emotionally distraught patients' family members, but having someone suddenly rush at her from the side while she was walking along...
and grab her arm...
was still terrifying.
The nurse nearly screamed.
What happened next...
Old Meng's memory was a blur.
He felt as if many people were looking at him, all with their mouths open.
But he couldn't hear what they were saying.
The boy was gone.
Really... gone...
Gone to see his mother.
Leaving him all alone.
Old Meng suddenly burst into tears.
Hysterical.
Sobbing uncontrollably.
He was in unbearable pain.
All the emotions he'd buried over the years, both openly and deep down, surged out like floodwaters breaking through a dam when the boy was gone.
But...
He wasn't a child anymore.
No matter how much it hurt, no matter how broken... how unable to accept it...
He couldn't stay lost in his grief forever.
There were still many things he had to take care of.
And besides him...
there was no one else who could do them.
Having gone through the loss of his wife before, Old Meng handled the boy's funeral arrangements smoothly this time.
Old Meng returned home.
A home where he was all alone.
Now and in the future...
he would be alone.
He collapsed onto the bed.
Old Meng closed his eyes wearily.
He lifted one hand.
And rested it on his forehead.
Old Meng abruptly opened his eyes.
He shot upright.
His face was deathly pale.
Cold sweat poured down him.
Unfortunately.
Neither today nor in the days to come would anyone be there to ask him:
"What's wrong?"
Old Meng's face was stricken with fear.
Just now...
Just as Old Meng