Song Chengfeng gave himself one last look in the mirror, adjusting his collar to perfection. His reflection stared back, exuding confidence and charm, but a hint of sothing softer flickered in his eyes—anticipation.
He straightened his already perfect tie, ensuring everything was immaculate before stepping back. His movents seed unhurried, deliberate as always, but there was an undercurrent of excitent he couldn’t quite mask.
The thought of seeing Qi Jianyi in City A filled him with a kind of joy he rarely allowed himself to feel. It was unusual, almost unsettling, for soone so used to stoicism to feel this much eagerness. Yet, as he thought of her, a small smile tugged at his lips.
It wasn’t a grand occasion. Just a simple date, one they’d planned on a whim. But for Song Chengfeng, any mont with Qi Jianyi felt special enough to warrant his full attention—and his best appearance.
Satisfied at last, he picked up his car keys from the dresser and turned toward the door. However, before he could leave the house, the sharp ringing of his phone interrupted him.
Instinctively, Song Chengfeng reached into his pocket, his expression softening. He assud it was Qi Jianyi calling, perhaps to remind him of their date or simply to tease him as she often did. A faint smile played on his lips as he glanced at the screen.
But the smile disappeared almost instantly.
The na displayed on the screen wasn’t hers. It was a na he hadn’t seen for months, a na he had intentionally avoided whenever possible.
Dad.
The sight of his father’s na made his heartbeat quicken. Unlike his mother, who often reached out to him with concern or affection, General Song rarely called. A man of unwavering discipline and few words, his father had never been one for small talk or casual check-ins.
That’s why the call felt heavy, its unexpectedness bringing an uncomfortable weight to the morning.
As the phone continued to ring, Song Chengfeng found himself staring at it, his mind racing. What could have prompted his father to call him out of the blue? He couldn’t recall the last ti they had spoken directly, let alone exchanged pleasantries.
The call ended abruptly, breaking his train of thought, but before he could even exhale, the phone lit up again.
His father was calling for the second ti.
A rare occurrence, one that deepened the pit forming in Song Chengfeng’s stomach. The sense of foreboding that had initially pricked at him now grew into a steady, gnawing unease.
This ti, without hesitation, he swiped to answer.
"Hello, Dad?" he greeted, his voice asured and calm, though a faint tension lingered in his tone.
"Are you busy?" On the other end of the line, ca the deep, authoritative voice.
It was unmistakably his father’s, carrying the sa sternness and command that had dominated Song Chengfeng’s upbringing. But there was sothing else this ti—an unfamiliar weariness that sent a chill through him.
Song Chengfeng’s grip on the phone tightened, his brows knitting together. His father never sounded tired, not even during the most challenging tis. For him to sound this way, sothing serious must have happened.
"No, I’m not busy," Song Chengfeng replied carefully. "What’s wrong?"
"Where are you now?" General Song asked. However, before Song Chengfeng could utter a single word, his father cut him off and dove straight into the heart of the matter.
"Co to the hospital, your grandpa is ill." The words were brief but heavy, each syllable drenched in gravity. His tone, though succinct, carried the weight of urgency and concern that needed no elaboration.
Song Chengfeng’s grip on the phone tightened instinctively as the gravity of his grandfather’s condition sank in. His heart felt a dull ache as he processed the somber news. He paused briefly, composing himself before replying in a calm yet resolute tone, "I understand."
And just like that, the call ended. It was an exchange that spoke volus about their relationship—a father and son who communicated only what was necessary, cutting through pleasantries and small talk with the precision of a blade.
Knowing he would have to cancel his long-awaited date with Qi Jianyi, Song Chengfeng stood still for a mont, allowing the weight of the situation to settle in. Then, with a asured breath, he walked out of the house and pulled out his phone. Opening the chat with Qi Jianyi, he quickly typed a ssage to inform her about the unforeseen turn of events.
In his ssage, he explained that due to his grandfather’s condition, he wouldn’t be able to make it to City A. He urged her to enjoy the sights and promised he would wait for her return. His words were considerate yet tinged with regret, a reflection of how much he valued their plans but understood the importance of family in this mont.
anwhile, in City A, Qi Jianyi leaned back against her chair, a steaming cup of coffee cradled in her right hand. She had just woken up and hadn’t started getting ready yet.
With two hours left before Song Chengfeng’s expected arrival, she felt she had more than enough ti to relax.
Dressed in nothing but a bathrobe, she sat by the window, her gaze unfocused as she stared at the open sky. Her thoughts were distant, drifting like clouds across a clear blue horizon. She let out the occasional sigh, though even she couldn’t pinpoint the source of her unease.
Her quiet reverie was interrupted by the familiar chi of a phone notification. The sound pulled her from her musings, and with a casual glance, she picked up her phone to check the ssage. It was from Song Chengfeng.
Her eyes scanned the screen, taking in the words he had sent. His explanation was clear and straightforward, but it carried an undercurrent of regret that she could feel even through the impersonal dium of text.
Regarding Song Chengfeng suddenly canceling their eting, Qi Jianyi had no complaints. She understood the weight of the situation and knew there were things far more important than their planned date.
With a calm and thoughtful expression, she quickly typed a reply. Her ssage was short but sincere, conveying her understanding of his predicant. She assured him that she would return as soon as possible and promised to visit his grandfather when the opportunity arose.
As soon as Qi Jianyi sent the text, she put down the cup on the table and begin to get dressed. Since her lover wouldn’t be coming, then there’s no reason for her to be here any longer.
She had said to her parents that she ca to look for inspiration for her new story. But she knew it was all a lie. Why would she need to co to a place—where she had known her whole life—to find an inspiration?
She was just curious about the similarities and yesterday everything has unfolded that this world and her world were the exact sa. Just different fate.
There’s nothing to do in City A. It’s better for her to return to the capital as soon as possible.
...
At the hospital.
Song Chengfeng quickly strode toward the VIP ward, led by a nurse who matched his brisk pace. His face remained stoic, but the subtle flicker of nervousness betrayed the calm exterior he worked so hard to maintain.
When he arrived at the door of his grandfather’s ward, his steps faltered, and an unexpected wave of hesitation washed over him.
All of a sudden, the courage that had carried him this far vanished, leaving him rooted to the spot. For the first ti in a while, he felt a twinge of fear creeping into his chest.
It was a well-known fact that Song Chengfeng, as the only son of General Song, feared neither his father’s authority nor his mother’s strict expectations. Yet, he was afraid of his grandfather.
This fear wasn’t born from the elder Song’s stern deanor or harsh words—his grandfather was, in fact, a kind and asured man. No, what truly terrified Song Chengfeng was the look of disappointnt that occasionally clouded his grandfather’s eyes.
That look, cold and piercing, had etched itself into his mind, becoming a permanent scar. It was the look that haunted him, especially since the incident that had ended his military career prematurely.
Song Chengfeng could still rember the day he had first seen that expression. The dead, disheartened gaze of Grandpa Song had been like a dagger to his soul. It wasn’t just disappointnt—it was hurt, disbelief, and an unspoken plea for the truth.
His grandfather had wanted nothing more than for him to be honest, to admit the truth. Yet, Song Chengfeng had refused.
Despite the help he had received from his father and grandfather during the fallout of the incident, he had remained unyielding, clinging to his version of events with a stubbornness that shattered his grandfather’s trust.
The mory of those eyes, dimd with sorrow and disappointnt, haunted him relentlessly. It wasn’t the stern reprimands or the cold words that lingered—it was the silence, the resigned acceptance in his grandfather’s gaze, that left the deepest mark.
Now, standing at the threshold of his grandfather’s ward, that fear resurfaced with full force. He hesitated, his hand hovering over the door handle as if it weighed a thousand pounds.
Could he face those eyes again? Could he endure the judgent that he knew he deserved?
As Song Chengfeng hesitated, unsure whether to push the door open or turn back, the decision was made for him. The door creaked open from the inside, and he was imdiately greeted by the warm, gentle gaze of his mother.
"You’re here?" Mrs. Song said softly, her voice carrying both relief and affection as she reached out to pull her son into the ward.
The small window of escape he’d been considering vanished in an instant. Knowing he had no other choice, Song Chengfeng accepted his fate, letting his mother guide him inside.
He responded with a quiet hum, his usual calm exterior barely masking the nervous energy bubbling beneath the surface.
Inside, Mrs. Song appeared oblivious to her son’s unease. She gave him an encouraging smile as she called out, "Dad, Chengfeng is here."
The sight that greeted Song Chengfeng caught him off guard. The frail and bedridden image of Grandpa Song that his father’s phone call had conjured up in his mind was nowhere to be found. Instead, his grandfather sat upright on the hospital bed, looking relaxed and alert.
With a string of grapes in hand, Grandpa Song had been engaged in casual conversation with Grandma Song, his deanor far removed from the severity of the situation General Song had implied earlier. The peaceful scene was only interrupted when Mrs. Song’s words drew the old man’s attention.
Grandpa Song’s gaze shifted, and his sharp, discerning eyes t those of his grandson. The room seed to grow heavier under the weight of that stare—a look that carried an unspoken words and unresolved tension.
"How dare you co here?" Grandpa Song’s voice, steady and biting, broke the silence. A sneer tugged at the corners of his mouth as he continued, his tone laced with sarcasm. "I thought you didn’t want anything to do with us old people anymore."
The words cut deep, each one delivered with precision, as if Grandpa Song had been saving them for this mont. It wasn’t anger that drove them, but a mixture of disappointnt and wounded pride.
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