DLRAS Chapter 126 [Past]

Chapter 126: I wish you good luck, a happy new year, and good fortune.

Many years later, Chen Wengang would still vividly remember that this was the very first Lunar New Year he spent together with Huo Niansheng.

Following the nurse’s morning rounds, Chen Wengang developed a slight fever and inadvertently drifted back to sleep. This second slumber, however, was interrupted by a knock at the door. Before he could fully clear his head, someone took the liberty of pushing open the unlocked door. Groggy and squinting against the light, Chen Wengang caught the tall silhouette of a man.

Bringing in a wave of the outdoor chill, Huo Niansheng stepped inside, the cold gradually melting off his posture. “Not awake yet?”

Chen Wengang was thoroughly awake now. “How are you actually here?”

He lifted the blanket and swung his legs off the bed. Huo Niansheng bent down, picking up the cotton slippers at the foot of the bed and placing them right by Chen Wengang’s feet.

Chen Wengang froze slightly in surprise. Huo Niansheng, entirely unbothered by his own actions, merely smiled. “I said I was coming. Did you think I was joking?”

“Doesn’t your family have New Year’s Eve dinner, ancestral sacrifices, and all of that to handle?” Chen Wengang rose to pour him a cup of water.

Huo Niansheng strolled around the room, hands lazily stuffed in his pockets, taking in his surroundings. “The old man is gone. Lighting two sticks of incense for him to go through the motions is plenty enough.”

Chen Wengang understood exactly whom he was referring to. Two years prior, Huo Kaishan had passed away, and the sheer scale of the funeral had shaken Jincheng, bringing down the curtain on the life of a legendary figure. Since then, the Huo family had been steered by the third branch—specifically, Huo Niansheng’s third uncle.

On the nightstand sat a notebook with a gel pen resting on top. Noticing it, Huo Niansheng reached out and moved the pen aside.

It wasn’t anything deeply confidential, so Chen Wengang merely glanced at him without attempting to stop him. Huo Niansheng picked it up and flipped it open, finding page after page filled with sketches rendered in black ink. Some pages depicted scenery, while others captured the various movements and postures of different people.

“You drew these?”

“My hands have grown stiff.”

“I can still tell you’ve practiced.”

“It’s just what I picked up a bit of during childhood. Did you have to learn music and drawing when you were young?”

“Of course, why wouldn’t I?” Huo Niansheng laughed. “Utterly useless, though. When I played the violin, it sounded like someone sawing logs.”

Infected by his humor, the corner of Chen Wengang’s mouth twitched upward slightly. The comment pulled him back to the memories of their past lessons—the Zheng children were close in age, perfectly fitting into a small cohort that a private tutor would teach together in the study. Zheng Maoxun could never keep his backside on the stool, twisting and turning as if sitting on nails. Zheng Baoqiu loved to sketch little flowers, grass, kittens, and puppies. Mu Qing would always sit off to the side, doodling quietly on his own, never interacting with the others.

Zheng Yucheng was the oldest among the children; he could sit still, but he truly possessed zero talent for drawing, always smudging his cross-hatching into a solid, dead black.

Yet, Chen Wengang had once deeply cherished that quiet sensation. He could sit peacefully for an entire afternoon, using a pencil to shade the dividing lines of light and shadow on a plaster cast.

He would observe how the objects he intended to draw behaved under varying light, taking in the world’s subtle transformations with his own eyes. Later, as the curriculum progressed, the subjects shifted from simple cubes to wine bottles, and then to plaster busts. The private tutor had once praised his work for possessing an innate spiritual intuition.

As Huo Niansheng turned the pages one by one, noting that more than half the notebook had been used, he recognized the outlines of doctors and nurses among the figures.

The sketches in the first half of the book featured frequently broken lines, bearing unmistakable traces of struggle and difficulty; many had been abandoned halfway through to start anew. By the second half, he had presumably found his rhythm, as both the figures and landscapes flowed much more smoothly. Suddenly, Chen Wengang asked him, “Is my perspective correct?”

Huo Niansheng replied, “Looks pretty accurate to me.”

Chen Wengang covered his right eye, evaluating the room. “Viewing the world with one eye is still different from using two. I always worry that I can’t gauge it properly.”

Huo Niansheng looked down at the page. “It’s quite accurate.” He then asked, “Why am I not in here? Draw one of me too.”

The winter sunlight was weak, spilling evenly into the room and illuminating the fabric of Huo Niansheng’s dark gray windowpane plaid suit.

Leaning sideways against the edge of the table, he slipped his hands back into his trousers pockets, looking down as Chen Wengang’s pen tip began to move across the paper.

Propping one hand against the side of his head, Chen Wengang didn’t take it too seriously, capturing the creases of the man’s sleeve with just a few sparse strokes.

During the New Year season, everything felt renewed, and the very air seemed infused with a relaxed, tranquil ease. As he sketched, he chatted idly with Huo Niansheng: “I’ve been thinking lately that once I’ve practiced enough, I could grab a stool and head to popular tourist spots to sketch portraits for people, just to see if I can make a living.”

Huo Niansheng took back the notebook handed to him, looking thoroughly satisfied. “Well, I won’t take it for free. How much? Two hundred?”

Chen Wengang replied, “Fifty is fine.”

To his surprise, Huo Niansheng actually fished a red envelope out of his pocket. “A little something for good luck. Happy New Year, may you have great fortune and prosperity.”

Stunned for a moment, Chen Wengang was amused. He accepted it and offered his thanks.

They continued to chat for a while longer, drifting aimlessly from one topic to the next, simply speaking of whatever crossed their minds. They began with local New Year ancestral traditions, before Huo Niansheng shifted to recounting how Chinese communities abroad celebrated the festival, describing the brightly lit Chinatowns and the heavily Westernized flavors of the Chinese cuisine there. Chen Wengang wasn’t a man of many words; most of the time, he simply listened. His gaze remained fixed on Huo Niansheng’s face as he listened to him describe the ancient campus buildings of foreign universities, magnificent yet incredibly costly-to-maintain castles, and the pigeons in front of public squares that waddled from being overfed by tourists.

When Huo Niansheng spoke, he liked to tilt his head slightly, the corners of his mouth curling upward. Unless he deliberately adopted a stern expression, his face always carried a faint, half-smiling look that bordered on cynical. Fortunately, having spent days and nights alongside him, Chen Wengang had long since grown immune to it, no longer feeling particularly guarded or reserved. While he had previously known that Huo Niansheng spent a few years knocking about abroad, he knew very little of the specifics.

This was the very first time Chen Wengang learned about the kind of life he had led and the places he had visited.

Huo Niansheng looked down, meeting Chen Wengang’s gaze. One of his light-colored eyes caught the light, gleaming with a luster akin to amber resin.

The cadence of their conversation gradually slowed, then ceased entirely. All at once, a quiet stillness enveloped the room as both fell silent.

Huo Niansheng gently caressed the back of Chen Wengang’s neck, leaning down to find his lips, and kissed him.

After lunch, they headed down to the artificial lake for a stroll, where they encountered another patient who hadn’t gone home for the New Year.

Chen Wengang had crossed paths with him several times before—this was Professor Lu from Room 403. The old professor was well up in years, with white hair and withered, papery skin, his eyes clouded as he sat in a wheelchair pushed by a nurse, his rough, wrinkled hands resting heavily on the armrests. It was said that his children were all abroad and his spouse had passed away, meaning there was no real reason for him to request a temporary discharge; even if he went back, he would return to an empty house.

Chen Wengang waved at him. After a long pause, the old man slowly raised his hand, giving a slight shake in response.

Chen Wengang turned his head, watching the nurse wheel him into the distance. “Only a few of his students came to visit him before the New Year.”

Huo Niansheng asked, “What’s his diagnosis?”

“Esophageal cancer.”

“No wonder he’s emaciated to that extent.”

“According to his students, he underwent a major surgery a few years back. Last year, when his wife passed away, the old professor couldn’t handle the grief, and it suddenly relapsed. So, in this life, even if one has students everywhere and commands immense respect, it doesn’t guarantee there will be anyone by their side to accompany them to the very end.”

Huo Niansheng turned around, and Chen Wengang bumped straight into his chest.

Pushing him back slightly, Huo Niansheng extended both hands to pull the sides of the overcoat Chen Wengang wore over his hospital gown closer together, fastening the topmost button beneath his neck to block out the biting wind. “You’re far too young to be lamenting such things.”

“Ah, am I not allowed to reflect on life?”

“If you’re already reflecting at your age, what about me? I’m older than you—should I start pondering when it’s time for me to be laid to rest?”

Chen Wengang couldn’t help but let out a laugh, and Huo Niansheng kissed his hair. The two walked along as they spoke, Chen Wengang’s fingertips brushing against Huo Niansheng’s. His fingers had grown freezing cold from the biting wind, so Huo Niansheng grabbed his hand and stuffed it into his own spacious pocket.

It wasn’t until after the Lantern Festival had passed that Chen Wengang was finally discharged to return home.

After the New Year, Auntie Meng also returned, bringing homemade pickled vegetables from her hometown—made from small cucumbers, they were salty, sour, crisp, and tender. Used to accompany their morning congee, they appeared on the dining table for well over a month before the jar was finally emptied. By the time the container sat vacant, the remaining atmosphere of the New Year had drifted far away.

Beneath the apartment building, the daily scene of bustling prosperity remained entirely unchanged.

Every day, waves of professionals poured out of the subway entrance, flowing in a massive torrent toward the office buildings. In the evening, this vast tide of people retraced their steps along the reverse route, flooding back into the subway and leaving the central CBD area brightly illuminated. Everyone walked with hurried steps, knowing precisely where they needed to go.

Sometimes, Chen Wengang would stand beside the subway entrance, wearing a mask as he watched these white-collar workers commute, experiencing a profound sense of living completely isolated from the world.

In truth, there were still people out there who remembered him and were actively looking for him—such as Zheng Baoqiu.

She had placed numerous calls to Huo Niansheng, but had been consistently brushed off with perfunctory excuses. On this front, he could be considered to have respected Chen Wengang’s wishes, even if he privately teased him for merely wanting to escape, calling him indecisive.

Chen Wengang would merely listen in silence, offering no arguments, especially since the man wasn’t wrong.

Later on, he passed a message to Zheng Baoqiu through Huo Niansheng, telling her that he was fine and that she should focus on living her own life well.

Additionally, Zheng Yucheng was another one. Following that chance encounter at the restaurant, he had sought out Huo Niansheng once more. Chen Wengang hadn’t even been aware of it at the time. Huo Niansheng had simply thrown a counter-question back at Zheng Yucheng, asking what exactly he had been doing prior to this. Zheng Yucheng’s expression had turned entirely crestfallen, but he didn’t pick a fight, nor could he come up with an answer.

Dealing with Zheng Yucheng had actually become much easier; he now had a wife and a child, meaning he had to weigh his actions carefully. He no longer possessed the right to cause a massive scene over an old flame. Once Huo Niansheng passed a certain word to Zheng Bingyi through his paternal aunt, Zheng Yucheng’s side completely quieted down before the New Year.

On this particular day, however, Huo Niansheng called Chen Wengang, mentioning that Zheng Bingyi’s personal attorney, Cao Rongsheng, wished to meet with him.

Chen Wengang was currently sitting at the table, drawing with a gel pen. That particular sketch had been ruined yet again.

After a moment of hesitation, he agreed.

Attorney Cao was a man of swift action; he arrived less than two hours later, following right behind Huo Niansheng into the apartment. He brought along several documents, as well as an assistant. The assistant carried two briefcases, and upon unlatching the locks, they revealed nothing else but stacks upon stacks of cold, hard cash.

Huo Niansheng didn’t bother to avoid the situation. Treating himself entirely as one of the household, he stood off to the side watching, letting out a sharp chuckle. Attorney Cao shot a glance toward him.

Leaning against the bar counter, Huo Niansheng asked, “What era are we living in for things to be this tedious? Why not just execute a direct bank transfer?”

Maintaining his professional decorum, Attorney Cao feigned deafness to the remark. He focused his attention entirely on speaking to Chen Wengang, explaining the situation to him.

The personal assets originally under Chen Wengang’s name had all been seized to pay out court-ordered compensation because he had taken the fall for someone else, which was the sole reason he currently found himself entirely destitute. As for the funds before him now, they represented the Zheng family’s roundabout way of returning what was his, with a generous surplus included.

Chen Wengang’s feelings toward Zheng Bingyi were deeply complex. This adoptive father had nurtured him, utilized him, and ultimately abandoned him.

Since his release from prison, Chen Wengang hadn’t met with him even once, and it was highly probable they would never see each other again.

Now, he fully realized that this arrangement served to buy out any remaining obligations, leaving them completely square.

Once Attorney Cao and his assistant headed downstairs, the two briefcases remained resting on the carpet, their locks securely fastened once more.

Chen Wengang felt a sharp, throbbing pain behind his eyes that quickly spread to his temples. A chaotic cocktail of emotions welled up within him, yet he instinctively turned his gaze toward Huo Niansheng, waiting for him to say something—even if it was a sarcastic remark or two.

Huo Niansheng’s face merely carried a theatrical, amused smile. “Why are you looking at me?”

He gestured toward the floor with his chin. “With this much cash, you can’t exactly leave it sitting out like this. Do you want me to help you deposit it?”

As Huo Niansheng spoke, he propped one elbow against the bar counter. After a brief hesitation, Chen Wengang walked over, leaning against the counter right beside him.

Huo Niansheng threw an arm around his shoulder, shifting them into a side-by-side stance as they stood together, staring down at the two briefcases sitting on the carpet.

Chen Wengang exposed his underlying intent: “It’s inconvenient for them to have recorded financial transactions with me. Yet, you still insisted on asking why they didn’t just do a bank transfer just now.”

Huo Niansheng stroked the crown of Chen Wengang’s head, though his response drifted to an entirely different observation: “You have a gray hair—just one.”

Chen Wengang let out a soft “Ah,” allowing Huo Niansheng to fuss over his hair, gently parting the strands to isolate that solitary white hair.

Huo Niansheng pulled it out cleanly along the direction of its growth, his movement incredibly light. Chen Wengang felt nothing more than a faint tug on his scalp; it wasn’t painful, merely a bit ticklish. Unable to help himself, he rubbed his head as Huo Niansheng placed the single strand into his palm. “Look.”

Chen Wengang examined it, finding that it had indeed turned entirely white, appearing almost translucent. He loosened his grip, letting it drift silently down toward the floor.

Huo Niansheng patted his back, telling him not to overthink things, before sliding off his jacket and heading toward the bedroom. His tone remained remarkably lighthearted, as though no matter what occurred—even if the heavens were falling—it would never be deemed an issue worth troubling his mind over. Chen Wengang found himself slightly envious of his relaxed disposition. Following closely behind him, his hands suddenly sank under a weight; Huo Niansheng had tossed his jacket to him, asking him to help hang it up.

Chen Wengang retrieved a hanger, smoothing out the two shoulders of the coat before hanging it up properly.

When he turned back around, Huo Niansheng had already undone his tie, tossing it onto the back of a chair like a crumpled piece of cheap hemp rope.

Unable to tolerate the mess, Chen Wengang picked it up to put it away properly alongside the coat, prompting Huo Niansheng to tease him about being a dutiful spouse. Typically, when the man cracked these unreliable jokes, Chen Wengang would play along with a few witty retorts if he was in a good mood; if his mood was ordinary, he might simply choose not to offer any response. Huo Niansheng had long since grown accustomed to this, never taking it to heart.

Today, Chen Wengang ignored the comment entirely, but he turned his head, his gaze remaining fixed on Huo Niansheng for a long, quiet moment.

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