“I just want to spend more time with him.” Gu Ziyao’s voice was soft, as if speaking to herself. “Soon, I won’t be able to anymore.”
Gu Zeming opened his mouth but ultimately didn’t try to persuade her further.
He stood up, glanced at his sister’s frail back, sighed, and turned to greet the guests who had come to pay their respects.
In the afternoon, a black business car pulled up at the entrance of the old house.
Several people stepped out, dressed in black suits with white flowers pinned to their chests, carrying a large wreath inside. The wreath was made of white chrysanthemums, and the condolence ribbon read, “In Deep Mourning for Mr. Gu,” with the signature “From Shen Group.”
Gu Ziyao looked up, watching as the wreath was carried in and placed on the left side of the mourning hall.
Her gaze lingered on the words “Shen Group” for a long time.
Was this Shen Junyan’s intention, or was it arranged by the Shen family?
She didn’t know.
It had been a month since their marriage. Apart from the day they registered, Shen Junyan seemed to have vanished from her life. No calls, no messages—she didn’t even know whether she should inform him about her grandfather’s passing.
Or rather, she wasn’t sure if this transaction included “attending the funeral of the other party’s family member.”
It wasn’t written in the contract.
And she hadn’t asked.
Gu Zeming walked over, glanced at the wreath, then at Gu Ziyao’s expression, and asked quietly, “Is Shen Junyan not coming?”
“I don’t know…” Gu Ziyao replied.
Gu Zeming didn’t press further, but his brows furrowed tightly.
He could tell that his sister’s marriage was unusual. But he didn’t want to question her now—she was already suffering enough.
Gu Ziyao lowered her head again, her eyes resting on her grandfather’s portrait.
The elderly man in the black-and-white photo smiled kindly, as if truly free of worries.
But her heart felt like it had been torn open, impossible to mend.
Night fell.
The guests paying their respects gradually dispersed. After seeing off the last group, Gu Zeming returned to the mourning hall and saw Gu Ziyao still kneeling there.
The incandescent lamp in the courtyard cast a pale light, stretching her shadow long.
The night breeze blew in, carrying the chill of early autumn. The candle flames flickered, the smoke scattering and gathering again. In the distance, a few barks echoed from the alley, then silence returned.
Gu Zeming stood at the doorway, watching her for a while. In the end, he didn’t try to persuade her again. Instead, he fetched a coat and walked over, draping it over her shoulders.
“It’s cold at night. Don’t catch a cold.”
Gu Ziyao didn’t move, only softly uttering an “Mm.”
Gu Zeming sat down beside her, and the siblings kept vigil in silence.
After a long while, Gu Ziyao suddenly spoke, “Second Brother, do you think Grandpa truly left in peace?”
“The doctor said he passed away peacefully.”
“That’s not what I meant.” Gu Ziyao’s voice was soft, as if talking to herself. “I meant… could there be something he couldn’t let go of but never said?”
Gu Zeming fell silent for a moment. “In his life, Grandpa’s biggest concern was us. Eldest Brother is in the military, I manage the company, and you’re alone…”
Finally, Gu Ziyao’s tears fell.
No sound, just tears dropping one by one onto her knees, staining the black fabric of her pants with dark marks.
She remembered her grandfather’s last words to her—“If you ever face hardship in the future, don’t bear it alone.”
But she already was.
She carried the secret of this transactional marriage, the truth that Shen Junyan would never appear, and the lie that Grandpa Gu would never know until his death.
She knelt in the mourning hall, as if in repentance.
Repenting for the truths left unspoken.
Repenting for the well-intentioned lies.
Repenting for the first heartbreak of her life.
At three in the morning, Gu Zeming leaned against the wall and fell asleep, emitting soft snores.
Gu Ziyao was still awake.
She lifted her head and looked at Grandpa Gu’s portrait. The fire in the bronze basin had already gone out, leaving only ashes that still retained a lingering warmth. The incense was almost burned out, its last ember flickering in the wind.
She remembered the day they registered their marriage, when Grandpa Gu held the marriage certificate and smiled like a child, looking at it over and over, saying he would call his old comrades to show off.
She remembered when Grandpa Gu asked, “Why didn’t Shen Junyan come?” and she calmly replied, “He’s abroad on a business trip.”
She remembered the promise she made when she agreed to “bring him to meet Grandpa,” knowing full well that this promise could never be fulfilled.
Gu Ziyao closed her eyes and took a deep breath. The air was filled with the scent of sandalwood, paper ashes, and night dew—cold and bitter.
Her heart felt as if it were being squeezed, aching so much she could hardly breathe.
This was the first time she truly understood what heartbreak meant.
Not the sour ache of a breakup, nor the stifling feeling of being wronged, but a dull pain that spread from the center of her heart outward, reaching every limb and bone, leaving her feeling completely hollowed out.
She wanted to cry, but her tears had already dried up.
She wanted to scream, but her throat felt blocked.
She knelt like that until the sky began to lighten with the first hint of dawn, until the first rays of morning sunlight shone into the mourning hall, falling upon Grandpa Gu’s portrait.
When Gu Zeming woke up, he saw his sister still in the same position as the night before, only her back was straighter.
“Yaoyao?”
“Second Brother.” Gu Ziyao spoke, her voice so hoarse it was almost inaudible, yet her tone was unnervingly calm for someone who had just lost a loved one.
“After Grandpa’s funeral arrangements are done, I want to talk to you about the company.”
Gu Zeming was taken aback. “What?”
“I want to learn how to manage the company.” Gu Ziyao turned her head, her eyes still bloodshot, but her gaze clearer than ever. “Grandpa is gone, Eldest Brother is unreachable, and you’re carrying everything alone—it’s too much. I want to help you.”
Gu Zeming looked at her, his lips moving slightly, but in the end, he said nothing.
He saw something change in his sister’s eyes.
That soft, innocent quality was fading away, replaced by a resilience he had never seen before.
After Grandpa Gu’s funeral, life seemed to fast-forward.
Gu Ziyao didn’t have time to grieve for long—or rather, she buried all her sorrow deep within her heart, covering it layer by layer with busyness, pretending it didn’t exist.
She began going to the company every day, sitting on the sofa in Gu Zeming’s office, watching him handle documents and listening to him explain the company’s operations.
She brought a notebook, filling it with dense notes of professional terms she couldn’t understand at all, looking them up one by one when she returned home at night.
Gu Zeming advised her not to rush, saying he could handle the company and that she should rest for a while.
Gu Ziyao didn’t listen, showing up at the office on time the next day as usual.
Nearly a year passed in this uneventful way.
Until that phone call came.
That afternoon, Gu Ziyao was waiting for a client at the café downstairs from the company when her phone rang. It was Gu Zeming’s assistant.
“Miss Gu, President Gu has fainted at the company and is currently being taken to the downtown hospital.”
The coffee cup in her hand fell to the ground, dark brown liquid splashing onto her beige dress, scalding her calf with a sharp pain, but she felt nothing at all.
“I’ll be right there.”
She rushed out of the café, hailed a taxi, and her hands trembled the entire way. The driver glanced at her several times in the rearview mirror but didn’t dare to speak.