Sang Wan was dying. It was kidney failure—terminal stage. And not a single family member by her side. Lying on the cold hospital bed, listening to the drip of the IV, she felt as though she could hear the sound of her life slipping away. But all she longed for was her husband and her son. She just wanted to go home.
“Jinnian…” She called Lu Jinnian. “Will you come take me home?”
Half a year ago, when Lu Jinnian was diagnosed with late-stage kidney disease, Sang Wan had felt her world collapse. Before the hospital could find a matching donor, tests revealed that Sang Wan herself was a perfect match. They didn’t even need to buy a kidney. After the transplant, each of them carried one of Sang Wan’s kidneys inside their body.
Lu Jinnian had laughed: “Wanwan, now we’re truly inseparable.”
But in just six months, while Lu Jinnian recovered as if nothing had happened, Sang Wan’s own kidney function deteriorated into terminal failure. Unlike him, she had no luck. No kind stranger was willing to donate.
On the phone, the noise of a lively gathering faded, replaced by Lu Jinnian’s weary voice: “Sang Wan, stop making trouble, alright? Today is Xiao Mu’s birthday. We have guests at the house—I can’t leave.”
It was their son’s fifth birthday. Last year, he had wished for his parents to always stay by his side.
Even if she was dying, Sang Wan thought, at least she could spend one last birthday with him. Her pale face flushed with fragile hope. “Jinnian, I want to go home. Let’s celebrate Xiao Mu’s birthday together!”
But his tone was sharp with impatience: “Look at yourself—how could you celebrate with him? Have you thought about your son’s feelings? Do you want him to lose face?”
The reflection in the glass showed a ghostly figure: tubes everywhere, a haggard face, skin as white as death.
Sang Wan forced out the words through her pain: “But Jinnian, I’m dying!”
“Then just die already!!!” His patience snapped. “Sang Wan, must you ruin my mood and my son’s happiness?”
Her breath caught. Her eyes widened.
“Fine, you tell him yourself!”
The line crackled, then a child’s clear voice answered: “Hello?”
“Son, Mommy misses you so much, I—”
“You’re so annoying!” Xiao Mu cut her off, pouting. “I’m opening my presents. You’re the worst!”
“Xiao Mu…” Sang Wan froze, stunned.
Her husband. Her son. Both of them. One was her childhood sweetheart, the husband who had walked with her from school uniform to wedding gown. The other was the child she carried for ten months, flesh of her flesh. Once, they had been her greatest pride. But now, father and son—each with a single sentence—had killed every shred of happiness in her heart.
The husband who once cherished her, insisting she stay home to rest during pregnancy.
The son who used to beam at her, calling out, “Mommy, I love you so much!”
Both of them seemed like strangers now.
When Sang Wan came back to herself, the call had already ended. She hadn’t even managed to say “Happy Birthday” to her son. Unwilling to give up, she dialed again. The phone rang for a long time, but no one answered. She tried her son’s smartwatch—again, no response. Just as her face turned ashen and she was about to hang up, the watch connected.
“Xiao Mu, happy—”
“Sister Sang!”
A bright, dazzlingly pretty face filled the screen.
Lin Zhaozhao. The new intern at the company.
“Sister Sang, Xiao Mu is making a wish and blowing out his candles. This is such an important moment—you shouldn’t disturb him…”
On the screen appeared the warm, joyful scene of the Lu family’s living room.
Lin Zhaozhao had set the watch on the bookshelf facing the room: The dining table piled high with gifts—the birthday cake glowing with candles. Lu Xiao Mu, wearing a birthday hat, eyes closed in prayer. And beside him—Lu Jinnian and Lin Zhaozhao.
A picture of warmth and happiness. Like a perfect family of three.
Sang Wan’s lips curved into a bitter smile. But as she smiled, tears spilled uncontrollably. She thought of herself, insisting on natural birth because she had read that babies born that way were smarter—enduring three days and nights of agony to bring her son into the world.
She thought of herself, running from hospital to hospital in search of a kidney for Lu Jinnian, treated like a madwoman by doctors—until the day she learned she was a match, and wept with joy.
She thought of herself over the past few years, bloated and worn, like a yellow-faced housewife.
Sang Wan clenched her fists, nails digging into her palms. *Sang Wan, you deserve this!*
“Son, blow out the candles!” On the screen, Lu Jinnian was all smiles—his earlier irritability and impatience completely gone.
Cheers and laughter filled the hospital room.
Sang Wan exhaled faintly, just in time to hear her son’s wishes:
“I hope Daddy makes lots of money!”
“I hope Auntie Zhaozhao stays forever young and beautiful!”
“I hope Auntie Zhaozhao can always be with Daddy and me, so the three of us can be together forever!”
Son… what about me? Sang Wan stared blankly at her son’s radiant face on the screen. Do you not want Mommy anymore?
The candles were blown out, and the other side erupted in joyous noise.
Lin Zhaozhao, like the lady of the house, held Lu Xiao Mu’s hand to cut the cake, serving slices to the children around them.
With a dab of cream on his nose, Xiao Mu glanced at Lin Zhaozhao’s gentle smile, then tugged Lu Jinnian’s hand toward the kitchen island.
Close enough for Sang Wan to see the sparkle in his eyes. “Daddy, the doctor said Mommy’s really sick.”
“Yes.”
Hope flickered in Sang Wan’s heart.
Then Xiao Mu’s eyes shone as he asked: “Then, when Mommy dies, can Auntie Zhaozhao be my new mommy?”
Sang Wan’s mouth fell open, like a goose strangled at the neck. Before she could make a sound, she heard the man’s reply: “Alright.”
A chill like steel wool scraped across her chest, tearing everything inside.
In the silent hospital room, Sang Wan’s heart lay barren. So it was true—refusing to face reality, clinging to hope, only brought punishment.
Thud! Her phone slipped from her hand. The jubilant voices on the other end cut off. The cold ward sank into deathly silence.
Her breath faltered. Her head spun.
She stared at the flickering ceiling above, a single tear sliding from the corner of her eye.
As darkness closed in, she heard a piercing cry: “Sang Wan!”
Her thoughts froze for an instant. These past years, she had lived only for her husband and son. Everyone called her Mrs. Lu. More often, she was simply “Xiao Mu’s mom.” She had almost forgotten—she had such a beautiful name.
*Mo dao sang yu wan, wei xia shang man tian.* (*Do not lament the setting sun—for its glow still fills the sky.*)
Sang Wan.
“Sang Wan! Sang Wan!!! If you can’t save her, then I’ll drag all of you down with her!!!”
It was a roar from the depths of a soul. So furious. So desperate.
Sang Wan longed to wake. Who was it? Who was calling her? Who dared to snatch her life back from Death’s hands?
But it was too late… She was dying. She tried to open her eyes, but her lids were weighted like lead. Her fingertips twitched faintly, and then—darkness swallowed her mind.