When Bian Cheng received the critical condition notice, he did not know how to react. Before the separation, there was a long period of illness as a prelude, and at this moment, there was both the trembling impact of the final blow and the relief of unresolved matters finally settling.
When the nurse pushed open the door to the hospital room, it was as if the curtain of the final stage had been drawn.
He and his father walked to the bedside. The frail old man was almost invisible under the quilt, and on his age-spotted hands, life visibly ebbed away bit by bit.
Soft sobbing broke the silence in the room. When Bian Cheng turned his head, he saw that Bian Huaiyuan was already in tears.
Just like the moment his wife passed away years ago.
“Why are you crying?” The old man on the bed said calmly, “I’m almost ninety. It’s time for me to go.”
“Dad, don’t say that,” Bian Huaiyuan interrupted. “Look at Academician Ni. He’s over ninety and still traveling across the country working on projects. If you pull through this, you could still celebrate your hundredth birthday banquet.”
Meng Changye ignored his hollow words of comfort. He knew full well that his life was at its end.
“I’m going to see Xiao Jie and her mother. I’ve left them behind for far too long.” Using the last bit of his strength, the old man turned to look at his son-in-law. “Take care of yourself from now on.”
It was rare for his father-in-law to offer a blessing, and Bian Huaiyuan was taken aback.
Meng Changye gazed at him deeply, sighed, and turned to Bian Cheng: “Let’s have a private chat, just the two of us.”
Bian Huaiyuan patted Bian Cheng on the shoulder and walked out of the ward. Bian Cheng pulled the chair closer and sat by the bedside.
Meng Changye’s face had become gaunt and hollow, but his eyes were astonishingly bright. Perhaps it was the returning light of a dying man, and his voice was much clearer than before. “I’m someone close to death now. If you have any secrets, you can tell me.”
A fleeting moment of surprise flashed in Bian Cheng’s eyes.
“You’re smart, but you can’t hide things at all,” Meng Changye looked at him. “Go on, at this point, what could your grandfather possibly not accept?”
He did have secrets. Secrets that had been buried for years, now rotting away.
“Mom doesn’t cook much.” said Bian Cheng.
This answer was irrelevant to the question, but Meng Changye still nodded anyway. “Yes, she didn’t like cooking.”
“When I was little, she came back from a business trip once and wanted to take me out to eat. I said I wanted to have a meal at home, so she tried to cook,” Bian Cheng said. “She looked up recipes, messed around in the kitchen, and ended up stir-frying some pork and green pepper.”
“That’s an easy dish to make.”
“En,” Bian Cheng said. “it tasted terrible. It tasted terrible to the point that I hated the taste of green peppers for many years afterwards. I thought they were astringent and bitter.”
Meng Changye listened to the old story about his daughter, even the embarrassing ones made him happy: “And then?”
“She asked me how it was, and I said it was delicious.”
“You can talk like a normal person sometimes?”
Bian Cheng chuckled. “As a result, for many years after that, every time she cooked for me, she would make stir-fried green peppers with pork.”
Meng Changye also laughed.
“Some things, if you don’t say them the first time, you’ll never get the chance to say them again,” Bian Cheng reminisced. “She thought I liked the dish she made. Until the day of her accident, I never got the chance to tell her the truth.”
Meng Changye remained silent for a long time, then nodded slightly. “Is that so?”
“Grandpa, do you think I should have told her?” Bian Cheng asked. “If I revealed the secret, would she have been happier?”
Meng Changye thought for a moment and said, “Your mom was a researcher, and so am I. No matter the situation, we always want to know the truth.”
Bian Cheng looked at his dying relative, the heart rate monitor beeping steadily.
“I’m gay,” Bian Cheng said.
The air in the hospital room seemed to solidify. The faint sound of breathing was magnified infinitely, to the point where it roared in one’s ears.
“Is that so,” Meng Changye said.
“Grandpa, aren’t you surprised?”
“I’m absolutely shocked,” Meng Changye said, “I just can’t react that dramatically anymore.”
“So,” Bian Cheng asked, “is it better to say it out loud?”
Meng Changye clicked his tongue. “I really dug a pit for myself to jump into.”
He held his grandson’s hand.
“I hope you’re not gay. I really do,” Meng Changye said. “But this is the reality, there’s nothing that can be done about it.”
“If you survive, will you support me?”
“Of course.”
“Really?” Bian Cheng was very surprised. “You just said…”
“I can’t help it,” Meng Changye sighed, “Besides me, is there anyone else who can support you? You’re so bad at socializing, you don’t even have a single friend.”
Bian Cheng retorted, “Song Yuchi is my friend.”
“It won’t be long before he gets driven away by you too,” Meng Changye glared at him, “Do you think I meddle in their family affairs every day just because? I pulled him out from under his parents’ thumb so he would treat you better.”
“…Is that so?”
“It’s too hard to be an outlier. You will be criticized and become the subject of others’ gossip. I hope you can live a more relaxed life,” Meng Changye said. “You are already different from others in many ways. Why add another one?”
“Being an outlier isn’t so bad,” Bian Cheng said. “I’m not afraid of loneliness.”
“You think loneliness isn’t a big deal because you’re not truly alone,” Meng Changye said.
After speaking, he looked at Bian Cheng with worry and shook his head. The friction between his silver hair and the pillowcase made a faint rustling sound. “What will happen in the future?”
Meng Changye coughed twice, and the conversation came to an abrupt end. It was as if something tangible in the air pressed down on the nerves, making it increasingly difficult to breathe.
This was it. Meng Changye’s eyes gazed at the ceiling, where the faint white mist seemed to blur into the otherworld.
This was it.
Bian Cheng suddenly gripped his hand tightly. “Grandpa.”
Phlegm rose from his trachea, rattling in his throat, and his words became fragmented. “Ah…” he said. “Grandpa… still couldn’t…”
Bian Cheng watched as the shadow of death crept from his grandfather’s forehead, gradually taking away the bright light in his eyes.
“When you see Mom,” Bian Cheng said, “tell her for me, I’m doing well.”
A faint smile appeared on Meng Changye’s face. Bian Cheng thought he must have seen the person he longed to meet.
Bian Cheng stood up and pressed the call button. The nurse outside opened the door, with the doctor and Bian Huaiyuan rushing in. The old man’s hand gradually lost its strength, the heart rate curve slowed down, and eventually flattened into a straight line.
“July 18th, 5:35 PM, time of death confirmed.”
The funeral was grand. Disciples, officials, and corporate executives attended, with wreaths filling both inside and outside the mourning hall. Several major state media outlets published obituaries, commemorating the passing of an older generation scientist.
For some reason, despite the bustling scene with endless cars and streams of people, Bian Cheng felt as though he was in the wilderness, his ears filled with the sound of rushing wind.
Perhaps it was because he knew he had lost the last person who was truly a family member to him.
After watching the ashes be buried, Bian Huaiyuan spoke with several deans and principals while he drove back to his residence alone.
As the sunlight faded and moonlight streamed in through the curtains, he sat at the empty table, staring at the gradually fading photos on the wall. Once his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he could faintly see the lights outside the window. In the quiet rhythm of breathing, the outlines of the room’s furnishings appeared dimly.
It was at this moment that the phone rang piercingly.
Bian Cheng more or less knew who it was. He took out his phone, and sure enough, it was him
Jiang Yu would call him almost every night. Sometimes he spoke a few words, sometimes he simply left the call open while working. That kid probably really had gone mad with loneliness.
Bian Cheng answered the phone.
“Gege,” Jiang Yu said, “Good evening.”
“En.”
“Today,” Jiang Yu said, “aren’t you working?”
“En.”
“I found a lot of four-leaf clovers by the river,” Jiang Yu said.
“En.”
“It rained today and I saw a beautiful rainbow,” Jiang Yu said.
“En.”
“I got a sore in my mouth, and I put too much salt in the fried egg,” Jiang Yu said.
“En.”
“Gege doesn’t seem to be in good spirits lately.” Jiang Yu said.
Bian Cheng glanced at the photo; the night had deepened, and the figure had become blurred. “Is that so?” he said.
“Is there something sad?”
Sad, upset, painful… There were so many words for negative emotions, but none of them seemed to accurately describe his feelings. “I guess so.”
Jiang Yu thought for a moment and said, “Mom said, whether it’s sadness or disappointment, you’ll feel better when you hear one thing.”
“What?”
“I’m here.”
Bian Cheng remained silent for a long time, then said, “Really?”
“En,” Jiang Yu said, “I’m here.”
T/N: I read a comment on this chapter and someone said the current Bian Cheng is shaped by the events and people who left heavy marks on his life. He says everything bluntly (and a bit harshly hahaha) because his grandfather liked to hear the truth, and when Wen Di asked in the earlier chapter, he answered there’s someone who said his violin is beautiful because Jiang Yu told him when Jiang Yu was lonely and need company, and then he adopted Jiang Yu because when his grandpa passed away and left him alone, Jiang Yu told him ‘I’m here’. Not gonna lie, my eyes got teary (it’s already is after reading this chapter) ;(((
