DLRAS Chapter 67

Chapter 67: In the future, I only have affection for you; is that okay?

Zheng Maoxun paused with his chopsticks in mid-air. “What’s he doing at the hospital?”

Huo Niansheng popped open a can of Sprite, handed it to Chen Wengang, but addressed Zheng Maoxun. “What, you didn’t know your aunt went to the hospital?”

Chen Wengang took the can, the sweet, carbonated fizz rushing upward, and he absentmindedly licked the rim.

When he looked up, Huo Niansheng’s gaze was glued to him, heavily laden with meaning.

Realizing what he was doing, Chen Wengang shot him a glare, turned his head, and tipped the can back for a few gulps.

Zheng Maoxun didn’t notice the undercurrents. “I didn’t know. When did she go? Why didn’t anyone tell me all day?”

Meanwhile, Chen Wengang dialed Zheng Baoqiu’s number, asked a couple of questions, and then handed the phone over to him.

Zheng Baoqiu wasn’t asleep yet; she was at the hospital keeping watch. Zheng Maoxun went out to the corridor to talk to his sister.

After asking for the details, he learned that Zheng Yucheng had gone to the hospital to escort Huo Meijie on Zheng Bingyi’s behalf. The couple had rushed to the port together that morning, but as soon as they got out of the car, they were swarmed by reporters firing off questions. Amidst the pushing and shoving of the crowd, Huo Meijie missed a step, fell, and subsequently felt unwell.

At a critical juncture like that, it was impossible for Zheng Bingyi to leave, so he dispatched his eldest son, who was present, and the driver to escort her for medical attention.

During the day, Huo Niansheng, Huo Zhenfei, and others happened to be at the hospital as well. Upon leaving Huo Kaishan’s ward and hearing the news, they swung by to visit Huo Meijie.

When they walked over, Zheng Yucheng was leaning against the wall in the corridor. He and Huo Niansheng crossed paths, though neither had spoken yet.

Suddenly, the door to the ward opened, and He Wanxin walked out with a sweet smile, hugging his arm. “Yucheng… Auntie is fine.”

After hearing this, Chen Wengang merely stayed silent for a moment. “Forget it. If ships can crash, it’s not strange for the two of them to get together.”

He figured that no matter what unusual developments occurred today, none of them would surprise him anymore.

Huo Niansheng gave a sharp, teasing smile. “But your ex-boyfriend didn’t look too happy about it, either.”

Chen Wengang drained the can of Sprite before asking, “What, you still think I harbor lingering feelings for Zheng Yucheng?”

Huo Niansheng propped his chin on his hand and looked at him. “Ten years of affection—is it really that easy to let go of?”

Chen Wengang rested his chin on his hand mirroring him. “From now on, there will only be affection for you, okay?”

The corner of Huo Niansheng’s mouth ticked upward. He leaned in closer and opened his arms to him. “Come here.”

Chen Wengang leaned toward him. As his hand brushed his trouser pocket, he felt something hard, suddenly remembered something, and pulled out two tightly folded pieces of paper, unfolding them in front of Huo Niansheng. The papers were covered in creases and densely packed with scrawled signatures.

“What’s this registry?” Huo Niansheng’s gaze slid down to the paper.

“It’s the families of the crew members involved in the accident. Every one of them who rushed to the scene today was asked to sign this.” Chen Wengang cast his eyes down, scanning it, and tried to smooth it flat. “Right, before I forget, I need to make copies of this right away.”

He put down his chopsticks and went to start up the printer.

Huo Niansheng used his chopsticks to pick up a piece of squid flower, chewing on it as he watched Chen’s back through a flurry of operations.

The machine spat out a few hot sheets of A4 paper. Chen Wengang found a file folder and slipped the originals inside.

He explained, “HR has a file on every employee. Tomorrow, they’ll need to cross-check these with their registered family relationships.”

Huo Niansheng understood this was a precaution against people fishing in troubled waters to claim fraudulent compensation. “Tell them to do what they’re supposed to do.”

Chen Wengang smiled. “It’s all the same, it doesn’t matter.”

Zheng Maoxun returned from his phone call, learning his mother’s condition was stable and there was nothing particular to worry about, yawning widely with tears in his eyes.

After finishing their late-night snack and cleaning up, Chen Wengang discussed things with him. “Could you go upstairs and use Zheng Yucheng’s lounge?”

He wasn’t happy about it. “Why should I use his?”

Chen Wengang raised an eyebrow, signaling with his eyes that Huo Niansheng also needed a bed. “You two are blood brothers; it makes sense, both logically and emotionally, for you to sleep in Zheng Yucheng’s bed for one night. The rest of us are outsiders; it wouldn’t be appropriate for us to just walk into his office, would it?”

Phrased like that, there was no arguing with it, and Zheng Maoxun was indeed dead tired. “Fine.” Swaying slightly as he prepared to leave, he suddenly turned back. “But I’m warning you, don’t even think about messing around on my bed.”

Equally exasperated and amused, Chen Wengang pushed him toward the stairs.

He took a travel kit bought from the convenience store downstairs and made do with washing up in the restroom. Turning on the faucet to wash his hands, he finally noticed he had a few scratches left by someone’s fingernails. There had been so many emotional family members today he hadn’t felt it at the time, and now the blood had scabbed over.

As he was examining the wounds, Huo Niansheng walked in, preempting him by explaining it away himself: “It’s fine, it doesn’t hurt.”

Huo Niansheng lifted his hand to look. “Why do you push yourself so desperately?”

Chen Wengang withdrew his hand. “I wasn’t pushing myself desperately, just purely careless.”

It was the dead of night, and the documentation department was deserted. Other departments still had faint lights on; the PR team, at the very least, was inevitably pulling an all-nighter to finalize a crisis management plan.

Chen Wengang and Huo Niansheng squeezed together on the small cot in Zheng Maoxun’s cubicle.

The bed was only 1.2 meters wide, not much broader than the standard cubicle bed boards. He had initially told Huo Niansheng to sleep alone, but Huo Niansheng pulled him into his arms and wrapped a thin blanket around them. Chen Wengang hardly had the time to be overly modest; he closed his eyes the moment his head hit the pillow.

Huo Niansheng wasn’t very sleepy. Half-lying, he stared intently at his face, his fingers gently playing with the hair of the person in his arms.

Two heavy, dark hours passed. As dawn approached, someone was having trouble sleeping. Chen Wengang got up once, then got up again. Huo Niansheng opened his eyes, and when the space beside him remained empty for a long time, he realized Chen hadn’t returned. The warmth under the covers had completely dissipated. He rubbed his temples, got up, and went looking.

Pushing open the restroom door, he saw Chen Wengang bent over, bracing himself against the sink as he vomited.

“What happened?”

Chen Wengang turned on the water with a splash. “Go check on Zheng Maoxun. If he’s fine, then it wasn’t the food.”

Upstairs, Zheng Maoxun was sleeping sprawled out like a piglet, perfectly fine. Huo Niansheng had also eaten some of that seafood, and only Chen Wengang was vomiting his guts out. This proved the food was fine; the issue was with him.

He cupped water to rinse his mouth. Huo Niansheng went out, got a cup of warm water, and fed him a little.

Unexpectedly, Chen Wengang was vomiting violently. However much clear water he drank, he threw right back up, until finally, he was dry heaving yellowish-green bile.

Patches of numbness spread across his back, his throat burned, and his mouth was filled with an unspeakable bitterness. Catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror, his lips were white, and his face, haggard and sickly, looked like a ghost.

Huo Niansheng sighed, knowing full well this wasn’t his first time seeing this fragile beauty wobble at the slightest breeze. “Let’s go, I’m taking you to the ER.”

“No need.” Chen Wengang grabbed his arm. Unable to throw up anything else, he finally caught his breath. “I’m much better. No need to go.”

“Better how?” Huo Niansheng scoffed at him. “How many company shares do you hold to make it worth risking your life like this?”

“I think it’s just a stomach spasm. Get me some more hot water, I’ll be fine after lying down for a bit, so there’s no need to go.”

“Look at how delicate and frail this body of yours is.” Huo Niansheng supported him back. “Getting fevers and vomiting at the drop of a hat, a whole bunch of issues this way and that. Who are you expecting to wait on you in the future?”

“Is that so?” Chen Wengang drank from his hand, pulled the blanket up to his chest, and smiled at him. “How come you haven’t started despising me yet, then?”

He lay down fully clothed, remembering how a few months ago, when he rode in Huo Niansheng’s car, he had thrown up until his stomach was utterly empty. As for just now, Chen Wengang guessed it was due to the immense mental stress he had been under today. He was like this sometimes; extreme anxiety made his stomach churn. In truth, not having an episode was already progress. He hadn’t been plagued by panic attacks for a while now, and he had managed to endure such a chaotic and panic-inducing day today.

Yet Huo Niansheng still mocked him. “It’s a blessing I don’t despise you, what, you think I’d dare to?”

Chen Wengang caught the hidden meaning. When all was said and done, he was still ridiculing him for his secretive, evasive attitude all morning.

He gave a small smile, sat up, and said calmly, “I was too panicked this morning and hadn’t thought about how to tell you. I know I’m an indecisive person, always looking forward and backward before acting. That’s not good. Hearing about the accident made me think of that saying—you never know whether tomorrow or an accident will come first. So I don’t want to drag it out anymore. Since this has happened, I want to stand at my post for the final shift before handing in my resignation. I’m not trying to be a hero, I just want to do my best right now so that, at the very least, I can walk away with a clear conscience, knowing I don’t owe anyone anything.”

Huo Niansheng let out an “mm” and pressed him back down to lie together. “That’s good. Sleep a little longer.”

Chen Wengang took his hand out from under the covers and grasped his. “From now on, you’re the most important thing to me.”

Huo Niansheng pressed his index finger to his lips. “I believe you.”

The Zheng Group’s ship collision remained on the news for some time.

After the golden rescue period passed, the rescue teams found no more survivors. Among the missing persons, only 13 crew members were confirmed dead, while the fate of the rest remained unknown. By the time one week, then two weeks passed, all the rescue teams had withdrawn one by one.

Those who still couldn’t be found had likely been swept into the depths of the ocean.

Some family members who refused to give up hope hired private rescue teams on their own, hopelessly but resolutely searching the vast waters.

Therefore, it was natural that some came to cause a disturbance, while others merely pretended to, rolling out banners at the entrance and holding sit-ins… Compensation had to be paid, undoubtedly, but it couldn’t solve every problem. The winds of public opinion shifted daily, and the PR department walked on eggshells every day, unable to leave work without staying late into the night. Following the accident, the Zheng Group’s stock price remained sluggish for a period, and various opinions circulated among the board of directors and internally within the company.

Zheng Bingyi returned to the chairman’s office to take charge and stabilize the situation.

But none of this had anything to do with Chen Wengang anymore.

He hovered outside the door for a moment, raised a hand, and knocked—

“Come in.”

Chen Wengang walked in and submitted his resignation letter onto the desk in front of Zheng Bingyi.

Zheng Bingyi didn’t seem surprised. Wearing his reading glasses, he unfolded the resignation letter and read it twice over. “Have you thought this through?”

Chen Wengang stood respectfully across from his desk. “I hope you can understand.”

He subtly swept his gaze around the chairman’s office. This was undoubtedly the room with the best view and lighting in the entire building. The decor style, however, was a different story—the taste was quite archaic. Against the left wall sat a shrine housing a red-faced Guan Yu, flanked by candles containing two small, glowing red bulbs. In front of it, three to five sticks of incense burned in a censer, curls of blue smoke rising, while a money tree sat in the corner.

A long time ago, Chen Wengang had wondered if this office would eventually belong to Zheng Yucheng, and what it would look like then. Zheng Yucheng disliked Guan Yu—in fact, he treated his father’s aesthetic sense like an arch-enemy. Would he go with the flow and raise arowanas or money trees?

In short, these were many childish and superfluous thoughts that now seemed entirely pointless.

His gaze fell back onto Zheng Bingyi, committing his adoptive father’s appearance to memory.

Zheng Bingyi had grown old.

Every angle and line was deeply etched into his face. Chen Wengang saw traces of aging on his eyelids, the corners of his eyes, his mouth, and his neck. The waxy skin was much looser than he remembered from when he was nine years old; it was just that, living with him day in and day out, he rarely noticed these things.

Chen Wengang knew he would grow old, but the changes seemed to accumulate slowly, yet simultaneously appear to have happened in an instant.

Zheng Bingyi also stared at him for a long moment. “I agree to it. Since you want to leave, I won’t make things difficult for you. Go ahead and start the process.”

Chen Wengang bowed slightly to him and prepared to leave.

Zheng Bingyi suddenly stopped his adopted son. “I hope you can tell me that these decisions are not driven by impulse and have nothing to do with anyone else.”

Chen Wengang paused, nodded, but momentarily failed to understand who this “anyone else” was.

Zheng Bingyi signaled him to come over, holding his phone far away with a posture unique to the elderly, and clumsily pulled up the photo album.

On the screen were unmistakably intimate photos of Zheng Yucheng and He Wanxin.

Zheng Bingyi watched his face. “Have you seen these?”

Chen Wengang froze, taking his silence as a tacit admission.

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