Gu Ziyao opened her eyes, her gaze clear and sharp, calm to the point of being almost cold.
She would take things one step at a time.
She couldn’t stop Shen Junyan’s investigation, nor did she intend to. This marriage had been a transaction from the very beginning.
Gu Ziyao stood up, picked up her leather handbag, and only realized her hands were cold when her fingertips touched the soft material. She let out a soft sigh.
It was as if she had reached some kind of silent understanding with herself.
She walked out of the office in her high heels, nodding slightly as she passed the secretary’s desk. “I’m going to the hospital.”
“Understood, Ms. Gu. Should I reschedule the three o’clock meeting for you?”
“Move it to ten o’clock tomorrow morning.”
The elevator doors closed, and her reflection appeared in the stainless steel mirror—her expression calm and composed, revealing no cracks.
That was good.
The underground parking garage. Gu Ziyao got into her white car and started the engine. As she drove out of the garage, the gloomy daylight flooded in, and she squinted slightly.
The windshield wipers swayed rhythmically, emitting a soft, steady sound. Pedestrians hurried past under colorful umbrellas on the street, plane tree leaves drooping under the rain, and the air was filled with the cool, damp chill of early autumn.
While waiting at a red light, her gaze fell on the massive electronic screen across the intersection—a jewelry advertisement, diamonds glittering around the model’s neck.
The light turned green. A honk from behind snapped her back to reality. She pressed the accelerator, and the car smoothly crossed the intersection.
The rain continued to fall.
The hospital.
Gu Ziyao parked her car, opened a black long-handled umbrella, and walked into the inpatient building. Rainwater slid down the umbrella ribs, leaving scattered droplets on the marble floor.
She first went to the office of Dr. Wang, the attending physician.
Dr. Wang was in his early fifties, an authority in hepatobiliary surgery in Shanghai, with graying hair and gold-rimmed glasses. Seeing Gu Ziyao enter, he set down the medical records, removed his glasses, and rubbed the bridge of his nose.
“Ms. Gu, please have a seat.”
Gu Ziyao remained standing. She stood straight in front of the desk, her hands clasped in front of her. Her posture was textbook-perfect. But Dr. Wang noticed that the fingertips of her clasped hands were trembling slightly.
“Dr. Wang, are my Second Brother’s test results out?”
Dr. Wang fell silent for a moment, put his glasses back on, and picked up the imaging report from the desk, handing it to her.
“The situation isn’t optimistic,” he said, his voice low and restrained. “The CT scan shows the lesions have spread beyond our previous estimates. There are multiple metastases in the liver, and some lymph nodes are also…”
He paused, looking at the young woman’s face before him.
Gu Ziyao lowered her head, her gaze fixed on the blurry black-and-white images. She couldn’t understand the medical terminology, nor could she decipher what those grayish-white shadows meant.
But she understood the word “spread.”
“How much time is left?” she asked.
Her voice was so calm that Dr. Wang was momentarily taken aback.
“A conservative estimate would be three months at most,” he said, choosing his words carefully. “If subsequent treatments are effective, it might be extended somewhat. But Ms. Gu—the family should prepare themselves mentally.”
Gu Ziyao nodded.
She even bowed slightly to Dr. Wang. “Thank you, Dr. Wang.”
Then she turned and walked out.
The corridor was long, its walls painted a pale green, with fluorescent lights casting an even white glow.
A nurse pushed a cart past her, the wheels making a faint sound as they rolled over the ground. Someone hurried by carrying an insulated lunchbox, while a patient, supported by a family member, slowly shuffled along holding an IV pole.
Everything was normal.
The world was still turning as usual.
Gu Ziyao walked forward mechanically. She turned a corner, then another, pushed open a glass door, and entered the corridor leading to the terrace.
The rain had lightened, turning into a fine mist. The sky was leaden gray, the clouds hanging low as if they might collapse at any moment. No one was on the terrace; the ground was damp, reflecting the color of the sky.
She walked to the railing, then slowly crouched down.
Leaning her back against the concrete railing, she wrapped her arms around her knees and buried her face in the crook of her arm.
Her shoulders began to tremble.
At first, it was just a slight shiver, as if she had been standing in the cold wind for too long. Then came suppressed sobs, muffled in the crook of her arm, indistinct and broken. Tears welled up, soaking the cuff of her shirt. The fabric clung to the skin of her wrist, icy cold.
She remembered when she was little, how Second Brother had carried her on his back to the candy store at the end of the alley, lifting her high to reach the lollipops on the top shelf.
She remembered when she was bullied at school, how Second Brother had rushed off without a word to confront the other child’s parents, then came back smiling and said to her, “That kid won’t dare bother you again.”
She remembered last New Year’s, when Second Brother video-called her from the hospital, wearing a wool hat to cover his bald head after chemotherapy, smiling and saying to her, “Yaoyao, look, isn’t your brother’s new look handsome?”
Three months, maybe half a year…
Gu Ziyao buried her face deeper, biting her lower lip to keep herself from making a sound. Rain drifted in, landing on her tied-up hair, on her trembling shoulders, on that pale stretch of the back of her neck.
She didn’t know how long she had been crouching there.
Her legs went numb, her tears ran dry. The rain gradually stopped, and a crack appeared in the clouds, letting through a faint ray of sunlight.
Gu Ziyao lifted her head, took out her phone from her bag, and dialed a number.
It rang several times. She thought no one would pick up again—
“Yaoyao?”
Eldest Brother Gu Zeshen’s voice came through the receiver, slightly hoarse, as if he had just finished training and hadn’t had time to drink water. In the background, there were faint shouts and footsteps, distant and muffled, as if coming from another world.
The tears Gu Ziyao had barely managed to hold back welled up again, silently sliding down her cheeks.
“Yaoyao, what’s wrong?” Gu Zeshen’s voice suddenly tightened.
He knew his sister too well.
Of the three Gu siblings, he was the eldest, Gu Zeming the second, and Gu Ziyao the youngest. Their parents had passed away early, and their grandfather had raised the three of them. Later, he had joined the military, returning home only a few times a year, leaving the responsibility of caring for their grandfather and sister entirely on Second Brother’s shoulders. For this sister, besides affection, he also felt deep guilt.
“Eldest Brother…” Gu Ziyao’s voice squeezed out from her throat, as if she had used all her strength, “Second Brother… he’s not going to make it.”
Silence fell on the other end of the line.
That silence was like a massive stone, pressing down on her heart.
“…Eldest Brother knows.” When Gu Zeshen’s voice came again, it was even hoarser than before, suppressing a tremor. “Yaoyao, your sister-in-law and I have already submitted our discharge applications. Once the procedures are approved, we’ll come back immediately.”
Gu Ziyao closed her eyes, her damp eyelashes sticking together.
“Mhm.”
“Yaoyao.” Gu Zeshen called her name again. “Take care of yourself, okay?”
She wanted to say, “I know,” wanted to say, “Don’t worry, Eldest Brother,” wanted to say, “I’m fine.”
She opened her mouth, but not a single word came out.
After hanging up the phone, she sat on the rooftop for a long time. Until that sliver of sunlight was swallowed again by the clouds, the wind picked up, tousling her hair wildly. She stood up, her skirt wrinkled at the knees. She reached out to smooth it, her fingertips still trembling slightly.