DLRAS Chapter 28

Chapter 28: But that voice was so familiar.

Qi Tongzhou’s heart was a jumble of seven ups and eight downs, fraught with anxiety, as if he had already foreseen the bleak winds and bitter rains on his future romantic journey.

But he hadn’t intentionally blabbed about this matter.

The specific course of events was that Qi Tongzhou couldn’t hold it in; he was truly bothered by whether Chen Wengang actually intended to enter politics, and could only roundaboutly probe Zheng Maoxun for information. However, Zheng Maoxun actually knew no more than he did: “You’re saying he wants to do what?!”

Qi Tongzhou couldn’t cover his mouth fast enough. In the end, he was the one who spilled Chen Wengang’s secrets.

However, since Chen Wengang could let him know, he wasn’t afraid of others knowing either; it just wasn’t worth shouting from the rooftops.

This trivial matter wasn’t considered a secret that needed keeping in the Zheng household anyway.

Even Zheng Bingyi called Chen Wengang to the study for another chat.

Although it was ultimately proven to be a misunderstanding, Zheng Bingyi took the opportunity to advise Chen Wengang to consider seeking a position in the government.

It wasn’t a bad choice. Ever since he brought up changing his major last time, Zheng Bingyi knew his heart was no longer in his current field.

Toward this child, Chen Wengang, since Zheng Bingyi was half adoptive father and half superior—privately, there was still affection, and he hoped he would go far in the future; publicly, politics and business were intertwined. If Chen Wengang harbored ambitions to run for office and enter politics in the future, he wouldn’t be able to do without the Zheng Group’s support, nor could he avoid feeding back into the Zheng Group. This could be a win-win situation.

However, after finishing his advice, Chen Wengang instead insisted, “Yifu, I have never had that intention.”

Seeing his adoptive son’s expression, Zheng Bingyi actually calmed down, realizing he truly lacked the desire for power.

Sure enough, the drive for profit makes one’s head hot. Zheng Bingyi mocked himself; even at this age, he couldn’t avoid being vulgar, jumping to conclusions at the slightest rumor.

He waved his hand helplessly, telling Chen Wengang he could leave.

When Chen Wengang went downstairs, he saw two servants setting up an indoor ladder in the living room; one was holding it steady, while the other was about to climb up.

One was A-Mei, and he recognized the other as the girl who had called him by the wrong title last time.

She had become much more capable now, and the two greeted him together: “Young Master Wengang.”

He walked over and asked, “Are you fixing the ceiling light? Why not call a repairman?”

A-Mei let out an exclamation. “It’s just changing a lightbulb, why wait for a repairman to make a trip?”

Chen Wengang offered a hand. “Then you two shouldn’t climb. Let me do it.”

“Oh my, no need. It’s such a small matter, why would we need you to do it?”

“It’s fine. I’m tall, it’s easier for me.”

The electricity to the living room had already been cut. He stepped onto the ladder with a creak, and A-Mei handed him the spare lightbulb.

Chen Wengang screwed on the lampshade with a screwdriver, and the other girl quickly ran to turn the power back on to check. The ceiling light flickered to life.

This was one reason why the household staff all liked Chen Wengang: he was hardworking, considerate, and amiable. While putting away the ladder, A-Mei and the other girl chattered with him, saying that Zhang-jie from the kitchen had received some homemade dried fruit sent from her hometown, and had specifically saved a lot for him.

Just as they were chatting happily, someone walked over from the other end of the corridor. Seeing it was Mu Qing, the laughter immediately ceased.

A-Mei and her companion shot Chen Wengang a meaningful look, implying they would bring it to him later, and silently carried the ladder away.

The atmosphere-ruiner lacked any self-awareness, still exuding an aura of “strangers keep out.”

Chen Wengang stepped aside to let him pass, but Mu Qing didn’t walk by.

Unexpectedly, he hesitated for a moment and suddenly apologized to Chen Wengang: “Actually, letting that matter of yours slip had something to do with me.”

Chen Wengang raised an eyebrow. “Which matter?”

Mu Qing paused. “A few days ago, Qi Tongzhou and I were chatting casually, and we accidentally brought up your future career intentions. I didn’t know you had only told him, so I didn’t know my uncle and the others were still unaware. So blame me for being talkative. I hope you won’t hold it against him.”

This statement was also strange.

Looking at his evasive manner, Chen Wengang suddenly understood—

Whether he was talkative or not was irrelevant, and the matter he spoke of wasn’t exactly a secret; this was about sowing discord and undermining his trust in Qi Tongzhou.

But this was completely meaningless. In the foreseeable future, no matter what Chen Wengang went on to do, he had no intention of taking the slightest advantage of Qi Tongzhou.

Chen Wengang still replied, “It’s fine.” He was just a little surprised at when Qi Tongzhou and this person had become so close as to share everything.

Mu Qing watched him indifferently as they brushed past each other.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Chen Wengang reach the door, only to run into another servant who greeted him warmly: “Young Master Wengang, where are you heading?”

Mu Qing turned his head and walked away.

There was another matter Zheng Bingyi discussed with Chen Wengang.

The anniversary of Chen Wengang’s father’s death was approaching, and Zheng Bingyi asked him to pay respects on his behalf.

This was a private matter, and Chen Wengang had intended to go alone.

Unexpectedly, his uncle, Chen Zeng, also remembered the date. He called Chen Wengang two days in advance, and the uncle and nephew agreed on a time to meet.

On that day, the two drove separately and met in the cemetery’s parking lot. Chen Wengang carried a bouquet of white chrysanthemums, while Chen Zeng brought joss paper and offerings according to folk customs. Chen Xiangling also got out of the car with Chen Zeng, holding a bag of pastries, and offered Chen Wengang a quiet smile.

Chen Zeng glanced at Chen Wengang’s Lexus and praised, “Nice car, just bought it?”

Chen Wengang didn’t answer, taking the food box from his hand. “I’ll carry this for you.”

The joss paper was burned, leaving a patch of gray and white ash on the ground. The offerings and white chrysanthemums were all laid out before the tomb.

The cemetery was built halfway up a mountain and was actually divided into two sections. Far across the way was the resting place for dignitaries and the wealthy.

Zheng Bingyi had once wanted to arrange for his deceased subordinate to be placed in the high-end cemetery over there. But when Chen Wengang’s father buried his mother, he had already bought his own plot in advance. Respecting the dead meant honoring his wishes, so now husband and wife rested side by side.

Chen Zeng poured wine onto the ground. “Little brother, look at Wengang; he’s grown so big already. Our family’s kids are all healthy too, so you have nothing to worry about. This is Xiangling. When there’s a chance, I’ll bring Guangzong and Yaozu to see you.”

His eyes reddened as he babbled on, recounting stories from their childhood.

The Chen family had been native fishermen for several generations back, their skin tanned dark and rough by the sea breeze, and the most common dish on their table was always fish. Chen Zeng wiped his eyes, saying that his younger brother had sworn since childhood that he would eventually shed his identity as a fisherman and live a good life.

Chen Xiangling stood respectfully for a while, staring at the white chrysanthemum petals in a daze.

She looked up at Chen Wengang as a gust of wind blew, scattering ashes onto them.

On their way down the mountain, Chen Zeng received a notification from his boss, telling him to come along to entertain a client.

He told his nephew, “Then I’ll have to trouble you to take Xiangling home. Your uncle still has things to do.”

With that, he hurried off. The two young people exchanged a glance, seeing the shared helplessness in each other’s eyes.

“My dad’s head is in the clouds right now,” Chen Xiangling said. “He always thinks he’s going to be a big boss. You can’t talk any sense into him.”

Chen Wengang let out a long breath. “Don’t concern yourself with adult matters. But if you encounter any problems, tell me anytime.”

He looked at the sky; they had arrived early in the morning, and it was still early.

He asked Chen Xiangling, “Could you accompany me somewhere?”

Chen Xiangling followed him on a twenty-minute walk along the mountain road to another cemetery.

This section was visibly much more luxurious, with marble statues lined up one after another.

Chen Wengang led her through the towering statues of angels and saints. Chen Xiangling didn’t know who her cousin wanted to visit here; they merely walked forward aimlessly, even patrolling all the still-vacant plots. A solemn veil of mist draped heavily over the entire cemetery.

Finally, Chen Wengang stood at the edge of the section.

This area would undergo renovation and expansion in three or four years. The place where Huo Niansheng was buried in his past life hadn’t been built yet; the distant mountains were a desolate expanse.

He smiled a little. Being paranoid like this, seeing it with his own eyes finally put his mind at ease.

So they retreated the way they came. On the way home, Chen Xiangling felt her cousin’s spirits had inexplicably lifted significantly.

Chen Wengang even encouraged her, “This place seems pretty close to the amusement park. Want to drop by and play?”

Chen Xiangling was stunned. “Suddenly going now? What made you think of that?”

Chen Wengang smiled mischievously. “Guangzong and Yaozu didn’t come with you. What a pity they’re going to miss this great opportunity.”

Chen Xiangling caught on, covering her mouth with a laugh. “Oh~ we’re sneaking off~”

And so it was decided.

Chen Xiangling tilted her head. “Ge, do you still remember when we were little, Uncle took the two of us to the park to play?”

“Mm, parks were simple back then. Just sandpits and seesaws, not a lot of entertainment facilities.”

Of course, simple had its own kind of good. Chen Xiangling remembered that during her childhood, before she had two younger brothers, her uncle would take her and her cousin out to play on his days off. Two kids, one carried on each arm as they entered the park—that was already a very happy time.

Arriving at the amusement park, the two walked through the clown’s mouth into a dazzling, bustling, massive world.

Though not as jam-packed as the weekends, there were still throngs of children and couples forming long lines on a workday.

They rode the log flume and the carousel, ate cotton candy, shot balloons, and watched a puppet show.

As for the more thrilling rides Chen Xiangling liked—the pirate ship, the roller coaster, the pendulum ride… those were saved for later.

Because Chen Wengang refused to go on them, pointing at his own ears: “I’m getting old, I can’t handle this kind of stimulation.”

Chen Xiangling pursed her lips and giggled. “Why do you always talk about yourself like you’re middle-aged?”

Chen Wengang didn’t deny it, laughing, “Be good and go by yourself. I’ll wait for you down here.”

A group of half-grown kids came running over, clearly meaning they were about to line up. Chen Xiangling immediately darted like a rabbit to the back of the queue.

Chen Wengang simply found a bench to sit down, spreading his arms across the backrest, watching the roller coaster roar past in mid-air.

The high-pitched screams of the crowd, mingled with laughter, reached his ears.

The air was filled with the scent of popcorn and roasted sausages, and the sun made his eyelids heavy.

Drowsiness gradually crept in.

While dozing off, he had a dream.

He dreamed of the period when Huo Niansheng passed away.

Since their reunion, he hadn’t been plagued by nightmares for a while.

But just like some people still dream of not finishing an exam paper eight hundred years after graduating, some shadows are always lying in wait.

Actually, Huo Niansheng’s funeral should have been handled by the Huo family. But at that time, Chen Wengang had done something earth-shattering. Withstanding immense pressure, he forcefully kept Huo Niansheng’s remains in his own hands, refusing to let anyone claim them, and personally chose the burial site.

Many people came before him one by one. Finding everyone suspicious, he simply hated them all and trusted no one.

This had caused quite a sensation in the Jin City newspapers at the time, playing out like a ridiculous farce.

It was a scene ordinary people probably couldn’t imagine: a perfectly fine hospital turned into something resembling a gang shootout, with bodyguards standing at the ready outside the morgue. He forced himself to stay alert, confronting wave after wave of people, suffering immense mental and physical torment.

When he truly couldn’t take it anymore, he would lean against the wall and sit on the floor for a bit, while still having to guard against the pervasive paparazzi setting up their long lenses, waiting to capture his every moment of breakdown. Halley bared its teeth and followed him. Chen Wengang muddled through two or three days on fitful sleep. Waking from his umpteenth nap to the sound of barking, he opened his eyes to see the fierce guard dog pinning a reporter underneath it, its fangs resting right on the man’s neck.

Cameras and lenses were smashed all over the floor. He walked over, called the dog off, and coldly stomped the camera to pieces.

That reporter looked at him as if looking at an Asura from hell.

Chen Wengang didn’t break down; he just felt pain. Huo Niansheng hadn’t given him a title or status, but when it came down to it, he hadn’t given Huo Niansheng one either. Looking back at the past seven years, had he known today would come, he wouldn’t have acted as he did then. What had he been doing for those entire seven years?

But he couldn’t regret it. If he regretted it, he would truly be utterly crushed. One step backward was a bottomless abyss.

He finally made it to the day of the cremation, a secretly booked date, with only a very few of them present to bid farewell to the body.

It wasn’t until he looked at Huo Niansheng’s cold, sleeping face that Chen Wengang abruptly jolted awake from his daze, realizing he was truly gone.

Once he entered the incinerator, he would never see this person again.

He grabbed the staff member’s wrist, gripping so hard he left bruises. He had already forgotten what that staff member looked like, vaguely recalling an honest face that was understanding and didn’t complain, instead joining Lawyer Zhu and the others in persuading him.

In the end, Chen Wengang calmed down on his own and blankly released the coffin.

What came out next was a handful of ashes, placed in a box, and up until the funeral was held, all subsequent memories were a chaotic jumble.

Years later, when Amanda reminisced about this past event with Lawyer Zhu, she covered her mouth with a laugh, telling the foundation employees not to treat Mr. Chen like a sick cat. Seeing him usually act like a Mr. Nice Guy, when he lost his temper, it was earth-shattering and overwhelming.

Hearing this, Chen Wengang only smiled gently.

Time had already polished him smooth and round, leaving him indifferent to this, as if ancient history was no longer a big deal.

Ordinary people can bid farewell to sorrow, step into the future, and look back on the past with peace of mind.

They had all moved on; no one realized that only he was left behind in place, unable to take a single step.

Chen Wengang jolted awake, the phone in his pocket ringing urgently.

Just as he managed to make out the name “Huo Niansheng,” the phone rang its final ring and disconnected.

Checking the call log, there were two other missed calls.

He was dazed for a few seconds before realigning time and space, remembering which timeline he was in.

Chen Wengang found a secluded spot behind the puppet theater, composed himself, and called Huo Niansheng back.

“Wengang.” He heard Huo Niansheng call his name. “Are you alright right now?”

Chen Wengang didn’t understand, instinctively feeling it was a strange question. Usually, when someone couldn’t get through, they would ask, “Were you busy just now?”

In reality, Huo Niansheng truly wasn’t at ease.

He had stayed up late yesterday, and just now, while the driver was driving, he took a short nap in the back seat. In just that brief moment, he had a nightmare.

In the dream, he lay cold and stiff. There was a voice crying, and tears fell on him like freezing raindrops falling from the sky.

It wasn’t a very auspicious dream, yet that voice was incredibly familiar.

He didn’t feel much after waking up, just that his nerves were overly sensitive, giving him a persistent feeling that something was wrong, that something had happened to Chen Wengang.

The ominous premonition urged Huo Niansheng to dial the number. As it turned out, he was overthinking things; the other party was not only perfectly fine but also playing at an amusement park.

Lively, upbeat music played over the background broadcast, and kids who had gone crazy with fun were screaming and shouting.

It was naturally best that nothing had happened. Huo Niansheng breathed a sigh of relief and found the mood to tease him again: “Did you miss me?”

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