Meng Changye had once lived a long and illustrious life. He was an academician, a leader in the energy field, and a pioneer of the domestic thermal power system. His students were spread across universities nationwide, and even provincial and ministerial officials treated him with humility and respect. Yet, none of this could prevent the early death of his only daughter or the onslaught of illness.
When Bian Cheng walked into the ward, Meng Changye was leaning on a walker by the window, holding a Baota Mountain cigarette in his hand.
Bian Cheng walked over and directly took the cigarette out of his hand, extinguishing it. “No smoking in the ward. High-quality talent like you should pay attention to your influence.”
“Sigh,” Meng Changye said sorrowfully, “I begged Old Cheng for a long time before he secretly gave it to me.”
Bian Cheng hadn’t heard this name before—probably a new friend Meng Changye had made among the patients.
After a pause, Meng Changye sighed again, a faint trail of smoke drifting out of his mouth. “He passed away this morning. I wonder if he’s smoking down there now.”
Bian Cheng threw the cigarette butt into the trash can and noticed that the floor next to him, the bedside table, and the closet were filled with bouquets of flowers, fruit baskets, and tonics. Each had the name of the sender and a ‘Wishing you a speedy recovery’ message, even though everyone knew that wasn’t possible.
He tidied up the fruit baskets and found a set of keys under an orange. He thought they looked familiar. “Did Dad come by?”
“En,” Meng Changye glanced at the keys. “The fruit plate in the fridge was peeled by him.”
After Bian Cheng told Meng Changye about his father’s remarriage, Meng Changye turned cold toward his son-in-law. However, Bian Huaiyuan’s enthusiasm didn’t wane; he still visited the ward every few days.
“He didn’t even take the keys. How did he leave?”
“Who knows,” Meng Changye said. “Anyway, he has a driver.”
Bian Cheng helped Meng Changye over to the bed, adjusted the bed frame, and supported his back so he could slowly lean against the headboard. Though Meng Changye muttered, “Lying here all day is going to make me moldy,” he obediently stayed still.
“Yesterday, I asked Xiao Liu to push me to the street across from the hospital,” Meng Changye said. “Back when I could still walk, didn’t I always like the chicken soup noodles from that place?”
“You snuck out again?” Bian Cheng frowned. “Why don’t you just get some takeout?”
“It all turns soggy when it’s delivered!” Meng Changye replied indignantly, then sighed. “But when I got to the door, I saw the shop had already closed down. There was a red notice on the door that said: This store is open until today.”
Bian Cheng sat down by the bed.
“Lately, I’ve been dreaming about your mom a lot,” Meng Changye continued. “She always complained about not being able to see me, just like when she was little.”
“Don’t talk nonsense.”
“With all these signs,” Meng Changye looked at him, “I’d feel impolite if I didn’t die.”
“Stop saying such inauspicious things.”
“What kind of feudal superstition are you talking about with the academician?” Meng Changye looked at Bian Cheng’s expression, held his hand, and gave it a shake. Suddenly, he smiled. “Why do you look even more lifeless than I do?”
Maybe it’s because I’ve heard too much about death recently, Bian Cheng thought.
“Don’t pull a long face,” Meng Changye said. “When you reach this age, there are some regrets that can only be made up for by death.”
Bian Cheng was surprised by this statement. “What regrets could you possibly have?”
Meng Changye smiled faintly and said, “Of course, it’s your mom.”
Bian Cheng thought back to his memories of his mother talking about her childhood. “She always said you treated her very well.”
“Yes,” Meng Changye said. “I’ve been running around the country for thermal power stations, we barely saw each other. When we finally had time together, of course, I spoiled her to death. She could have anything she wanted, do anything she wanted. I would give the whole world to compensate her, except for time and companionship.”
After a moment of silence, Meng Changye added, “I didn’t expect the same thing to happen again in the next generation.”
Bian Cheng said, “Mom definitely spoiled me.”
“She felt more guilty than I did, so she spoiled you even worse,” Meng Changye said. “Turned you into this ill-mannered little rascal.”
“Who said that? My terrible personality is entirely your fault,” Bian Cheng said. “When I was little, you always had me by your side. Just because you were there, whether it was entrepreneurs or high-ranking officials, they all treated me with politeness and respect. I received courtesies beyond my ability, so I became proud.”
“Oh,” Meng Changye said, “it turned out to be my fault.”
“Of course.”
Meng Changye chuckled and cursed him as ‘ungrateful’, then reached for the water cup by the bed. Bian Cheng was quicker than him and brought it to him in an instant.
His grandfather drank water slowly and cautiously, like a clumsy infant. Watching him, Bian Cheng asked, “So, does Grandpa feel guilty toward me?”
“You’re getting more and more outrageous with your words.”
“If you feel guilty, then make it up to me,” Bian Cheng said. “With time and companionship.”
Meng Changye looked at him, his smile gradually fading. “That request is too difficult,” he said, “it’s harder than rebuilding a thermal turbine system.”
“Really?”
“Yes,” Meng Changye said, “but I will do my best. When I see your mother tonight, I will apologize to her and say I’ll accompany her a little later.”
Bian Cheng tucked the blanket over him and placed the water cup back on the bedside table. “Then also help me tell her,” Bian Cheng said, “that I miss her very much.”
Meng Changye looked at his grandson for a long time and nodded.
When the caregiver, Xiao Liu, returned, Bian Cheng asked about recent events. Perhaps because of the previous escapade with the old man, Xiao Liu sounded a bit guilty.
Leaving his grandfather in the hands of the soft-hearted caregiver, Bian Cheng returned to his place. After freshening up, he turned on his computer. A single day away, and his inbox was already flooded with several pages of unread emails.
He saw a notice from the Academic Affairs Office: next semester’s curriculum was being restructured again, meaning he’d have to rewrite the course outline. A wave of frustration bubbled up within him.
Then his phone rang. Bian Cheng glanced at the screen—it was an unfamiliar number.
He answered the call, and after a long silence, a voice finally came from the other end: “Gege?”
It was Jiang Yu. Bian Cheng instantly tensed up. “Did something happen to your mom?”
“Mom?” The silence was frustrating. “She’s doing fine today.”
Why call him at all!
“She got up, cooked, and even watered the flowers.” Jiang Yu’s voice sounded cheerful.
“I’m very busy,” Bian Cheng said. “If there’s nothing urgent, just hang up.”
“Wait!”
Bian Cheng sighed: “Why did you call?”
“Oh…” Jiang Yu said. “No sound…”
“What?” Bian Cheng glanced at his phone, which showed the call was connected.
“Mom keeps falling asleep, and no one else talks to me,” Jiang Yu said. “It’s so quiet, too quiet.”
“I have work. I don’t have time to talk to you.”
“No need to talk,” Jiang Yu seemed to sense he was about to hang up and quickly added, “Just leave it on.”
Bian Cheng roughly understood his meaning: “You want me to keep the call open? I won’t make any noise while working.”
“It’s okay,” Jiang Yu said, “I know someone is there.”
Bian Cheng hesitated for a long time but eventually didn’t hang up. He placed the phone on the table. Time passed bit by bit as the printer churned out documents, the smart assistant’s voice played, and the keyboard clicked away. He gradually forgot there was another person sharing the sound of the room.
After finishing administrative tasks, he pulled up a paper co-authored with a student but struggled to find inspiration.
With his mind filled with countless scattered thoughts, he instinctively stood, walked to the cabinet, and retrieved the violin from its case. When his thoughts were blocked, music always worked wonders.
He gripped the bow, replaying Mendelssohn’s Rondo in his mind, and began to play.
The characters in his mind danced with the vibrations of the strings, sweeping over him like a sandstorm.
By the time he opened his eyes, the minute hand had moved another half circle.
The muse still hadn’t favored him. He returned the violin to its case, sat back at his desk, and caught a glimpse of a low-battery warning on his phone. Only then he remembered there was someone on the other end.
He picked up the phone. “Still there?”
The other side responded immediately, “Good evening!”
“Why aren’t you in bed yet?”
“Soon,” the other party responded immediately, “I’m listening to music.”
“What music?” Bian Cheng thought for a moment and asked in disbelief, “My violin?”
“En,” Jiang Yu said. “It sounds nice.”
Bian Cheng was silent for a moment and asked, “Is your hearing okay?”
“Ah?” Jiang Yu seemed not to understand what he meant and repeated, “It sounds good.”
“You are not that kind of child, are you?” Bian Cheng said, “As long as the dishes are cooked by mom, they are delicious, as long as the piano is played by brother, it is beautiful.”
“Mom’s food is delicious.”
For some reason, Bian Cheng suddenly smiled. “Go to sleep,” he said.
“Okay,” Jiang Yu said energetically, “goodnight, brother!”
Bian Cheng hung up the phone.
T/N: Perhaps Jiang Yu is the only person who thinks Bian Cheng’s violin sounds good ahahah Anyway, I’m back. Update will be daily again!
