Chapter 135: There won’t be a next time.
For the rest of his life, Chen Wengang would never be able to forget the day that news arrived.
From the moment he opened his eyes that morning, every microscopic detail within his field of vision was ruthlessly etched into his mind. Those images played like a broken video player—looping, spinning out of control, never truly stopping.
He had woken up early. He pulled back the curtains to reveal a crisp, cloudless autumn day—the sky was blue, the water clear, a perfect, sun-drenched morning. He fed Halley, but for some reason, he felt an inexplicable, nameless agitation. Halley, seemingly sensing his owner’s inner turmoil, remained glued to his heels. Chen Wengang took the dog into the yard, but Halley’s spirits seemed low, and they soon returned inside.
Chen Wengang went to the study. He sat on the sofa by the window and picked up the book he hadn’t finished. The wind fluttered the curtains, dancing with the sheer fabric, and a seven-spotted ladybug flew in, lingered on the page for a moment, and then flew away. He read that book for about two hours, slowly sinking into the text, momentarily forgetting the world outside.
Until the piercing ring of the phone shattered the silence.
Chen Wengang recognized the number: it was Huo Niangsheng’s assistant, Amanda. Over the years, their paths had crossed, though they were never close. Now, her voice was heavy with an unbearable weight: “Mr. Chen, I am so sorry… there is some unfortunate news…”
The clear imagery stopped there; the footage that followed became distorted and unwatchable. Chen Wengang seemed to lose his ability to comprehend reality. He held his breath, unable to understand what she was saying.
She said, “My condolences.”
After a buzzing “hum” filled his head, it went blank. He struggled to breathe, drenched in sweat, dizzy, his ears ringing like a drum. His stomach felt as if it were filled with stones; heaven and earth inverted. Chen Wengang had to reach out to grab the corner of the table for support. But the sofa he sat on seemed to be falling rapidly, plunging into a bottomless abyss.
A colossal terror seized Chen Wengang. It was different from any fear he had ever experienced; his fear had become tangible. Every object in the room—the bookshelves, the vases, the round tables, the chairs—became gargantuan, reaching out with claws to crush him.
On the other end of the line, Amanda was still talking. Chen Wengang suddenly remembered her Chinese surname was Yang. What had she said? She said someone would come to pick him up in an hour and a half, as soon as possible… Her voice sounded as if it were coming from an unimaginably distant place.
Chen Wengang didn’t know what he had replied. He still didn’t believe it, because such a thing couldn’t possibly happen. Aside from Huo Niangsheng, Huo Zhenfei, and so many other people from the Huo family, along with so many senior group executives, were on that ship—how could something happen to all of them? He looked up at the calendar. No matter how he looked at it, this was not April Fool’s Day, not a day for childish pranks.
Bizarrely, in such a situation, a voice split off within his body, responding to everything she said. He threw his phone far away.
Halley barked fiercely.
Chen Wengang seemed to collapse onto the floor; he couldn’t quite remember, only feeling the rough texture of the carpet against his skin. He reached out to pull at the sofa cover, trying to find an anchor to help him stand, but his limbs were limp, no longer feeling like his own. He kept trying to climb up and kept sliding back down. The door seemed to push open—the butler had arrived, alerted by the commotion. He knew Chen Wengang had a history of panic attacks. He felt the butler’s hand reach into his pocket, finding the medicine box containing Alprazolam. The butler was flustered, clumsy; he pried the box open with too much force, spilling pills all over the floor.
Chen Wengang groped the floor, found a pill, and swallowed it whole.
How much time passed, he didn’t know. He sat on the floor, soaked in cold sweat, with the butler supporting him, his face etched with worry. He heard the butler ask, “Shall we go to the hospital to check? Did Mr. Huo say when he might be back?”
Mr. Huo… Huo Niangsheng… Accident… At sea… Cruise ship wreck… Sailing… Misadventure…
Chen Wengang’s teeth were clenched so tightly they ached. The butler picked up his phone, but Chen Wengang suddenly raised a hand, knocking it further away.
Halley’s worried whimpers filled his ears.
Chen Wengang seemed to mumble something, but he simultaneously shut down all five of his senses. He blocked out the butler’s face—shock, then fear, then gravity. He blocked out the sound of his voice. He stared fixedly at the floor. He didn’t want to hear anything anymore.
Huo Niangsheng was the foundation of his life, his bone of bone, flesh of flesh; he was a piece of him.
He won’t be coming back.
So, he can’t come back.
When will he return?
Everything that followed seemed to pass in a haze. He walked through a nightmare that was unreal yet impossible to wake from, his every action dictated by instinct. Yet his instinct was stubbornly resilient, telling him there were things he had to do.
He had suffered countless pains; he had been forced to accept so many things.
When Amanda arrived, Chen Wengang was waiting at the villa entrance. He had changed into black—a black shirt, black pants, black shoes. His face was devoid of blood, covered in faint, old scars. The butler and Halley stood beside him. She rolled down the window, and the butler approached. The middle-aged man’s hair had gone gray; his complexion was haggard. He rubbed his face forcefully, let out a deep sigh, and bent down to speak to her.
Chen Wengang stood further back. His eyes were vacant, his thin shoulders held straight. Before leaving, he told the butler to stay behind, saying he would go with her alone. With the employer having met with an accident and so many staff members at home, someone needed to inform and console them. He gestured, and only Halley followed him into the car.
Amanda’s expression was equally grim. She wore no makeup, looking weary, the fine lines under her eyes showing without reservation. She drove herself. They had made a detour to the villa specifically to bring Chen Wengang to the morgue to see the deceased one last time. She had made countless calls before arriving; the news of Huo Niangsheng’s death had been confirmed repeatedly—it was set in stone, with no room for hope. It was a sudden, tragic accident; he had left too abruptly to leave direct last words. But if anyone were to handle his funeral arrangements, she felt obligated to call Mr. Chen. She believed this would be the boss’s wish; there was no one else to consider.
The atmosphere in the car was suffocating. She told Chen Wengang what she knew: the cruise ship Huo Niangsheng had taken was leased under the Huo Group’s name. It was a small luxury liner. The cause of the wreck was a pirate hijacking; they had arms, hijacked the entire ship, and…
Chen Wengang stared straight ahead at the road, saying nothing.
They reached the hospital parking lot. Amanda pulled the handbrake, and Chen Wengang had already pushed open the door. He remembered to open the back door to let Halley out. The dog chased closely at his heels. Amanda led the way. They went down the stairs, entered a building, and pressed the elevator button. Next to the floor marker, it read: “MORGUE.”
Ding.
As soon as they stepped out, the sound of weeping rushed over them—it was chaotic, the confusion mingled with desolation. Aside from hospital staff, there were many others in the morgue. Since the entire ship had gone down, some had been salvaged, while others remained missing. Families were packed in, shoulder to shoulder, people coming and going; the scene was almost rowdy.
Amanda glanced at Chen Wengang. He stood among the mourning crowd, appearing strangely composed.
Someone pulled back the white sheet; Huo Niangsheng’s remains had already been prepared. Chen Wengang looked at him calmly. He looked for a long time, still not saying a word. Midway, he raised his hand, but his movement was so slight that as soon as he raised it, he put it down; no one even noticed.
Someone holding a registration book walked over, saying something, their lips moving. Chen Wengang heard a soft sob behind him. He turned his head and saw a woman’s back—she was somewhat familiar, and the voice was familiar. Chen Wengang suddenly remembered she was Huo Zhenfei’s wife; they had run into them when the three of them were having breakfast tea. Her hair was disheveled, her shoulders slumped, she looked utterly lost. Facing a blank wall, she wiped her eyes continuously with a handkerchief.
Chen Wengang pulled his gaze away. He nodded to the staff, indicating this was the person they were to see, and there was no mistake.
The white sheet was pulled back over. The freezer door shut.
Someone suddenly shrieked, and the weeping behind him grew sharper and more piercing. The staff whispered for the family to stay calm and not cause a scene in the morgue.
Amanda watched coldly. She looked at Chen Wengang; he was too composed, too calm. Of course, she didn’t deny he was sad. How Huo Niangsheng had treated him over the years was plain for all to see—who could not be sad? But she still secretly felt it was a waste of her boss’s time. A partner who, in the end, didn’t even shed a single tear to see him off. How true the saying: those closest to us are often the most distant.
Chen Wengang walked out of the morgue. Halley, waiting outside, rushed up and licked his hand. Amanda followed. She signaled to Chen Wengang that she had more to say and that they should find a more private place. Chen Wengang didn’t react. He stood there, thinking for a long time before he looked up and asked her if Kang Ming had arrived.
Kang Ming was the bodyguard who had previously followed Huo Niangsheng—a bald, tall, and burly man. He soon appeared before them. Chen Wengang, his voice hoarse, told him to keep watch here and not let anyone touch Huo Niangsheng. He left Halley with Kang Ming. Amanda remained silent, watching him pass over the leash.
They exited the hospital and headed across the street. The road was wide; Chen Wengang walked ahead with his head down. Amanda pulled him back, and they waited for the green light on the sidewalk. Across the street was a Crystal Hotel. Amanda used her ID to open a suite at the front desk.
Only when they were in the room did she handle the business: telling Chen Wengang the news. She suspected the accident might have been an inside job. The Huo family was in chaos, and reporters had swarmed out, madly digging for scoops. The accident primarily involved the branch of the Third Uncle Huo; the Second Uncle Huo hadn’t been on the ship at all, having taken his family to Hawaii for a vacation. Although the conspiracy theories were sensational, the whole wreck was filled with oddities. Police investigation would take time, and there were some things Huo Niangsheng had left behind that needed Chen Wengang to sign off on as soon as possible.
Afterward, she started making calls continuously; the charger barely left the phone.
Chen Wengang leaned against the glass, looking down at the bustling street below.
Less than two hours later, Huo Niangsheng’s lawyer also arrived at the hotel. Like a secret agent, he wore a mask, looking left and right before entering. Confirming no one was following him, Lawyer Zhu closed the door. He set down his briefcase, and his first act was to take out a thick file folder.
Huo Niangsheng had left a notarized, valid will during his lifetime. All properties under his name were designated to one person. The lawyer explained each document in a monotone, flat tone, guiding Chen Wengang on where to sign. Chen Wengang held his fountain pen, listening, signing one by one. They cooperated in silence; he would sign a name, and Lawyer Zhu would flip the page, pointing to the next place.
Until he reached the final document. The pen hesitated, refusing to drop.
Amanda glanced at him and froze. Chen Wengang’s eyes were red, his gaze distant. His eyes were brimming with moisture, wet lashes obscuring his vision. His pupils were light-colored; in truth, only his left eye was intact, while his right was a prosthetic, noticeable only upon close inspection. She suddenly remembered when he had his implant surgery; Huo Niangsheng had watched him all night, fearing he would touch the dressings and bandages and infect the wound. She sighed, then sighed again, even more heavily.
After a long while, he moved the pen. He drew the first stroke of the character “Chen,” and a tear dropped onto the nib.
The ink bled, turning into a black water stain.
Chen Wengang smiled. He pulled out a tissue, pressed it to the paper, and slowly soaked it dry: “Pardon me.”
Lawyer Zhu swapped it for a photocopy. This time, he signed smoothly, and all the documents were packed away.
The atmosphere in the suite was heavy, turning it into a place of dead silence. Chen Wengang sat on the carpet, one leg bent, the other flat. He rested his hand on the back of his neck, covering his face with his knee. His posture was like a bird burying its head—but a broken-winged, dying bird. It looked as if he were crying, yet not entirely. After a long while, he just remained motionless, making not a sound.
Amanda and the lawyer sat to the side. The three living people were like three statues; for a few minutes, there was no movement and no sound. If not for the central air conditioning still running, the room seemed to have been put on pause.
It was the lawyer’s phone that broke the stagnant time. He answered, responding to the other side with mumbles. Since the incident, he had been responsible for connecting with the police and all parties involved. His throat was raspy beyond repair, his brow knit into a deep furrow, continuously clearing his throat. Amanda poured him a glass of water; he took it and drank it in one go, talking for a long time before finally hanging up.
Then, he crouched by the coffee table, organizing his briefcase, and took out a sealed bag from a compartment.
Chen Wengang stared blankly at his movements. The lawyer looked back at him; his eyes were solemn and grave. Inside the sealed bag was a folded piece of paper. He told Chen Wengang that this was left by Huo Niangsheng some time before he passed away. In the time between the ship being attacked and the ship being destroyed, it had been sealed in an empty wine bottle and hidden in a place not easily discovered. This was evidence for the investigation; the lawyer didn’t go into detail about how much effort it had taken to retrieve it from the police. He said the evidence collection process was complete and he was giving this letter to Chen Wengang for safekeeping.
Chen Wengang stared at the sealed bag in his hand. He could no longer hear what Amanda was still whispering about.
The two left, leaving him some space.
Chen Wengang knelt on the carpet, elbows on the coffee table. His heart was beating violently. It took him several attempts to unseal the bag. With trembling hands, he carefully unfolded the letter paper and spread it flat. Before he could make out the scrawled handwriting, his vision was already blurred by tears.
He slumped before the coffee table, raising a hand to cover his eyes.
The hospital morgue was still rowdy. It was an earth-shattering social event that didn’t happen once in a decade. From the afternoon through the night, aside from the guards on duty, doctors and nurses were forced to spare staff to help maintain order. Among the victims, most of the passengers were wealthy or powerful; families, subordinates, lawyers, and reporters who had snuck in crowded the solemn place into a vegetable market, one after another taking the stage.
The young nurse had to strain her voice to shout. One argument had just died down on one side, and another group was in a chaotic brawl on the other.
Huo Jingsheng was still clamoring: “I think you’d better get it straight—who is family here, and what exactly do you think you are?”
Chen Wengang leaned against the wall, his face expressionless as he looked at the man speaking. Regardless of how secluded he was, he recognized Huo Niangsheng’s opportunistic younger brother. Blood relation gave Huo Jingsheng a profile slightly similar to his brother’s, but his features were cramped, possessing a mediocre temperament.
Chen Wengang said: “Get lost.”
Huo Jingsheng pointed at his nose: “Big brother’s body is not yet cold. I don’t know how you plotted his inheritance, but whether that Zhu guy pulled any tricks, you know better than anyone. Don’t try to be clever. Don’t think that Zhu is the only lawyer in Jin City. You think because you’re squatting on my brother’s corpse, you’re his widow? In court, the law doesn’t protect you lot!”
He pointed at the morgue door again: “You’ve spent too long as a canary; you don’t know the immensity of heaven and earth. Where do you get the guts to scheme against the Huo family? You think he can still sit up and cover the sky to shield you? Your protective umbrella is gone!”
Chen Wengang’s fist had already swung into the bridge of his nose.
Huo Jingsheng took a heavy blow, his skull slamming into the wall with a thud, his face contorting, his spirit flying out. Kang Ming reacted quickly, immediately blocking him before Chen Wengang. Huo Jingsheng, losing face, gripped him in a rage, kicking him, trying to lunge at Chen Wengang.
They were quickly pulled apart by the crowd. Huo Jingsheng panted, and in the chaos, his nails still managed to scratch Chen Wengang’s face.
The nurse shouted angrily: “No fighting in the hospital! Go outside to fight! Fight until one of you is dead!”
Huo Jingsheng was dragged out. Someone tried to chase Chen Wengang away, but was intimidated by the bodyguard and the dog, and shrunk back.
The nurse returned. She used alcohol to treat Chen Wengang’s wound.
Chen Wengang said in a hoarse voice: “Sorry.”
The nurse said helplessly: “You look reasonable enough. If you know how to apologize now, don’t fight!”
Chen Wengang kept saying sorry, over and over. She said: “Alright, I get it. Just don’t do it next time.”
The nurse paused. Her wrist was gently grabbed. Chen Wengang shook his head, signaling that it didn’t need further treatment.
She looked at him with sympathy. He wiped away a fallen tear with his knuckle: “There won’t be a next time.”
