In the hospital, sunlight streamed through the window of the ward, falling on Grandpa’s graying hair. The potted kaffir lily on the windowsill was in full bloom, and the air carried the scent of disinfectant, mixed with the familiar soap fragrance that always clung to Grandpa.
She sat by the hospital bed, clutching the two red marriage certificates in her palm. The leather covers grew warm from her tight grip.
“Yaoyao, let Grandpa take a look.”
Grandpa Gu’s voice had weakened noticeably, but his eyes were still bright, as if finally relieved after letting go of some long-held worry.
He stretched out his hands, covered with age spots, their joints slightly deformed from rheumatism, yet steady as he took the marriage certificates.
He opened them, gazing at the photo of Gu Ziyao and Shen Junyan inside. His eyes lingered for a long time.
In the photo, Gu Ziyao wore a white blouse, her hair tucked behind her ears, her smile gentle. Shen Junyan sat beside her in a black suit, his expression faint, the corners of his mouth slightly upturned. It was hard to read much emotion, but at least he seemed cooperative.
“Good, good,” Grandpa Gu murmured, his fingers gently tracing the faces of the two in the photo. “Yaoyao is finally married. I can rest easy now.”
Gu Ziyao’s throat tightened. She forced a smile.
Grandpa Gu looked up at her, his eyes cloudy yet kind. “Junyan, I’ve met him a few times. He’s steady, reliable. Knowing you’ve married him, Grandpa can leave in peace.”
“Grandpa, don’t say that,” Gu Ziyao said, her voice slightly hoarse. “You’re still in good health.”
“What good health? Grandpa knows his own body,” Grandpa Gu waved his hand dismissively. There was no sadness on his face, only a sense of release.
“I’ve worried about everything I needed to in this lifetime. All you children have grown up well, and now Yaoyao has started a family. Grandpa has nothing left to worry about.”
As he spoke, he seemed to remember something and turned slightly toward Gu Ziyao. “By the way, where’s Junyan? Why didn’t he come with you?”
Gu Ziyao’s fingers tightened instantly.
She lowered her eyes, her lashes trembling slightly. She maintained that proper smile on her face, but it took effort to steady her voice. “Junyan… he went abroad for a project inspection. He won’t be back for a while.”
“Oh, on a business trip,” Grandpa Gu didn’t suspect anything. He nodded, his tone carrying the particular concern of an elder. “When he returns, bring him to see Grandpa. I want to tell him in person to take good care of you.”
Gu Ziyao lowered her head, struggling to suppress the tremor in her voice. “Okay.”
Her own voice sounded as if it came from far away—light, airy, unreal.
She didn’t dare tell Grandpa that he might never see Shen Junyan again.
Because between the two of them, there was only the relationship on the marriage certificate. Nothing else.
Three years of marriage were just a transaction.
She couldn’t speak the truth…
Let Grandpa believe it was real. Let him think his granddaughter had truly married into a good family, that she was truly loved and cared for, that he no longer needed to worry.
Grandpa Gu closed the marriage certificates and handed them back to her. Then he leaned back against the pillow, letting out a long sigh, like an old man who had finally completed his last task, his entire body relaxing.
Outside the window, birds chirped—clear, one call after another.
Gu Ziyao tucked the marriage certificate into her bag, zipped it up, and when she looked up, she met Grandpa Gu’s gaze. In those cloudy eyes was an emotion she couldn’t quite understand—something like relief, yet also like reluctance.
“Yaoyao.”
“Hmm?”
“If you ever feel wronged in the future, don’t bear it alone.” Grandpa Gu’s voice was soft, as if he had used the last of his strength. “Go to your Eldest Brother, go to your Second Brother. They are your own brothers, they will protect you.”
Gu Ziyao’s eyes grew hot, and she nodded firmly.
A month later, Grandpa Gu passed away in his sleep.
Gu Ziyao received the call from the hospital while she was organizing documents in the study.
The nurse’s voice on the other end was calm, as if accustomed to life and death, merely delivering a routine notification: “Miss Gu, your grandfather passed away at 5:12 p.m. He went peacefully, without any pain.”
Her hand holding the phone froze mid-air, a buzzing sound ringing in her ears, as if all the surrounding noises were muffled by a layer of film.
Without pain.
Peaceful.
Free of worries.
These words struck her mind one by one, yet she felt nothing, as if her soul had been pulled from her body, watching herself sit motionless in the chair from a third-person perspective.
She didn’t know how she made it to the hospital.
The fluorescent lights in the hallway emitted a faint buzzing sound, and the smell of disinfectant in the air was stronger than it had been a few days ago, mixed with an indescribable, cold scent.
The wheels of a cart rumbled dully over the floor tiles, and the phone at the nurse’s station occasionally rang, only to be answered quickly.
The attending doctor called her and her Second Brother, Gu Zeming, into the office.
He said things like “please accept our condolences” and “your grandfather passed without suffering.”
Gu Ziyao listened, nodding, her lips pressed into a thin line, her face expressionless.
Gu Zeming stood beside her, his eyes red but relatively composed. He wrapped an arm around his sister’s shoulder, the warmth of his palm seeping through the fabric of her clothes, and said softly, “Yaoyao, Grandpa left in peace. Let’s not grieve too much.”
Gu Ziyao didn’t speak, only nodded.
She retrieved Grandpa’s belongings from the hospital room—an old leather wallet, an aged wristwatch, and the pot of kaffir lilies from the bedside table. Inside the wallet was a yellowed photograph of her as a child sitting on Grandpa’s lap, its edges worn and frayed.
She placed each item into a bag one by one, pausing briefly as her fingers touched each object, as if bidding a final farewell.
The funeral arrangements were handled entirely by Gu Zeming.
The mourning hall was set up in the main hall of the old house, where Grandpa had lived for decades—a place of gray bricks and tiles, with the paint on the wooden doors already peeling.
In the center of the hall hung a portrait of Grandpa, taken on his seventieth birthday. He was wearing a dark gray Zhongshan suit, smiling kindly. The black-and-white photograph hung amidst white cloth drapes, with incense smoke curling upward, carrying the scent of sandalwood that filled the entire space.
Wreaths lined the hall all the way to the courtyard outside, white funeral scrolls fluttering gently in the wind.
Gu Ziyao knelt before the mourning hall, dressed in black, her hair tied back with a black elastic band. Without makeup, her pale face made the dark circles under her eyes stand out starkly.
She had been kneeling for a long time, her knees numb and her calves aching as if filled with lead, but she didn’t move.
Gu Zeming walked over, bent down, and said in a hoarse voice, “Yaoyao, go rest for a while. I’ll take care of things here.”
“No need, Second Brother, I’ll keep watch.” Gu Ziyao didn’t look up, her gaze fixed on the bronze basin before her. The paper money burning inside curled and blackened, ashes drifting up to settle on the back of her hand, still carrying residual warmth.
“You’ve been kneeling for almost a full day now, without food or water. Your body won’t hold up.” Gu Zeming frowned, crouching down and placing a hand on her shoulder. “If Grandfather saw you like this, he wouldn’t be able to rest in peace.”