The smell of the hospital emergency room was always the same—a blend of disinfectant, iodine, and an indescribable coldness that instinctively made people uneasy.
The fluorescent lights in the corridor hummed softly, the wheels of gurneys rolled over the tiled floor, and the nurses’ footsteps were hurried yet orderly.
When Gu Ziyao rushed to the entrance of the emergency room, Gu Zeming was still unconscious.
He lay on the hospital bed, his face frighteningly pale, his lips gray, an IV needle inserted into his arm, and the monitor beside him emitting a steady beeping sound.
He had lost a lot of weight recently, his cheekbones protruding, his eyes sunken, as if something had been hollowing him out from the inside.
Gu Ziyao stood by the bed, staring at her Second Brother’s condition, her mind completely blank.
She remembered when her grandfather passed away, he had also lain on a hospital bed, just as pale, just as still.
No, that couldn’t be…
She took a deep breath and turned to find the attending physician.
The door to the doctor’s office was half-open. Gu Ziyao knocked and entered. The attending physician, surnamed Wang, was in his forties, wearing gold-rimmed glasses and reviewing test results on the computer.
He glanced up at Gu Ziyao, his gaze carrying a complex emotion she couldn’t quite decipher.
“Dr. Wang, how is my Second Brother’s condition?”
Dr. Wang didn’t answer immediately. He remained silent for a few seconds before saying, “Miss Gu, the current situation is still difficult to assess. We need to conduct more detailed examinations to confirm. We’ve already scheduled a CT scan and an MRI, and the results will be available tomorrow.”
Gu Ziyao froze in place.
Even though she didn’t understand medicine, she could tell from the doctor’s expression and tone that the situation was serious.
If it were just ordinary low blood sugar or exhaustion causing him to faint, the doctor wouldn’t speak in such a tone, wouldn’t say “further examinations are needed,” and wouldn’t wear that hesitant expression.
“Dr. Wang.” Gu Ziyao’s voice was calm, but her fingers trembled slightly at her sides.
“Please give me a general idea so I can prepare myself.”
Dr. Wang looked at her and sighed. “Based on the current blood tests and preliminary examinations, we cannot rule out a problem with the blood system. But the specifics will depend on further test results.”
A problem with the blood system.
Gu Ziyao’s mind buzzed as if something had exploded inside her.
It took her several minutes to speak again. “Alright, thank you, Dr. Wang.” After saying this, Gu Ziyao turned and walked out of the office. The moment she closed the door, she leaned against the wall and slowly crouched down.
The lights in the corridor were bright, painfully so.
Someone was crying, the sound coming from an unknown room, suppressed and desperate. The air was filled with the bitter scent of medicine mixed with the sharp odor of disinfectant, making her stomach churn.
She crouched in the corner, burying her face in her knees, her shoulders shaking violently, but she made no sound.
She didn’t dare cry out loud, afraid her Second Brother might hear.
Three days later, the results came in.
Dr. Wang called Gu Ziyao into his office, where a thick stack of examination reports lay on the desk. He adjusted his glasses, carefully choosing his words for a long time, and finally opted for the most direct approach.
“Miss Gu, Mr. Gu Zeming’s test results are not promising. He has been diagnosed with a ‘malignant tumor,’ which has already progressed to the mid-to-late stages. We will do everything we can to treat him, but based on clinical experience…” He paused. “He may not live past three years.”
Gu Ziyao sat in the chair, motionless.
Her gaze fell on the stack of reports on the table. She couldn’t understand the densely packed data, but she understood the final line of the conclusion—high-risk group, poor prognosis.
Three years.
At most, three years.
Her Second Brother, who had protected her since childhood and shielded her from all storms, had at most three years left to live.
“Is there no other way?” Her voice was soft, as if she were asking the doctor, or perhaps asking heaven itself.
“We will do our best to treat him.” Dr. Wang’s eyes held a trace of reluctance. “Miss Gu, my advice is… to prepare yourself mentally.”
Gu Ziyao stood up and bowed to him. “Thank you, Dr. Wang.”
She walked out of the office, her steps steady, her expression unreadable.
She reached the door of the hospital room, pushed it open, and saw that Gu Zeming was already awake, half-leaning against the bed, holding his phone and looking at something.
“Yaoyao, what did the doctor say?” Gu Zeming looked up, his voice still weak, but his tone casual, as if asking about the weather.
Gu Ziyao walked over, sat down by the bed, and smiled. “The doctor said you’re just too tired. You need more rest and proper recuperation.”
Gu Zeming looked at her, a flicker of something passing through his eyes, but he quickly suppressed it and nodded. “I told you it wasn’t that serious.”
He didn’t expose his sister’s lie.
Just like last year when their grandfather passed away, he didn’t expose her lie about Shen Junyan.
But Gu Ziyao knew her Second Brother was clever. He couldn’t possibly be unaware of his own condition. He was just playing along with her act, just as she was playing along with his.
This was the unspoken understanding between the siblings.
Neither would say it outright, neither would let the other feel the pain.
But the truth could not be hidden forever.
News of Gu Zeming’s hospitalization quickly reached the company’s board of directors. That very afternoon, three directors jointly proposed an emergency board meeting with only one agenda item—to remove Gu Zeming from his position as general manager.
“Mr. Gu is unwell and requires an extended period of rest. The company cannot be without a leader for even a day. We suggest hiring an external professional manager to temporarily take over the role of general manager.” In the meeting room, one director spoke with lofty words, but his eyes were full of calculation.
“Temporarily?” another director sneered. “I think it’s more like a permanent replacement. I heard Gu Zeming’s illness is incurable.”
Gu Ziyao sat at the conference table, listening to these people speak one after another, her hands clenched so tightly under the table that her knuckles turned white.
She was not a member of the board and had no right to attend this meeting.
But she came anyway, as a member of the Gu family, sitting in the chair in the corner. No one poured her water, and no one even looked at her directly.
“Gu Zeming is the soul of the Gu Group. If he falls, what will happen to the company?” someone pounded the table, his tone urgent. “The stock price has already dropped by eight percent. If this continues, the shareholders will jump off buildings!”
“That’s why I say we should replace him immediately. A professional manager has experience and resources—far better than someone lying in a hospital bed.”
“Replace him with whom? Do you have a suitable candidate?”
“I recommend someone—”
“No need.”
A voice cut through all the discussions.
Gu Ziyao stood up, pushing her chair back with a sharp, grating sound.
All eyes turned to her—some surprised, some disdainful, some simply waiting for the show.
“Miss Gu, do you have something to say?” the chairman raised an eyebrow.
“I will take over the company,” Gu Ziyao’s voice was not loud, but steady. “From today onward, I am the acting general manager of the Gu Group.”
The conference room fell silent for two seconds, then erupted into laughter.